Hi, and welcome back again. I know it's starting to take awhile between updates. Do you think I need to provide a little recap at the beginning of every chapter to refresh readers on what's going on - like what they did in the Akira manga with a little synopsis of what happened in the previous episode, or no?
Hope you like chapter 24!
The Manatee
Yashako, limping along through the emptied streets with a scowl on her tattooed face, couldn't help but mark this as one of the most truly fucked up days in her entire life. The simple mission she'd been assigned had turned into an utter failure, remarkable in its way even among the ninja-world's long and storied history of utter failures.
Her teammate, Yamada: dead. And, worst of all:
Beaten, she simmered darkly, me! Beat up by some stupid little punk kid.
Yashako Ueda - she hailed from no clan, held no noble lineage, but the woman WAS one of the Seven Legendary Swordsmen of the Mist. How long had it been since she'd tasted defeat? How long since she'd been confronted by any obstacle her deft pair of ghost-head broadswords couldn't slice out of her way?
Absorbed as she was in the depths of her own personal drama, the swordswoman couldn't help but notice a change in the air. It had always been there - a certain sense of angst pervading these streets. It hung upon Kirigakure's shoulders like an old shroud, heavy but reassuringly familiar at the same time, constant, she'd come to understand, throughout generations. But it was as if that garment had suddenly been shrugged off, replaced by a wilder, more generalized and instinctive fear.
A trio of village women with overstuffed baskets in hand scurried past at a hurried but discreet pace, keeping close to the wall. They then turned quickly down an alleyway before disappearing like mice.
Oh, I get it, thought Yashako with a sneer as she watched them go. ONE little monster shows up in the Mist Village and all of a sudden our air of invincibility is gone. Us ninjas are all puny and weak and it's the end of the fuckin' world. Run! Hide! Fill your pantries with bread and milk and nail the doors shut.
How ridiculous, how pathetic.
The woman stopped there in the street. Her lower lip quivered with outrage.
I hope it's true. I hope more monsters just like that one are on the way.
"A good war's just the thing you lazy little fuckers need," the kunoichi muttered darkly before continuing on her way. "You've all gotten way too soft."
But as the bruise on her hip pulled against her stride, the ugly thought assailed her: that maybe she had too.
After all, if her confidence hadn't been shaken just a little then what was she doing creeping in the direction of the Friary Hill tenements instead of staying close to the Piazza del Carne where everyone was busy standing watch or clearing away the wreckage? Why was she, all of a sudden, going to see The Manatee?
Her unpromising path wound past meat-markets and fishmongers where garishly displayed carcasses both terrestrial and nautical in origin were hung up for sale, through desperate slums then where people lived in a primitive state suggestive of ages gone-by, up fire escapes of rusting iron and down stairways of ancient stone that lead at last to the Coral Pavilion which rose like a dream from a shimmering, glass-like pool that reflected both it as well as the shabby apartment buildings that bounded it.
Yashako narrowed her gaze as she looked across the water, noting the stout, lacquered beams and corbelled brackets adorned with gold filigree vine-work, intricate geometrics, dragons and creatures of the deep sea all supported on the vivid red-orange columns that gave the almost mythical building its name.
Pretty, she considered utterly without sentiment but still couldn't make up her mind if it was real or not…or indeed any of the strange twists and turns, the people or the sights she'd seen along the way. Coming here was always like this – different every time. It had almost become a game to her to see if she could tell where reality stopped and the old man's genjutsu began.
The jonin glanced down at her reflection in the luminous, too-flat, too-shiny water and noted her dark-hued, pissed-off, tattooed face. The water seemed real enough that she thought to walk across it rather than take the long way across a wooden footbridge that zigzagged hither and thither before finally coming to rest.
A tease or a trap, Yashako had always thought.
Anyone brazen enough to cross that water clearly had either no manners or no sense and would probably be dispensed with as an intruder. On the other hand, anyone entering the proper way by the bridge's winding path would give the pavilion's sole occupant more than enough time to prepare for whoever it might be.
Shrugging with begrudging acceptance, the kunoichi brought her impatience to heel and set forth over the bridge which felt real enough under her feet. As Yashako made her way across it became an act of will to stroll rather than stride. As always she was in a hurry. It was her nature.
Arriving at last, the swordswoman removed her weapons and left them outside along with her boots before she donned awaiting slippers and passed within where a scarred, squat figure sat on a padded mat atop a wooden floor that had been polished to a mirror shine. Yashako's eyes drifted over the man's hulking, sagging shoulders and back that still held the muscular suggestions of his former stature, then the scabrous gash occupied once by his right eye, the blind, clouded-over sphere of his left, the hard, rounded mountain of his voluminous stomach, all of which lead down to the thick, blunt stumps where his legs used to be.
In truth he was not that old, only in his mid-forties, yet there was a saying that it wasn't the years that mattered, it was the mileage. Whether that was true or not for a ninja, this one had lived longer than most - a deformed Buddha who remained a living monument to the hazards of ninja life and a testament to the transformative power of bad decisions.
"I realize it must be killing you," the figure greeted amiably enough in a drifting, mellow baritone, "waiting for me to speak first."
Yashako frowned at having her complicated sensibilities tweaked.
"Yamada is dead," she reported bluntly. She'd thought to provoke a reaction, her way of taking control, but ended up disappointed.
"Yes, I saw that the thread of his life had ceased."
"Wait," spat the swordswoman caustically, unexpectedly off-balance, "you KNEW he was going to die?"
The Manatee's massy head tilted in concession. "It knew it was a possibility."
"And you didn't think to pass it on?"
The man shrugged. "Death is always a possibility," he explained in a tone that was almost patronizing. "It comes with our profession. Even you, dear Yashako with your skills, are not invulnerable." A teasing smile escaped him. "For instance: your brother swordsman Momochi's young apprentice might have killed you just now."
The kunoichi gave him a pained look then grinned, showing filed teeth, knowing she was being baited. "And how exactly would he have accomplished THAT?"
