Harbinger

by tigerowl

Naruto's friendship with his teammates Gaara and Haku is put to the test as they prepare to deal with the threat of the Akatsuki. The secrets Jiraiya has kept come to a head, and Naruto must shoulder the responsibility of protecting much more than the Leaf Village. Continuation of Forlorn. AU NaruHina, GaaSaku, NejiTen, ObiRin, OCs *Taoism, Self-Indulgent World Building, longfic

61. Impure World

Note: Hello reader, I must advise you that this is a long chapter. Please pace yourself and take breaks unless you have superhuman eyes and a bladder of steel.

Chapter 61- Impure World

Chapter Soundtrack: "Empty Crown" by YAS

The gods created heaven to reside in, drawing a clear boundary between themselves and mortals. They watched from above and ruled from beyond reach. The ghost realm, on the other hand, was not separated from the mortal realm. Monsters, demons, ghosts, and mortals shared one earth; some ghosts hid in the darkness, and some pretended to be humans as they walked among the people and roamed the mortal realm in disguise.

—天官赐福 Tiān Guān Cì Fú, Chapter 12

Snow fell for a few hours over Shincha's mountaintops. Dirt paths and branches were dusted, glistening crystalline in the afternoon light after clouds cleared from the sky. The air grew still and bird calls in the forests echoed into final silence. The town and its nearby peak were steeped in cold, and from countless chimney stacks smoke columns puffed with vigor, all residents fighting the chill creeping through their walls.

Up from the settlement along an unmarked trail, the ground was flattened over the years from hiking tracks and displaced stones. One could find their way up to the modest cottage that Obito resided in with his family. He moved quickly to keep his blood warm. In town, he and the butcher had exchanged money notes for meat with gloved hands, their breaths puffing in the frigid air, keeping the pleasantries brief. Obito crunched up the mountain with foodstuffs in a bag over his shoulder.

In the yard, he spotted Sesshu doing a strange paw-shaking dance near the side of the house. The underfoot layer of ice and snow was unbearable. Obito had to tease him, "It's too cold to pee outside, isn't it?"

"Much too cold!" The dog was whimpering as he scampered up the porch steps. He entered the house alongside Obito, who shut the door and harrumphed, both shaking the cold sting from their bodies.

At the corner of the living room, Rin fed chopped wood into a heating stove, giving their fire more to feed on. She had rearranged the room a bit so that pillows and cushions were crowded around the hearth, where her family could sit and enjoy the heat. She rose and moved to Obito as he thawed.

"You're right on time." She reached out her hand to her husband, accepting a bag of groceries from him, "Don't go back out again. Did the snow stop?"

Obito peeled off his coat and boots to put away, "It stopped snowing but I wouldn't say it's improved out there."

"The hotpot's going and I set up the table, so just relax." Rin pressed a long kiss against his cheek, "Huh." She looked into the bag, moving through the living room, "This is a lot of chuck roll. Perfectly thin, like usual, I bet."

"I wanted a lot of beef today." He was smiling, salivating at the prospect of a big, warm meal.

With a shout into the outskirts of the house, Rin summoned Yuma from his room. When his mother saw him bounce into the space to report, she pointed a twirling finger at him, "Nuh-uh. Go back to your room and put socks on. No bare feet in winter."

"Mama, it doesn't bother me."

Obito cleared his throat loudly. Their child knew that it was a subtle demand he obey his mother. Yuma about-faced, still cheerful in defeat, accepting of it, and went to his room to find socks. Preferably the ones that matched his red sweater.

In the kitchen, Rin and Obito went through automatic motions of meal preparation. Twice, Rin asked him to sit and relax. And he'd assure her forgetfully, "In a minute, in a minute." He continued to assist. The last stores of their fall garden harvest that were fresh and not pickled in jars were to be chopped up for hotpot. Obito mumbled a farewell to the delicious vegetables while he worked. Winters were always harder in rural, mountain hamlets. They did not enjoy the same comforts that major villages did, thanks to frequent imports from different regions. Food and supply lines were less steady further away from civilization, even for those that grew and cared for crops themselves.

Rin scooped rice into bowls and drizzled chili oil into each, knowing her family would have no objection. "Haven't you been away from the action for a while?" She asked Obito.

"From the Akatsuki? Or Orochimaru?"

"Well, both." She shrugged with her face, concerned.

"I guess all of our winter preparations distracted me. You know how much work we have to do, to prepare for the year's end." Obito supposed, "I'll set out tomorrow, if the weather stays clear."

"We were supposed to leave before the frosts started. But with Yuma doing so well at school…and my stalling…" Rin set a tea pot on the table and then plopped into a chair, glum, "We haven't set anything into motion."

"It's not too late." Obito reassured her, "And how have you been stalling? We've been busy!"

"I've been writing to Tsume. I told you." Rin recapped, "Too much of our correspondence has been sentimental and unproductive. I should've been asking questions about finding a place to live in Leaf, or having her send me applications to enroll Yuma in the Academy…"

"Why would we need to look for a private place? We can just move in to a house your clan has for lease, or do the same in the Uchiha clan's district. There's got to be at least one property available."

"Sure, but I'm still nervous about approaching your clan. I think my family will be more understanding that we're married."

"Maybe." He said with a waggle of chopped radish, slipping vegetables into the bubbling pot of broth, "Did you tell your sister that you're married to me?"

"Uh…I said…I was married and had a son." Rin added thoughtfully, "I described you very well."

"You didn't say it was me…"

"She'd freak out! Or maybe tell everyone!"

"Then just advise her not too?" Obito suggested, "Until we're done transitioning back?"

"It could be too big a deal to gloss over that you aren't KIA, if I tell her. Tsume is very by-the-book about shinobi protocol. She'll want to report it."

"Are you sure?" He was skeptical, "She always seemed unruly to me, when we were young. Wild and adaptable. She can handle a curveball for you."

"You're optimistic and that's sweet. She's had a tough life, she told me. Maybe Tsume could do this for me…" Rin wondered aloud, "Is it too much to ask of her? At any rate, I just don't want to take a chance and risk messing this up."

"This move back is going to force us to take a few chances." Obito paused to yell over his shoulder, "Yuma! What's taking so long? Come out for dinner!"

A distant, distracted, "Sorry!"

Scampering feet.

They added the thin beef to the pot, sniffing the aromas, mouths watering. The little family gave thanks for the meal before tucking in, serving up side dishes and spicy rice. Rin placed a few pieces of boiled beef and vegetables in a dish for Sesshu, then set it down on the floor beside the table.

It was the kind of meal that left them content and a little sleepy, moving slowly as they gathered empty dishes and later migrated towards the fireside sitting area. Rin and Yuma sat down on cushions first, beginning a storybook and taking turns reading lines from it. Obito followed shortly after with a blanket, draping it over their shoulders. He sat down and made space for their yawning dog.

"Issun-bōshi loved his parents dearly, and though they treated him as their most blessed child, he began to grow restless." Yuma recited the fairytale aloud, "The boy was determined to become a warrior someday, even if he only stood one sun (3cm) tall. His stature had no bearing on his desire to see the world."

Rin gave Obito a silent, pleased look from over their child's head. For so long, Yuma had disliked reading, but he took to it much better when his parents were the audience.

"Hey, can I read a little too?" Obito snuggled closer to take a look, "Let's see, where are we? Ah. Mother, Father, Issun-bōshi said, I must seek my fortune in the city. I ask for your blessing to begin my journey! Though his parents worried for him, they put their faith in him, knowing he would one day have to fend for his own. They gave Issun-bōshi their blessing to travel, and gifted him with a sword made from a sewing needle, its sheath made of straw. He was also given a boat made from a rice bowl and an oar cut from a chopstick."

"Wow, imagine being that tiny in real life." Yuma mused as an aside, "I don't know if I could leave home…"

"Sure you could!" Rin squeezed her son around his middle, an encouraging hug, "You're very brave!"

"Yeah, but—! How would I fight ninja with a tiny needle sword?" Yuma was stumped.

"Kiddo, no human is 3 centimeters tall. It's just a folktale. Swords and needles in this world will always do the trick if you practice." Obito winked at him, "Besides, wait until you hear how big the enemies are that Issun-bōshi has to fight!"

"How big?!"

"Two terrible oni! Bigger than bears!" Obito was getting ahead of their place in the book.

Rin muttered, "Obito, don't spoil it…"

"Hah, sorry. Let's keep reading…"

The evening darkened into night, and they closed up the storybook after reading about how Issun-bōshi defeated an oni, and used a magic hammer to transform himself into a full-size man. And he indeed made his fortunes in the city and defended the innocent, and married a lovely princess too!

"That ending is too happy! It's like a bowl of candy." Yuma rolled his eyes, "When do I get to read scary stories?"

"After you know all of your basic fairytales." Rin proposed, "Once you know those, then you can move on to the creepy stuff. Your heart will be better prepared after it's coated in all that sweet, happy-ending goo!"

"Blech."

"Scary and sad stories can drain you." Obito told him, "They're just as valuable, but it's like those stories take away a little piece of you. A piece of innocence or ignorance, like a tax. I've read so many books and they all gave a lot and took a lot from me. Don't read too much of one or the other, happy or sad. It's better to stay balanced."

"Balance is good. Like having Mama and Dad." Yuma reasoned smilingly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"Yup!" Rin agreed.

The fire cracked and popped. Sesshu was snoring softly beside the family.

"Tell me a scary story." Yuma requested, "A ghost story."

Obito raised his eyebrows, "I'd have to dig around the library a while to find one…"

"No! You know a lot of stuff already, Dad. You can just tell me a story." Yuma didn't need the thriller to come from a page. His parents' minds would suffice.

He and Rin exchanged an uncertain glance, but they didn't have a good reason to deny their son.

"I have one to tell you, but it's very scary." Rin warned.

"Tell me! Tell me!"

"And it's important that you understand fairytales first. Remember them. Life and death, and magic. Spirits." Rin reminded him, "What are spirits?"

"Not alive things that are still around." Yuma summed it up.

She nodded, "They can be. It's a mystery. Sometimes, they're more like monsters. Dark things humans don't understand. Like animals or shadows. Like the kami worshipped at the shrine on the next peak, you know. Or the oni that Issun-bōshi fought."

"Yeah, I know about those too." He confirmed.

Obito watched Rin in wonder, curious about which tale she wanted to share.

"Long ago, a young man and woman got married. Like Issun-bōshi and the princess did." Rin smiled wanly, "Not every story ends with a happy marriage. Sometimes stories start that way. Where was I? Oh. So, the couple married and found a mountaintop with a small village. Few people lived on its slopes. Hardly anyone wanted to live near the peak."

Resting his chin on his palm, Obito listened interestedly. Elements of her story sounded a lot like when he and Rin first got together. He was intrigued.

"The woman was a doctor and the man was a ninja." Rin set the scene, "They weren't scared of anything when they were together. In the town, they got to know the people. They wanted to build a house and become neighbors. The townfolk were kind and helpful. They offered to assist the couple in cutting wood and gathering lumber from the forest, but only on certain days that were allowed. Taking greedily from the forest would anger spirits."

"Spirits in the forest?" Yuma's eyes shined.

"Mm-hmm." She nodded again, "The priests at the Shinto shrine say no human should provoke the kami in nature, for fear they might be punished. It's best if we live in harmony with it, and don't take advantage." Rin went on, "The couple thought it was a strange custom, but they wanted to be respectful of their neighbors. Slowly but surely they got their wood, and they built a new house on a high slope, just within the edge of the forest. There was a garden on the back of the mountain they could tend…"

All of this sounded very familiar to Obito.

"An old man neighbor told them that because they hadn't lived on the mountain for all of their lives, the mountain kami would test them. It would send spirits to try to trick them or frighten them." Rin explained, "But under no circumstance could they retaliate or disrespect the kami. They had to endure and live with humility. If they didn't, the consequences would be unimaginable."

"What was it gonna do to them—?"

"Shh! The old man said as the seasons changed, the spirits would do different things. In the spring, secret exchanges would take place. Something they couldn't see would borrow things from them. Fruits from the garden, sometimes, or objects from their house. Never anything they couldn't live without, but it would choose things and leave them at the bottom step of their home, just in the grass or dirt. As if to say: we want this. Give it to us. It was best if the couple gave the spirit what it wanted, and then burn incense sticks in the house, and leave a cup of wine with the chosen offerings outside. In the morning after they slept, the offerings would be gone and the cup would be empty. So long as they did that, they'd be safe."

By that point, Obito was mystified by the story his wife was weaving. Yuma was entranced by the tale.

"The man and woman thought the story was crazy! Surely it was a person who would steal things from their house, but they were polite to the old man and told him not to worry. That they understood his instructions." Rin went on, "The old man said if they took the objects back, they'd be in danger. By nightfall, something huge would be in the treeline beyond their yard, a silhouette in the dark watching them angrily. It wouldn't allow them leave their house for a week, if they saw it. They'd have to stay indoors, or risk being attacked!"

"What's the thing?! Would it-?"

"Shush, Yuma. There's three more seasons!" Rin tapped his nose, "The old man then told them about summer. In the summer, spirits would send a stranger. He'd appear from the wilderness, naked, running and screaming! He'd be begging for help, running away from a bear." She narrowed her eyes, "It's not the bear that's dangerous, the old man said. It's the man. Don't let him get too close. Build a fence around your yard, something tall, a meter high is enough. He won't be able to cross it. If he gets close to either of you, the old man said, he'll hurt you terribly. Try to kill you. He's a spirit manifestation, and so is the bear! The bear comes to take him away, bite him and drag him down the mountain again. The bear has no interest in townsfolk, just the naked phantom."

Both Obito and Yuma listened with their mouths gaping. What shadows lurked in Rin's head for her to spout this stuff?!

"The old man said it was best if they shot an arrow at the running stranger until he tripped and fell. The bear would take him away and they'd be safe again. That was the easiest way. Or, they could hide behind their fence and listen to the man scream as the bear got him, which was quite unsettling to do." Rin explained, "The old man said he too had to deal with such spirits on his property, but he'd gotten used to it. Like setting a clock, it was just a routine to him. He said the manifestations would only happen a few times in the spring or summer. Maybe twice, or three times. They didn't need to worry so long as they followed the rules."

"Rin, is this—?" Obito felt the hairs on the back of his arms stand up, "Based on something?"

"Shh! You too, Obito, let me finish." She patted his cheek, "In the fall, as the earth grew colder, the spirit would take on a new guise. It would send ghost fires on overcast days. The old man said they'd be able to hear the soft, whispering voices of the ghost fires. They're called Onibi, and the fires might take on different colors. They would appear in clusters, usually far away from where a person stood. But people would certainly be able to see and hear them if they were there. The onibi would whisper about how cold they were, how they were freezing to death, and needed fire! They would appear during the dim daytime, and if they got close enough and touched a person…the person would get sleepy! They would feel weak, like they're falling asleep. They would have to hurry home to sleep in their bed to stay safe, and someone else would have to keep a fire going at night. The onibi would say they want fire, but they don't really need it. Just keeping one lit in your house is enough to repel them. If you don't start a fire…you never wake up. If you fall asleep outside of your house and no one finds you…you disappear by the next morning!"

Yuma loved it, "Whoa!"

"By any chance—?" Obito asked in a spooked-out voice, "You haven't seen any of those ghost fires for real out here, have you Rin?"

She scrunched her face at him, implying no she really hadn't. He relaxed a little.

"The couple would have to be on the lookout all of autumn, on any overcast or dark day. Even stormy days! The ghost fires might appear to put them to sleep. Each time, they would need to keep a fire lit in the hearth at home." Rin spun the tale, "Which isn't so bad in fall, since it would be getting cold anyway. It's a simple thing to do. But then, in winter…"

Yuma appeared to be thrilled while his father shrugged an extra blanket on, google-eyed and wigging out.

"The winter is worst, the old man said. The spirit sends the dead in winter. After all of this, the man and woman weren't so sure they were humoring a crazy old man. They felt a bit indignant and impatient with his rambling. But he tapped his cane on the floor when they tried to excuse themselves, wait, he said, this is the most important thing you must know."

"The most important one." Yuma balled his hands into fists.

"Have you killed anyone, young man? The old man asked the husband. He balked and felt affronted by the question, but he answered honestly and said that yes, as a shinobi in service to his lord, he had killed several people. The old man asked how many?" Rin's face became grave, her eyes cold, "The husband said I've killed ten people. It was an uncomfortable thing to admit, and most others in his profession hardly kept count! But he did, because he felt remorse. He'd done it for work, and he knew it wasn't the most honest work. The old man sighed and said, The spirit sends them back to find you. They'll be far away at first, somewhere on the slopes or behind the trees. They'll be lost and silent. They will eventually figure out why they were sent to this mountain…to find you, their killer."

"Rin, this is some crazy stuff!" Obito objected, "Should you tell this kind of story?"

"If Yuma is going to be a ninja, he should understand that he's accountable for his actions." She steeled her face, "As I was saying— the husband was shocked by this assertion. The wife was also speechless. Angry, the husband said the old man was being rude and intrusive, and it wasn't any of his business what the past dealings of his life had been. As if his neighbor wanted to rebuke him. When the husband tried to leave the tea house, the wife held his hand. She begged him to wait and listen. She was fearful that if the old man spoke the truth, they wouldn't know how to protect themselves against the final incarnation of the spirit. He loved his wife very much and trusted her, so the husband sat down again to listen. But he hardly believed any of it."

Rin looked between Yuma and Obito's boggled faces.

"They'll start to feel rage, the old man said. They'll realize what you've done. They may not fully comprehend anything else, but wandering spirits in the mortal realm suffer so much. And they'll remember their mortal suffering as well. They'll begin to come closer and approach your home, and they'll get bolder. At first, they'll appear suddenly, but then they tend to stay for two weeks." Rin's face by firelight had them shrinking in their blankets, "They want to enter your home, the old man warned them. Don't let them. When they appear, light an incense stick for each person you've killed. That's so much incense! The wife was concerned. The old man assured them he had plenty and would provide them with as much as they needed. The husband declared that it was all nonsense. Nonsense!" Rin smiled darkly, "The sticks had to burn down to their stubs. A fire must stay lit in the hearth at night. The door must stay shut. When they're outside the house, they can't physically touch anyone. But sometimes they might scream or try to scare you! The old man said. If they get in…they'll hurt you worse than you could ever know. With so many seeking revenge, they'd do something horrible."

Obito made a long sound of distress. Yuma had also lost his courage. He snuggled up to his father and they held each other, petrified.

"The old man gave them a box filled to the brim with incense sticks, quite the house-warming present. He also offered to provide extra fire wood for their hearth." Rin went on, "He gave the wife a list of the rules in a scroll, in case they needed to refer to his warning. The husband was upset and disbelieved it all, but the wife thanked the old man for his attention to their well-being. After that, they walked up the mountain to their new home. Very soon, the spirit would know the house was their chosen place. And it would come." She stared at her husband and son, "Do you think you want to hear the rest?"

"NO!"

"Yes!"

Obito shuddered, "Yuma, good grief! How can you want to hear this horror story and expect to go to bed afterward? Your mother is a terror!"

"It's great!" Yuma insisted, "It's just…a lot."

"You said you wanted a scary story." Rin smiled warmly again, "And it gets very scary. I can tell you a bit more of the rest each day, if you'd like."

"Well do it when I'm not around." Obito requested.

"That's fine! Mom can tell it to me, so then I'll know how to tell it!" Yuma's cheerfulness rebounded, "None of that's real, right Mama?"

"No, it's not." Rin assured him, "Not that I've seen. I heard this story locally, but I changed a few things. Nothing like that happens around here."

"That's good." Yuma mumbled.

"Now it's time for bed!" Rin giggled.

"Ack!" The boys hoisted their blankets, sticking to the light of lamps to travel down the hallway to their beds. Obito would tuck Yuma in, and try not to be a shaking mess while doing so.

After Rin stabilized the fire to burn for the rest of the night, she stepped over her snoozing dog to also croon her child to sleep. Then she tugged Obito along to their bedroom as he quaked in fear.

"Relax, I made all of that up!" Rin told him quietly, "We're perfectly fine."

"Easy for you to say. I think I have encountered a ghost." Obito released a drawn-out sigh, "Or something close enough…"

"What do you mean?"

"At the window." Obito motioned with his head to their single bedroom window, "One night while it was storming, Yuma was scared of the lightning and came to sleep with me. I fell asleep pretty quick, but he told me he saw something."

"So you didn't see it. Yuma did." Rin corrected him, "Don't be such a wimp!"

"It was a face in the dark." Obito recalled the description, "I'm pretty sure…it was Kirin."

Slowly, she lowered herself down on the bed to lay beside him.

"We're based in reality, right? That was before I found those footprints in the mud outside." Obito explained, "It just…still scares me. Either way, it terrifies me."

"But he hasn't hurt us…"

"No. I know that. But I just don't understand." He pressed, "That's why ghost stories frighten me. The helplessness and not knowing what to do…it feels the same."

