Warning: This chapter is gory and violence is running wild in there. I hesitated a lot before posting this because of it, but what the hell, I wanted to go down that road and I really like this chapter so here we are.

To Crazee: I always come back. ;) Thank you for your review, dear. I'm glad you're enjoying this. ^_^

Summary of chapter 6: The chapter began with a flashback of Tenten when she was little. She was shown sparring with her father and telling him how her mother voicing her disappointment hurt her. When it became clear to him that Tenten gave her some weapons, he ran back to the house only to find his mother's body hanging from the pillar of the veranda. It was hinted that Tenten's mother disappeared after she killed the old woman, but the reason was not mentioned. Back to the present, Tenten and Neji were at the monastery and they were discussing her future as the war raged on. They argued when Neji suggested that she went back to her mother's house until she lied and promised to. All along, Fu was watching them and when he understood that Tenten was pregnant, he reported back to Danzo as he knew it would be advantageous for him to have a Hyuuga hostage if he wanted to take the control of the shogunate of the Fire. The chapter ended with Fu and Torune finding Ino waiting for them in the woods. When they told her Danzo's new plan involving Tenten, Ino doubted her role as a double-agent but she followed them anyway.

-X-

They erupted with the sun like wild smoky shadows, splintered and silent.

Shi squinted at their vague shapes and his jaw tightened. They barely disturbed the forest, rocks rolling beneath their feet, altered breaths with spitting onto the cold harshness of the morning. Despite his training, there were still details he couldn't see.

He blinked and they grew distinct, their limbs stiff with the weapons they carried. He growled, turning his head up towards the pale sun. They spread over the sandy land and he waited for the first mocking intonation, a carelessly thrown kunai.

He glanced down and the air stalled, part gleams of silver, oppressing his chest and there was still silence. It hung around him in a stillness he didn't recognize. Slowly, he turned on his heels, his eyes shifting, searching for a familiar face. 'Too late, too late,' he thought, but they already knew it, advancing in blurry lines.

Dragons never missed.

He gulped as the silence of their heavy steps, falling back into a defensive pose. He raised his arms slowly above his head, his tongue thick in his mouth. His fingers brushed the sheath strapped to his back. Behind him, the house gaped opened, creaking eerily in the dew that glided down its roof. The men circled him and he turned on his heels watching them as apprehensively as they were watching him. He counted them, grinding his teeth. If he attacked left, at least two of them would fall behind him, their drawn weapons piercing through him. The air stilled and buzzed with their movements. Sweat pickled at his brow. The sharpness of a breath brushed by his neck, an arm reaching in front of him to hold him into place. It shoved the sheath off his back, the straps cut off and the weight of his katana lifted. A dragon curled up the arm until its tail disappeared up the sleeve. His mind still raced. Left. Right.

He almost laughed. There was no opening.

He recounted them. He counted his heartbeats, the calm breath hot and moist against his neck. His arms twitched and even his mind remained clear and calm, his body broke down into shaking and jerky movements, fighting the momentum, spreading the numbers out in his stomach, in his heaving chest. The man held him tighter.

"Let me go. If this is a prank..." He growled but the dagger pressed onto his chest. Even his voice shook and he thought he was already decaying. He had trained and meditated and now his body turned on him, rolling in awkward shapes that could only lead him to his tomb.

The man clicked his tongue and the others lowered slightly their weapons.

"What is it saying?"

"Do I look Japanese to you?" The man barked at his ear, easing the pommel of the dagger in hand. "Are you going to just stand there? Search the house, you idiots. Maybe there's more of them. Which of you was on guard last night? Fucking idiot!"

Two men kicked the doors open and Shi winced at the sound. They called out to one another as they progressed through the house, their rummaging loud yet faintly dull when they reached the other side of the mansion. Desperately, he tried to spin on his heels.

"He looks like a thief to me. Let's gut him." Another soldier behind him drawled out lazily.

"I'm one of you."

Shi flicked his arm towards him. He hissed at the surge of pain in his chest but the man holding him sank his nails in his flesh. He expected to be released, instead laughter broke their circle and brought them closer to him.

"Oh oh oh! How interesting! We have a Japanese dragon here. What should we do with you?"

Their eyes turned to steel, the pale sunlight revealing their number, the tents and the chaos beyond the hills. Despite the moist warmth of the rising sun, he shivered.

"What should we do we you?" The man repeated in a singsong whisper at his ear and the dagger sank deeper in his flesh.

The blood oozed out thick and hot.

-X-

Counting The Ants

by Clementive

-X-

In a jerk, his head rolled back, the ceiling closing down onto him.