"By freezing you solid with his kekkei-genkai then kicking your fool head off your shoulders. See? There's always a chance even if it's small."
Yashako frowned. It was hard not to be put off a little by her elder shinobi's insight.
"You still might have done something," she snapped, looking pained as she folded her wiry-muscled arms.
The crippled ninja's chest rose and fell. "I tried to use my abilities to change the future once. You can see where that got me."
"Ah, don't give me that, Sensei!" she contended with a scowl. "There's nothing mystical or dangerous about your awareness let alone USING it; you just fucked up is all. Getting in Hoshigake's way, partner or not, I mean, that's just plain stupid."
The silence that answered her was thick as paste and made Yashako wonder if she'd gone too far. She adjusted her arms, braced them on her hips then turned to look out across the surrounding waters and the squalor encamped on the farther shore: garish, hand-painted advertisements peeling off the walls of mineral-stained tenements; bright laundry fluttering on clotheslines. Was all that an illusion too?
"Alright, alright," the swordswoman half-way acknowledged at last, "you don't have to get in a MOOD."
"A mood?" the man intoned with saccharine sweetness. "Me? You're the one who got her ass whupped so bad that you're willing to pay your crippled old teacher a visit after all these years."
Yashako grimaced. She probably had that coming.
"But don't let your defeat keep you up at night. That little blond boy you faced is a jinchuuriki."
The tattooed kunoichi struggled for a moment to recall what the word meant then shot him a look. "You're kidding? A cheval? Like that kid who went missing awhile back?" she replied in amazement, using a broader and more archaic term. "Whose is he?"
"By process of elimination, probably the Leaf's."
A slow, contemplative breath seeped from the woman.
"I see." Yashako blinked then nodded. It all made much more sense now. "We're at war then."
The Manatee's cynical smile brought her no comfort. "Oh, no, Yashako, it's much, much worse than that."
Kiba
The afternoon wind sighed as Kiba limped his way home along the tree-lined streets, a dog-tired Akamaru cradled in his arms. What hurt worse than the bumps and bruises earned in training was knowing how much time he'd wasted and how much that had set him back.
He'd coasted, COASTED, for so long.
All during his academy days Kiba had always been among the fastest; always excelling, always overpowering with his athleticism, agility and abilities that came naturally to those of the Inuzuka clan. And of course while he'd been slacking everyone else had been working, training, learning, and pushing themselves to move beyond their limitations as any decent ninja should.
The Chunin Exams should have been a wake-up call. His loss in the very first round of personal contests to Naruto Uzumaki, the oddest, smallest and unlikeliest of any ninja ever to come along had been a little hard to take. And THEN to see him go on to accomplish…truly incredible things should have been enough to light a fire under Kiba's ass.
Should have.
But it wasn't until only recently when the Hokage had ordered him to protect that visiting mist-ninja, some girlish string-bean under the (in hindsight, obviously) fake name of Hiroo Okame, that the sum of all the genin's failures and lackluster record of late finally caught up with him, hitting the teenager hard and square in the face with the cold, uncomfortable realization – that he was second rate.
How the hell was he going to protect his village, thought Kiba, berating himself, the question gnawing at him inside, make his clan proud or inspire a girl like Hinata Hyuuga? Maybe more important than any of that: didn't he owe himself a chance to reach his potential – a potential few, if any, even thought he had anymore?
Kiba's jaw tensed. He couldn't help but feel a little queasy at his situation every time he thought about it but, really, he had only himself to blame.
Yesterday's done, the words floated through the young ninja's head, a silent promise, but tomorrow's still up to me.
"Hi, uh, Kiba?"
The teenager stopped dead and almost jumped as the sound jerked him back from the chasms of thought. His startled face snapped up to look into beautiful emerald-green eyes as the genin found himself nose-to-nose with Sakura Haruno who he'd almost walked carelessly right into.
Wake up, stupid! thought Kiba, even more annoyed with himself. Those so-called wolf-like senses of yours don't work for shit when your brain's out to lunch.
"Oh, uh…hey, Sakura," the genin acknowledged, took a BIG backward step to establish a more socially-agreeable distance, grinned awkwardly then pulled the fur-fringed hood of his grey jacket down to rub the back of his head.
The change in the rhythms of his movement made Akamaru stir a bit in the crook of his arm then yawn.
"Sorry, I guess I wasn't paying attention."
The pink-haired girl returned a tight smile and nodded, uncharacteristically hesitant and ill at ease.
"So…I guess you've been training early, huh?" she ventured. "You look pretty banged up."
Kiba nodded with curiosity at his classmate's oddly clunky and forced observation.
His mom was always saying how her son wasn't the 'sharpest kunai in the armory' but he was pretty sure Sakura didn't come out this way, way out of her way, just for small talk.
Nevertheless: "Yeah…yeah," the ninja confirmed obligingly, "Kurenai-sensei set me up with some new training partners, old friends of hers and stuff from back in the day."
That was the summarized version of the brutal ass-kicking he'd been handed over the last couple of weeks but, on the other hand, he was starting to master some new jutsu: deeper clan secrets 'mother dear' had taught him, and starting to hold his own against much more serious guys which was the whole idea. Being defeated by low-lifes like Sakon and Ukon, having to be rescued by Kankuro, watching loyal Akamaru almost die and, most recently, feeling just slightly outclassed by some skinny backwater constable (even if the guy HAD been some big-shot mist-ninja's sidekick) was NOT going to happen again…in this lifetime or any other! Never!
"Great," Sakura offered with approval though, again, with a somewhat distracted quality in her voice, "great."
Ugh, Kiba sighed to himself, girls! Can't any of you just get to the point?
"So," he offered, arriving at the idea that he would have to, "what brings you out here?"
Sakura shifted back and forth, tensed for a moment then let whatever reservations she had go all in a gush. "You," she admitted then fixed him with a look. "I was looking for you. I kind of need your help."
The teenager's face went blank for a moment but he nodded almost immediately after that. "Well, sure, Sakura, you got it. Anything you need. If it's that important you don't even have to ask."