"Some people figure out how to confront ghosts." Rin ran her fingers through his hair, hoping to calm him, "And that's how they learn to tell the stories."

"Those people are nuts." He smiled at her.

She smiled back, "Maybe. You're a little bit like a ghost yourself. Reappearing in my life, and now you can make yourself intangible."

"I try not to…"

"It's okay, Obito. I'll keep us safe." She squeezed him and he snorted indignantly.

Even with those assurances, it still look her a while to fall asleep. It took Obito a bit longer. The night was quiet and cold, but the fire burned.

---

In the morning, there was a faint screech outside of the house. It wasn't loud enough to rip Obito out of his slumber. The sound hung on the fuzzy edges of consciousness as he woke with the first rays of light in the bedroom. He and Rin were fitted like puzzle pieces, her back pressed into his front, his arms secure around her; pillows mashed weirdly around their heads.

When the clicking of Sesshu's dog nails traveled down the hallway, Obito peeked his eyes open. The ninken stopped at the open doorway of the bedroom and reported, "There's a hawk outside."

"A wild one?" Obito asked stupidly.

"In fact, it's not. I looked out the window and it has Hidden Leaf's fittings." Sesshu was mostly sure, "I think."

"Oh no." Obito scrunched his eyes shut. He almost never saw communications from Leaf. His correspondence with Jiraiya was usually through summoned toads.

He extricated himself from his embrace with Rin, moving carefully to not disturb her. The fire in the stove must have died down, because the interior of the home was stiff with cold. Obito pulled on a black haori for extra warmth, then moved through the house to the front door. Sure enough, perched on the railing of the front stoop was a messenger hawk from the Leaf Village. His stomach did crazy loops.

Had they been found out? Was it an official summons? Rin's sister was taking proactive measures after all? His brain spun with the possibilities as he tugged the affixed scroll from the hawk's carrier tube.

Obito took a long breath and then opened the parchment.

It's Jiraiya. I'm in Leaf. I will try to keep this brief because I need you to move quickly.

His tense shoulders dropped again, and Obito toddled into the house, shutting the door. He read as he proceeded toward the sofa:

I don't know if you're already aware, but the Akatsuki just made a serious bid to capture the Seven-Tails' jinchuriki from Hidden Waterfall. By the grace of God and a team's good timing, Leaf forces were able to rescue the jinchuriki, Fū. It was estimated perhaps a quarter of the Seven-Tails' chakra was stolen from her, and after a few days in a coma she woke again with mild damage to her chakra circulatory system and extreme fatigue. She's expected to recover. Takigakure is under massive surveillance by Leaf, Rock, and Cloud at the moment, and all are going to want some kind of compensation from Waterfall when this blows over.

If you haven't done the recon already, I need you to find out where the Akatsuki will strike next. I am sweating bullets while betting it will be either Leaf or Sand. I can't tell Naruto and Gaara to hide with their heads in the dirt like ostriches, not like they would, but I can feel it coming. We need more information. In addition to all of this shit, it's a perfect distraction for Orochimaru. Again, I don't know what intel you've collected on him either, but I assume he is delighted that Leaf has almost completely neglected him from its tracking efforts. Since I know the bastard, I am sure that he will be making a huge move right now. Whatever it is.

"Ahh…" A horrified whine escaped Obito as he sat, reading.

I am on thin ice with Tsunade. She's been wheedling me for the exact channel I am using to get intel on Orochimaru and the Akatsuki, hoping she could tap the same vein for her ANBU units. She hated it when I told her no. It's not her fault that I've bungled this, and that I haven't been honest about how you're my "in," but I need you to know that this can't last. Your detachment has to end. Get that info and come back to Leaf. Let the Hokage and the council verbally throttle you, interrogate you, lock you up for a few days— whatever they need to do to feel secure in the fact that you still exist. But you're needed here, Obito. I did what I could to cover for you. And I can promise that when you and your family get here, it's going to suck. A lot has changed, a lot's been lost. It will be hard for you. But some people here will try to make things easier on you, if they can. Myself included. In advance, I'm begging for your forgiveness.

'Begging for my forgiveness?' Obito was flabbergasted, 'Why, Jiraiya-sama?'

I can't keep things from Tsunade. We need her to be on our side in all of our efforts, as well-informed as we are. We need to give that power to her. As for me, I'm bouncing information back and forth via Toad messengers to Momochi Zabuza, and he's got a lock on Terumi Mei's whereabouts. So things are moving in Hidden Mist as well. If he can get that rebel force in the Water Country to banner under us and coordinate the strike, I doubt the Akatsuki will be ready for the Mist Village to slip through their fingers. Yeah, they stole the Tailed-Beasts from that village…but the shinobi there will still fight back.

'Momochi Zabuza. Working for the Toad Sage.' Obito blinked his eyes hard. It was hard to process.

Please help me. I haven't heard from you in a while, so I was beginning to worry. I hope all is well for you, Rin, and the squirt. Before long, I'll be following my next lead on that former student of mine. You got that story out of me, and I feel deeply ashamed if indeed he's the one responsible for so much suffering…but I need to know. I have to stay accountable. Coordinate with me once you have the details, and if you need any help getting to Leaf, just send me your requests. We'll talk soon.

His heart was pounding.

Well then. There was no avoiding it. This was it. Presumably, he'd go out once more and fish for information, and then high-tail it back to Konoha. Obito rolled up the correspondence and moved to warm up the stove again in a daze.

Where should he go first? In either direction, there was bound to be more activity and chaos than he would prefer to dip a toe into. Orochimaru in particular could prove dangerous, since he and Rin had learned that Sound ninja had been scouting near their province, most likely in search of "Tobi". The old snake wasn't easily fooled anymore.

As for the Akatsuki, there would be turmoil in its ranks due to a failed Biju extraction. Possibly in-fighting and disagreements among members. They wouldn't be able to reclaim the Seven-Tails with heightened security in Takigakure, so the most logical alternative would be to target another jinchuriki.

The living room was warming up. From his favorite rug, Sesshu was staring at Obito. He was waiting for some explanation why his man-companion was so stressed.

"Sorry, boy…" Obito sighed and rubbed his forehead, "It was a message from Jiraiya-sama. Bad news again. I'll have to head out and see what Orochimaru and the Akatsuki have been up to."

"Is that safe to do, now?" The dog wondered.

"No."

"Why does it have to be you?"

"No one else can do it. You know that." He chided the ninken softly.

"But what if something happens?"

"I'll make it out, I always do." Obito forced a smile, "I don't have a choice anymore. A lot of people will be counting on me, even if they don't know it."

Sesshu lowered his head on his paws, furry eyebrows upturned, worried.

Obito tip-toed around the house, then retrieved supplies from a small office nook at the end of the hallway. He collected empty tool-sealing scrolls that would need priming. Clean parchment to compose a response to Jiraiya. He returned to the kitchen to put on a kettle for tea, and took a seat at the table to begin working. His stomach was in a knot.

'Orochimaru first.' Obito thought to himself. 'I'll probably be chased away, or attacked…but I have to try to dig something up. For that matter, I need to figure out which location he's been holed up in recently…that could take days. Maybe longer.'

He jotted down a concise reply for Jiraiya, mostly affirmative in the actions he was to take, what order of targets he had planned. Of course, he also acknowledged that his family was to relocate. They'd be packing up their home, as of this week. Follow-up messages would update Jiraiya of when they were on the move. And yes, Obito grudgingly added, he would be prepared to be arrested and "scrubbed" by the Intel Corps for god only knew how long. Since he had no malevolent purposes, whatever they found in his head should exonerate him.

He sat back, set his pen down. The kettle was whistling.

Obito took the kettle off of the flame, poured boiling water into a teapot to steep leaves. He moved all around the kitchen, preparing rice and soup, pickled vegetables and eggs. His mind was far away, going about his breakfast efforts perfunctorily as he tried to grasp what awaited him out there. What if he couldn't get the information that Jiraiya was asking for? What if he wasn't welcomed back in Leaf, and received a criminal's treatment? What if his clan shunned him? And Kakashi—

"Ohh." Obito bowed his head, deeply anxious about what his old teammate would think. More than anything else, that scared him.

As eggs fried in a pan and rice steamed in the cooker, Obito returned to the front porch to attach his reply to the messenger hawk's leg. It took off immediately. He watched it rise into the grey morning. His certainties perished with that message. Obito shut the door and returned to meal preparations.

The house had warmed up, and he plated the dishes on the table for his family. He went first to his son's room, finding Yuma snuggled beneath two blankets. Only his forehead and a tuft of black hair was visible. From his eyebrows down, he was obscured. Obito's mouth quirked in a silent laugh. He took a seat at the bed's edge and gently mossed his son's mop of hair. A soft rumble sounded beneath the covers.

"Time to wake up! You have school." Obito announced.

"…mm…my alarm clock…"

"Oh. Am I early?" He would have felt bad to wake his child before an alarm sounded. Obito examined the old clunker clock on Yuma's bedside table, then frowned. "Yuma, you didn't even set this! How would you wake up—?"

"Mama wakes me when I mess up." Yuma's eyes peaked over the blanket, mischievous crescents. He was so spoiled.

"How about when Dad wakes you up, eh?!" Obito mercilessly tickled the lump under the blankets, relishing Yuma's squeals and wriggling, "Be diligent! Our family is going to have to relocate soon! You need to be punctual when you attend the Academy."

Yuma sat bolt upright, tossing his quilt, "The Ninja Academy."

"Yeah."

"Isn't there…an entrance Exam?"

"There is. You'll pass. You're already a great student here in town."

"…okay." He yawned, "When will we go?"

"When I get back."

Urgency shined in the boy's eyes, "You're leaving?"

"I have to. There's important work I need to see to, but this will be the last time." Obito assured him.

Yuma slumped forward, reaching his short arms around his father's trunk, melting into a silent hug. It took all of a minute before the pair regained some cheerfulness, leaving the bedroom together. Yuma scampered toward the far end of the house in search of breakfast, and Obito checked on Rin in their bedroom, in the exact position he'd seen her in last, snoring softly. He woke her gently in the same manner he had for Yuma.

Obito spoke softly, "Hey, are you extra tired? Usually you're up once you smell food."

"Mnf." Rin cracked her eyes open, "Tired."

He rubbed soothing circles over her back and she croaked in delight.

"Ahhh. Did I miss anything?" Rin asked.

"Not really. I made breakfast…but I'll have to go immediately afterward." Obito told her, "I received a message from Gama-sennin this morning. He and Naruto are in Konoha now…and the Hokage really needs fresh intel."

Rin mashed her face into a pillow, grumbling.

"You said it yourself, it's been a while since I checked in on the Akatsuki and Orochimaru. And with things so volatile right now, I don't know what to expect." He admitted, "But I promise I'll stay in touch, Rin. You know I'm always anxious to get back to you and Yuma."

"I know." She slowly pushed herself up into a seated position, snuffling and waking up more as he curled close for an embrace. A sleepy smile spread on her face, "You get this over with, then before you know it…we'll be house-hunting in Leaf."

"Yeah."

"People will be giving us grief daily. Questions and speculation. Non-stop."

"Most likely."

"My dad will break a board over my head after hearing what I've been up to." Rin predicted.

"Hah! Yeah, he might! If he can catch you."

"If he can't, he'll just send the dogs after me."

Obito smoothed the sleep-crazy hair on the back of his wife's head, "There, there."

"Apart from that…I am excited for Yuma to meet his cousins in Leaf." She sat back and stretched her arms over her head.

Obito was astonished, "…cousins?"

"Yes, my sister's children! Hana and Kiba." Rin grinned, "Yuma will finally have some blood relations to horse around with…even if they're a decade older than him. If there's one thing I know about my family, it's that we're a fun, social bunch."

A wobbly smile spread on Obito's face, both relieved and a little terrified that his lonely child's horizons were about to expand so suddenly. It would probably be a good change.

"Obito," She patted his cheek, "I know it's unnerving and it won't be easy, but I'm starting to see how many awesome things we can experience if we go back."

"Took you long enough." Obito teased. Rin surged forward and clamped her mouth on his neck, giving him a mock-bite of discipline, then she rose from the bed to get dressed. Likewise, Obito changed into clothing that matched his Tobi disguise.

Like clockwork, the unit of three went about their morning business, shared another meal together, chit-chatted pleasantly. Before long Obito was at the door, kissing his wife and child goodbye before fitting a swirl mask to his face.

"Be careful out there." Rin advised him as he took slow steps down the porch.

"I try to be. You both stay strong. There's a lot of change ahead of us." He exhaled a small sigh, "I'll be home soon."

They watched him set out, reach the boundary of the front yard, then descend the forested mountain path. Rin shut the door and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"It didn't feel as cold as yesterday." Yuma appraised the temperature they'd felt at the front door, "Do I really need a sweater?"

"You really do. Dress properly for the day. You know the school is drafty."

"Yeah…" He returned to his bedroom.

Rin compelled her body through the motions of cleaning the dining table and washing dishes at the sink. The unease always seemed to hit her immediately, each time Obito left for spy work. Today felt especially dreadful. She was moody, her skin dry and itchy from the cold air. Dozens of considerations about moving and re-settling in Konoha spun like a centrifuge in her head.

What if she wasn't certified to practice medicine in Leaf, or if she'd be denied entry back into the Medical Corps? What if her graduating class contemporaries shunned her? It felt naïve to hope that Obito and Yuma would be openly welcomed in the village. She felt stupid pinning so much hope on the words exchanged in her letters with Tsume. In the past, she had paid a price for letting her guard down. For years her guard had been up, her suspicions prickling. What if things would be worse for her family in Leaf…but they would be unable to run away again?

She swirled a dishrag around a washed cooking pot, drying it.

She needed to confront things, no matter how painful it was. Sometimes mortals had no choice in the matter, like in her ghost story. The world operated in its strange ways, and humans were either humble enough to learn and conform…or they were punished.

"I'm ready, Mama." Yuma had a sweater and coat on, his school bag slung across his chest.

"Ha…okay. Let's go." Foggy-brained, Rin pulled on her shoes and coat in the genkan. They left Sesshu lazing about beside the wood-burning stove.

It was a crisp walk down the mountainside, and the sun was bright.

Yuma held his mother's hand as her mind wandered.

"Don't worry." He told her, "You get shaky whenever Dad goes."

Rin blinked, redirecting her attention to her son, "I…I guess I do."

"Everything feels scary, like putting the lights out before bedtime. I feel it too. But even when it's just me and Mama…" Yuma reasoned, "We're strong together."

"You're right! That's how it was when you were born, you know. Just you and me for a week, waiting for your Dad to come home." Rin cheered up at the memory, "You and I have always been a great team."

He turned his face away slightly, smiling. Like he didn't want her to see that he was overjoyed his reassurance had worked. That maybe he was worried about this too, but he was trying his best to assert some confidence. Now more than ever, Rin could see that her son deeply understood her feelings. He was young, but he was becoming wise.

In town, people bustled in the cold air and traded goods. Children ran towards the central school of Shincha, some attended by parents and some unaccompanied. Rin scented the air, smelling fried foods and charcoal in stoves. Neighbors. Boot polish, rice crackers, dry dirt.

"Work hard today." Rin bent down to give him a squeezing hug outside of the school gate, "We can order takeout for dinner tonight."

"Noodles?" Yuma suggested.

"Sounds good to me. But only if you have an immaculate school day."

"I'll be good!" He grinned and hurried into the small building with his classmates.

Rin stood, exhaled, felt calmer. Deep breaths of early winter air were refreshing, and all of the town's component aromas painted a picture in her mind. And something else. She reached into her pants pocket and retrieved a small coin purse to give it a sniff.

Oh.

She made her first stop at Yoshige's storefront, waving to him and avoiding conversation when she noticed he had customers. Her path followed an airborne scent, taking her past a tea shop and apothecary she frequented for medicinal ingredients (and often sold her homegrown plants to). She scolded Fumitake as he ran past, late for school. She would definitely rat that no-good kid to his parents.

Finally, Rin came to a tavern that had a fire pit roaring outside in a brazier, a very traditional, rural-looking establishment. Two bench-seat tables were positioned on either side of the fire, and Rin casually took a seat across from a patron who was eating. There was a dish of roasted sweet potato wedges in front of him, fried chicken, and soup. He looked profoundly startled by her joining him.

Rin set the empty coin purse down in front of him and said, "Kirin."

The young man looked at her, his eyes wavering between moderate social tolerance and the precipice of a flight instinct, of something resembling conflict. That this encounter was not something that should happen.

"There's no need to worry. I'm not dangerous." Rin smiled, "I can smell you. You left this in my tomato garden at the end of the summer."

Sasuke didn't say anything. Didn't touch his food.

"You overpaid." Rin assessed.

After a long silence he lifted a potato wedge in his chopsticks, "…I wasn't going to pay at all."

"Yuma convinced you."

She looked amused. Amused! This woman had no idea what his intentions were, and yet she behaved as if she were welcoming a neighbor. Sasuke was dumbfounded by it as he chewed. Also, he'd never once suspected that anyone in the family had an acute sense of smell. No one besides the dog, who was absent.

"I hope you can assure me that…my family and I have nothing to be fearful of. That you don't mean to hurt us." Rin got straight to the point.

"That depends." He made eye contact with her and realized he couldn't make a friendly facial expression, that he was incapable of consoling another person in any way. His face felt stuck in a doleful frown. Sasuke glanced down at his soup, "I'm not the one you need to worry about."

"Oh?"

"Orochimaru." It was a simple explanation.

"He doesn't trust my husband." Rin figured.

"He never did. He doesn't trust anyone."

"Why are you helping us?"

"Would you rather I not?" He grimaced, thinking of his initial order to eliminate Tobi, "You're all helpless. Stupid. You have no idea how many Sound ninja have gotten close to this mountain, within a few kilometers of this town."

"So you pity idiots and go out of your way to defend them?" Rin rested her elbows on the table and laced her hands beneath her chin, "An altruist. Tell me, don't you work for Orochimaru too? Why disobey him?"

"I hate him. I took what I needed from him." Sasuke explained, "When I get back, I'll kill him. He wants to use me to prolong his life, and he's been trying to hide how ill and weak he is."

Rin raised her eyebrows, "You're one of the people he's experimented on? I'm surprised you can come and go as you please."

"It isn't as if he can stop me."

"Well if you need to kill him to end your association, maybe he could?" Rin wheedled the flaw in logic.

"That's none of your concern." He waylaid the topic and sipped onion soup.

"Right. It's not." Rin agreed, "I just wonder. If Tobi continues his work…you wouldn't go out of your way to help him if he ran in to trouble out there?"

"Never." Sasuke confirmed.

She sighed and reached for a piece of fried chicken, helping herself. He was disarmed by the overly familiar behavior. Rin crunched on the food, took another piece, and watched him with a contemplative stare.

"I guess thanks are in order." She concluded, "I believe you when you say we don't have to worry about what you'll do. I appreciate that you haven't hurt my family, and you've even deterred other threats. Something tells me…Orochimaru wants you to stop Tobi…and you haven't. I won't ask you why, since I doubt you'll tell me…" Rin had worked out most of the situation, adding, "But thank you, Kirin. You were kind to my kid. He has a hard time making friends out here."

The muscles in his face relaxed a little. More than Sasuke would like to admit, Yuma reminded him so much of himself when he'd been young. When Itachi had been the central positive force in his life. He felt drawn to that role.

"I just hope you didn't tell him any weird stuff." Rin gave him a sharp look, "I don't have much trust in teenagers."

"He did most of the talking."

"I bet he did."

"He's polite and a good student. He understands more about Ninjutsu than most Academy students his age." Sasuke assessed, "Which means he was trained well."

"By his father and I, naturally!" Rin tittered.

"You're from Konoha."

Rin tried a piece of potato, "Of course you'd figure that out. Are we that obvious?"

"You very loudly talked about the Toad Sage."

"Oh shit." She realized he was right, "Spying on us like that is creepy. Just knock on our door next time! I'd make you a cup of tea. You don't have to be a stranger." Rin demanded, "No more watching from the bushes! Tobi wouldn't mind, I promise. He's been the most tolerant of you."

"He really shouldn't be."

"He'd help you, if you need it." She extended an olive branch, "He's not like others. Tobi has lost everything important to him, you know. All of his family and friends. His heritage and home. And he still gives so much."

Sasuke shut his eyes and took a long breath through his nose. Why was it that other people routinely reminded him of how inadequate he was? That he too had lost everything, and yet somehow other people with a similar experience still maintained their dignity and compassion? He had failed to do so. It made him nauseous, made him compare himself to others and cling to a sense of superiority that was starting to feel flimsy.

"I don't need his help." Sasuke sneered, "He needs mine."

"Truly, an altruist." Rin's rebuttal dripped with sarcasm, "I'm serious. At any rate, we won't be here for much longer. We'll be moving back to Konoha soon. Things have gotten too dangerous…and it's time I face the things I've avoided for so long, back at home."

A piece of chicken paused in front of his lips.

