chapter two
In a dark blur, shadows swelled along the walls, stretching out from the corners as they snaked across the floorboards. A tendril reached for her feet with grasping claws. Mito leapt narrowly over it as it coiled in a wide loop.
Around her, Kaede fled to the ceiling, Hashirama dodged nimbly, and Bunta charged straight at the enemy with his sword drawn. The blade went clean through the stranger, a tall shinobi with a dark ponytail and a spindly build, who cried out in surprise and crumbled into a heap of dirt. An earth clone.
Mito twisted in mid-air as a shuriken grazed the top of her shoulder. Three others spun past inches away from her face. A shadow reached out behind her, fast and threatening. She threw herself sideways, skidding as she landed.
She looked around wildly to where the projectiles had come from. There were only shadows stretching themselves along the walls. She couldn't sense the enemy at all. Damn it.
Cousin Kaede dropped from the ceiling suddenly, head first down on the floor, unconscious. Mito startled. There had been no screams, no sounds of a struggle. There wasn't even any blood. Was Kaede – she hoped not. She leapt towards her urgently, heart in her throat.
Another barrage of shuriken whizzed by in a dark blur. As a tendril of shadow twisted around her right side from behind, Mito had no choice but to spring to the left. Something caught her arm, slicing sharply into her skin – ninja wire, so thin it was almost invisible, attached to the shuriken. She withdrew a kunai from her pouch with her free hand and slashed at it.
Blood trickled down from her elbow to her wrist as she stumbled slightly, catching herself, one knee braced against the floor. A shadow rushed out, splitting into two, surrounding her. Mito pushed herself up, springing to her feet.
Darkness pooled around her ankles, sending cold shivers down her spine.
A hand clenched around her throat from behind, forcing her down to her knees.
The room dimmed around her, shadows eating away at the edges of her vision. A steel grip squeezed her neck tightly. Mito struggled, her nails clawing desperately at the cold fingers holding her throat, her screams smothered. She'd had a kunai in her hand. Her nails scratched uselessly, the painful grip rigid and unbending as steel. Where was her kunai? Her hands trembled. Everything was dark, faded, spiraling into a blackening void – she'd had a kunai in her hand. She'd sliced the wire with it.
The thought cut across her mind with a stark clarity. There was a feeling of wrongness, a soft flicker along the edges of her vision. This isn't real, Mito thought suddenly. She held her palms together, feeling the weight of the kunai clutched in her right hand. Her chakra roiled violently.
All around her shadows dimmed and shrunk away. The grip on her throat slackened as the darkness unraveled. She glimpsed the enemy, then, on the far side of the room. He crouched low, hands locked into a rat handseal.
For a dark, horrible moment, their gazes met across the room, killing intent hanging in the air.
Mito pushed her hands together in a bird handseal. Her chest rose, tight with compressed chakra. The wind burned in her throat. She breathed out bullets across the room. Two quick shots crashed solidly into the wall as her target leapt out of the way, breaking his cover.
Hashirama cut him off, slamming a forward kick into his chest. The enemy staggered back. He blocked the following punch to the face with his forearms, leg kicking out in a sweep. Hashirama leapt easily over it, throwing his weight behind a left hook as he came down hard. The Nara ducked out of the way and slapped his hands on the ground.
A circular dome of hardened earth rose up, encasing him safely in its walls. The shadow cast by the dome darted out, lunging menacingly, and Hashirama somersaulted out of reach. Charging wildly, Bunta slashed forward with his sword in repeated wide sweeps, slicing the dome apart as the earth crumbled into clumps of dirt sent flying in the air.
There was no one inside.
The Nara's illusion had realigned itself, folding over the walls, as he vanished seamlessly into the growing shadows that consumed the room, stretching everywhere.
Mito narrowed her eyes in frustration. "He's a genjutsu type," she warned the others, scowling. "Only one of the shadows is ninjutsu. The others are all just illusions."
"Coward," snarled Bunta, "Come on out and face me, Nara!"
Her scowl deepened as she considered the implications. Their enemy preyed on fear and caution, constructing threats out of smoke and mirrors, making them think he had shadows everywhere, as they struggled to dodge, wearing themselves out. When finally, exhausted, their feet stumbled over a shadow, real or illusionary, they believed they were caught.
If his victims thought they'd been caught by a real shadow, they wouldn't even think to look for a genjutsu. They'd panic at their mistake, accepting his illusion as their reality, and he'd sink his claws deeper into their minds.
Dark tendrils nipped at her heels, converging in a web towards her. Mito leapt up in the air and twisted, jumping up the wall, racing away from the shadows. He was a coward, she thought, gritting her teeth hard, but he was a good ninja. It didn't matter that they knew most of the shadows were illusions, they didn't know which, and without knowing, they couldn't afford not to dodge.