The kunoichi smiled with relief. "It's a little complicated though," she went on to explain with an air of suppressed intrigue that turned a little intense when she added: "and you've got to swear that you won't tell anyone."
Kiba, weary from brutal training, perked up; senses sharp. That Sakura would seek his help, given that she had almost the entire village to choose from, was quite a compliment; also - this could be something really, really juicy.
And it turned out he wasn't wrong.
In slightly distraught, slightly aggravated tones, the girl went on to explain how Naruto had left Konoha a week ago to rush off to parts unknown on some personal crusade or other and left in his place a pair of little-kid friends of his from Wave Country to fool people into thinking he was still here. The problem was: one of them had gotten terribly sick, and the other had talked HER into helping!
No…WAY!
Kiba stood there staring, dumbfounded for a moment before:
"Alright! Leave it to Naruto!" cheered Kiba in amazement, impressed and even just slightly envious. His own reaction surprised him but there was no containing it; the feeling came straight from deep down.
That guy, he continued in reluctant admiration, THAT crazy little blond freak's got some BALLS; maybe the only one in the whole village who does!
The boy's wild, wolfish eyes went wide, a grin split his face and he barked out a gusty, delighted laugh but then reigned himself back as he took notice of the anxious, discomfited look overtaking Sakura.
Though what she'd told him was probably the funniest, craziest thing he'd ever heard, one thing he'd learned since he'd started spending more time with Hinata was that girls wanted, even expected, YOU to take the things they took seriously as seriously as they did even if it was hilarious.
Kiba considered this for a moment, straightened then cleared his throat.
"I mean, uh," he offered instead in measured, professional tones as he stroked his whiskerless chin, "yes, I see. That's quite a conundrum."
Though Sakura shot him a glance for the odd word and odder gesture, she seemed a little more reassured.
The teenager then gave the pink-haired kunoichi a big, white, winning and fangy smile. "Well, don't worry about it!" he proclaimed like a veritable knight of olde. "We can handle this and, I swear to you, no one will ever know."
Aya
Sweating, shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat, dizziness, nausea…Aya could have elaborated further on the symptoms she was experiencing but didn't need more than that to diagnose a wicked panic attack.
The young ninja, with head bowed and medical bag clutched to her chest, walked along the canals flanked by two zodiac-masked ANBU who conducted her past the checkpoints to a cascade of weathered, stone steps that lead up like canyon walls to the ornate fortress that was the Mizukage's Palazzo.
She'd never ever been here before.
Her late sensei, Toru Yamashite, having recognized Aya's talents but fearing that she would not survive the brutality of the curriculum had conscripted her from the Mist's Martial School to serve with his hunter-pack prior to the final tests and had been diligent about keeping her away from the Village's upper echelons ever since.
The wily captain had probably saved Aya's life but that didn't help her now that she was headed into the proverbial belly of the beast to treat Kirigakure's master, Lord Oku. Although a mist-ninja herself, a chunin no less, she'd spent most of her time afield and so Kirigakure no Sato, to which she'd pledged her loyalty and her life, seemed almost like a foreign land.
The girl's mind roiled with emotion, stomach twisting in knots. Every horrifying tale Toru had ever spun about the savagery of the old-school shinobi came alive: the extermination of the blood-gifted clans; the pathological and murderous Seven Swordsmen; and then the Fourth Mizukage's crumbling psyche following Zabuza's coup – a descent into paranoia that lead to his purges of the Mist Village's senior ranks which had included, appallingly, Aya's own sensei.
Deep breaths weren't helping.
As she climbed, the colonnaded façade of the ancient building loomed up before her in accusing majesty like a jury of gods. It was impossible not to think of the blood shed here over the years and all the fierce battles that had taken place.
Aya cringed then as she felt a presence, an unforgettable chakra that sent a shiver down her spine and made her dark eyes go wide.
It's him, she knew at once, the emissary. Swallowing hard, the medical-ninja corrected herself: the executioner!
If Aya's white-masked guardians noticed at all, they didn't seem to as they escorted her through the grand, open portals into the palace's entry hall where the Mizukage's loyalists had once made what must have seemed like their final stand before Zabuza and his army of insurgents. In place of their ghosts Lord Oku's new praetorians stood vigil around the frescoed walls two ranks deep - numbers that struck even Aya as seeming a touch desperate. But standing in the center of the room, commanding it, as silent and terrifying as a temple guardian, loomed Krishenay Rahaman.
The kunoichi's eyes sank, unable to stand the sight of him - this monstrous ninja who'd murdered her sensei and heaven knows how many others at Lord Oku's call.
Thankfully, they did not remain here long.
Down corridors adorned with murals and statuary then around courtyards framing formal gardens and babbling fountains the ANBU guided Aya to the residential wing of the Palazzo. There in a salon that served as both lobby and entry control point, a rogues gallery of jonin waited – those few to survive their master's witch-hunts.
Weapons of all shapes and sizes bristled and gleamed. Eyes flickered up at their entrance, some from behind masks, through dark glasses, tangles of hair or between gaps in bandages. Before such baleful scrutiny it was hard not to feel a little self-conscious.
One of these shinobi, a stern-looking, one-eyed man named Ao who Aya remembered meeting before though it had been years ago, broke away from a guarded conversation he'd been having in a remote corner of the room with a truly astonishingly-beautiful woman. The young medical-ninja couldn't help but take in with a glance the older kunoichi's striking green eyes, perfect, porcelain skin and cascade of lush, auburn hair that flowed down past the woman's knees. Somehow...SOMEHOW, she managed to seem aluring even in bulky blue mist-ninja fatigues.
Mei Terumi! The name came to Aya in a flash.
Toru had talked about her in graphic and sometimes nauseatingly-pornographic detail, but his lurid and often vulgar praise of her paled truly before the reality.
It's no wonder SHE made it through the purge, Aya started to think then shoved it aside.