"It would mean that…you don't need to look out for us anymore." She spoke slowly, perhaps disappointed by the idea after she'd made a breakthrough, "That's less work for you in these stressful times, right? But I meant what I said. You can come to Leaf—"

"Don't extend offers that aren't yours to make."

"You don't think I'd vouch for you?" Rin sniffed.

Sasuke managed an expression of indignant astonishment, clacking his chopsticks flat on the table, "Do you know who you're vouching for? Are you stupid?"

Blood simmered beneath her cheeks as she felt her patience being tested, "Maybe. Maybe trying to build trust with a crabby teenage ninja from Hidden Sound it utter stupidity. I guess I thought since you care about the lives of others, there could be something about you worth vouching for."

His back molars ground together, stifling a soft growl of conflicted aggravation. Why did this offer have to occur now? Before he had done anything about Itachi? Orochimaru? If only a second after he'd eliminated those obstacles in his life, he'd be taking her up on it.

If he…reneged on everything…how would things turn out? Probably awful. He'd be treated (applicably) like a criminal. His team and peers might not appreciate a sudden reappearance after his departure had caused collateral harm. To look like a dog cowering back home with its tail between its legs…perhaps to be tried, interrogated, or incarcerated, or all of those things— was it worth this one small family defending him? Having a few good things to say about him? The village would think she was crazy.

Regardless, it wasn't the time for atonement. He could think more about it after he'd made good on what he'd promised, what he intended to finish.

"There are…things I have to do. I can't just let go of my obligations because I want to get away. It's a waste of everything I've done so far." He offered a meager justification and then finished his bowl of soup.

"Tobi could understand that." Rin tilted her head sideways with that same motherly amusement from before.

"He'll never get out from under his obligations." Sasuke spoke his thoughts aloud, supposing Tobi would never escape the snare of the Akatsuki and Orochimaru and live to tell about it.

"Maybe you won't either." She prodded.

He finished his potato, staring at the fire in front of the tavern. The manager was plopping woodcuts and dried grass into the pit.

"If you really think you can kill Orochimaru…" Rin dabbled in the hypothetical, "That means you're no pushover. So you can probably handle whatever else it is you need to take care of too. At least, I hope so. I hope you're not wrong. Because if anyone is waiting for you and worrying about you, you need to remember the toll this takes on them. You're in some of the worst conflict you can imagine. Orochimaru was trouble even when I was young, and now? I'm amazed anyone would dare cross him." She stated finally, "But it needs to be done."

Even with his face turned away, he was listening to her.

"Those who would oppress others, wage war, and cause indiscriminate harm through selfish pursuits or experiments…they can't go unchecked. Anyone who values the prosperity and co-existence of our villages, and for our friends and families…we have to try to stop those forces. Reverse or rebuild them. Whatever it takes— I want so badly for my son to live in a better world." She bowed her head, venting, "I know every parent wants that for their child. But I want it so bad I could burst. I know about war and loss. I barely survived it myself…and I can't…let these conflicts become his." She swallowed, tried to get a grip on her emotions, "If it doesn't end with us…each younger generation is sure to be entrenched and it's such a waste. Whatever I hope Yuma could become, whatever he wishes he could be…he'll end up being something else because of all this hatred."

When Rin looked up, Sasuke's stare was practically boring through her head.

"Please…if you're against those things as well— if you care— don't give in to that tyranny. Keep fighting it. Because that'll help him, and so many others." She was fearful that Kirin was, in some way or another, part of the wheel of death and hatred that had flung shinobi nations into turmoil. She wanted to appeal to any part of him that might renounce it.

"…if there isn't anything more I can do…I'll…try to make things better for him." It was an easy promise to make. It was like speaking to his past self; so simple to vow to protect a child. If it was selfish to help Yuma in some way, because he projected his own vulnerability and experience on the boy, then the solution would inevitably be that he could no longer think about himself. Or act out of self-preservation. Selflessness would be the only remedy, and he wasn't yet ready to grapple with that truth coiling around him, one he could never ignore.

"Thank you, Kirin." Rin's smile was watery, "I might be asking too much, though I won't be slacking off either. If you…ever do need help…" She had not retracted her offer, "I'm Inuzuka Rin. You can find me in Leaf, or send a message if you need anything."

No wonder she could smell him. Sasuke was forming the words, preparing to admit that he was from Konoha too, that he wanted her to tell Kiba and his team to wait a bit longer, that he hoped to be with them again soon. If Rin really was a medic-nin, could she please shed a favorable light on him if she ever spoke to Sakura? A thousand other requests bubbled up and died on his tongue.

It would be grossly irresponsible to further entangle himself with this family. To pretend that he had any right to their attention or care. If things went awry, if any enemies he had made came to call, it would be unthinkable for him to drag Tobi, Rin, or Yuma into it. He no longer had a family to depend on. His clan was in the ground, being forgotten, an ugly blemish in history books now.

"Thank you, but I don't think we'll meet again." Sasuke told her.

Rin nodded, pushing up from her seat to stand, "I understand. Just having this conversation with you was enough." She pointed out the dish with a few pieces of chicken remaining, "Sorry that I helped myself to your food. I've been hungry lately. I'll tell Yuma that I had a nice talk with you today."

He wanted to tell her that yes, it was a good talk, even if he was awkward and trenchant. That he wished Yuma much success, and that he adapted well to Konoha. He'd undoubtedly be a star there. That she, Rin, reminded him a lot of his mother— a playful intellectual, empathetic; good things that only a few rare people in the world got to be.

But he didn't say anything.

Sasuke watched the woman part with a small wave, then proceed up the road toward the sweets shop where the old man worked. She went inside and the door shut with a jingle after her. He ate the last of his meal in lost silence.

Money notes were tucked beside empty dishes on the table, and he picked up the empty pouch Rin had showed him. Sasuke stuffed it into his sleeve and left.

---

One Day Earlier

Traveling through the Rice Country toward the coast had taken a few hours, but that exertion alone had rubbed the blistered, necrotic skin from his back in sheets. Blood was soaking through his tunic. Sweat trickled from his hairline.

This body, Orochimaru understood, was at its limit. Even if he maintained his composure, breathing evenly, his behavior as carefree and typical as could be; few occupants of the central hideout had overlooked his physical deterioration, Sasuke included. He might've chosen that very night to ambush his next host body if he'd had a better day. He'd vomited everything he'd attempted to eat. Slept too much. Upon being disturbed by an attendant, Orochimaru was passed an urgent message.

Karin had sent a report that Dintei Bi and his Sect were taking refuge at the northern hideout…and they had brought the Snake Sannin a gift. She added that the gift was in fact a coffin, which she assumed to contain a corpse.

Bi was an old, elusive scoundrel, but he had a keen eye for gift-giving, and Orochimaru was not one to resist a potentially rewarding offer. It must have been someone good.

So he left Sasuke in charge with limited information on where he was going, drank a cocktail of medications to settle his stomach and pain levels, then set out by himself in the dark.

By first light, he'd crossed the high-tide pools to the offshore rock that housed his auxiliary base. He tried to straighten himself up. He was hearing things.

Thief. Thief. Thief. I'm still here. I'm still here. You hear me— let go! Give it back! Faint, disembodied voices drifted up from his subconscious. With every vessel he had taken over, the victim's soul remained squashed under the pile Orochimaru had accumulated. It was easy work now to keep his consciousness at the top these days, deflecting the mutinous or murderous attempts, ignoring whispers. But when the time came for him to take a new host, they always seemed to get louder. More hateful and resistant. He found it quite fun. It was exhilarating to throw another defeated soul into the heap with them.

He patted sweat from his forehead and smoothed his hair as he strolled past guards at the hideout's entrance. Orochimaru expected that Karin was keeping guests occupied in the atrium on the far side of the base, which was spacious and comfortably appointed. He sent a small serpent to find her and made his way to his private rooms. In a chest of drawers, he rummaged around for a gi to change into, 'These are nearly threadbare…and smell like a grandmother's attic…'

It was useless to try to impress his associate today. He could pretend, but he knew full well he wasn't going to convince anyone he was in good condition. Orochimaru chose a tunic, set it aside, and slowly began to peel off the shirt stuck to his bloodied back.

"Orochimaru-sama!" Karin hissed quietly as she rushed into the room, sealing the door behind her, "Why did you come while you're so unwell? I wish you had told me!"

"This is tolerable and I don't want Bi to think I am a graceless host." He allowed her to assist in removing the tunic, held still as Karin hurried around the room to fetch bandages.

"I'll wrap up your back for now. You can suck on my chakra to heal, but the effects won't last for long at this stage." She was genuinely concerned, questioning him, "Weren't you planning to switch bodies?"

"The time was not quite right before coming here. Karin, I'm surprised by you. Won't you be upset when Sasuke-kun's consciousness is gone?"

"But if…if that's what you need to do to be well again…" She paused in wrapping bandages, "I am in no place to question Orochimaru-sama."

"Dear girl, thank you for your understanding. I will always reward your loyalty. Trust that what I do is not in a deliberate effort to cause you any unhappiness. I know nothing of your attachments."

"Oh never mind that!" Karin blustered, tying off the bandage, "I can get on with my life! I'll still see him, won't I? Now, here." She held out her arm, "Take my chakra. You shouldn't keep him waiting much longer."

Entitled, Orochimaru bit down on a scarred patch of the girl's arm, letting the healing properties of her energy wash through him. His back, and all of the shedding, bleeding areas on his body, closed up. It was a temporary solution, but he patted Karin's hand and thanked her. He could be a bit more presentable now. What a literal lifesaver she could be.

He pulled on his tunic and fastened it, ignoring how Karin wrinkled her nose at the musty smell. She followed him out into the corridor, towards the chamber Bi and his group were waiting in. Orochimaru found the Dintei Sect there, spread out on sofas, sipping tea and playing games with dice.

"How wonderful you've all made yourselves at home." Orochimaru smiled.

The dice games stopped at the sound of his voice.

Bihokokuni inclined his head toward Orochimaru, not bothering to rise ceremoniously from his seat, "Many thanks for your hospitality, Orochimaru. I thought it was about time we caught up."

From the corner chaise, Koinyu's eyes were glinting. Watching these two storm fronts collide was scintillating for a multipurpose henchman such as himself. Seeing them interact gave him a dose of satisfaction, as if he'd aligned himself with competitors sporting the best odds "in the game."

"Not an ideal time to chat, to be sure, but crucial nonetheless." Orochimaru smiled, "I hear you have something for me."

"Indeed." Bi gestured to his sect's disciples, "All of you, please excuse yourselves for the time being. Our discourse doesn't require your participation or attention."

Karin canted her head at Orochimaru, and he nonverbally conveyed that she was free to escort the group to whatever room she pleased. She sighed loudly, happy to voice her annoyance, and instructed the disciples to follow her. They trudged along in a line, grumbling quietly. Koinyu stayed behind at the edge of the sofa. There was a long silence before Bihokokuni narrowed his eyes at him.

"Did I not say all?" Bihokokuni asked, "Or are you hard of hearing?"

Koinyu balked, "Ah, forgive me, Bi-sama. I just work with you both so closely that I—"

"Forgot your place." Orochimaru finished for him.

Koinyu sealed his lips. He bowed his head and walked quickly out of the room after the rest of the sect.

A drawn-out breath escaped Bihokokuni as Orochimaru sat down on cushions perpendicular to his seat. The Snake Sannin sagged into the sofa tiredly.

"I would have understood if you chose not to come." Bi told him in a voice that was almost sympathetic.

Hints of pain and exhaustion trickled into Orochimaru's facial expression, "I'm not an invalid, delicate though my state may be." He laced his hands in his lap, "If you've brought me a corpse, I suspect it's because you've deemed it useful for Edo Tensei?"

"I hope it will be."

"A Kage?"

"No. One of my disciples." Bihokokuni clarified.

Orochimaru's eyebrows crept up a bit, "Oh?"

"He was extremely adept with Tao Arts, and Ninjutsu as well. His Taijutsu was unparalleled." Bihokokuni shared details about Huo, "His physical prowess would have made a laughingstock of that Kaguya pet you used to keep."

"Kimimaro was a worthy investment, and his demise was no fault of his own." Orochimaru remembered fondly.

"Regardless, I took Huo's life when he became too much of a bother. In spite of his skill…he just couldn't prevail over the adversaries he faced while on assignment." Bihokokuni motioned dismissively with a hand, "You understand what a hindrance Hidden Leaf can be. I'd hoped he would put them back in their place…I did not want to be embarrassed a third time consecutively…"

"Was he not your most prized student?" Orochimaru wondered, "To kill him as a consequence of failure…perhaps you were too hasty?"

A tiny smile graced Bihokokuni's scarred face, "I think I might've been."

"You cannot take it back now." Orochimaru grinned. His associate did not seem to regret his choice.

"I cannot. And prior to delivering this corpse to you, I'd conducted my own experiment of sorts. It did not go as expected."

"Do tell!"

"Tao Arts are not so far removed from the capabilities of Ninjutsu, and so I tried my hand at Demonic Cultivation, for a change. The manipulation of the dead, spirits, and the supernatural— you're familiar with the subject." He trusted Orochimaru to follow his line of thinking, "It is widely discouraged in cultivation spheres and considered unethical, often yielding dangerous, negative effects, be it to bystanders or the user of such techniques. There is precedent, though rare. I chose a medium to control Huo and assume control of his corpse."

"Which medium?"

"One you're very familiar with." He lifted a shakuhachi that had been tucked in his belt.

"Sound." Orochimaru understood, "It appears Tao Arts can use it for techniques as well."

"Of course, though music is intended for proper cultivation, not heretical arts. Though I don't much care for the orthodoxy, as I am foremost a shinobi." Bihokokuni admitted, "I was able to make contact with his spirit by channeling Yin energy."

"And?" Orochimaru sat up, riveted.

"His spirit would not cede control. I was surprised when the backlash struck me. I suppose I'd underestimated him again, or he still felt too much resentment over our falling out…" Bihokokuni chuckled, "Look at this…" He rolled back the sleeve of his right arm, revealing a wide trail of markings that resembled bruises at first glance. Wild, blackened patterns wound up the man's skin. The watermark of evil.

"You've been cursed!" Orochimaru was genuinely delighted. He stood up to examine Bihokokuni's arm, "Fascinating! Is it safe to touch?"

"I doubt it. It could transfer to you."

"What's another curse?" Orochimaru simpered, "I'm due for a new body soon, as it is."

"Be that as it may, you have no experience with curses derived of Tao Arts. Use caution. I myself am struggling to purge it with my cultivation base. It could take me weeks to burn off." He explained, "Alas, even when retaliating from the afterlife…Huo still could not overpower me."

"Poor thing…he made an effort, at least."

"Following that incident, I thought it best to use his corpse for your Impure World Resurrection. Ninjutsu has a much more precise control over the dead, and can more easily subjugate spirits and consciousness. It was much too difficult to attempt with Tao Arts."

"If it were easy, there'd be Demonic Cultivators everywhere, hm?" Orochimaru theorized, "Those that tried to walk that path got themselves killed, before long. How could it ever comply with your Dao. Am I right?" He was teasing.

"You know that I'm not a loyal adherent to Daoist philosophy, young man. It is merely a tool in my arsenal."

Orochimaru was flustered, "Who are you calling young man?"

"I'm eighty-nine." Bihokokuni reminded him. He looked 50.

"Huh." The Sannin sat down again and folded his arms, whirling in thought. "What's that core called again? The thing you gather spiritual energy into? It's what slows your aging."

"Jindan. The golden core. It is formed below the navel in the lower dantian."

"Chakra coalesces in that location as well." Orochimaru pointed out.

"That certainly isn't an accident." Bihokokuni rotated his flute around his hand before tucking it into his belt again.

"If these practices can be so similar, why is it that shinobi with developed chakra systems continue to age so noticeably?"

"Because," Bihokokuni summed it up, "Chakra is far more destructive. It is a corrosive, foreign energy. Qi is not."

Orochimaru rubbed his knuckles beneath his chin, considering the information.

"It's far too late for you to form your own golden core. And you would need an untampered-with, natural human body to do it." Bihokokuni warned him, "Your original form is lost."

Orochimaru scoffed, "You speak on the subject as if you've seen it all. I hardly consider you the authority on spiritual development. As it so happens, I'm not interested in using those methods."

"Forgive my presumption."

"So the curse mark…has it caused any harm?"

"Occasionally there is pain. Nothing alarming, to me. I suspect it serves as an indicator."

A tilt of Orochimaru's head, "An indicator of what?"

"If the spirit is appeased. It isn't easy to tell what it was that Huo still wanted of me, after his death. My approval? My suffering? I can keep the mark at bay so that it won't damage my flesh or sap my life force, at least until I better understand the basis of his resentment."

"Ho ho ho, he still wants something from his master, even after passing. How truly pitiful."

"With that established…I would like to see what your technique can do with my former student." Bihokokuni rose up, straightening his sleeve again.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" Orochimaru agreed. He could guess what hypothesis Bihokokuni wanted to test: If Huo would be able to utilize Tao Arts after being reanimated.

From what rudimentary knowledge Orochimaru had about the qi cultivation techniques from the far west, he too found this possibility irresistible. It'd be another impediment for his growing list of enemies to wrestle with.

The atrium had plenty of space to work with. Orochimaru released two sleeve-fulls of snakes to slither along the concrete floor, dragging ink to form the complex written seals required for the resurrection. He motioned for Bihokokuni to follow him, "We need to choose a living sacrifice."

"Will anyone do?" Bihokokuni asked.

"Certainly. While we're in detainment looking for a host, you can also choose an opponent for our test subject to fight." Orochimaru led the way down a torch-lit corridor, "I expect you want to find out what techniques your disciple will be capable of?"

"Quite right."

Down a brief stairway and around a bend, they passed into a widened tunnel that served as a cell block. Several occupants behind bars shrunk back into the shadows, knowing better than to draw attention to themselves. Bihokokuni took in the sights with clinical curiosity, making no assumptions about the types of prisoners Orochimaru kept— a variety of ages and genders, and those with strange bodily transformations or disfigurements. One prisoner resembled a Suikazan clan member; clearly fish-faced and sharp-toothed, but he looked to be in a drug-addled stupor from earlier sedation. Most others were not recognizable to Bihokokuni.

"Hmm." Near the middle of the strip, Orochimaru considered the cells on his left and right, "Care to join us for a test today, Michihiro?" He grinned at a man cowering on the floor of his cell, "Or how about you, Doji? Little flower, I know you haven't been feeling well lately." On the left, a young teenaged girl gave no response. She was seated on a thin mattress, catatonic, with a line hookup of saline attached to one of her pale arms.

Bihokokuni looked between the two contenders before proceeding further down the block.

"Did you hear me, dear?" Orochimaru asked the girl again.

No response.

"Sh-she's…closer to death anyway. Choose her!" Michihiro suggested in a quaking voice.

Orochimaru glanced over his shoulder, "With proper treatment she could be well again. She might even be a valuable operator of this base, if she proves her loyalty."

"What good do all of those meds do? She's—!"

A large snake lunged through the bars of Michihiro's cell and took his face into its jaws, ending his commentary. He flailed and screamed, muffled, then was flattened into submission by the serpent. It tugged the victim back into the hallway after Orochimaru opened the door of the cage. When next Orochimaru glanced up, Bihokokuni was completely gone from the long cell block. He was surprised, 'Where did that old-timer go?' He followed, and at the cross section at the end of the standard cell block and a corridor that housed special containment prisoners, Bihokokuni was peeking into the slot windows on each door.

"This one that's muttering." Bihokokuni pointed to a door, "He should work well."

"You want our test subject to fight Juugo?" Orochimaru wasn't necessarily pleased or opposed to it.

"His energy field is immense." Bihokokuni observed.

"It is. Perhaps his involvement would be gratuitous, in this experiment." He motioned for Bihokokuni to join him back in the atrium, "If you wish, Juugo will serve well for our purposes. Come now, I have our sacrifice."

They returned to the lounge where the seal for the ritual had been written in full, leaving a space at its center free for the living sacrifice. Orochimaru dragged the weakly struggling Michihiro along. He turned to Bihokokuni and prompted, "If you don't mind-?"

Bihokokuni nodded. The snake released the panicking prisoner, who rolled to his back and took shallow, terrified breaths. As soon as he rose to his knees, prepared to spring up and run, Bihokokuni struck the back of the man's neck with the heel of his hand. He was going to be easier to work with while unconscious. Bihokokuni lifted the man up by the scruff of his filthy shirt and replaced him at the ritual's center circle.

At a dais where Huo's coffin waited, Orochimaru moved the lid aside to examine the body. There were hardly any signs of decomposition, 'Spiritual energy is a wondrous thing. His body contained enough qi to slow decay for this long…' He snickered to himself as he dug into the cadaver's flesh with a small razor blade, collecting an organic sample, 'And now this fairytale body of his will be utterly obsolete, as I synthesize something even better…'

Orochimaru rolled out a scroll at the initiating edge of the ritual seal, tapping small fragments of flesh from the razor he had used onto the parchment. He riffled around a hip pouch for a small paper talisman, adhering it to a kunai.