She bounced off the wall, propelling herself across the room, ducking to let a flurry of shuriken sail over her head. Real or fake? He was wearing them down, exhausting them, and they were no closer to finding out where he was – if only she hadn't lost him, she thought with a stab of humiliation. Mito called up her chakra, trying to dispel the illusion, but she didn't know where the genjutsu ended and reality began, she didn't know what was real, and the shadows lashed out at her from behind, shooting her concentration to hell.
"Hey," yelled Hashirama suddenly, standing next to the shelves. "Where do you keep the flash tags, Uzumaki?"
Mito blinked, eyes widening in realization. "Second shelf from the ground up."
Hashirama slapped a tag to the ground, chakra bursting from his palm. For a single timeless moment, every shadow melted away as the room was enveloped in a sudden searing light.
Except for the illusions, which stood out stark and unblinking, pitch black against the brightness. There was a burst of chakra as all three of them released the genjutsu, baring their teeth in triumph.
Then Bunta moved, his sword screaming through the air. The Nara, exposed, was halfway through his handseals, attempting to stitch back together the pieces of his illusion. The tall blade sliced him deeply on the shoulder as he lunged sideways, attempting to flee towards the door.
Mito silently blocked his path, her face stony.
"Tch. You're a troublesome bunch," the Nara shinobi hissed, holding up a kunai to his own throat. His free hand was locked into half a rat seal. "Kagemane complete."
What? Mito froze, her gaze snapping down to the ground in horror. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw her feet were clear. She'd been very careful to watch her shadow. Her eyes cut to Hashirama, who stood in a patch of sunlight, nonplussed, and Bunta, who was moving perfectly freely.
Was this some sort of bluff? Another illusion? Her eyes narrowed. She –
Suddenly Hashirama's face was awash with a slow dawning horror. Mito followed his line of sight warily, and froze. Her stomach plummeted.
Behind them, the limp bodies of Senju Ryoma and Uzumaki Kaede jerked themselves upright on their feet. Their right arms lifted and bent, holding up swords to their throats. Their eyes were shut, faces perfectly still, expressionless as puppets.
A thin, pinched smile spread darkly over the Nara's face, crinkling with malice at the edges. "Stand aside now," he crooned, black eyes narrowed to deadly slits. "You'll let me walk right out of that door. You won't follow me. If you do... I'll kill them."
Mito reeled as if she'd been struck. Kaede – Kaede – she should have been more careful – she should have been watching out for her – she'd forgotten – how could she have been so selfish, so careless. She took a tiny step away from the door, resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands.
Bunta met his gaze evenly and shrugged. "So kill them," he said, plainly, thrusting his sword.
The Nara's smile turned to a snarl. He pushed his kunai down against his throat with a growl, a thin trickle of blood streaming down to his collarbone, growing as the edge dug in, slicing close to the artery. He blinked, gaze unfocused. For a moment, he faltered. His hand shook.
Bunta's sword impaled him through the eye, emerging painted crimson on the other side of his skull with a broken, wet noise.
"That's why the battlefield is no place for cowards," he said coolly, pulling his sword from the corpse with a flat look of disdain. "Ninja should have no attachment to their lives."
Mito couldn't think of anything to say. Her mind was utterly blank. She rushed to Kaede's side, kneeling beside her prone body as she inspected the cut on her neck, feeling for her pulse. Alive. She felt weak on her knees from relief. If Nara had pushed a little deeper – she didn't want to think about it. Katsuhide was already… it had happened so fast, so senselessly.
They would have to seal the body, and take it back to the compound, explain the circumstances to his family. His wife, his son. She felt exhausted, suddenly. She wanted nothing more than to bury her head in her knees, but the Senju were still there, and she was the only Uzumaki guard left standing. She couldn't afford to show weakness, she thought, looking over at them out of the corner of her eye.
Hashirama was standing stiffly, his eyes hooded. "You didn't know he'd stop," he said suddenly, outrage dripping from his tone.
"And?"
"They would have died," the boy snapped.
Bunta did not turn to look at him. He stood stiffly, wiping the blood off his sword with the hem of his haori in slow, mechanical motions. "So it is."
Mito watched them warily.
"So it is? How can you say that? The Uzumaki are our allies, they shouldn't lose shinobi by our hand. And Uncle Ryoma, you would rather see his torn throat open–"
"Then he would have died, honorably, to take down an enemy of his clan, and been proud of it," snarled Bunta. He looked livid, gnashing his teeth with every word. "As would I. As should you. Have you learned nothing? A shinobi who hesitates to cut down an enemy because he's afraid to lose his life or his comrades' is a disgrace to his clan. You have always been naive, Hashirama. Do you propose we surrender the battle every time one of our soldiers is threatened? Instead of honoring their sacrifice and avenging them proudly?"