The assumption that Mei's looks alone had saved her was probably unfair and just a little catty since she didn't really know her.
Ao, for his part and by all accounts, was unquestionably loyal and (unlike her own late sensei) the very model of propriety and moral uprightness.
One thing that did surprise her though was his ensemble – a jade robe worn over a ribbed, ochre turtleneck very similar in style to what Haku used to wear before Zabuza's death. Having hunted the pair on and off for two years, Aya couldn't help but notice.
Beyond that though the man's shock of blue hair trimmed to a forward facing chisel-point, the stark black patch covering his right eye, imposing manner and, above all, his humorless expression were all more than enough to drive away any further comparisons with the much younger, more delicate and feminine Demon's Apprentice.
Those odd paper talismans, fashioned as earrings, which dangled from the Captain's lobes being (maybe) the only exception.
"Miss Sakamoto," Ao greeted with unflinching formality as he offered the slightest, stiffest bow, "we appreciate you're coming on short notice and with so much happing."
"Captain Ao, it's a pleasure to see you again. I wish it could be under more agreeable circumstances."
The girl congratulated herself on matching the dour shinobi's perfect, professional tone despite how hard it was not to stare at his eye-patch. As a medical ninja she really should be able to take the sight of such common injuries like that in stride. Still she couldn't help but harbor an irrepressible curiosity about how he'd lost it.
Ao nodded gruffly, dismissed the two ANBU guards with a nod, turned then strode away. Aya hurried to join in beside him, ending up eventually at the door to the Mizukage's suite of private rooms.
"We have a problem," the man explained. "Lord Oku complained about feeling tired then retired to his chambers. That was two days ago and we fear something has befallen him. The Mizukage's health has, on rare occasions, been something of a challenge."
The kunoichi nodded, understanding both the euphemism and the need for it. His report explained why their leader had not made an appearance since the attack on the village earlier.
"Yes, Captain Ao," answered Aya dutifully, "but I don't understand why I was called. The Mizukage has a whole team of private physicians, or so I'd always thought."
Ao gave a signal to sentries stationed at the ends of distant wings at which they retracted hidden bolts secreted in the Mizukage's door. He then dropped his hand to the handle.
"I should say," the jonin continued, ignoring her implied question, "that he gave very specific instructions not to be disturbed."
Aya stiffened. Lord Oku had ordered her master Toru Yamashite killed on suspicion alone. How the hell was he going to react to outright insubordination?
"I understand your reservations," Ao continued without much emotion. "Still, this village cannot function without a leader. Now especially is a terrible time for any disruption in the chain of command. To make matters worse, councilor Inoue is still abroad in Wave Country and Lord Hirai, though said to be at his villa here for the Ascension Ceremonies, has yet to be located.
"If Lord Oku has indeed fallen ill, I trust you have the power to restore him. Whatever the case, I know from your previous assignment with the ANBU that you will exercise proper judgment and discretion."
The man's resolute expression gave her a little confidence but this still seemed like something of a set-up the kind of which Pack-Leader Yamashite and her teammate Orimi Hirai had warned her against – Mist Village intrigue that she should best keep clear of.
Though stricken with doubt, it didn't seem as if she had a choice.
Ao opened the door and guided the medical-ninja through a maze of rooms, each more ornate than the last, until they came to the Mizukage's chamber where the ninja-captain neutralized a full dozen hidden traps completely invisible to her eyes. How HE was able to detect them, jonin or not, seemed almost magical.
Opening the last double door, a crack of light shot across the floor of the darkened room and up the far wall then broadened into a path that fell over a magnificent four-posted bed shrouded with drawn curtains.
Ao nodded firmly – a gesture indicating at the same time that the way was clear and that Aya should proceed at once.
The young woman crept nervously to the bed, parted the curtain and looked down at the face of her lord - the same man who'd ordered her sensei's death not so long ago.
It wasn't what she'd expected.
So young, she thought.
Lord Oku was twenty-six, only four years older than her, and there was much of him that looked it – a still-boyish quality around his cheeks; the stubble on his face a little patchy. But there was more than enough there to testify to the rigors of his life and troubled mind: lines around his eyes; his thicket of black hair already going grey, the tense set of his worried lips.
Aya looked knowingly toward his neck and saw the little white scar – such a thin, pale line that the very tip of Demon of the Hidden Mist's massive zanbato sword had left.
The young kunoichi's hand went to her own throat in sympathy.
After the Fourth's sudden departure, Lord Oku had been installed by Kirigakure's councilors, a handful of powerful daimyo and a star chamber of jonin. It occurred to her now that the man, the young man, might not have been ready for the job and remembered the pressure she'd felt all those years ago at suddenly finding herself part of an ANBU Hunter-Pack while only a cadet. How much worse must it have been for him!
But…to business: Aya didn't need years of medical training and even more years practicing field medicine to notice that this was not the face of a dead man. There was warmth in it and color. Lord Oku was breathing. Air seeped in and out though his dry, slightly-parted lips, clearly in time to the regular rising and falling of his chest.
Aya allowed herself a nervous grin at the idea that all the concern that Captain Ao had expressed to her may have been misplaced. Still, it seemed that there was something amiss.
"Lord Oku?" said the girl, as she resorted to the obvious and tried to rouse him.
She reached for his arm then nudged the Mizukage gently but received no response.
Puzzled, Aya pulled down the covers and gasped as she saw the pattern of intricate characters carved freshly by the Mizukage's own hand in into the skin of his chest and arms.
"Oh!" she startled then, realizing Ao was watching, quickly composed herself and went back to work.
Summoning her chakra, the medical-ninja held her palms crossed over her patient's chest then stiffened in shock.
"You have something to report, Miss Sakamoto?"
Aya gulped as she tried to regain her composure.
"Lord Oku, the Fifth Mizukage of the Village Hidden in the Mist," she offered in a tone it took an effort of will to maintain, "is dead, and has been for at least a day." The kunoichi fell quiet, fully expecting to be contradicted. "The apparent vitality of his body you see is-is only a mockery of life – the physical processes kept working by the power of a ninja spell he has cast upon himself!"