"Is that used to control the resurrected subject?" Bihokokuni watched him work.

"It is. In other circumstances, I'd forgo it to see how vibrantly your disciple's personality shines through after returning to our mortal plane." Orochimaru smiled, "But I expect he'll be very disagreeable upon seeing you."

He gave a permitting nod of his head. There was no use in denying it.

With preparations complete, Orochimaru sighed and stared at his hands. He had never fully explained to his associate why he'd become unable to use hand seals following his attempted sacking of Konoha. But by now, Koinyu must have filled Bihokokuni in on how the Third Hokage had sealed away Orochimaru's ability to harness chakra in his arms. After all, Koinyu had been a stand-in for most complex techniques Orochimaru had been using, following Kabuto's death. The secret wasn't as much of a secret as it now was an elephant in the room.

The snake that had earlier restrained Michihiro slithered back into the atrium from another corridor, and Koinyu followed timidly after it. He took in the sight of the ritual sealing's set up and immediately understood, "Oh…you're prepared already, Orochimaru-sama? I could've—"

"No need for you to waste your breath, Koinyu-kun. Your hands are needed for this step." He wasn't trying hard at that point to be nice. It was a purely utilitarian association.

Koinyu stole a glance at Bihokokuni in his peripheral vision, as if he'd find any solace in his sect leader's eyes, or visible disdain for Orochimaru. There was no sign that Bi objected to Orochimaru's treatment of his disciple.

So much for being a loyal pet. There was not even a hint of appreciation for the work he did. That was all he'd ever be: a task vehicle. Never a contemporary. There were worse things to be, of course. Like a prisoner or victim. And so, Koinyu reasoned as he knelt down to initiate the summoning with hand seals… 'I won't be the fool who oversteps bounds and ends up dead…'

The ritual summoning proceeded and an unearthly wail broke from Michihiro, whose slumped form was engulfed in ash and dust, reconfiguring the body of the sacrificed human to that of the organic matter provided on the scroll. He was overwritten, his voice becoming hollower with pain and misery— sounding so distinctly like Huo. Koinyu stood up and flexed his hands nervously. He'd thought it was funny to watch Huo die like a fool…but it was far less enjoyable to watch him be resurrected. To transcend death.

While Koinyu stared like a dumbstruck sheep, Orochimaru casually circled around to come up behind the copy of Huo. Its complexion was sallower than the original, with most other features, hair and clothing identical, sporting several cracks and small imperfections at the face and neck. Orochimaru rammed the controlling talisman into the back of the duplicate. That way, the unruly sociopath's consciousness wouldn't rise to the surface. At least, he wouldn't act or speak independently. 'But this version should be capable of using the techniques it used in life, without instruction…'

Bihokokuni walked up to the copy to examine it more closely.

"What do you think?" Orochimaru didn't necessarily need a positive assessment from the old rogue, but it would certainly boost his ego if he got one.

"How sturdy is it?" Bihokokuni asked, lifting a limp, dispassionate arm from Huo's side.

"Not very." The Sannin admitted, "But its composition allows it to regenerate indefinitely from damage, barring a Sealing interference. Perhaps not sturdy, but persistent."

"Ah." Bi acknowledged, and laid a hand on the copy's chest, closing his eyes to feel around, "I don't feel any chakra or spiritual energy in it…"

"It is tied to my chakra." Orochimaru told him, "Let's get to our test now. That will likely answer more questions for you."

Koinyu followed along without a word, since his presence was neither welcomed nor rebuffed. At this point, Orochimaru's chakra and will alone could puppet the Huo copy along. He would only need hand seals to stop the technique, and later place the incarnation in storage. Trailing behind Orochimaru and Bihokokuni, Koinyu felt his lips pull into a frustrated grimace.

He had too good of a track record to be treated like a butler.

Who had seamlessly filled the gaps in management around Orochimaru's main base, in the wake of Kabuto's unexpected death? Who accounted for every last money note and resource at the Dintei Sect's disposal— kept those numbskulls fed?

'I tracked Haku all the way to the Land of Snow without any outside assistance, and trapped him in his Cursed Seal form…' Koinyu thought, trying to ignore the fact that Haku had only been trapped for approximately 48 hours, which had been of no real use to Orochimaru. 'But serendipitously, it was later Haku who made a fool of Huo…' He delighted in this ironic failure that made a would-be rival look worse.

As for his greatest accomplishments, no one batted so much as an eye at them. He'd stolen ten valuable corpses from Konoha to be used for Orochimaru's Edo Tensei, and he'd nearly killed the Copy Ninja while he was at it. Again, it mattered not that Kakashi had the technical upper hand, as he teetered on the verge of chakra exhaustion. Koinyu considered that a victory.

And yet Bihokokuni seemed to dismiss the most precious achievement of all: that their crosshairs were lined up with the last living descendant of the Sasagainu clan. True, it was unfortunate that she, and by extension, Hidden Leaf, possessed the three Tao Treasures that Bihokokuni had been after all of his life. But, Bi had noted, he now had a more convenient, central location to collect them from. He'd get around to it. The urgency had been dulled by the interference of one of Konoha's foundational clans, the Hyuga. This had initially seemed like a good angle to put pressure on Tenten as a target, Koinyu had thought…but his master did not agree.

Two members of the Hyuga's Main House had led forces to retrieve the Seven-Tails' jinchuriki and thwart the Akatsuki's latest extraction attempt; according to the grape vine. Bihokokuni was not exactly champing at the bit to confront the Hyuga clan. They had adopted Tenten knowingly, as far as he was concerned, and it now bore the mark of a direct challenge to the Dintei Sect. He had never expected such a bold statement to be issued. Konoha generally sequestered immigrants and less trustworthy inhabitants until they faded into obscurity. Not in this case.

Koinyu worried his lip as they neared the end of the detainment block, 'Bi-sama hasn't said so…but I think he's concerned that the Hyuga clan may try to learn more about Tao Arts.' Heaven forbid if they were successful… He gave his head a shake. It'd be catastrophic. Bah! It was pure fantasy, of course. Shinobi had not endeavored to learn spiritual skills since ancient times, and now it had fallen out of fashion.

At the south end of the Special Containment area, Orochimaru stopped the procession and let Huo march ahead of them. All the way to the end of the corridor…where he unlocked the door of a top-security cell. He allowed himself into the dark space.

And was promptly blasted out of it, backwards, through the stone wall of the corridor.

Orochimaru observed blithely, "Juugo is a lively young man."

"He came to you willingly, years ago. Or so you've said." Bihokokuni said as they followed the rumblings and wreckage.

In spite of the amount of time Koinyu spent in Orochimaru's bases, this was the first he'd seen of Juugo. Rather, more than previous glimpses he'd gotten of Juugo muttering from the shadows in the corner of his cell. His age was hard to guess (he'd rushed by, through the hole in the wall, with weights still shackled to his ankles), maybe 20 years old? That was close enough. With messy ginger hair and a dull prisoner's uniform; he looked like any other captive in the base at first glance. Yet Koinyu knew a sliver of background information: that this was the man whose enzymes were used as a basis for Orochimaru's Cursed Seal.

The spectators arrived at the shattered wall to peer down into what was once a basement level with additional space and storage. Several walls had been knocked down, debris and dust scattered. Koinyu wondered about the structural integrity of the place as the pummeling commenced.

Below, the vault was poorly lit, though it wasn't much of an impediment to the combatants. For the most part, Huo was too elusive and quick for Juugo to catch; and Juugo was an impressive flash of speed and aggression. Bihokokuni narrowed his eyes as he watched. Waiting. The Huo copy used Stone Press, flattening Juugo with a giant slab of concrete before the shrieking prisoner careened through— his body transforming. Huo's copy went through several volleys of Ninjutsu and flawless Taijutsu before Juugo, with a canon-transfigured arm, vaporized Huo's top half with a beam of energy.

Orochimaru watched with a silent smile, and Koinyu kept his eyes on Bi. The man was not happy. Not even when Huo reformed, was blasted again, and escaped on fumbling legs to reform completely and retaliate with Fire techniques. At no point were any Tao Arts used. Bihokokuni inhaled sharply through his nostrils and then turned away. He spoke over his shoulder as he moved through the corridor, "I've seen enough."

"But they just began!" Orochimaru simpered.

Bihokokuni sank into a shadow on the cobbled stone floor, refusing to be taunted. He must have Shadow-Stepped back to the lounge, Koinyu supposed. Orochimaru called for Juugo's attention, and after six hair-raising seconds of dust settling, a soft voice called back.

"Orochimaru-sama…I didn't mean to cause this much damage."

"Nonsense. It's nothing that can't be repaired, and we instigated this little spat. Come back up and rest, Juugo."

Koinyu stepped aside, wide-eyed as Juugo appeared (not monstrous) and apparently gentle, walking himself calmly back to his cell. Huo mindlessly leapt up to the main level, dog-walked by Orochimaru's will back in the direction they had come from. When the Sannin ducked into Juugo's cell to probably do something self-servingly compassionate, Koinyu followed the incarnation back through detainment.

'You useless piece of shit.' Koinyu grinned at the back of Huo's head, where his hair was pulled into a neat queue. 'You're dead and you still can't do anything right. I wish you could see how disappointed your Shifu is in you! I'd pay good money to see you squirm again.'

In the atrium, Bihokokuni was moodily seated on the sofa, paying no mind to Koinyu or Huo's return. Eventually, Orochimaru also reappeared.

"I think," Orochimaru appraised Huo's reincarnation copy, "So long as his consciousness is tamped down, this one will be delightful. He's nearly as strong as my first attempt at animating the previous Hokages…" He rubbed his chin, "Though I admit, I can do much better now. I can always try again to see if the next copy possesses more of his abilities…'

"Don't bother." Bihokokuni advised coldly.

Orochimaru sighed and motioned for Koinyu to end the jutsu, to pack up the copy in another pine box. He took a seat again on the couch, his mood dampened by Bihokokuni's disappointment.

"It may still be possible to use Tao Arts." The Sannin suggested.

"It isn't possible. Let this serve as proof," Bi disagreed, "He'd have used those techniques if he was able. You have spiritual energy inside of you, Orochimaru. All shinobi do. In theory, Huo should have drawn from the reservoir you made available, yet he was unable. No matter the level of Edo Tensei, Tao Arts are not achievable for reanimated subjects. I'd had some hope that there was a possibility…but I must let logic prevail. Without his original body's Jindan to fuel Tao Arts, it could never happen."

"Perhaps a transplant?"

"It already dispersed, upon his death." His arms were folded, his face scrunched in disgust, "You have better things to do with your time."

"For once, I feel like I've done a great disservice." Orochimaru remarked out loud.

"Forgive my bluntness. I do not blame you for this shortcoming." Bi assured him, "I was only fooling myself…searching for a new advantage. In any case…" He waved a hand, "Keep it. That copy is yours to use from now on."

"You have my gratitude."

"My disciples and I will take our leave."

Koinyu kept silent and tried not to look too surprised. He'd been under the impression they would stay the night, but apparently Bihokokuni was so disappointed he preferred to make an exit.

Orochimaru noticed Bihokokuni rubbing his cursed arm, channeling qi into it to quell the sting, "You'd still be welcome to stay…"

"Let's move on from this. We have lodgings to the west, and I understand that you are overdue for self-care." Bi told him, "When next we meet, I look forward to meeting your new vessel. May it serve you well."

"How kind! I too look forward to it."

They concluded their pleasantries. Bihokokuni collected his retinue of thugs and gave Orochimaru one final nod of respect before leading the sect out of the base. Likewise, Orochimaru gave Karin a few instructions before also setting out again, eager to switch into a more stable, comfortable body at his main hideout.

And so it was evening, unremarkable and quiet. Drops of sea saltwater drip-dropped in the far, echoing spaces. Karin had bossed a low-ranking henchman into moving the two wooden caskets into a dry storage room, in an effort to curb mildew growth on Orochimaru's Edo Tensei projects. The former pantry room was mostly emptied, a product of disuse and change. Shelves sat with a few clay pots and cobwebs, and an emptied vat that used to store rice. Near the door of the room, the lackey stood the reincarnation copy's box vertically against the wall. He heaved and shoved the other box with a corpse inside toward the middle-back, too winded to make an effort to stand it up or dignify it.

He shut the closet door behind him and tottered off. Drip, drip, came the steady music of water slipping from stone. Hollow air and the soft crackle of lantern flames in the halls. Long stretches of dark. Hours passed, and the occupants of the base had finished their tasks and settled to sleep.

In the night, there was nothing. And nothing is the principal companion of something, for one does not exist without the other.

---

A person who has no mushin or "no mind," or "no heart" in Chinese, is a very high order of person. It means that his psychic center doesn't get in its own way. It operates as if it wasn't there. Chuang Tzu says that the highest form of man uses his shin like a mirror: it grasps nothing, it refuses nothing, it receives but does not keep… So, the whole thing is, you see, to operate in the world as if you were absent. That this is the fundamental idea. Being absent, as a condition of being present. Being not there.

-Alan Watts, 2.4.2 Swimming Headless Part 2

When someone holds a magnifying glass over a piece of paper, channeling sunlight into a direct beam, most know what happens— the glowing dot heats. And it heats and heats. A small thread of smoke will rise up. The dot will expand the rim of a charred black circle, where the chemical process converts carbon into its ash and gas parts. Sometimes, but not always, a flame comes alive.

A flame came alive.

There was no magnifying glass there that any mortal could see. Yet the empty room could coalesce and pool energies in its untapped space. And there was no sun. Instead, the energy focused into a dot was resentment, hatred, and lingering frustration. It had not yet gone from the world, even if its owner had. The little, charring, smoking dot on the lid of Huo's casket was a focused, unknown miracle in the silence. Then, a small flame leapt from its genesis, persisting, growing slowly, stretching in no predictable pattern.

Before long, the whole lid was on fire. It tendriled down the sides and seams of the box, consuming it, searing through the wood fuel and soon, it consumed the body inside. It was an unintended, spontaneous cremation that billowed black smoke up to the stone ceiling of the room.

Fire had never been much of a concern inside the damp, stone-constructed base, where sea waves roared outside of its bulwarks. Perhaps that was why no alarm was raised as thin wisps of smoke eeked out of the pantry door's cracks. No one was near enough to smell it. The casket and body burned unceremoniously for most of the night, until the embers died down and cooled, nestled in a pile of ash on the floor.

It was a strange sight to behold, so abruptly. Staring down at the gray pile, where some bones poked up in small, broken shards.

It's me.

He reached his hands down and pushed them into the hot ash pile; did it almost automatically without knowing why. It was just a way to confirm that he wasn't mistaken. That his body had burned and become different constituent parts than how he'd known it in life. He couldn't feel the heat or the texture. The only sensation was the residual energy and the familiar glow of it, the only thing that could really distinguish it as me as opposed to "not me." What is left of me.

It woke him up slightly. Woke him up more to the now he was occupying, as opposed to when he hadn't been anything. Huo could think more clearly and make some sense of his experience.

I know Shifu killed me.

That was why he carried this hate, this confusion, the deep unwillingness to let go.

He tried to control me again. He couldn't remember much of it. He'd been dead, and still resisted. Heard the trill of a flute and a compelling energy, coercing him to engage in actions beyond his control. So he'd lashed out with bitterness and hopefully hurt the bastard. It had stopped.

Then again. A part of him was torn away and molded into something, something meant to be controlled. Did these people have no intention of letting his spirit rest? By disturbing him so, had they ever spared a thought for the consequences? He boiled with anger. In the next moment, he was consumed by self-pity and despair. He closed his hands in the ash pile and tried to hold the self, that sense of self that had left of him.

What am I supposed to be? Why am I here? He tried to feel something, anything, with absent senses. No sense data came to him. Only the feedback of energies that he'd become skilled in reading during his life, and could still perceive in death. He pushed that little stream of energy he could muster in the ashes, cupped and closed his hands. When he opened him palms, a ring sat there. The ash pile was gone, converted into a simple black band of carbon. He knew inherently that this meager remnant of himself was all that tied him to experience and consciousness in the universe.

He'd been killed and denied final rites to lay his spirit to rest, to allow him unhindered passage to the Pure Lands. Egomaniacs had repeatedly played with his corpse like a piece of property, like a weapon they hoped to use against others. And now, he'd ricocheted from the netherworld back into what he thought was the mortal plane, although he didn't recognize this place at all. His ash ring could release him from this existence, Huo guessed, if it was destroyed. Hit with enough energy or force to crush it. But that, he also guessed, would annihilate him completely so that he wouldn't exist anywhere, here or in the next. He'd be destroyed in the truest sense.

As this idea sunk in, an idea fueled only by instincts and spiritual guesswork, he glumly slid the ring on his finger and decided he would protect it. If only to buy himself enough time to figure out what was going on. Huo glanced around. It was some kind of storage locker, with stone walls and floors.

He went to the box against the wall and tried to open it. His hand slipped through, as it seemed he was only projecting an image of himself synthesized in his imagination; he had no corporal form. Then he was alarmed, because he'd never been so out-of-control of his faculties. No touch, smell, taste, or hearing. No physical weight or bearing. Was he even really seeing?

Huo reared back, turning wildly, trying to make sense of how he was existing, or by what narrow definition he could experience anything as a ghost.

It was unthinkable and abhorrent. Rendered him helpless and useless. How had he held his ring of ashes? How had he put it on his finger? His mind raced. Do I even have a mind? How am I thinking? How am I doing anything?

He tried to scream. No sound was produced. He knelt down, crashing to his knees on the floor where there was no sensation of friction under his legs against the flagstone. No gravity at work on him. How was he orienting himself, if not for the pull of the planet's mass against his own? He had no mass, he assumed numbly. He didn't have anything. He didn't have and yet was.

Huo made vain attempts to touch other objects in the closet: shelves, pots, the rice drum. He slid like a trick of the light through solid objects. Since this was a consistent phenomenon, he opted to shove his face into the closed casket on the wall. He was taken aback upon seeing his own face— a very close copy to his most recent appearance. But there were cracks and flaws, rough edges where it seemed another body had been forced to assume a new appearance.

He leaned back, considering what he'd seen. I understand now. They used material from me to create a new incarnation…just like Shifu said he would…

What a sad mock-up. Now here it sat, in storage. Its performance had probably been underwhelming. He had no memory of occupying the doll, which could mean his actual consciousness was not a desirable feature, even if his skills were. Orochimaru could probably control what manifested.

Huo did not waste much additional coherent thought on the impure copy. He poked his face past the lid again, stewing in rage, staring at the ramshackle thing. How could they think for a second this would surpass him as a living being? Even if it could use Tao Arts, why couldn't he be given another chance while alive to make the most of his abilities? He'd been condemned for his frequent use of spiritual techniques, and yet Tao Arts were highly effective against unprepared shinobi adversaries. It seemed more evident now, here in this dark space, that Bihokokuni had been rather hypocritical in his teachings. He expected Huo to be proficient in Tao Arts, but never take pride in them. Huo wondered, How could he pretend he was free of conceit in his own mastery? That he didn't revel in his strength? He found it easy to pin the blame on me!

Even if he couldn't physically affect things, energy was still very much a part of him. Or maybe that was all he was. Huo let the emotions fester into a charge, arcing it onto the ugly copy in the box, letting it spark. It was a pitiful attack, an infantile tantrum, but he didn't let up. That minuscule bead of energy he'd launched into the casket trembled with his energy, grew when he plunged his outrage and disgust into it, widening the fire. When he had the box burning like a bonfire, he stood back to admire his handiwork. Ah, so it seemed anger could accomplish some things for him, in spite of his feebleness.

He watched for a long time, his thoughts going still. He'd become a spectator as the last part of himself was destroyed. He wondered if by virtue of the Impure World Resurrection, perhaps this deactivated avatar would resist damage as it was supposed to while the jutsu was active, but it did not. Chunks of ash, dust, fleshy bits and fabric slid into a smoldering pile on the floor.

So there. He'd ruined their fun. They'd never be able to duplicate him again.

He walked, or maybe he was gliding-? Out of the pantry, through the shut door into a corridor in a place he didn't know. He wandered, unhindered by physical obstacles.

This was one of Orochimaru's lairs, wasn't it? Not that he would know. He had never accompanied his sect to any of these dens of experimentation and coercion.

Controlling his movement, Huo realized, was about as inexplicable as his ability to see while none of his other mortal senses existed. It was an exercise of thought and not muscle. When it became boring and troublesome to navigate the linear central corridor, he allowed himself the insane experience of transitioning through walls and into other spaces. He fizzled like static into rooms, stairways, and air ducts. In a stairwell, a single lightbulb suspended from a ceiling fixture flickered when he passed under it.

No one seemed to be around. Was it night or day? He roamed through a small testing lab with beakers, microscopes, and refrigerators. Maybe one or two thick stone walls away from the laboratory, he arrived at a room dimly lit by a salt lamp— a bedroom. How odd a concept it was that someone could willingly live here, in this soulless fortress devoid of windows and comfort. There was a bed against the western wall, with a young woman asleep in it.