"I want us to act like the lives of our clansmen have more value than our pride," Hashirama argued hotly, raising his chin in defiance.
This wasn't her business, Mito told herself. It wasn't her place to meddle.
"We are shinobi," Bunta seethed. "Our pride is fighting, so the Senju will prosper. It is taking lives, before we give ours. It is killing more than we are killed. It is why we still stand today, it's why we have survived the wars."
"So we are born to kill and be killed, and we shouldn't be proud of anything else? Not even of protecting those who fight beside us?"
"You are soft, boy," said Bunta, almost sadly, with a tone of supreme pity, as he leaned down to meet Hashirama's eyes. "I sincerely hope you will grow out of it one day. It will fall to you to lead us after your father, and you will march us into war. I pray you do not balk when the enemy raises his sword against your brother, your son, your cousin, or your friend, because we all march to kill and die, and no one person is more important than the Clan. You'll disgrace us all by acting so cowardly."
Mito flinched, kneeling next to the futon she had carried Kaede onto. Hayato's face rose in her mind, unbidden. She felt a rush of blood in her ears. There was nothing she wouldn't do to save him.
"I don't think it's cowardice," she cut in, surprising herself, "to stay your sword when the enemy threatens someone precious to you." She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
There was a stilted silence, as if they didn't expect her to speak up. Mito didn't expect herself to speak up. Still, she swallowed, and went back to her task.
Clumsily, her hands wrapped bandages around Kaede's neck, fumbling around in her search for the proper stabilizing seal to stanch the blood loss. She asked herself how far would she have gone to save her. Would she have let the Nara go? She knew she would have. Was it worth it? Would she have regretted it? He could have come back with reinforcements and killed them all. But at the time, rejecting his offer hadn't seemed like an option. She couldn't let her die. Was that weakness?
Bunta gave a snort of exasperated disgust. He glared from her to Hashirama as though it annoyed him to be in the same room as them. "You airheaded little brats," he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to scout the perimeter for threats. Nara rarely move alone."
Mito grabbed a scroll from the shelf, ripped it into two and tossed half out at him. "If you run into trouble, activate this, and we'll know."
"Fat lot of help you'd be," he sneered, but took it. Then he swept out of the shack, sheathing his sword elegantly.
An awkward silence fell over them. Mito glanced uncertainly at Hashirama, who stared pensively at her. Neither of them were forthcoming. With a sigh, she made her way over to Ryoma. She knelt on one side of him, eyeing him anxiously as she pressed a cloth to his throat. He had the same nasty cut on the neck as Kaede, plus he had taken Mito's kunai to the shoulder earlier. That scared her.
To her surprise, Hashirama crouched down next to her. "Sorry about Bunta," he offered.
Mito shrugged. "It's fine."
She worked quietly dressing the wound on Ryoma's neck. Then she looked uncertainly at the kunai still embedded in his shoulder, pressing a cloth around it. "I'm not very good at this," she confessed, her voice hushed. "I'm afraid I might make it worse if I take it out."
"Let me."
Mito blinked. "You're a medic?"
"Not exactly," Hashirama rubbed the back of his neck, "I've learned what I could, but I was... encouraged to focus on other things."
Mito hummed her understanding. She watched him work, the slow, steady efficiency of his movements, self-assured but careful. When he finished, she said, "I'll have to attend more lessons when I get home. You have a way with it."
He smiled brightly at her. It took her aback, the honesty of that smile, without a hint of smugness.
"What made you want to start?"
"Eh?"
"Healing."
"Oh," he said, eyes lost in remembrance. His smile dimmed. "Nothing grand. I wanted to patch up my brothers after missions."
There was a barely buried pain in his voice, and Mito thought better of asking. She glanced at the half of the warning seal Bunta had left behind, fidgeting.
Silence fell between them.
She smoothed out the warning seal, staring at it. "Do you think he'll run into trouble?" She felt depleted and in no condition to fight. Her stomach was a hard knot of fear. "Do you think... that Nara... there's others nearby...?"
"Maybe." He looked worried. "The Nara clan is a vessel to the Akimichi, of sorts. They're mostly independent, but they've been known to act together."
"And they don't like the Senju." It wasn't a question.
Hashirama grimaced. "It's not so much they don't like us, it's more that they see the Senju and the Uchiha weakening each other as an opportunity."
"Is it?"