Captain Ao nodded. "I see," he said with not a trace of surprise in his voice. "As a specialist in medical ninjutsu, what do you recommend?"
"We should -," she began to say then stopped.
"Yes, please continue."
"We should…we should break the jutsu that's keeping his body functioning then at once conduct an examination to determine the cause of death."
Ao looked over the markings on his master's body. "This is a Dao magic I see," the ninja observed. "Do you know how to counter it?"
"I've seen it before. I don't fully understand how it works but I know all the characters have to be precise."
The young woman produced a scalpel from her medical kit and with it made the tiniest alteration in one of the hundreds of scarred characters on Lord Oku's arm. With that simple act the Mizukage died.
Aya bit her lip. Though his spirit, the animating force behind the ninja lord's chakra, had gone, in a way SHE had just killed the Fourth Mizukage.
Her breath began to race.
"Captain Ao, we should get Lord Oku to the laboratory as quickly as possible!"
"Of course," agreed the jonin who then added pointedly, "unless the cause of his death might be determined by other means."
Flustered at her superior's puzzling change in tone, the kunoichi shook her head. "I don't understand."
Ao smiled grimly. "I'm not at all convinced of that. You see, something quite strange happened earlier today. You must have heard about it – how our village was attacked by a team of four enemy ninja. Of them, and you may or may not know this, one remains unidentified, another possesses the power of one of the tailed beasts…a chakra monster of tremendous power, the third is Haku – the traitor Zabuza Momochi's disciple. Last was a member of the Tsujita Clan thought to have died out at the end of the civil wars; a clan that possesses a peculiar kekkei-genkai that allows them to store and inflict disease at will.
"That's quite a diverse and chilling cast of characters in league against us, but it's Haku who puzzles me the most…considering that he was not just reported but confirmed dead; confirmed by a team of elite ANBU Hunter-Ninjas that included Captain Toru Yamashite, Eiji Tohei, Orimi Hirai, Yukimasa Sakurai…and YOU."
Something within Aya plunged. The firmament had given way and darkness was rising to meet her.
The older mist-shinobi canted his head. "I'm sure you can see what I'm getting at. And I can't help but wonder whose remains those are that your team brought back from Wave Country, because they're certainly not Haku's."
A sultry voice issued from the doorway. "Captain Ao," it interrupted and Aya whirled to find Mei Terumei leaning against the casing. "We both know that Toru the Akita was a little on the eccentric side but hardly a traitor. I'm sure there's more to the story."
Aya's breath slowed almost to a stop.
So that was why she specifically had been summoned here – not to treat a patient who was already dead but to face an inquisition. And even though the mesmerizing, goddess-like Mei was obviously cast as the 'good cop', with her sympathetic smile and carefree demeanor, there was suddenly something about her that Aya found much more terrifying than the gruff and heartless 'bad cop' Captain Ao.
A stir from outside drew a flicker of their attention at which Aya bolted, fleeing desperately from the room. So pathetic was the gesture that Mei let her pass uncontested while Ao only chuckled.
"You can't escape!" his authoritative voice echoed behind her.
Hallways and courtyards whirred past in her blind, reckless haste, and no one stopped her. Aya, in her confusion, took a wrong turn and had to backtrack and still no one stopped her. She ran, almost stumbling, at last into the grand foyer at the entrance to the Mizukage's Palazzo and there Captain Ao and all the other jonin waited but even now, having headed her off, the man let her by.
Aya slowed to a stop all on her own then raised her hands to her shocked face, for the room was littered with bodies. That was all that remained of the larded ranks of Lord Oku's praetorian.
The late Mizukage's emissary, Krishaney Rahaman, was nowhere in sight.
Automatically, as if in a trance, Aya knelt over one of the fallen, appalled at the horrorstruck expression on his face.
"Drained," she muttered to herself as Captain Ao approached. "Drained completely of chakra."
A delicate hand came to rest on her shoulder.
"Miss Sakamoto…Aya," said Mei with subtle, gentle urgency. "It would be best if you told us everything you know."
Naruto
Grey swirled within grey, the distant vapors flowing like grimy watercolor.
Naruto pinched his eyes shut. He'd stared so long at the otherworldly sky that it actually seemed like the clouds were responding to his thoughts while the earth under him evaporated into the ether.
The experience was starting to mess with his head.
The young ninja sighed from where he lay bare-chested in the sand on the beach of his tiny, island prison, drowsy from boredom and weak from hunger. Suddenly, his blue eyes popped wide at a peculiar, almost forgotten sensation - unexpected wetness at his pants.
"What the HELL!" he startled and scrambled furiously to his feet.
Being thirteen, he was a little old to be having 'accidents' but was way too far from the water's edge to blame the tide.
Naruto felt the seat of his borrowed mist-ninja fatigues and was distressed at the unmistakable saturation…although this was distinctly cold, not warm, and in the back, not the front.
"Aw, MAN!" the blond lamented then looked down as he noticed the little pool of water that sat in the shallow impression his butt had made in the sand.
From that pool, a trail of dark ran down the beach as far as the boy could see.
Naruto's yellow eyebrows knitted as he took a step back then rose in surprise as a trickle from the pool moved to follow him.
"Hey," he protested then advanced at which the water retreated.
Stepping sideways, wary but intensely curious now, he watched the leading edge of the water match him.
To test a theory Naruto leaped back, up to the rocky flats that comprised most of the little island then scurried back three full strides.
The trickle of water followed him, flowing uphill where needed in defiance of physics at its own steady, languid pace then gathered slowly around his booted feet.
"Hold on a sec'."
The ninja took a forward step then stopped and watched as the water caught up then passed him.
"You," he ventured quizzically, "you want me to follow you?"
The water declined to answer or even spell anything out in the sand as Naruto hoped it might, but only flowed away as the teenager trailed after it.