It was night, then. An educated guess. How fitting it was to meander as a phantom under the cover of dark. In the corner of the room, he fixated on the first living being he'd come into contact with. There wasn't anything interesting about the girl in particular; it was the energy she emitted.

Huo understood he wasn't seeing the energy per se, but it was more like…his own lingering frequency was interacting with hers. Different polarities. That was how he could perceive it: the tiny racetracks in her body where qi flowed, undisturbed and alive. Beneath that, there was the slow and distinct gush of chakra in her system as well. The current of chakra was dense and surprisingly dim when not actively engaged. It was a type of energy supply Huo knew for sure that he lacked now, in his current state. Chakra was the exclusive resource of the living.

He vaguely understood, as he tried to get a broader picture of his environment, that these energy signatures were everywhere. There was a flow to things. Sometimes orderly, and sometimes in chaos. In the lab and other areas of the hideout, there had been stains left by chakra. It permeated about as well as blood could soak a carpet, if the human eye could draw such an equivalence. There was also qi, gossamer and fine like a pollen, virtually undetectable in every way, drifting as if on a breeze even in the stillness of the place. Huo couldn't suss out the specifics of Yin and Yang, where the flow was coming and going from— he himself was a mess. His perceptions were a lie, and so he couldn't be sure of any information he was gathering.

In the bed, the woman's eyes opened with a single blink. They peered out into the dark of the room, where Huo was no more than a shadow, looking directly at him. For a moment, he hoped she would see and be scared witless. It could serve as a confirmation, however unpleasant, that he was real in some way. But she batted her lips, fluffed her pillow, and found a more comfortable position to sleep in. She hadn't noticed him at all.

Do not fret, Huo. He remembered Bihokokuni had told him, Your karma will be restored. Your pain will end.

Those final words he had heard as he had died, run-through by his master's sword. How is my karma any better now?! I'm still in pain! I'm like this— I'm nothing! If only he could cry. If only he could scream at the top of his lungs. Didn't ghosts do that, in the stories? Make themselves known in the world, however pathetic their attempts?

He floated through the outer wall of the room and through several meters of solid rock, where it was amazingly dense and silent. He surged through the compacted material before reaching the other side, where there was open air in the night— out in the roar of nature.

Here was the real chaos. Ocean waves churning against the shore, a jetty's-length away. Here on a small peninsula endcap of jagged stones and erosion, is where Orochimaru's base sat and no one was the wiser. It was an unforgiving place. Ahead on the mainland was a wall of darkness: trees and wilderness. No light.

Only wind and the swirl of energies flowed everywhere in this mortal realm. There were no stars or heavenly bodies for guidance glimpsing out from the cover of clouds. Huo allowed himself to be overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, as if he'd been pulverized by the indifference of the natural world. He was hurt by all of this; that which he had overlooked while he'd been alive. He wasn't a part of it.

Embrace vacancy and the void. Bihokokuni had said.

Emptiness. Huo understood, Ah, I see. It was sad. He'd never been so sad.

In whatever way he could, he tried to stop seeing. It wasn't as if he could shut his eyes, but his vision did go dark when he made the effort. He was on a bluff, stock-still and forsaken. He didn't try to hold himself together, didn't cling to the memory of his identity as he had upon waking. He let it slip away, scattering into countless fragments and letting his energy disperse into the night air in all directions. Like dandelion tufts, he broke in the wind and was propelled away.

Thousands of silver feathers were carried by the gusts over sea swells, glowing faintly.

---

Early that next morning in the Tide Village, Haku had been strolling around with his girlfriend, taking in the sights of the newly developed city. Temari entertained his nostalgic touring for a while before shepherding him back to her beachfront cabin, reserving the rest of the morning for sex. By noon, they rummaged around the house for morsels that could comprise a passable lunch.

Haku cut up pears at the counter and continually glanced over his shoulder, stealing looks at her as she tossed chestnuts in a pan with cooking wine.

"I know you're looking."

He turned his head back, focusing on his task. He was in the midst of romantic brain-death.

"If you're done with that, you can take the mackerel out of the oven. It should be done now." Temari instructed.

The fish filet was indeed roasted to perfection. With all of the dishes prepared, the couple ate their meal at a low table in the sitting room of the bungalow. Haku tried his best to be normal, or what he considered his "normal self," but he came across as over-alert and could not get rid of the terribly dumb smile on his face.

"You're embarrassing." Temari said before crunching on a chestnut.

"I know." He bashfully held the side of his face in a hand.

"Was it really that good?"

"How can you even doubt?" Haku was affronted, "At the very least, you can acknowledge that I am…still an amateur…and have no stamina—"

"Three rounds is still pretty good—"

He ignored the interruption, "You're amazing."

Temari smiled. His intense infatuation with her and admiration of her skills really could inflate her ego. Too bad they had run out of condoms, or she would likewise be occupying him for the rest of the day.

After a companionable silence with a chorus of chewing sounds, Temari asked, "So what should we name them?"

Haku began to choke on a piece of pear, "Name who-?"

"Your new rabbits." Temari told him flatly, not daring to imagine what he'd mistakenly thought.

Oh yes. Pua had her litter a week before; six healthy bunnies in shades of white and brown, some mixed. They were in a large and comfortable nesting box back at the hideout Haku stayed in with Zabuza.

"Hmm. There is one I would like to name Botan, but I told the children in town they could name the rest."

"So they've been named already?"

"For the most part." Haku confirmed, "They chose some unusual names."

"Like—?"

"Like…" He took his time eating a large bite of mackerel, "Hanai. And Alika and Ipo."

"Those sound cute."

"Nagisa chose the name Weuweu for the speckled one."

"Pft!" She tried not to spray her sip of tea, listening to the suggestions children in Nanakusa had made.

"Zabuza named one too." Haku added.

Temari gave him a wide-eyed look, "That jerk named a rabbit?"

"After a knife." Haku shrugged, "Moki. It seems to be a motif in his family, named mostly for blades and cutting."

"Huh." She said.

They tore chunks of the mackerel filet with chopsticks to pull onto their dishes, each taking several moments to mull over the weirdness.

"Are you going to train them all?" Temari asked, chewing.

"Maybe. The first order of business is getting Pua spayed, when I can. I'll see what potential the babies have." Haku forecasted, "But all of that will have to wait. Zabuza and I are going to meet with Terumi Mei's rebellion and begin negotiations. We'll leave from Nanakusa at first light in the morning."

"How did you find them?"

"One of Zabuza's informants also passes information to Mei's circles."

There was a flash of excitement in her eyes, "Please tell me you'll be doing most of the talking. There's no way he's going to get anyone to cooperate with him."

Haku quirked his mouth uncertainly, "I'm friendlier, but I am not convinced they'll want to hear from an outsider like me. I think Zabuza is prepared to…be civil."

She arched a fine brow, "You know you can't afford to screw this up."

"I know. And I also know that while he doesn't have the best reputation, he will have the most clout during those discussions." Haku smiled wearily, "Have a little faith! It's taken us so long just to arrange this meeting. And I'm sure 250 million Ryo will help persuade the holdouts."

"That's a lot of self-control on Zabuza's part, to not abscond with a crazy amount of money." Temari observed, "Took a lot of time to earn it too…so I guess…he's been trying to do something about Mist for a long time."

"A very long time." Haku confirmed.

"What's he going to do…when it's over?"

"I've been trying to encourage him. He's convinced that he'll be brought to justice for his past crimes, even if he helps remove the shadow regime. When I tell him about all of the positions he could qualify for…he seems…"

"You're worried about him." She understood.

Haku frowned and crammed a chestnut in his mouth, "I just don't want him to give up so easily! He hasn't before. It's as if he's willing to surrender, like he's grown tired. At least he should make up for his bad behavior by finding the strength to go on, and work for the people who grew to fear him. In any way that he can."

"Maybe he deserves a swift end. Could be that he believes he does." Temari took on a mercenary tone, "That's the correct conclusion, isn't it? Don't forget what he did to me, or the other people in your town."

Haku vowed, "I will never forget."

They finished their food, washed dishes at the sink, and wiped down the table. Late-year sunshine filtered through skylight windows in the cabin's wood ceiling, tinting the space warm gold. The room was dotted by the rich green leaves of potted fig trees.

Haku sunk back into the cushions of a floor-seat, sighing and shutting his eyes. He'd devoted so much time planning and initiating the next move to rally forces against the Akatsuki. Lost sleep over it. Nearly been killed because of it, on multiple occasions. Today was a day to shrug off that stress.

He sat there in silence, listening to ocean waves roll up on the sand outside. The sounds of Temari moving things around didn't disturb him.

On a zaisu beside him, she finally took a seat and pulled his feet into her lap, rolling up the cuffs of his pants, "You stressed yourself out again, Haku."

He cracked an eye open, "Zabuza is not a relaxing topic."

She chuckled, "I know."

She dipped his feet in a basin of hot water, and his eyes snapped open fully, "Ah, keep your legs bent so you don't knock this over. Just soak for a bit, then we can scrape off your calluses if you want." As it so happened, she'd set down another basin to soak her own feet in, mixed with similar, fragrant oils.

Haku let his head flop back onto a pillow, "Temari, you don't have to dote on me or subject yourself to the condition of my feet…"

"They're not so bad, trust me. Every now and again I do pedicures with my brothers at home, when there isn't a water ration advisory." Temari sighed and riffled around in a basket of tools and bottles, "It's one of our rituals. You should be in on it too."

He smiled with his eyes shut. It was a relaxing soak, the tension was marvelously alleviated by the warm water, and later, Temari's expert handling of his heels and hard edges. He laughed twice when the tickle of the callus remover caught him off guard.

"Mercy—" Haku sucked in a long breath.

She wore a smug cat smile, "You're the most ticklish person I've met. I'll go easy, since I don't want you to kick me in the face."

Haku melted into cushions, utterly pampered. His mind drew an exquisite blank as Temari trimmed nails and cuticles. Her hands were strong and clever; an absolute luxury of touch on the most abused parts of his body.

He seldom indulged in vain activities, since turning to an unpredictable lifestyle outside of the protection of a village. But if he had the time and relative safety to get his hair styled, nails painted, all the knotted muscles rubbed out of his back…he would probably do it regularly. By his estimate, Haku would say he was just good enough for passing when it came to his appearance, since he maintained it as far as practical means allowed.

"Just a moment…" With her toe-focused work done, Temari lowered his feet into the water again.

It was sublime to not see. To just feel it all; let someone else care about him. It was the safest place to be, to exist in the now of her love, a refuge and privilege. Each soft sigh that escaped him was laced with gratitude.

Then he was blotted dry with a towel, one of his feet balanced on her knee while she sat, driving the strongest point of her thumbs into the arch of his foot. He had to open his eyes and stare at her, stupefied. Was there no limit to the ways she could make him feel good? Did it really come this easily to her?

Temari grinned, "Special treatment! I don't do this for my brothers, you know."

"—you don't have to-"

"Do you not like it?"

"-no-! It's amazing!"

"Then shush." She instructed merrily, "See that box? Pick a color."

Haku turned curiously to a decorated box, "For…?"

"Nail polish."

"Ah, of course. You can't leave your work three-fourths done." Amused, he peered into the container at two dozen hues. After a long pause to examine, he asked, "Which one is your favorite?"

"Adrenaline."

Haku canted his head in confusion.

"They name the bottles." She laughed softly at his expression, "It's red."

"Oh…" He looked for it, plucking up the color in question, "I think I've seen you in clothes this color too…"

"You probably have." She nodded, lost in her task, rubbing and squeezing up his calf.

The leg rub made him stupid with comfort, made his eyes glaze over. He could barely keep his attention on the polish in the box, but eventually he pulled up a shade that spoke to him. A pale green-blue. Haku held it up to his face and scrutinized it, thinking back on why it was so familiar. Did he wear this color often? Favor it, at some point? Maybe back when he'd lived in Konoha?

Temari glanced up from her rubbing, "Which one is that?"

"Seafoam…"

"That would definitely look better on you than it would on me."

He frowned at the bottle and then set it aside. Something adjacent to a memory was prodding the back of his mind, out of reach. He couldn't remember if there was anything to remember.

"I thought I was helping you relax, but you seem upset again…" She pointed out.

"Not really! Nothing of your doing, Temari. It's just sometimes I feel like I've done certain things or seen things before…when I never have." Haku tapped his thumb to his lip, stewing over it, "I wouldn't quite call it déjà vu."

She took a long moment to regard him, "So…nail polish gave you a nostalgia flash?"

"I guess it did."

Temari smiled again, "You're going to feel very nostalgic about everything we do here, after today."

He gave her a helpless, smitten look. The frustrating tweak in his brain fell to the wayside, and he was back to being pampered while enduring fleeting, numerous memories of rolling around in bed with her for hours. A perfect waste of the day.

When he was thoroughly rubbed, Temari set the water basins aside and silently painted his toenails the seafoam color. After two coats, his fingernails were next. Haku wrestled the smile curling up the edges of his lips. It was fulfilling to indulge this way. While growing up in Konoha, he'd never seen boys wear nail polish or makeup, though a few times he had his nails painted by Sakura when they'd been children. No one had ever pointed out to him that the recreation was somehow disallowed, most especially not his friends. Though as he'd gotten older, he'd heard some unusual takes on the pastime.

That painted nails were often a sign of a shinobi's involvement in criminality, or so many said. Haku found it so strange. Why differentiate yourself in such a minor, ornamental way? Back then, Gaara had once theorized that maybe those individuals got into such confrontations that their nails were damaged and falling off, so they painted the rest black to disguise it. Naruto declared it a ludicrous theory. He'd then had to arbitrate between the two as they argued.

As it turned out, there was some truth to the hypothesis. Haku had seen many involved in criminal organizations sporting painted nails. At best, he would like to pin it to pure coincidence. But sadly he'd heard reports that the appearances of Akatsuki members were consistent. Nails, cloak, and all.

So whether Temari knew it or not, it felt as though she was condoning all the worst of him. That even as he moved through the most sinister circles of the shinobi world, or expressed his unusual preferences, he was still worth cherishing to her. He sighed at the thought.

"Don't smudge those." Temari advised as she secured the cap to the bottle, "Do you like it?"

Haku folded his knuckles down to take a look, "I'll keep the bottle if you let me."

She grinned and set it aside for him. She did a double-take when Haku picked up her favorite color and spun it between his palms.

"You want to paint my nails?"

"If you'd let me. I have a steady hand."

"Have you ever painted nails before?"

"When I was a child." Haku confessed, "And back then, well…I wouldn't say I was any good at it."

"Huh. Then give it a shot." Temari offered as she rested her hands on the tea table beside them.

While he was slow and meticulous about it, he hadn't exaggerated about his fine motor skills. It took Haku about twice the time to accomplish the same work Temari had done, but he was pleased to see smooth, pigmented lacquer with few amateur-looking streaks.

She blew on her nails and nodded to him, "Phew. Great work. A bit more practice and soon I'll be leaving you in charge of manicures."

Haku raised his brows merrily, "I might charge you."

"I can pay." Her grin suggested a different form of compensation.

And so, the happy pair lolly-gagged around the cabin, serene in one another's company for all of the day until it was time to part. On the beach outside in the dying light, Haku held her hands in his own as they said their farewells. Temari's kiss was long and slow, grounding him before he had to turn away and set out for the Water Country. She watched him go until he was a speck on the horizon, wondering to herself if this was their pattern of meeting and parting; if it would ever end? That someday they might stay in the same place and watch the sunset, with no obligations to call them away.

---

Late at night, Haku arrived back at the flat in Nanakusa in pitch dark. He found the nesting box of rabbits still and safe, and the apartment was not in utter disarray after he'd left. He peeked through the gap in the doorway of Zabuza's bedroom, where the man was asleep and heedless of his return. Haku tip-toed to his own room to get a few measly hours of sleep.

Then it was dawn.

Pua was petulantly cramming herself beneath his chin, trying to get Haku's attention as he snorted and woke blearily. Her whiskers tickled his face.

"Go make Zabuza feed you…" He complained and rolled over. The rabbit hopped and accosted his face with softness again.

"Pua…" Haku sighed, sprawled flat on his back, "You cause me endless trouble."

She sat on his stomach as if to suggest, Then don't run off and leave me unattended so much!

"Fine." He rose to straighten the covers of his bed. Dressed appropriately for the day's trip. Haku followed his rabbit out of the room, out into the living area where Pua returned to her nesting box. Haku brought hay for her to eat while she nursed her kittens. In the dim light of the space, he could see Zabuza seated at the table, eating boiled eggs and rice. Haku crossed over and took a seat.

"You were out late." Zabuza observed.

"I was." Haku didn't pay him any heed as he inspected the odd dishes on the table— leftovers. A thin cut of reheated pork, soybeans, soup with a motley of vegetables not properly cut into bite-size chunks, but when did Zabuza ever consider that standard? He'd only recently started to cook. Haku took the portions he wanted.

For a long while, Zabuza said nothing and seemed to stare into the middle-distance, dwelling in his thoughts. Haku ate and listened to the rustling of his rabbits in their box. A waning, violet light outside the kitchen window indicated night was surrendering to morning. When Haku glanced up again from his soup bowl and its absurdly sized vegetables, he realized Zabuza was looking at his hands.

"Oh," Haku acknowledged the detail that his associate was focused on, "I had my nails painted in the Tide Village, yesterday. Do you…like it?" He held his hand up, fingers flat, the dull overhead light barely illuminating the blue-green lacquer on his nails.

"It's typical of you." Zabuza told him.

"Why do you say that?"

"Choosing the same color."

"As compared to when?" Haku asked, frowning, "I hardly ever get to do things like this."

"I know." Zabuza stacked up his empty dishes, "I thought that was normal, here. Guess some things about you will always sort of stick."

He stood and transported the bowls to the sink, and Haku huffed. 'That's the second time he's said something that made no sense. What's the matter with him?' Haku didn't have much patience for the nonsense his companion had begun to spout in place of small-talk or apologies, 'He must still be tired; a waking mind not articulating clearly. Of course I can't understand him when he's asleep conversationally…'

Clean-up was perfunctory, then they gathered their weapons and supplies, including the Master Scroll and the tool scroll containing 250 million Ryo. Haku made sure his rabbits were settled, and then he and Zabuza ventured out into the fading dark. They took one of the motorboats Zabuza had stolen and moored (without permission) on a neighbor's dock, and struck out northeast from Nanakusa.

The waves were small, sliding beneath the boat and parting along the wake. Haku sat near the bow, keeping his gaze ahead on the endless dark line of water. Zabuza steered in silence.

Haku inhaled long drags of salty air, letting the sound of windshear and distant gull cries tether him to where he was and what needed to be done. 'I sincerely hope this meeting goes well and isn't some kind of trap…that it isn't misinformation that Mist has spread about Mei in order to catch anyone willing to side with her.' Though Zabuza had insisted the information checked out, Haku still harbored doubts, 'I never would have thought after initially coming to this country to find out more about my ancestry…that I would end up doing this. I only cared about doing something for myself, and I guess…maybe that's how Zabuza felt about things too…'

The deft keening and banking of the boat at high speed was a reminder of Zabuza's presence. That he'd been in the Water Country and traversed it for all of his life, grown skilled at it. Above, the arrangement of stars was enough to point him towards whatever unmarked island Mei was rumored to be stationed on. Haku considered it all, quite shocked the man hadn't taken a boat and sped away from his homeland, never to be seen again. He'd be marvelously wealthy wherever he decided to go ashore.

Instead, they had sidelined their personal pursuits to grasp at this last lifeline of change. The ragtag pair were betting so much on the final rebellious holdouts of the Mist Village to scrounge up the courage to fight alongside them. To shelve their differences as well.

In rosy dawn light, Haku could finally make out a dark protrusion on the horizon. It had been hours of dedicated sailing with hardly any landmarks for reference, never slowing. It seemed to Haku that maybe they had passed beyond the territorial waters of the archipelago, or, they'd reached its very limit. Rising further still was a small featureless landmass, and they sped on and on. Until the land was not so small at all, and it looked like a true vestige of unspoiled, ancient land unknown to man. The half-broken slope of a black caldera, long gone cold from a lack of volcanic activity, was overgrown with vegetation and jungle. Not a single light or wisp of campfire smoke came from it.

Haku turned back to Zabuza, "That's it?"

"Should be."

He had to raise his voice above the wind, "How many do we expect to be there?"

"Between 100 and 200 shinobi. It could be more, but don't get your hopes up."

"Are you sure no one else knows?"

"Not sure at all." Zabuza conceded, "But it's not exactly an easy isle to find and commercial ships don't go near it. So that usually keeps things secretive enough."

They closed in, riding out rougher ocean waves, then tall, choppy breakers before slowing to beach the vessel in the shallows and toss the anchor. The pink rainbow of morning light made the isle look like a paradise as they hopped down to soggy sand, assessing the dense greenery. Flurries of colorful parrots darted in the air, blending back into the forest as a flock. Seabirds skittered along the beachfront, breaking formation around rowdy macaques on the prowl for crabs and surf snails.