"We're still stronger," he said, halfway between defensive and casual, flashing a confident smile.
"I don't doubt that," Mito told him. She rose, grabbing a storage scroll on her path to Katsuhide's corpse. "What do you think his mission was? Assassinate us, and frame you? Make us kill each other? Destroy our trade relations?"
"Probably wanted to steal some of your seals, too," he suggested, tiredly.
Mito felt a slow anger coiling in her chest as she stared into Katsuhide's wide, glassy eyes. He'd died so senselessly. "I should have noticed something was off. I... I was too busy trying to act polite."
Hashirama looked warily at her, with something like pity, or empathy, or regret. "We know Uncle Ryoma better than you do. We should have noticed something was off."
"I'm not blaming you," she said, quickly, because there was no point. Her hands jerked as she sealed her comrade up, feeling the weight of the scroll in her hands. "I just wish he could have been saved."
Hashirama nodded. He moved over to stand in front of her, holding her gaze with his own searchingly. "Did you mean it? What you said earlier."
He said it as if it mattered. As if her opinion was important, despite having known each other less than a day. It discomfited her.
She looked away. "About holding back to protect others? I mean it. I don't think it's cowardly. It's courageous. You make the choice you think you can live with, even if it might be wrong."
"Wrong?" He slumped over dramatically, a ghastly wave of black misery pouring off him. "I can't afford to be wrong..."
Mito blinked. "Eh? Stop looking so sad all of a sudden!" She resisted the urge to whack him on the head, like she would Hayato.
Hashirama mumbled, desolate. "How am I to lead someday... when I don't know what's right..."
Mito scowled. "There's no line in the sand that makes sacrifices right or wrong. It all comes down to how much you care. As a leader, you should care the most of all."
Hashirama looked up at her suddenly, his face sharp and clear. He would lead a whole village one day, she knew. A village strung together with hopes and trees. He got to his feet nimbly, brightening as quickly as he'd sulked. He wasn't quite smiling, but his eyes were thoughtful and kind. "Say, what's your name? Let me take a look at your arm."
She blinked, looking down at said arm. He was referring to the cut where the ninja wire had scratched her, she realized belatedly. It wasn't very deep at all.
His almost smile bloomed into a winning grin. "I'm Hashirama."
She couldn't help but smile back, just slightly. "I know."
"What about you? Let me look at your wound."
"It's barely a wound," she said, backing away hastily. He'd fought the Nara at much closer quarters than she had, and he wasn't even injured. She'd tripped over some wire and almost got caught in a genjutsu. "I'm fine."
He had a stubborn glint in his eye. "Really. Are you going to make me hold you down to treat your arm?"
"No," Mito glared, offended. "As if you could hold me down." He probably could, but she wasn't about to admit it.
To her surprise, a wide grin broke across his face. "You remind me of my cousin," he said, "Toka."
"What is she like?"
"Terrifying," he burst out laughing, "She does evil genjutsu pranks all the time, and she used to stick frogs down the back of my shirt."
"I like Toka," Mito said, lips quirking faintly.
"I'll tell her you said that. But you should give me a name to call you, when I'm telling stories back home."
She relented, holding out her arm with a grin. "Uzumaki Mito."
Author's Note: Woo. So this chapter covered a fair bit. In case the whole Nara assassination attempt still doesn't fully make sense (beyond the quick reasons they mentioned), more will be explained about it later, don't worry!
I made a choice this chapter to not have Hashirama use mokuton yet. The reason for that is that based off canon, he shows no signs of it when he first meets Madara. They also show them fighting each other growing up. On the first scene where they look like kids Hashirama doesn't use it, then on the next scene where they look like young teens (and all the others) he uses it.
So he'll definitely awaken it as he grows up, don't worry. I'm not sure if I should include a Grand Mokuton Awakening Scene in the fic or just have it happen in a timeskip. What would you guys prefer?
Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited or reviewed!
Shion Lee: Aww, thank you. She tries! :)
rickrossed: You're very welcome! :)
The-handprint-onthe-window: Here you go, and this one didn't even end on a cliffhanger (I'm not all evil, I promise)!
Guest: Thank you so much. Yeah, Ino-Shika-Cho didn't get the peace and love and Konoha memo yet. The road to a successful village has some obstacles...
Arcane charmcaster: Omg, your ideas are so cool! I love them, thank you. She'll definitely be using the third one soon! The more OP ones would have to wait until she powers up and I'd have to work out some limitations, but I'll remember the ideas, I promise. Thanks for the follow too :)
MoonlightPale: Thank you! Yeah, she's got more of an interest in medical ninjutsu now, thanks to Hashirama himself :)