This sure is crazy on TOP of crazy, he couldn't help but think, slightly glum from all that had happened since Kirigakure. But it's not like I got anything else to go on.
The blond ninja, still not totally sold on the possible virtues of this development, followed the water along the beach for the better part of half a mile before he watched it make a hard left then vanish into the wet sand and surf and, beyond that, the expanse of limitless ocean.
His blue eyes bugged. His fists balled.
"Oh, well!" Naruto ranted. "That's just GREAT! NOW how the hell am I supposed to follow you?"
After a moment of consideration, the teenager frowned and marched stubbornly out into the water after it. At only his third splashing step, the world vanished out from under him and, with a gargled cry, the genin went plunging beneath the waves.
The Fire-Tongue Fleet
Towers of white flame rippled like banners upon the rough and rustic island's tortured face, gushing twisting towers of black into the morning sky.
From the flying bridge of his flagship, Commander Okun dropped the binoculars from his grim eyes. "Send in the clean-up teams."
His second in command passed on the order through a field radio then joined her leader at the railing. "Sir, do you really think anyone could have survived that bombardment?"
"Doubtful," Okun answered. "But the procedure exists for a reason. That's how it got to be 'procedure'."
The kunoichi nodded though it was hard to read any reaction from her face's streamlined features that looked like they'd be (and probably were) much more at home in oceanic depths.
"I forgot," she replied, "this isn't the first time the fleet's been deployed."
"Quite right. I myself was on hand for the destruction of the Tsujita, Nikai, Serizawa and Aramata clans, and even they weren't the first," he illumined, speaking slowly and distinctly to be heard over the wind and waves. "Now we're here to finish off the remnants and descendants of those who escaped."
"A historical irony."
Okun shrugged. "Not really," he opined then drew a deep breath of the salt-heavy air. Looking at the world from outside, literally a deserted island outpost, for so long had given him some insight. "Similar problems are usually answered with similar solutions no matter how many years pass in between."
The two shared a silence.
"What's our heading, sir, back home?"
Okun frowned and shook his head – one sharp, definitive sweep left then right. "While we leave four boats and a detachment of marines here to make sure there were no survivors, the rest of the fleet has one more mission to complete…on Bourou Island."
The woman puzzled in thought then gave him a disbelieving look before daring to suggest: "That can't be right."
"I've checked a couple of times now so there's no mistake. It appears as if we are about to wipe out one of the most powerful ninja clans in Water Country." The Commander shared with his lieutenant a significant look. "Our next target is Hirai Castle."
Sakura
"This," Hana Inuzuka began matter-of-factly, glancing at the heavy-framed, black-haired boy lying in pain on her clan clinic's examination table, "is a human being." Kiba's older sister drew herself up, nodded certainly then let a long look slide back and forth between her brother and his classmate Sakura. "They taught us that in veterinary school."
Kiba took the dry (to the point of arid) sarcasm in stride and muscled past it. "Yeah, yeah," he brayed, "but can you help the little guy?"
Hana, even fiercer around the eyes than her sibling and sharing the same wild, dark hair and clan 'fang' tattoos on her cheeks, turned her attention to Sakura in hopes perhaps that logic would reach her.
"Is there no room at the 'people' hospital?"
"Come ON, sis'," Kiba prevailed impatiently with a sharp look and dramatic flail of his arms, "stop being a pain. Look, it's a long story but basically this kid snuck into the village and he'll be in big trouble if anyone finds out."
The young woman rolled her eyes but wavered doubtfully.
"Aw, come on. You can see for yourself he's sick. Won't you just take a look? He's already here and everything."
Sakura watched the vacillation play over the kunoichi's face but at length Hana glanced again toward the boy from Wave Country then washed her hands and put on gloves, shaking her head all the while.
Sakura and Kiba both looked on nervously, patiently while Hana conducted her examination, asked Chuuya a few quick questions then drew a blood sample over his whining protests.
"Well?" said Kiba when at last they drew together to confer. "Do you know what's wrong with him?"
"I'll have to look at the test results, but it looks like Shinrin Disease to me."
Her brother gave her an odd look. "You're kidding?"
Sakura looked back and forth between them, a little embarrassed that both of them seemed familiar with a condition she wasn't. "What's that?"
"A tick-borne illness," Hana explained. "Animals get it all the time, people too if they've been in the deep woods."
Still Sakura was baffled and shook her head. "I've never heard of it."
Hana grinned. "That's because you haven't studied pediatrics…OR veterinary medicine. Everyone in the Leaf Village gets a vaccination in infancy, domestic animals too." She looked back at Chuuya. "I suppose they don't do that in Wave Country where he's from."
"Is he going to be ok?" asked Sakura anxiously; hands clutched by her chin.
Hana nodded and gave her a buoyant smile. "Don't worry, Sakura, he'll be fine. The treatment's just a shot followed by a regimen of pills."
The pink-haired girl slumped with relief.
She and Kiba had gotten into a heated argument a couple of weeks ago about veterinary training versus medical training. Now she realized she owed the vets of the world an apology and, although it still would have been better to take the boy to Konoha's hospital, that she'd done the right thing by asking Kiba if she could bring Chuuya here.
"That's great news!" Sakura gushed. "Thanks so much, Hana. I really owe you."
The older kunoichi waved a hand. "Forget it. Do me a favor though guys – if this kid really did sneak in, get him out of here as soon as he's on his feet again ok? If anyone finds out, especially Lady Tsunade, the shit'll REALLY hit the fan!"
Sakura laughed a little too loud and nervously as she smiled and rubbed the back of her neck. Just thinking about what her sensei's reaction would be if she ever found out about Naruto and this stunt Chuuya and Inari were pulling made her almost pass out.
"You're probably right," she said in a wavering voice.
Hana gave the genin a questioning look, blinked, then moved on: "It's funny though. I looked all over that kid and I can't find the bite mark…and the symptoms usually take weeks to develop."