There were no human footprints. No boats. No evidence of any kind that anyone had been here, and so Haku had to internally quell his despair that they'd been sent to a deserted isle on a goose-chase. Zabuza hiked up to the tree line and he followed. The interior was vines, logs, moss, and ferns. Gargantuan leaves and shrubs. The stink of a corpse flower in the underbrush made both men gag, though Haku couldn't help but point out the rarity of such flora.

This must have been on the limit of a tropical climate, Haku supposed. None of the cold that gripped the mainland or the islands in the Land of Water was present. Numerous shorea trees swept up to incredible heights, their canopies dappling sunlight down on them as they climbed wild, sloping limestone hills. Birdsong and insect chatter echoed all around.

"Should we be looking for traps?" Haku asked.

"If I were them, I wouldn't set any." Zabuza supposed, "I wouldn't expect anyone to find this place, and if they did, I wouldn't want to leave any evidence that someone's been around. Surprise would be the best trap."

"If they're not expecting us…"

"They'll have Sensors." Zabuza assured him.

Ah, that would work better. They could be more flexible and travel more freely by sensing the chakra of incoming threats, as opposed to sweeping the island's traps for any captives. Haku wondered at what point they would be noticed, and after nearly an hour of hiking into unspoiled jungle, he began to think that perhaps they hadn't been sensed by the rebel faction. Maybe no one was there after all. He took a seat on a fallen log to rest, contemplating their surroundings. Zabuza stopped and stared at the looming, central caldera.

"Won't they come out to meet us, if they've noticed us?" Haku expressed his concerns, "Isn't this taking too long?"

"It's taking too long." Zabuza agreed, "But I'm sure that they're here."

"How? How are you sure?"

The man pointed at the ground, "They've been scraping around in the dirt, looking for tubers and shit to eat."

"Animals forage out here, you know."

"They're animals too." Zabuza turned back to fixate on the dark slopes ahead, "Those forage holes have been everywhere. They have a lot of mouths to feed. I bet they only use one small patch of beach to fish and look for food, and the rest they leave untouched so they don't arouse suspicion."

Haku rubbed his aching head, "You have a lot of confidence in pure theory."

"It's not just theory. That's how we keep discreet in Mist too. We don't give away our positions in mud or sand. That's Academy-level strategy." The swordsman snorted.

Haku held up his hands, "Forgive my pessimism."

"That shit's annoying."

"So are you." Haku huffed, standing, "I apologize that I don't have the same level of intuition as you while searching places like this."

Zabuza continued hiking, leading the way as he quipped, "Apology accepted."

"Pff! What if you're wrong? What if your informant lied and sent us to the middle of nowhere?"

"Then I'll kill him. But Do-yeon knows I'd kill him, so he wouldn't lie."

"How reassuring."

They carried on, frightening monkeys and bulbuls in the trees, setting off their warning cries in the forest. Nature would be enough of an alarm if rebels recognized what those wild calls meant.

After a while, they reached the foot of the basalt slopes, out in the open and away from the cover of shorea and maripa palms. Haku exchanged a glance with Zabuza. They were allowed to venture to the center of this island uncontested? By this point, they had both expected some chaos. Following a crumbled, jagged path of stones, they wound around the eastern side of the caldera until the walls folded back, where air had long ago cooled and left a negative space in the igneous formations. Tall stones and precipices dotted the interior, and, at last, there were shinobi sentries crouched down on those natural balconies. None of them moved.

That was because below those sentries were hundreds of shinobi gathered in an encampment. The energy of the place was serene, tents set up on the peripheries, supply stacks placed uniformly for all to access. The flow of the place slowed as an awareness came over them, many of those with their backs turned whirling around to look upon newcomers treading into the camp. Friendly chatter died down.

Haku's eyes darted about, taking in the sights. Maybe more than half of those present were kunoichi. There seemed to be a disparity of age in the men present: many were older or incredibly young— teenagers younger than Haku. Toward the middle-center of the camp site and seated on a medical supply crate was none other than Terumi Mei. Her red hair furled long and bouncy down her back, her legs crossed primly, her hands folded neatly in the lap of her blue dress. She had just finished speaking with a female lieutenant. The lieutenant took one look at Zabuza approaching and rolled her eyes. She stalked off to go about her duties.

"Momochi-san," Mei's greeting was surprisingly courteous, "You came all the way out here just to see me?"

Haku caught the self-flattery in her address. He stopped beside Zabuza, a few meters away from the rebellion leader.

"It's for a purpose, not personal gratification." Zabuza swatted aside her attempt at coquettish charm, "We need to talk."

"We have talked. Remember? Some years ago. On the main island." Mei tilted her head, "Or have you forgotten?"

Other rebel shinobi began to gather around, and Haku gave no indication of his discomfort about how public this meeting was, since Mei made no attempt to call the visitors into a tent for a private setting. She stayed seated where she was. She wanted a display.

"I didn't forget anything. I get that I didn't put my best foot forward then, not the way you did." He extended the tacit admission without sounding apologetic, "I'm here to negotiate combining our forces to strike out against the regime holding Mist."

"Is that so?" There was a shine to Mei's eyes.

"The Akatsuki's sock puppets need to be extracted root to stem, and I used to work with most of the fucks running the show there now. You bring your group with you, and I'll point the way. When and where to move."

She offered a close-mouthed smile, "A coup d'état under your directions? No matter how intimate your knowledge is of the Hunter Corps and crony departments, I'm sure Honesuki-sama could tell me just as much." Mei's smile slowly faded, "I will decide on my own, with those who have suffered alongside me, when and where to strike, Momochi Zabuza."

"Yeah? And how long is that going to take?" He sneered, "You deciding those things takes a backseat to you scrambling between remote areas to avoid conflict. Who's holding their breath waiting for your 'go' command?"

"What I do keeps people safe. Keeps innocent settlements safe. Keeps real Mist ninja, safe." Mei's riposte was immediate, "Zabuza, you've always been comfortable putting others in danger. I have not. If you consider my thoughtfulness to be cowardly, then your courage is barbaric."

Their hackles were raised, and it seemed to the dozens of watching rebels that a duel between the two was imminent. But, remarkably, the battle remained a strict sparring of words and ideology.

"On that note," Mei went on, "Who is this?" Her eyes settled on Haku.

Haku stepped forward and offered a small bow, "I'm Haku. I was born in the Water Country, but I was raised in Konoha."

An eruption of soft, surprised murmurs followed his introduction.

"Really? A Leaf ninja descends to our insurgent ranks?" Mei chuckled, "If you escaped this land's misery, why would you ever turn back and spare us a glance?"

"Isn't that what anyone here would want?" Haku asked, "My parents were part of the eta class reviled in Mist, and my mother had a Kekkei Genkai, like me. After they died, I was fortunate to be raised and trained in safety. But I never forgot what happened to them…and others like us. I've been trying to find a way to help."

Peanut-gallery choruses rang out from the crowd:

"Kekkei Genkai my ass! He'd have to have one of Mist's blood limits to prove it!"

"That prissy boy wouldn't know a hard day's work if it walked up and slapped him in the face!"

"Zabuza's just paying him to say this shit! For sympathy!"

"Mei-sama! You don't buy this, do you?"

Mei held up a hand to quiet her comrades down. She kept a steady gaze on Haku, "To tell the truth…I already know who you are. I've known for quite some time. You're more than just one of the orphans of this country…though I'm not sure how much you were going to divulge."

Haku swallowed and listened as she went on.

"The Water Country has known about the ghost that accompanies the Demon of the Hidden Mist. At first, the rumors were that you did his bidding, as if you were a debtor of some kind— dragged tragically into violence. Then they said you were an apprentice, aiming to become a Swordsman of Mist someday, to exact vengeance. Reports were later conflicted: you became a petty cartel criminal, and also the defender of the helpless and the overlooked." Mei rested her cheek in her hand, shaking her head, "None of that is really true, it turns out. You're just one of Hidden Leaf's mercenaries, roaming far and wide to secure its foreign policy interests. Your heart isn't in the liberation of Hidden Mist; it's to secure it as an asset for Leaf."

"You can't say that I—!"

"Honesuki-sama herself pleaded with me to hear you out. That you're both lapdogs for the Toad Sage, and for some reason she believes that would be enough for us to forge ahead and retake Mist." Mei narrowed her eyes, "But I assure you that isn't enough. Your village might be able to supply the forces to overthrow the Akatsuki, but Leaf will demand much in return from our vulnerable village. We can't become sycophants for any of the other great villages. We need to rebuild our strength on our own terms."

"Cut your nose off to spite your face, then." Zabuza sassed her.

"Gama-sennin and I will do all that we can to ensure that Leaf's officials don't make unreasonable demands of Mist." Haku didn't spare a sidelong look to Zabuza, who was still bristling beside him.

Mei shook her head, "All that you can do is not a guarantee of our freedom. It may turn out to be very little advocacy, on your part. We can't accept those terms. And why should I trust your negotiation efforts any more than Zabuza's, young man? You were the one who killed my informant in the Mist Village, a few years ago: Miura Sengin. Killed him and his son, as a matter of fact. While you were doing syndicate work for Koseki Inagawa."

Soft gasps were uttered all around, and Haku couldn't hide the twitch in his face. He had tried to forget killing an innocent team of Mist ninja that had gotten in the way of a lucrative assignment, over two years ago. He had killed them while in his Cursed Seal form. He didn't reply; didn't try to qualify his past actions.

She gave a long sigh. The wild laughter of parrots seemed to slow time for the humans standing and seething below.

"Don't cite the people he's killed or worked for as an excuse not to listen to a good idea." Zabuza recommended, "You've worked with organized crime just as often."

"I did work with gangs, that's true. And do you know what I did to those cartel leaders after I got the information I wanted?" Mei smiled again, "I burned them alive."

"Like that's supposed to assure everyone you have a moral compass." Zabuza snorted.

"Fair enough. But those groups don't bother trying to work with me anymore. I've made it clear where I stand, and what will happen to them if they don't find a new line of work."

"It's amazing," The man spoke through his teeth, "How many excuses you'll find just so you can avoid combining our forces."

"I'm sorry—" Her blue eyes widened, "What forces are you talking about? Do you have more than a dozen people to contribute to this cause, Zabuza? If so, where are they?"

"Haku said it before: we'll have Leaf's support."

"Where has Leaf been, all this time? Why am I supposed to believe they will show up now when none of the other great villages have attempted to help Mist?" Mei's distrust was the obvious consensus she and her rebel cohort had reached. Other villages had repeatedly pretended to aid Kirigakure, only to turn around and betray them later. No one was willing to hold their breath for a real alliance.

"I understand that it's hard to believe, but we need to be decisive. The Akatsuki are growing bolder in their attacks on jinchuriki and villages." Haku hoped to combat doubt with facts, "You may not be willing to take chances, but consider that the Akatsuki will. Their efforts are brazen and coordinated; well-informed. They are done waiting." He looked around at the faces of strangers, "Hidden Mist needs to be freed now, or it's never going to happen. Bold action is the only way. If the risks still seem too steep, each person here is entitled to 2 million Ryo to volunteer. To help them start over when things settle after conflict."

Mei drummed her nails against the side of the crate she sat on. The prospect of money did seem to have some effect on the crowd. Many had focused their stares on Haku, wondering if he was promising a fantasy or actual compensation.

Then, a figure dressed in white began passing behind the lines of spectating rebels, slipping by on the left side and squeezing past shoulder-to-shoulder ninja: a kunoichi stepped out and went to Mei's side. Haku felt a yarn ball of shock knot in his chest. The woman looked just like him! As if he'd glanced at a mirror in passing: the shape of her face, her complexion and hair color, the set of her brow and the bridge of her nose…all similar to his own. Her eye color and long, curly hair loose down her back differentiated her, to an extent, but Haku had been dumbstruck by the woman's appearance.

Zabuza fidgeted once when the kunoichi appeared. He wasn't pleased when the two women whispered to each other as if he wasn't there, and it was not as if he could pretend this person wasn't a relation of Haku's. Haku was going to see the resemblance.

When a rain of kunai shot at Zabuza's undefended back, Haku was too out-of-sorts to react. The Seversword blocked several knives, though two sunk into Zabuza's right shoulder and triceps before he could leap sideways to avoid the ambush. The perpetrator in the crowd had made his mind up, and others with sheep-level logic drew out weapons to attack the Demon of the Hidden Mist. When their projectiles were hurled, Haku had already stepped in front of Zabuza and swung his hand fan once. A Wind Style swirl scattered the incoming weapons uselessly.

Haku spat at them, "We mean you no harm and you behave this way?"

From the corner of his eye, others were preparing to attack, so he swung his fan again, restraining his strength, and bowled the line of rebels over to fall to their backs with startled squawks. Mei's angry voice called for the group to stay their hands, since violence among their ranks was pointless. Haku went to Zabuza who had since pulled the knives from his arm and kept pressure on the puncture points. Haku quickly went about mending him with Healing Jutsu. If onlookers weren't surprised by Haku's defense of a reviled Mist rogue, they absolutely were when they watched him tend to the brute's injuries.

"Don't you understand he's killed our comrades? Family?" A rebel shouted at Haku, "He should repay his debts with blood!"

"I understand your frustration with him; I really do!" He kept his glowing hands on the man in question, "But seek justice after your village is freed. He's going to be needed in the struggle that's coming."

"You're a fool if you support an unforgivable monster like him!"

"Haven't you all done questionable things just to get here?" Haku turned the argument back on those gathered, "I'm not innocent, and none of you are, I'm sure. Is it impossible for you to move on for the sake of Mist's future?"

Zabuza muttered to him, "There's no use in lecturing this bunch."

"Shut up." Haku hissed under his breath, then addressed the crowd again, "Mei-sama herself has not denied taking lives during her career. She and Zabuza both were of generations forced to undergo Mist's brutal graduation requirements. In fact, most of you were subjected to that savage practice. Didn't it hurt you to have to take the lives of friends and classmates? Other villages never had to cope with that anguish. Killing has been so normalized for all of you, that you forget that none of you can be exempted from the standards you hold Zabuza to!" The reminder was a slap in the face for those listening, "You want that legacy to change, don't you? Then you have to move on! You need to be the ones to change it."

"My, my…you're very well spoken." Mei had stood up, taking a few steps closer, "You make a compelling case, Haku."

"So if you don't disagree with him, it's time that we worked this out." Zabuza was, surprisingly, unruffled over the fact that some of those gathered had made an attempt on his life, "None of you need to like me, you just have to work with me."

"Even that is a tall ask." Mei warned him, "Everyone here is entitled to their feelings. They don't have to do anything for you. I've never asked them to do anything for me. The shinobi gathered here think I can do something for them."

Once Zabuza's injury was mended, Haku turned around again to face Mei as she regarded him curiously.

"You have potential." Mei decided, tilting her head, "I propose a better option; something that makes far more sense than Zabuza's offer. Why don't you join me, Haku?"

His heart became the scampering of the baby rabbits in the nest box, back at home. Helpless, small, sporadic. The horror of that moment was that Haku knew Mei was sensible, and though he'd not once thought he might be extended such an offer…it was the best offer.

"We don't need the money, if that's what you're thinking." Mei assessed his hesitation, "Your connections are more valuable. And Honesuki-sama vouched for your sincerity and skill. Do you think she had such words for her own grandson?" Mei simpered, "Not even close. Let him keep that money, and we will work our way back to prosperity once the regime is routed from Mist."

The disconnect was an earthquake in his brain, because all Haku could think about was how he hadn't known of the simple beach trick Mist ninja used to stay hidden. Barely knew how to navigate between the hundreds of islands in the Water Country's archipelago. Barely knew anything about his own clan, and yet there was no doubt in his mind that the woman near Mei was a member of the Yuki clan. She must be Kahyō, the kunoichi that Huo had spoken of. From the neck down Haku was tense, debating endlessly with himself in those long seconds.

Here was the rare chance, perhaps his only chance to once and for all be a part of them— to be deeply educated in and entrusted with Mist's secrets. To be a part of a future where Mei, the Mizukage, would depend on him, trust him, and build up invaluable alliances with Leaf, Sand, and other villages. He could see a bright but bittersweet future with the Yuki clan, those who he had longed to discover for so long…and all he had to do was tell Mei yes. Kahyō was sure to take him aside and confirm things with him, as soon as he did so. All that he'd been searching for was here.

What was nearly as certain, however, was the misfortune would befall Zabuza as soon as Haku pledged himself to Mei's cause.

Never mind the anger the man would feel, as if he'd been duped out of all the training and work he had invested into Haku; it'd be a signal to Mist rebels that Zabuza was indeed worth forsaking. Incapable of change. Untrustworthy and unreliable. Contrarily, Haku had tried to assert the opposite just before. Like most everyone now standing on the island, Zabuza would be necessary in defeating the Akatsuki, in spite of his past crimes. Yet Mei had implied that she didn't want Zabuza's help or money, and that if Haku agreed to join her cause— he'd be doing it without his associate.

Then Zabuza would really be persona non grata in this land. An irredeemable criminal to be hunted down for sport next week, or elevated to the priority list in the Bingo Book once Mei's rebellion had liberated Hidden Mist. Sooner or later. That collective negative opinion and hatred would galvanize these people to take Zabuza down based solely on his past actions. No one would ever know that he had (sort of) made friends on Nanakusa. That he did (mostly) try to defend the people there. That he'd taught Haku so much, entrusted the secrets of the Seven Swordsmen and even the Master Scroll to him (begrudgingly). Well. None of those things were really good reasons, Haku conceded, when he remembered Zabuza initially used Nanakusa's residents as shields, was generally hostile and ungrateful to the people closest to him, had killed too many people on Haku's watch (or nearly killed them). So, Mei's cohort wouldn't exactly be misinformed by their older interpretations of who Zabuza was.

To Haku, it was more personal. Which was awful. Because he couldn't convince anyone that Zabuza was worth keeping around because the man had once told him that he was sorry. That he had worried. That the Toad Sage had offered him a Summoning Contract. That he had named a rabbit, and maybe was interested in raising it. That Zabuza had taken care of Haku when he'd been badly wounded by Huo, and seemed to know so much about Haku that many other people in his life, Gaara and Naruto included, did not. None of that would matter to anyone. And maybe it shouldn't have mattered to Haku either.

Whether or not those things mattered did not negate the fact that Zabuza had changed and learned, and while he was still not a good person, Haku suspected he would continue to change for the better if given the chance. It was likely why the man tried so hard to win Mist back. He had never stopped trying. When he had fled Kirigakure, it had already been a dysfunctional nightmare. He'd given plenty of thought to what needed to improve in the village. Himself included.

No one here would be willing to give Zabuza the opportunity to transition back as a legitimate ninja in Hidden Mist. Not by ascending to leadership, or being of service in some official capacity— he was already disqualified no matter what his intentions were now. Haku could only assume that leaving his side would be a death sentence.

Haku stared at Mei and Kahyō blankly, opening his mouth. He remembered what Temari had said to him yesterday:

Maybe he deserves a swift end. Could be that he believes he does. That's the correct conclusion, isn't it? Don't forget what he did to me, or the other people in your town.

He had said that he'd never forget. What Haku had been too guilty to add was that he had already forgiven Zabuza for his most heinous act; when he'd tried to assassinate the team from Sand, and Temari as well. He wouldn't forget it, but the outrage didn't boil inside of Haku the way it used to. He'd started to believe something like that could never happen again.

Don't forget what he did—

He scrunched his eyes shut and took a shallow, whistling breath through his nostrils. Mei could see that he was distressed.

She raised a sympathetic hand, "You don't need to decide now. I appreciate that you want to help us. Some other time you—"

"There isn't going to be some other time. We are out of time." Zabuza barked at her, "I don't give a fuck who you want helping you, so long as you do something. Do it now."

Ah. So he didn't really care after all. If Haku stayed or left. If he lived or died at the mercy of Mist's disaffected holdouts. All Zabuza wanted now was that something be done.

"Shut your mouth and leave already." Mei flashed her eyes at him, her patience exhausted, "Don't come back again. I've made my position clear to you."

Haku looked up again, "No."

In the long pause, he could hear the river-rush sound of blood in his own ears. Blood pressure and adrenalin elevated in his body to keep pace with the demands of his mind.

"He's right. This should be decided now. And I…" His pulse drumming, Haku spoke the mistake out loud, "I won't go anywhere without Zabuza, or in any context where he isn't consulted."

Mei did have an apparent deer-in-the-headlights expression, not breaking her gaze from Haku's.

"He isn't what he once was, and I won't waste my breath trying to convince those gathered here how essential he is in recovering your village." Haku explained, "I understand if you refuse to collaborate with him as an equal, and I encourage you to consider inviting him into your ranks in some way. But I can't join you on my own."

A sequence of affront and acceptance played out on the woman's face, until finally Mei's eyelids drooped, following her blue gaze to the ground. It could have been disappointment. It could have been uncertainty. All she said was, "If that's how it is, then we are done speaking here."