The Fire-Tongue Fleet
From the steel decks of the four long missile-boats that remained behind, a company of blue-garbed marines poured down into the choppy sea. The figures, hard to see even in the broad daylight, danced across the waters like hummingbirds in a dream then sped over to the barren, steep and rocky shoreline where, without even a pause, they forked crisply into three detachments as they continued their race through to the inhospitable little island's high ground on paths calculated to converge upon a single point where fires raged and smoke billowed black.
The first group flew eastward through patches of hardy greenery, up jagged bluffs then out across an expanse of brittle, scrub forest, slipping easily through the stark, grey and long-fingered trees until, inexplicably, two of their number suddenly fell.
The bodies went sprawling over the unforgiving terrain before they finally came to rest never to rise again.
The remainder had no need for any further explanation: they were under attack. Still, none expressed any fear for they had trained for this. Rather than taking cover, the shinobi of the Fire-Tongue Fleet split into squads that formed a moving pattern. Speed was their friend, elusive movement made them hard to hit, and the arrangement and spacing of their elaborate, confusing patterns left no spot unobserved.
There! A flicker of odd white against grey movement through the forest drew a barrage of shuriken. Flashes of silver ripped through the trees, shredding bark and dry leaves, leaving the field littered with gleaming four-pointed stars and severed branches.
Those that knew that such an unfocussed, almost obligatory, counter would never thwart assassins clearly as skilled as the ones they faced were not disappointed as a flash erupted from then vanished back into the forest, sending two shinobis' heads spinning off into space in between.
The leader of the enterprise, a young kunoichi with a veteran's scars, pulled off the cloth that masked the lower part of her face, scowled then wove her fingers into a seal.
"Ninja art: Venomous Mist!" she announced as the air thickened with fog.
The woman's troops all knew how to breathe the vapor without it sticking in their throats and clogging their lungs and all were very well-experienced fighting with their vision obscured.
The marines slowed their pace and rearranged their groups into a new pattern designed to flush out the enemy. Tense minutes dragged into eons until a shout went up and steel clashed in the haze. Eyes darted to watch as another mist-shinobi, as deadly a fighter as there ever was, fell under an onslaught of whirling, white blades.
The enemy swordsman paused over the slashed-open body then looked up with the face of a ghoul – long, white hair draping down over a pale rictus of haunted eyes, jutting cheekbones and ivory teeth bared in a death's-head leer.
They'd all been briefed on who their enemies were – remnants of clans hunted, supposedly, to extinction years ago; clans that possessed the kekkei-genkai. Still, nothing could really prepare one for the sight of a face like that, or for the long scimitars that grew from his bony arms, elbows and shoulders as extensions of his own skeleton.
"A Kaguya!" cried one of them needlessly, for they all knew of the clan that had once waged war on Kirigakure only to be slaughtered by the Seven Swordsmen.
The ghoul vanished in a burst of speed but his element of surprise had been lost and the bright crimson spatters on his arms and blades made him easier to track.
The leader wove another seal and the earth turned to mud, a gelatinous tendril of which snared the fleeing Kaguya at the ankles and trapped him in the mire whereupon another ninja kissed the flat of a kunai, drew it back then flung.
The enemy's white-haired head snapped from the impact as the blade sank into his skull right between pale eyes. He stiffened then fell back, landing with a soft, splashing plop into the welcoming mud.
The kunoichi smiled with grim satisfaction as she nodded to her cohorts.
"Good shot, Hiro," she remarked.
The man nodded in acknowledgement.
Together, a dozen ninja in blue fatigues approached their fallen adversary wary for any surprises and stopped short appropriately.
"His hands," the kunoichi pointed out. "Look at that."
Both the pale man's hands were rigid, palms down with fingers clutched.
Hiro studied the body. "And my knife! I knew it couldn't be that easy!"
Only the very tip really seemed to have stuck and, at that moment, the blade fell from the Kaguya's face to reveal only the most minor of injuries.
Before the kunoichi, Hiro or any of the others could escape, ten white lances shot skyward from the ground, catching some in mid-air and piercing them all through from crotch to crown.
After a few seconds, the bony spines withdrew, sank back into the earth and from there back into Tensai Kaguya's fingertips leaving the bodies to fall like so many abandoned marionettes.
The ninja sat up in the mud then stood, looked down at his slain enemies without remorse or satisfaction, unknown emotions playing across his inscrutable countenance, then left the battlefield to meet up with his master who surely must have concluded matters by now.
The second group slowed as they approached the pyre – a landscape unlike any they had seen before. There had been a village here an hour ago though little trace of it remained - only foundations and broken walls amidst cauldrons of towering, white flame that burned with a prosecutorial vengeance impossible for any fire created in nature.
The ninjas fanned out, made a quick search around the perimeter then resorted to the most powerful of their water-style jutsu to explore the center of the bombarded area where the fiery explosions had already blasted away and consumed all that there was to burn. Even so, pockets of stubborn fire blazed on the baked ground as if sustained by the pure hatred of all things.
Every one of the mist's marines was on edge. Something was wrong. There were no bodies or any sign of human remains despite the fact that casualties here should have been catastrophic. That would have been bad enough in itself but there was no sign of either of the other companies that were supposed to rendezvous with them.
Their leader consulted his radio but disheartening static was its only response.
"They won't be joining you, I'm afraid," a stranger answered then wandered unafraid into their midst – an odd figure, thick of frame with a mane of tangled, ashen hair who looked almost prophetic wearing only a bathrobe and sandals when everyone in the company he addressed carried weapons, wore militant fatigues and body armor.
"One group ran into a disciple of mine with a bone to pick…so to speak," he quipped. "The other encountered the rest of the citizens of this enclave who were NOT destroyed by your attack.
"Now," the stranger went on, his confident eyes roaming from face to face, "before you count yourselves lucky that you were not in either of those groups, did you know that the human body is about sixty-percent water? That's amazing don't you think? It's particularly useful to me being that my kekkei-genkai allows me to control it."
With a gesture, the bath-robed man conjured a tidal wave that washed over the white fire surrounding the clearing. The flames clung for a bit and even began to burn the water before the spiraling surge washed them clean away, leaving scoured earth behind.