His head moved in an automatic bob of agreement, catching an odd jerk of motion in his peripheral where Zabuza stood. A moment later, Zabuza had turned to exit the camp. Haku moved as though all of the rising energy that had accompanied his conviction had been siphoned off and dumped into the ocean. Meaningless and ineffectual. He glanced back a single time to see Mei moving back to the supply crates she'd been sitting on, then he met eyes with Kahyō, or whoever she was. He saw her project a parallel curiosity to his own, a nebulous understanding of what his sad face was saying. After that, Haku carried on out of the rocky outcrops, down the pebbled slopes. No one harassed them as they went.

Beyond the tree line, Haku's pace sped up, knocking aside ferns and vegetation noisily as he marched. Zabuza took several strides to come up beside him, "What are you doing?"

"Can't you see? I'm leaving."

"It doesn't have to end there. You can go back. If it means something came of this, then why would I whine about it? Just work with her." Zabuza reasoned, "I don't know if you know this, Haku, but you don't need permission— don't need to stick with me like—"

"Like what?" Haku snapped his head toward him, "Like your friend? I know I'm not. I never needed anyone's permission, least of all yours. Don't you understand that if I join them, then they all have license to ignore you at best, or at worst, they'll hunt you like a dog?"

"As if that isn't already my fucking reality?" He kept his footing down a sheer drop of stones and sideways trees, falling behind as Haku trickled through jungle chaos.

Oh, his head was pounding again. Like fists punching behind his eyes, made of pure humiliated, resentment. That he could come to this milestone and fumble it so spectacularly. Haku felt his face frozen in an analog of a smile that was fury, masquerading behind disbelief. The stupid smile of shock that haunts people when they fail.

Somewhere in the wilds, where he'd not been paying attention to his surroundings, Haku finally stopped to look around. Zabuza was nowhere to be seen. He doubled-back, breathing harder, an electric current of the enraged, frustrated feelings sheering like a riptide over his thoughts: Had Zabuza gone back to entreat Mei to work with him, to accept Haku? Had he finally cut loose to run and give up this entire gambit?

When Zabuza reappeared and merely looked as though he was trying to catch up, Haku still couldn't get over his paranoia, "Where were you—?"

"Now I can't take a piss?"

"Say something, if you're going to!"

"You are really losing it." Zabuza observed.

"Am I?" The whites of his eyes were too visible, and it was off-putting to his companion, "It isn't as if we just ruined our chances of working with Mei's rebellion."

"You're the one who said that shit, not me. I've never asked you to stand up for me. In fact, that was hugely stupid." Zabuza informed him, "Back in the Birch Haunt, we agreed to understand if we had to split up. That it's not personal as long as we get this done somehow. Remember that? I wasn't just saying that because we were deep in Mist-controlled territory, I meant it as a principle." He grabbed Haku's shoulder to slow him, "When the Old Toad said that I'd be your subordinate during all of this, neither of us took that to mean you go out of your way for me. Not for real."

"How could you ever think…" Haku lowered his voice and pried the man's hand off, "I wouldn't?"

Not caring was definitely outside of Haku's expertise.

The great concern here, Zabuza decided as they ambled through forest sunrays in a maze of trees, was that Haku gave too much of a shit. Zabuza had been hoping he would not. He had been counting on Haku's lingering resentments and frustrations with him to at least use those feelings to let go when the time came, and make the right decision. Namely, to not try to defend him, especially to Mei's face.

That was not the point of this. It was not the point of collecting 250 million Ryo. Was not the point of barely escaping Honesuki, or caving to Jiraiya's demands.

Haku was a haphazard shape in the undergrowth that he tailed after. It was a thoughtless trek through the jungle and back to the beach, and Haku did not seem to be mentally present when they pushed the boat off of sand to set it afloat. Zabuza hauled up the anchor, started the ignition. Haku sat on a seat near the bow without an ounce of animation to him, gone silent.

It was too hasty of an exit, he was sure. Zabuza angled the boat and pushed the throttle to escape the breakers ringing the island, sneaking a final look over his shoulder.

---

Haku had approximately 30 blessed minutes of total thoughtlessness. He was absent, not trying to contemplate anything as only the sound of wind and sea spray occupied his senses. He'd been so short-circuited with frustration that he couldn't allow his brain to put in another second of wasted effort.

The day's light was stretching into the afternoon. His only perception of Zabuza behind him was the expert conduction of the boat, flitting over the small bumps of waves at a high rate of speed. Presumably, back in the direction of Nanakusa. Haku couldn't care where they were going or what was next.

He was going to have to explain this, somehow. To Jiraiya. To Naruto and Gaara. Their work to band together Mist's rebels and ambush the Akatsuki was a total non-starter. It quite possibly wasn't going to happen at all.

Please tell me you'll be doing most of the talking. There's no way he's going to get anyone to cooperate with him.

When he heard Temari's voice echoing in his head after a long silence, Haku felt the last seams of his calm fray.

You know you can't afford to screw this up.

Indeed he knew it. He had done it anyway. Screwed up while he was the one negotiating, worrying about Zabuza's welfare. It had been supremely stupid.

One of Haku's balled fists rose from its resting place on his knee, then slammed down on the fiberglass cover of the anchor's locker. That lone act didn't elicit any reaction from Zabuza, but by the fifth mindless punch, the man at the helm piped up, "Hey!"

Unseeing with grief, Haku channeled the failure, the foolishness, all of the regret— out of his chest, down his arms and hands and out through his knuckles. A perfect exercise of electrical impulses, smashing his hands onto a hard, immovable surface. His blood was smearing over the white compartment.

Then the boat slowed, the motor's thrum decreasing to a whimper and the vessel came to a standstill on the rising and dropping swells.

Zabuza was abruptly on him, and seized him by the wrists to yank him up. Haku twisted like a stray dog, sending the boat tilting to the stern as they tousled. Zabuza's command of Fucking stop! Didn't actually make Haku stop, but it did prompt him to verbalize a bit, muttering nonsense like: I ruined this. We should be planning an ambush on Mist right now…it's my fault…

"For fuck's sake…" Reaching under the young man's arms in a half nelson, Zabuza dragged Haku away from the boat's edge and toward the captain's bench. When Haku stopped struggling and cried instead, Zabuza kept one arm cinched around his distraught companion and then pushed down on the throttle again. They hadn't drifted off course much. He steered the boat with one hand and tried not to let Haku's pitiful sounds crack through what remained of his own thick skin.

Haku was slumping sideways, shored up by Zabuza's arm around his middle, forcing him to sit on the bench. Insofar as he could remember, Haku had never cried in front of him. Had never lost all of his composure to act like a desperate, ship-jumping lunatic who couldn't bear to live with failure. It was a first. He'd glanced down at Haku's hands, at the split-open skin, seeing blood run over those freshly painted, green nails. Zabuza retrieved a clean rag from a shelf beneath the steering console and pressed it to the tops of Haku's hands.

"Listen up. They are not worth your tears. No one around here is; so save that for someone worthy. Got it? You didn't fuck this up. You did everything right." Over the whir of the motor, Zabuza explained to him, "You could have said and done those same things and it would have worked out, if it wasn't for me. If I didn't have over a decade of killing Mist shinobi under my belt, since the Academy, the Hunter Corps and through mercenary work…they'd have tolerated me just fine. So this isn't on you, do you understand?"

Haku didn't respond. He'd since quieted down and was almost catatonic.

"You shouldn't stick your neck out for me. I don't want you to." The man went on, "Not because of my pride or any of that bullshit: it's because I know what your help is worth. It isn't something I deserve, and I never will. You still listening?"

A boogery sound came from Haku. He was still slumping.

"Gross. Okay. Well, we can't undo all of that. But we'll find another way." Zabuza reasoned, "My whole life has been improvisation, and I think I can work something out even without those roaches."

Haku was only half-hearing him. He was still obsessively thinking about how he had botched the meeting and potentially forsaken his chance to reunite with the Yuki clan. Zabuza couldn't know about all of the things that were hurting him; he still had no idea how much Haku had learned about his kinsmen.

"I know I owe you."

His attention redirected and it made Haku hold his breath upon hearing that statement.

"I've held out on you. I've been doing it since the start, so you couldn't get away. None of that matters anymore." He was referring to how he had never cooperated with Haku's personal goals, "You saw her there. She didn't show up with her brother, but she's related to you. I'll make sure you get to talk to her."

Haku asked weakly, "Kahyō?"

"Yeah." Zabuza moved his hand up to pat the top of Haku's head in annoyance, "You little shit. I suspected that you'd figured it out and didn't tell me. I have no clue who told you."

"Not you."

"I know. But I promise you won't like 'em much. Your clan sucks. They're a bunch of losers, but that's your call to make." He went on, "Wouldn't be surprised if they try to investigate you, since you've been seen there. Mei will probably tell them who you are. How are the hands?"

Haku made a noncommittal sound.

"Heal yourself."

He made no effort to.

"You won't take care of yourself now? Or you want me to?"

"I don't want anything."

"You're just saying that because you're upset." Zabuza gruffed, "Fine. Then leave it."

The motor's sound cast a hypnosis over them, and vast stretches of indistinguishable and featureless water yawned for miles, for hours. Alone under the sun and wind, the salt spray tangled their hair. There was so much nothing all around that Zabuza wasn't surprised when Haku fell asleep. It was probably his best option. By evening, Nanakusa was in view— a forest-mottled mound growing closer on the horizon. Haku snored gently, his battered hands blanketed by the rag that had tinged brown.

And once again, on old man Hasekura's dock where Zabuza's stolen boats were never welcome (but Hasekura was too wise to protest), Zabuza killed the motor and moored the speedboat while Haku slept sideways on the bench. He scooped Haku into his arms and carried him away from the lagoon, along a dirt path toward town. The sunset was dingy in washed-out oranges, obscured by storm clouds rolling in from the west.

In town, most activity had died down, and Zabuza had made it as far as the foot of the back stair leading to his flat before one of the town's wayward children (one of three Haku frequently babysat) popped up from beneath the wooden supports and thatches, looking caught. It was Tomoe's youngest child, Katsu. Very obviously the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt was full of tiny rabbits.

"The hell are you doing with those?" Zabuza grunted at him.

"I'm allowed to play with them!"

"Says who?"

"Pua!"

"Pua doesn't talk, ya gremlin." Zabuza strode past the child, up the steps, Haku's long hair swaying as they passed.

"Heya, Momochi-san…"

"Not now."

"Momochi-san!"

"Don't bug me."

"Why's Haku sleeping? Can I still play with the rabbits?"

Zabuza had swung open the flat door which was, surprise-surprise, unlocked. Damn kid. Then of course Katsu waltzed past him and into the apartment, so delusional and entitled for all of his seven years. He deposited the baby rabbits back into their box. Their mother was nowhere to be seen.

Zabuza grunted again, "Kando, get out of here."

"It's Katsu." The child corrected him.

"Like I care."

"Mom made food. Want me to bring some?"

"Yeah, but only if you stop bothering me."

"I'll be right back!" That was not at all an affirmative, but Zabuza was relieved to see the nuisance scurry back out. He closed the door after him with his foot, glanced at the box of rabbits. Then he sighed.

He brought Haku to his bedroom and arranged him on the narrow bed, sliding the blanket up to rest above his collar bones. He went back to the living space to think and vet any uninvited children.

---

An hour or so later, Haku opened his crusted eyes. Noise had awakened him.

It was distinctly the sound of three squealing children playing in the living room. At the foot of his bed, Zabuza was seated and looked like he needed a few additional meters between himself and annoying kids.

Upon noticing Haku was awake, Zabuza said, "Tell them to leave."

Haku smiled tiredly, "I don't stick my neck out for you, right? Deal with them yourself."

"I didn't say that shit."

"You did."

"This is the one exception."

"I don't remember…coming back here."

"You slept for a while. The gremlins brought food so you should eat something, then sleep again if you want."

Haku groggily pushed himself into a sitting position. His appetite was minimal and he felt disoriented, as if his circadian rhythm has been sucker-punched. He was about to bring up the subject of mishandled negotiations with Mei again, but Zabuza stood and returned to the living area to complain about the children overstaying their welcome. Haku listened to the ensuing argument before standing and stretching, then he toddled out.

The children chorused, "Haku!" From their places on the floor, where all of the young rabbits were accounted for except for one, Weuweu. After a moment, Haku saw a tiny furred face poke out of the end of Hotaru's sleeve. There he was.

"That's enough. You know the babies need to sleep. All of you need to go home anyway." Haku ushered to them to break up the fun, began collecting Pua's litter one by one.

Since Haku had the respect of the siblings, they bade their farewells before trotting out of the flat, making a clamor all the way down the stairs. When Haku turned around, Zabuza had already poured alcohol generously to the top of a cup.

"What's that?"

"Single malt whiskey. And it's not for you." Zabuza said before taking a slurp.

"Oh." Haku dropped uselessly onto the couch and picked at open containers of food on the coffee table, "That's to calm your nerves because of the day we had?"

"No. The day was fine. It's wild, disobedient children that make me want to drink." Zabuza took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa, "I don't have a good track record with kids."

"Is that why you left me on that bridge?" Haku wondered drowsily, thinking of the past.

"I didn't leave you on a bridge."

"But you saw me there."

"Seeing an orphaned kid on the street isn't the same thing as abandoning one."

"You might be right…I don't know. When you saw me, it felt like you really saw me. Other people would ignore me or avert their eyes." It was one of the last clear memories Haku had of that horrific period of his childhood.

"I did." Zabuza clarified, "See you. And I didn't do anything."

With his eyes shut, Haku leaned his head back on the head rest of the couch, smiling darkly, "So heartless of you."

"You were better off. I won't say I didn't think about bringing you along with me. I knew you wouldn't last more than seven years with me, before you'd get killed. Or something like that."

Haku's brow furrowed, "That's oddly specific."

"It's an estimate. Now that you know me, you know that a pipsqueak kid wouldn't do well in the circles I ran in. Someone else found you and that worked out." He stopped for a sip of his drink, "Would you change anything?"

"I guess not." Haku considered, "Would you?"

"I did. It was the right thing to do."

Haku opened his eyes to try and get a good look at Zabuza while he said another one of those nonsense things. "I don't know what we're talking about anymore." Haku admitted.

"That's enough of that. Let's talk about the next recruitment effort."

"Let's not." He sluggishly reached for another cold dumpling in a basket on the table, "There is no next effort."

"It's like your big brain just melts down after a major failure, like you haven't failed enough in your life to not be a candyass about it." Zabuza mocked him, "You really can't come up with another plan? And I can? I guess all of those hard knocks helped me out after all."

Haku chewed loudly and said, "You can't hurt my feelings right now. They are numbed."

"I'm barely even trying."

A soft, genuinely amused chuckle rumbled out of Haku as he sat back again.

"I left a toad on that island. A smart one." Zabuza told him, watching Haku's eyes snap open, "I asked him to track Mei's group without being noticed."

"Which one—?"

"He said his name was Kinji. Said he was a Sage." Zabuza shrugged, "I can only take his word for it."

"I've…never heard of Kinji. I should ask Naruto…"

"If Mei comes around…we'll know. Or, if she moves in for an attack, we can at least reinforce what she's doing if it isn't superbly stupid. Any progress is progress, at this point." He supposed, "In the meantime, we look elsewhere for recruits."

"Who would even entertain the idea of meddling in Mist at this point?"

"The Tide Village could use the money." Zabuza was still keen on offering a reward, "And a lot of Tide's forces are ex-Mist shinobi. Some may want to participate for nostalgia's sake, and some may never want to look back, but a lot of those yucks can't resist a big payout. The Old Toad said Tide was attacked by the Akatsuki, so they might feel sympathy for our cause."

"Sympathy alone isn't enough to make them listen to the Demon of the Hidden Mist. What if they react to you the same way Mei did?" Haku challenged.

"I guess I just need more people to vouch for me."

"Who?"

"Migawari said he has family in the Tide Village."

Haku raised and dropped his hands in exasperation, "Because he's such a reliable inroad!"

"Are you saying it's not worth a shot?"

"I don't know what is, at this point."

"Then I'm doing it. I'm not quitting." Zabuza knocked back more of his drink, exhaled sharply from the whisky sting, "I've overcome worse odds."

Haku retreated back into his head again, hearing only the oscillating hum of a space heater on the opposite side of the room. Still, Zabuza wasn't taking this chance to give in or run. As the outlook for him grew ever dimmer and more grim, he didn't back down. He campaigned on to recapture Mist. Did he not find this endless crusade exhausting? The setbacks, the distrust, the lack of respect and appreciation for what he was doing? Haku wondered.

"Maybe if things started at a bridge…they have to end at one too." Zabuza uttered more cryptic nonsense as he set his empty glass down, "That's how it was. Back on the Great Bridge…it leads to the Tide Village. I think that's where I'm supposed to go."

"What are you-? Are you talking about the Great Naruto Bridge?"

"…I can't believe they named it that…"

"Naruto would say," Haku wore an impish expression, "Believe it."

"How in the festering fuck did I not kill you all on that bridge just to spare myself from hearing you say that?"

"You're used to failure." Haku's grin widened and he tipped sideways, feeling lighthearted again as he curled up on the sofa.

"Dickbrain." Zabuza grabbed the base of Haku's ponytail, giving a brief tug of irritation, "Trash-talking and calling me a failure when your skin is as thick as tissues. Aren't you supposed to be a courteous little porcelain doll like everyone thinks? A paragon of society?"

"I never really was any of those things."

"Yes you were."

"I don't know how you would know that."

"When I first met you, you were a wimp with a wounded heart."

"Did that even change?" Haku considered it, "Why are you surprised when I annoy you?"

There was a long quiet. He didn't fidget under Zabuza's hand as it stroked gently from his hairline to the back of his head. Haku reached and pulled the tie from his hair, letting it down to be more comfortable. He shut his eyes and didn't think at all.

As he drifted off again, curled up like a shrimp on the couch, Zabuza mindlessly pet Haku's head. His eyes trailed down to the red-ridged scabbing on the backs of Haku's hands, carelessly hanging off of the edge of the cushion. Those hands, like the rest of him, likely to be forever changed. So different from what he had known.

---

She woke to the soft clacking sound of the bamboo furin hung above her room's door.

"Good morning!" A familiar cheerful voice called out. Then light spilled into the room as curtains were drawn aside.

She opened her eyes and began slowly pushing herself to a seated position in bed. The attendant pulled back her blanket and lowered the bed gate. Which one was this, today? She squinted. Her favorite. The experienced one in the violet uniform: Ogase. He was a friendly, hard-working man. In spite of his thinning hair and the widening disc of baldness at the back of his head, he had a good, merry disposition. Flattering glasses.

She smiled at him, "Good morning, Ogase-kun."

"Did you sleep well, Kitoko?"

"I always do."

"No you don't." He disagreed with fondness in his voice, arranging the room for routines, "You were telling me about nightmares the other day."

"Oh…those are such occasional things." She hurriedly dismissed it, trying to fight the pull of memories. Her three boys. The best of them dead in the prime of his life, the next decent one gone a bit later, and the worst, alive, who refused to ever see her. Their father would harangue their youngest from his grave if he could, but she hoped he laid in peace.

Ogase helped her dress, handed Kitoko her preferred hair clips for styling, helped her stand, and then handed over her walking cane with no further instruction of where to go. She liked that. He was never one to baby her or condescend. Whatever she willed was what he worked toward. Kitoko toddled to her table by the window, hoping birds were at the feeder outside.

"I'll be back shortly with breakfast. Tell me if there are any bulbuls left! I thought I saw one on my way in this morning."

"The brown ones? I'll let you know." She took a careful seat and looked. No bulbuls at the feeder. Just fat, greedy sparrows.

Ogase returned with a tray of breakfast, the cuisine as immaculate as always, perfect portions in fine bowls and chinaware. She didn't look away from the window even while he placed the dishes in front of her. He too glanced out the window to take in what she saw in the yard outside.

"The stripes on that rose-finch are something else." He mumbled, lost in the view.

"He scared the little fat ones away." Kitoko hummed, "No bulbuls though. Thank you for the meal." She began to eat.

"Kitoko-san, I wanted to let you know that we have two new residents who will need a bit more care on the west side. So I'll be covering that wing starting today. Luckily, I have a great assistant who will be stopping by to meet you." Ogase explained, "You'll like her. She's very bright! Miku-san will drop in after dinner when it's bath time, like usual, but our new aide will be with you for the rest of the day."

"Alright."

But it wasn't really alright. Ogase was her favorite.

He made the bed, watched her take her medication, draped another thin sweater over her shoulders to fight the chill in the room. Then he was out again, into the corridor to clean up and fill in the boxes of her chart. Next, he'd be doting on the residents on the west side, greeting them and connecting with them. But before he did, he was probably going to introduce the new aide first.

She ate in contented silence and sipped her tea. Beyond the window out in the cold world, lively balls of feathers zoomed about.

As sure as the dawn, Ogase returned a short time later with a slightly shorter, much slimmer, much younger person. A woman in a lavender uniform; a color coded for inexperience, Kitoko knew.

"Kitoko-san, this person here with me is Tenten. She will be looking after you today." Ogase announced.

The girl named Tenten bowed and echoed Ogase's words about taking care of her, but all Kitoko could do was narrowly stare at the buns on her head. A peasant's hairstyle. And even better was the girl's name tag, the characters surefire evidence of her Han ethnicity, wherein those people would emphasize meaning or make names 'cute' by repeating characters. Whatever those two said after that, Kitoko didn't hear it. She only heard the voice in her head working the whole situation out.

'She's another one of those foreigners they hire sometimes for less pay, but they're diligent workers. One that will only ever says 'yes.' They can barely speak Nihongo and they don't wash well. Tie up their hair and sleeves so the sweat doesn't run down while they work.' Kitoko looked away again, sipped tea, 'One so young won't have any respect for me, and she certainly won't have a spine. Han women speak softly because they have no confidence, and their skills are slapdash! Just the minimum to get by. Another pair of hands that only wants the paycheck.'

She drew the assessment entirely from her own experiences in more than 89 years of living in Konohagakure. Her encounters with Han immigrants had been few and far between, but they were always working class.

"Kitoko-san?"

"Hm?"

"Did you hear me?"

"Come closer, and speak up a little more, Ogase-kun. Oh, I wish you didn't have to go." She put on a woeful smile, her white eyebrows tilted up, "What is this youngster going to do for me, hm? Does she know the differences between all the birds in the yard?"

"Ah. Well…" He glanced at Tenten, who shrugged with her face at him, "She might not, but based on her performance here so far, I'm sure she can learn! She agreed to take over for me while I assist in the west wing."

"I see. I'll look forward to your return, then." She tipped her head to the side, "Thank you for taking such good care of me."

"Kitoko-san, of course. I'll leave you to it!" He smiled at the old woman and Tenten before setting out.

"Ogase-san mentioned you do stretches in the morning, then you like to work on crafts?" The girl named Tenten asked. Her level of initiative and her directness in speaking was wildly incongruent with the assumptions Kitoko had made.

And so, Kitoko stared at Tenten from where she sat, her hands stacked on the top of her mobility cane. Tenten's eyebrows ever so slightly rose up, trying to comprehend the lack of communication.

"Who hit you?" Kitoko asked.

"Excuse me?"

"If you're over here, you probably took a few blows from the agitated residents. The ones who get confused." She clarified, "That's why you agreed to look after the less violent patients on the east end, isn't it?"

"That could be part of the reason." Tenten unconsciously rubbed her cheek, "I also wanted to help Ogase out. He's shown me so much since I first came to work here. When he said he needed someone to cover for him, I didn't hesitate."

"I'm sure this must be a stellar opportunity for you." Kitoko's eyes twinkled.

"It's fine. It's for now."

"Itinerant." Kitoko assumed.

Tenten smiled awkwardly, "I'm not sure what you mean by that. When would you like to do your stretches?"

"What I mean? Han people are always scrounging for better jobs. I daresay a few have come to work at the Peony Pavilion, when they strived for excellence." Kitoko remarked, her eyes traveling up and down Tenten's frame, "You're quite well-spoken, actually. Your pronunciation is superb—"

"I'm Nihonjin. I was born in Konoha." Tenten moved to the edge of the table, and Kitoko could see a fire in her dark eyes. There was indeed confidence there she hadn't expected. An advocacy for herself, instead of demurring and nodding her head.

"Likely your parents weren't."

"They were not." Tenten's smile was chilled, "They were born in Iwagakure, and my clan fled after being double-crossed and persecuted. Those that survived re-settled in Konoha when Sandaime-sama offered refuge. My parents served honorably as shinobi under his command."

Something stirred in Kitoko's eyes as well, rising to the challenge, "What a tale. So they were not just descendants of Han invaders, but they were turncoats from Hidden Rock as well! What a mess. How curious that you've gained employment in such a prestigious facility."

The girl's patience was obviously exhausted by Kitoko's prodding. Her smile was gone. Her eyes were wary and bright, tallying the dings to her honor. She would retaliate. It was splendid.

"To be perfectly honest with you, this job means nothing to me." Tenten told her, "I was told to come here, as a form of punishment. I'm a full-time shinobi, and I'd much rather be working with my team right now."

"Is that so?" Kitoko's eyes crinkled in delight, "A kunoichi ordered to repent for a wrongdoing in a place like this? What high-profile figure did you offend, silly girl?"

"That's none of your business." Tenten wrenched an empty chair from the table, sliding it back to sit down, "Now let's stretch."

They did seated stretches. Without comment, Tenten stood to help Kitoko stay balanced when she leaned to the sides and raised her legs. Afterward, Kitoko pointed to a recessed closet on the far side of the sprawling room, "My bead box is in there on the top shelf. And my wires and tools on the middle shelf…"

Tenten went to retrieve the specified items. Kitoko then got up to walk around her opulent quarters, the rubber bottom of her cane stamping small pum-pum sounds along the wood floor. Tenten returned to the dining table and set the boxes down.

"Not there, girl! Over here." Kitoko motioned to another table beside a floor-to-ceiling window that had an east-facing view of landscaping and gardens. Beside it was a rice paper door that led outside to a traditional engawa, though Tenten doubted the cantankerous old woman was spry enough to step out and enjoy the porch on her own. She moved the boxes to the other table.

Kitoko took a seat, set aside her cane, then rummaged around her boxes, "Since you're here, you can help me reorganize."

"Your craft boxes?"

"No, I don't want you touching my beads. You'd scatter them everywhere."

Tenten inhaled a long breath through her nose, kept her face schooled.

"Those books on that armchair. Put them back on the bookshelf along the wall."

Tenten followed directions and was told, "No, no! With the other volumes— they're part of a set. Read the spines! Aren't you literate?" She spotted the books with similar designs and, though it stung her pride, Tenten took care to insert the books numerically in their cohort.

"Now move those vases to the alcove there. Don't stomp on my tatami mats either!" Kitoko pointed out a tokonoma mantle displaying precious artwork, pottery, and an impressive calligraphy scroll. Tenten did as she was asked, but was hassled several times to shimmy the vases over into their correct positions. Finally, the old woman was satisfied.

Tenten glanced to the corner where the east and north walls met, and noticed a bonsai juniper atop a tall chest of drawers. When she made a move toward it, she did so on a sort of automatic impulse. Tokonoma alcoves very often showed off bonsai plants. As she reached her hand out, Kitoko screeched, "Don't touch that!"

"Why don't you have it displayed with all of your other showcase stuff?" Tenten turned around, stumped, "Relax, I won't touch it! I just assumed."

"Well don't assume!"

"It's not getting enough light over here, you know. There's a shadow being cast."

"It's fine! I've had that juniper for an age. It stays there."

Tenten looked at the small potted tree again. Some needles were turning brown, and patches on the branches were souring to some unfavorable condition she could not diagnose. It would be a great shame to let its owner abuse it, considering how valuable bonsai trees were.

It wasn't her problem.

For a while, Tenten was bossed around in various other ways, and then mercifully she was permitted to leave and do charting outside. In the hallway, Tenten released a long groan as she walked. At this point, the combative residents were preferable to Kitoko. The woman was a whirlwind of prejudice and provocation.

"Just a day or two." Tenten told herself, "I won't let her get to me. Once Ogase gets the new people oriented, he'll come back to be best friends with this gadfly…"

Tenten checked in on another resident, and old man named Eito who sat hunched in a wheelchair, uncommunicative. She had to lean in and gently touch him to get his attention, speak loudly beside his ears for him to understand what she intended to do. He was either deaf or profoundly checked out, though Ogase claimed his hearing was not the worst. He regained some vitality whenever music was played for him. It took a long while to help the old man use the bathroom and clean up. By the time that task was through, it was time to serve lunch.

After ensuring Eito was eating, though very slowly, from his tray in his room, Tenten begrudgingly returned to Kitoko's residence.

"Back again?" Kitoko barely turned her head toward Tenten as she entered with a food cart. The old woman cut wire with clippers, though her hands shook with the effort of it. "I want Ogase-kun back. He has a better personality."

"He's busy." Tenten said lifelessly as she set dishes on the dining table.

"I don't know if anyone's told you, but you stink like bleach…I suppose from when you were on laundry duty, earlier? When you came close I caught a whiff."

"No one's told me." Tenten confirmed. She set down a tea pot.

"Go away so I can eat lunch in peace. I'll buzz for help if I need someone."

"If you need me." Tenten watched as Kitoko rose to cane her way back to dining table. Once she was safely seated, Tenten retreated to do anything else, anywhere else.

This pattern repeated for three days.

Ogase was completely unavailable as both of the new residents had uncomfortable transitions, due to either family issues or objections. While he endeavored to make their stays as enjoyable as realistically possible, Tenten was stuck with Kitoko.

Yes, she stunk like bleach.

Yes, she was of Han descent.

Yes, she was really a ninja, and she didn't give a shit about this job.

Kitoko was very impressed that employment at the Peony Pavilion meant nothing to her. She might have even respected Tenten for it, if one bothered to weigh that respect against a grain of sand. With each passing day, Tenten realized Kitoko was finding ways to make a nuisance of herself.

She re-arranged her room's belongings frequently, and then pretended she wasn't well enough to replace anything herself. She would select excerpts from scrolls and books, then ask Tenten to read them aloud. She claimed it was for educational purposes, that her sight was going, etcetera, etcetera. Any nonsense that would make Tenten comply and read something disparaging, so Kitoko could indirectly pitch insults through text she felt applied to Tenten.

She messed up her bedding multiple times a day. Tried re-potting an indoor azalea plant (for no reason) spilling potting soil all over the wood floor. After that, it was beads. Half the contents of Kitoko's craft box spilled off the edge of the table one day, shooting to the ends of the earth in all directions, some beads a few millimeters in size.

"Alright." Tenten fumed, "Kitoko, you did that on purpose! I just cleaned all of the soil up."

"That was an accident! You've seen how my hands shake. Why would I toss my hobby work around?" Kitoko defended, "And mind your manners! We are not on a first name basis! That's Kitoko-san, to you."

"You don't even call me by my name." Tenten growled. She got to her knees and wasted too much of her life picking up beads all around a rich woman's room. The next day, it was a spilled pot of tea.

But on the fourth day, it was quite different.

Tenten entered the room and tripped an ankle-height wire strung beneath a bureau and cabinetry. Her eyes and brain were trained for traps, her instinct pitching her forward to somersault out of the way of a falling bag of…more potting soil. The small bag of dirt that had been strung up above the door plopped to the floor, its top landing upright in most un-exciting fashion, barely spilling a few specks.

"That!" Tenten shouted at Kitoko, already seated at her craft table that morning, "Was deliberate!"

"Ho ho! So she's a ninja!" Kitoko tittered, "I was just checking."

It was a good thing that Tenten had left the broom she'd been using to clean previous messes shoved in a coat closet. She retrieved it, swept a few bits of dirt into a dustpan, put away the bag of soil, and then took the trap wiring down. Tenten crossed the room to hand the wire back, "You can use this for your crafts."

"It's dirty now. I don't want it."

"It's fine. Take this back so I can go get your breakfast. Don't make trouble so early."

"You don't want to get me breakfast. You don't want to do anything for me."

"I don't want to be here, but it doesn't matter what I want anymore. I have to do the right thing."

"But can you?" Kitoko's eyes shined, "Do the right thing?"

Then, the damn old woman lashed out with her cane. Tenten easily countered with the broom's handle, her training seamlessly reasserting itself. Kitoko lashed out several more times to hit her, and Tenten blocked each strike. She took a backwards leap to avoid an extended confrontation. Kitoko stayed seated in her chair, heaving small breaths from the exertion.

Tenten spun the broom around her hand, then her arm, and then got flashier, whirling the pole around her shoulders and neck to display her proficiency. Kitoko didn't blink once, drinking in Tenten's flourish.

"I get it." Tenten told her, "You were a shinobi too. You still know what you're doing."

"I do." There was a frozen, stern look on the old woman's face, as if she'd been craving the acknowledgement.

"That's not an excuse to misbehave and torment me. If you wanted me to know something about you, you can just talk to me." Tenten rested a hand on her hip, "I don't appreciate how you've treated me."

"How I've treated you? You don't respect me at all."

"I do! I just find you unbearably annoying!" Tenten groused, "That is pretty much how I feel about my teammates too!"

Kitoko blinked, stunned. Then she smiled.

"Ugh, if you could meet them. You'd be hurling your bead boxes and dirt at them, trying to deal with their attitudes."

Kitoko stifled a laugh.

Tenten tried not to smile back, "Now can I go get your breakfast?"

"Hmph." She straightened in her chair, ordering her beads and shutting the lid of the box, "Alright."

---

Later in the day, Kitoko seemed overcome by an unexplainable melancholy. From what Tenten could sense, the old woman wasn't going to try messing with her anymore. She had not since their altercation in the morning. But seeing her mood sink to a new low felt worse for Tenten, more so than bearing the brunt of Kitoko's elderly mischief.

She arrived in the room with a dinner tray, and Kitoko stood with her back to Tenten, staring out of the tall, east-facing window. Tenten called softly to her and got no response. She went to stand beside the old woman, "Hey, dinner is served."

Kitoko sighed, "Stew again?"

"It's very fancy. The most expensive stew I've ever seen, with all that meat in it."

"I don't want to eat it yet. Will you cover it up for me?"

"Sure." She returned to the table to add lids to the dishes, then looked back to see Kitoko rolling open the rice paper door, "Where are you going?"

"Out for some fresh air." Kitoko was negotiating her cane down a step.

"Be careful! Wait a second!" Tenten snatched up a woven quilt from the armchair on her way back, then took Kitoko's arm to help her balance. She stepped gingerly down to the engawa. It took time to help her, but Tenten waited, held her hands as she sat down, wrapped the large quilt around her.

"You fuss too much." Kitoko said, but she pulled the blanket closed beneath her chin.

Tenten sat next to her and ignored the cold, "You look outside a lot. The gardens are nice here."

"They spare no expense. But what good is the view if I can't go out and enjoy it? Be in it." There was a droop to her eyelids, lines and wrinkles reflecting all of the expressions Kitoko's face had made in her life. Traces of her feelings left behind.

"You don't get out much?"

"No."

"Does anyone come to visit?" Tenten dared to ask, because she'd been wondering.

"No one does. Not my son, nor my grandchildren. They're so wrapped up in their own lives…after all I sacrificed for them. They keep me here so they don't have to think about it. That we're connected." Kitoko released the pressure valve of her loneliness, "I guess."

"That's a shame. You're so entertaining." Tenten quipped.

"They tired of me faster than you did."

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"At the start of the year, once. For New Years. A formality. I think they just wanted gifts of money from me."

"Jerks."

"I worry that when they see me…I just say the same things over and over to them. How much I miss my husband, and my two eldest sons. They've passed away. But the rest of my family doesn't carry that pain the way I do. They ignore it. So it's as if I need to feel it more, because they don't." Her head dipped tiredly, "I am exasperating to my family. Dwelling in the past."

"When you long for the people you've lost, that isn't pushing a burden on other people. Especially not your loved ones. They should understand." Tenten asserted, "When I miss my parents and say it out loud, I don't think it overburdens my friends or boyfriend. Or my new family."

"New family?"

"I was adopted recently. My birth parents are dead."

"Well, that's nice. I'm sorry you've lost your parents, dear. And I'm sorry I said those things."

"You didn't know me. You judged too soon."

"We both did."

"It's alright. Maybe it was time for you to meet someone very different from you and learn how to value them. I've been doing that."

"You might be right. They say swallowing your pride is bitter medicine," Kitoko reflected, "But medicine heals."

Finally, Tenten allowed herself to smile.

"I still matter." Kitoko said hollowly, to the freezing air in the garden, to the birds, and to Tenten. The two, young and old, gazed at the pristinely raked stones in a zen garden, tucked amongst flower beds.

Tenten shut her eyes and shivered. Her short sleeved uniform was not suited for the temperature, but she was aware that Kitoko needed something from her. Not just her attention as an aide to residents, but the understanding of a fellow kunoichi. A human being who had lost those she cherished. She mattered. Hadn't she once told herself the same thing? To motivate herself each day to rise from her bed and tie her hitai-ate on her head, and meet her team as a freshly minted Genin? It wasn't so much that Tenten believed those words, at the time; for she had only recited them so that her parents' spirits could rest easier.

Hearing Kitoko say it echoed in her guts. In the wake of sacrifice, a difficult career, family, loss, the weight of an entire life: does she matter if no one is there beside her?

A bird landed on a feeder near the eastern flowerbed.

"Which one is that?" Tenten asked.

"That's a bulbul. Brown-eared." Kitoko's mouth tipped up, pleasantly surprised, "Ogase-kun said he saw some a few days ago, but I doubted him."

"How often are the feeders filled?"

"Ah…well…whenever Ogase-kun gets around to it. He does it mostly to indulge me."

"I can do it for you, if he can't." Tenten offered.

"Ha! I suppose you don't have anything better to do, while you're being punished."

"It's not as bad as I thought it was." Tenten leaned back on her hands, her eyes drifting around the property, "I've been focused on my own life…my career and the people I love…I've been checked out from the other aspects of living. I don't notice birds. But you've made me see them."

"Live in the wonder of each moment. It's so easy for us to forget."

"Does that include dropping bags of soil on people?"

"It didn't even spill! Don't take a tone with me, young lady."

"You can call me by my name, if you want." Tenten reminded her.

"…Tenten, was it?"

She nodded.

"What does it mean?"

"It comes from Tian Tian. My parents used the character for heaven or sky. When I was little and didn't understand Hanzi I thought they named me everyday since the word looked the same."

"Regardless, it would have reflected your work ethic."

"Yeah, my dad joked about that."

"I thought it was a pun of some sort."

"Well…" She puffed her cheeks. For a time, Tenten explained her specialization in Bukijutsu and Ninjutsu, skirting around the ten-out-of-ten pun regarding her aim, though Kitoko definitely sifted the meaning out for herself.

"It's rare for a shinobi to be proficient in a wide array of weaponry." Kitoko noted, "And I am rather skeptical when you listed Shadow Clones in your catalog of Ninjutsu, but if I insist that you demonstrate I'll only be surprised again, won't I?"

Tenten smirked, "Would you like to be?"

"Oh! You're so cheeky. I bet you can do it."

"Sure can! I can't make very many, but placement and timing is everything."

Kitoko was chortling, "How lucky that I would meet a kunoichi after my own heart. I haven't found one since my granddaughter."

"Your granddaughter?"

"Jōdoko. She was such a wit, like you."

"I guess that means she's gone?"

"Yes, tragically. Before her time. She was so skilled and so bright…and I would see her almost every day." Kitoko tipped her chin up, smiling with her eyes shut as she plunged into memory, "We were close, you see. Her brothers could give a damn about their grandma, but she came to me with questions. Her hopes, fears, and ideas. She was brilliant and dedicated. I know that she understood what we shared, the same free spirit that the rest of our family lacked."

"That's really such a shame…" Tenten wilted.

"Maybe I wouldn't be half so lonely living here…if she were still alive today." Kitoko sniffled, "Living so long is a gift, I know. And at the level of care I do…it's a magnificent privilege. But I would give it away to have them all back. My husband, my sons, and her. I'd live in the gutter if I could see them again just once."

"They wouldn't want to hear you talk like that. They'd want you to be taken care of." Tenten crossed her arms, trying to retain some heat, "I'll visit you. Even after my work here is done."

"You've got no reason to—"

She interrupted, "I have a great reason to. Someone shares the same spirit as me. Why wouldn't I come visit?"

A long sigh, "You're young and you'll get busy. I wouldn't hold any of that against you, not the way I do with my own indisposed family."

"I'll always find a reason to drop by."

"I can't imagine how."

"I'll have questions…and ideas." Tenten remembered the description of her granddaughter, "My own struggles too…if you'll let me vent."

There was a cautious smile on Kitoko's face, watching Tenten from the corner of her eye.

"How else am I going to learn about birds and beading?"

"Wait until I show you how to string a zither. I'll be putting you to work!"

They shared a laugh. Tenten helped Kitoko back inside, keeping the blanket draped over her shoulders. She rolled the door shut behind them, and as Kitoko made her way toward the dining table with her waiting stew, Tenten glanced to her right at the unkempt bonsai tree. Beside the pot was an old set of pruning shears. She lifted them up curiously and made an attempt to snip brown needles off the juniper. The shears bent the spring pathetically. No tool had ever been so dull in her hands. It was an offense to Tenten's sharp-bladed sensibility.

She stuffed the dull shears in her pants pocket.

---

Note: This one is for Zero. Thanks for being such an honest reader and writer. And for all who were kind enough to read, Happy Holidays to you and here's hoping for an improved New Year!

Chapter 62- If You do not Enter the Tiger's Cave