"If I'd just wanted to render you unconscious, nothing could be more simple. All I would have had to do was lower your blood pressure just a bit. A blackout. The effect is almost immediate! Spiking it high means you have a stroke or organ failure.
"Using my gift this way - to freeze you all in place, effectively paralyzed but still conscious, is actually a very subtle use of my blood-gift and involves a great deal of sustained concentration. You see, I don't usually go for outright displays of power. They just seem gratuitous." He turned then glowered emphatically. "But just this once I feel the need to make a point."
That said, he wove a hand sign at which every last mist-ninjas' eyes and neck burst open in a gory geyser of blood, flesh failing under the vast internal pressures created by the power of his chakra.
Tensai Kaguya emerged from the charred edges of the clearing, across a strange tract of mud flats and paced unhurriedly to the ruins of what, this morning, had been his village. There his master waited, sitting as if in meditation upon a snapped tooth of broken, blackened masonry.
The others were just starting to arrive, carrying with them weapons they had not had an hour ago. The elders among them stared, grim faced. They had seen war, or something very like it, before. The younger ones, like Sakiko and Gennosuke, could only stand by broken-hearted. This was the only home they'd ever known.
Tensai's pale eyes came to rest then on his sensei's face.
"What now, Lord Nikai?"
The ninja patriarch's eyes slowly opened. "I don't know exactly," the man seemed to admit then gave him a chilling smile, "but I've got an idea."
Naruto
Struggling helplessly, blinded by stinging salt, ears aching from pressure, skin numbed from the cold, Naruto plunged into the depths of an oceanic abyss as if weighted at the ankles. With every passing instant the dappled, diffuse light rippling on the waves high above grew dimmer, more distant and out of reach of his grasping fingers.
Every bit of the genin's concentration focused on keeping in the last precious breath he'd taken no matter how badly his body wanted to release it. Bubbles leaked through his nose and clenched teeth and, before Naruto knew it, it was gone. In the freezing dark the genin felt his body descend; his hair waving in the black current.
Hold…on! he urged himself, vowing to fight to the last but at this point there really didn't seem like there was much point especially now that he was having to hold his breath out.
A spiraling current had him now, drawing him down even faster to depths un-conceived. His chest burned; gongs sounded in his head. The young ninja convulsed and a stream of frigid salt shot up his nose then down his throat, burning like acid and that was it: the boy's reflexive gag flooded him with seawater. Naruto thrashed, his whole body rebelling with what little strength remained.
Stars filled his vision when suddenly there were arms tightening around his waist and a floor cold and solid under his feet.
The ninja's ears creaked painfully, water rushed around him then drained away as he felt himself break unexpectedly over the surface of waves into the windy air. His eyes stung with salt; water-filled lungs refused to work.
The arms encircling him, holding him up, synched tight then constricted sharply inward and up. Naruto's eyes bugged as a fountain gushed from his mouth, he gagged breathlessly then grimaced as the stranger behind him squeezed hard and without mercy again and then again.
Recovering now, gagging, ravaged by hunger and having nearly drowned, with bile and seawater coating his throat and dribbling from his lips, Naruto grabbed a slender wrist, balled a fist then smashed his knuckles against the back of the offender's hand.
Breaking free of loosened grip, the drenched blond wheeled, his looping, haymaker punch leading the way. Half-blind, the boy felt his fist slam home into a willowy arm, upraised just in time to cover the dark-haired girl's jawline.
Naruto froze, blinked and shook the brine from his blurry vision and startled.
"Haku?" he squeaked.
The taller ninja, staggered by the blow and equally water-logged, with his length of black hair plastered to his head, lowered his guard slowly then gave an awkward, uncertain smile.
"Hi, Naruto."
The blond blinked again then fought for balance as the wobbly surface on which he stood pitched one way then the other and he realized it was thick platform of ice, Haku's ice, bobbing up and down in the middle of the wild ocean.
Dripping wet and shirtless, he shivered in the chill.
"I -," Naruto began, wiped his face which broke into a weary, ragged grin. "You c-came for me."
Haku nodded half-heartedly. "It's not really me you have to thank," he explained then looked off to his left.
Standing there a stone's throw away within a sphere of perfect calm amidst the ocean waves and spray a man stood straight and strong with all the intimidating qualities of a robust old-age. Cold eyes looked out from his handsome, chiseled face beneath a mantle of silver hair.
"If you children are finished with your obligatory tearful reunion, there are many, more pressing matters to attend to," he announced pointedly.
Naruto looked at him askance, cupped his hand then whispered to Haku: "Who's the g-geezer?"
Expressing a sigh of resignation, Haku proceeded with the introductions: "Naruto," he began then held out his arm toward the stranger, "this is Lord Kissohamaru Hirai, Patriarch of the Hirai clan and Councilor of the Village Hidden in the Mist. Lord Hirai," he extended the gesture towards Naruto, "Naruto."
Lord Hirai snorted at which Naruto grimaced in ire.
"Hold on!" said Naruto in relatively quiet alarm as the thought occurred to him, "isn't this that guy who wanted to burn down Wave County, the one who wanted to make YOU Mizukage?"
"The same," Haku confessed.
"Um," said the blond as he tried to still his pin-wheeling recollections, "doesn't he hate your guts for, you know, everything?"
A more or less hopeless look crossed Haku's face.
"Lord Hirai is nothing if not practical," Zabuza's apprentice reported glumly. "It suits him to aid us now. And I'm starting to realize that there is a great deal more going on with the Mist Village than I knew about before I thought to become involved in its fate." The teenager noted the old man's souring expression. "We'd better go."
Following Haku's lead, Naruto leaped over to the ninja-lord's side where the waters were held as flat and solid as glass by his jutsu.
The old man then shut his eyes, formed a seal and uttered a phrase at which all three vanished into the air.
Well? What do you think besides that it was too long? ;)
Thanks for reading!
-Jonohex