Shi felt a gush of wind on his insides. They felt alive, twisting and moving, sneaking out of him; snakes of smoky flesh. He felt the pain on the edge on his numbness. A hand gripped at his insides, tossed them, and he tried to reached out to contain the pain, his guts spilling out. His blood pounded, fire and ice, in his skull, in his chest and he was afraid the world could hear it as loud as him.

"Can you hear me, Shi?"

He gasped, the light setting his vision ablaze. The gush of air stopped in his throat, uncomfortable and dry.

"Hn. Welcome back, Shi. You can blame Bibiki-kun later for the delay and that moron who cut you open. Do you know which one it was? It will save me some trouble if you did. Talking with imperial guards is always tiresome. They speak Chinese like peasants."

He blinked, focusing on the sharp curve of her mouth. It moved too fast, her cold voice outstretched and unfamiliarly high. He tried to swallow but his scorched throat closed up. He growled and tried to push her hands away. He had to hold onto his guts. He lay empty with so much of him spread across the room, blood and guts and organs.

"Hold him down."

The pace of the servant, the movement of her hands were rushed and he grunted, his hips off the floor. Tangled bed sheets made him think of snakes. He was still emptying himself while she snapped. Then, she leaned over him and he recoiled. Her lips set in a firm line, the blackness of her pupils eating the shining green, another set of arms snuck between their bodies and he panted wildly, drenched in sweat.

"For the love of God, Shi, I'm fixing you, so stop moving or I'll have to knock you out."

Sharply, Sora pulled at the silver piercing through his skin. She pinched her lips.

"And you know how much I'd hate that," she added softly and her needles swirled in her mouth. "Working on asleep patients... It bores me. Can you speak?"

He swam, lost and numbed by the needles embedded in his flesh. Small groans of pain erupted his breathing. They didn't vibrate through his parched lips. Delusional, he didn't noticed they weren't his owns, they were hers and she had begun pressing unsteady needles in her own arms.

"Stop fighting me, Shi! Hold him down harder, for the love of God!"

-X-

His men were spread out around the palanquin, smug poses and smirks that mimicked the way the Chinese soldiers held themselves. If Morino soldiers considered themselves bears, they swarmed like ants, infesting nests that didn't belong to them. In pain, there was no possession. In pain, there was simply a master that could give and take away. They smirked, their iron cuffs still covering their fists. The imperial guards ripped off the weights from their legs, smirking back. Dragons like to play with their food as much as bears did.

They had their backs towards the house but the drifting silence made them aware of the faintest shift in the two princes' bodies; the nervous heavy pacing of the younger one and the gnarled indifference of the older one. Morino Ibiki crossed his arms over his chest as he faced the two of them.

"Are you her new boy toy?" The prince picked at his nails with the point of his dagger, humming to himself. His voice drawled out the words in Japanese in a melody that belonged with the Chinese language. "My dear sweet sister is a whore. A shame our father doesn't see it that way. Or perhaps are you just gay?" He raised a brow, cocking his head on the side while still focusing on his nails. He kicked faintly at the mace at his feet. "I suppose I would call you gay since our father calls her his son. Did you know that? A son," he mocked a shudder and he turned finally an arrogant grin towards him. "You're in bed with my father's son."

The bigger man behind him flinched, his mouth opening in a twisted gap. His Adam's apple ran up and down his throat until he emitted a guttural menacing sound.

"You're just a moron, Bo. Or are you in bed with her too? Weak son in weak son, is that how it works? Mother is rolling in her tomb, you pig." He threw carelessly the kunai by Ibiki's head and knocked violently on the sliding door. He clicked his tongue, Ibiki still hadn't flinching. "How many men are you bedding these days, oneechan?" He shouted, his anger finally pooling out of his controlled movements.

There were times Ning imagined striking his sister, pounds after pounds shattering her coldness that crept onto him, her thin mouth spitting nothing but rows and rows of teeth. White pieces of her scattered and embedded in his skin, that was what he hoped for whenever he saw her, because she played him better than he could ever play her. His father said it often, she was a better son than him, even if disabled and weak.

Ning threw a disgusted pout towards his younger brother. His shoulders rose and fell, jerkily as he tried to speak. He didn't understand why Bo tolerated Sora more than any of them did. Bringing their men to Sora's lands had been his idea. Now that the Japanese throne was empty, they had become imperial scavengers and those lands, their starting point. The youngest sons were the most violent; they had nothing to lose.

"No," Bo groaned out finally, his mouth dislocated and hanging slightly open.

Unflinching, Ibiki met his eyes and the butchered tongue reached out to moisten his lips. They shone with malice, testing him and he had the impulse to touch his scarred head. The older brother banged once more on the door, shouting out his sister's name. Bo's dark glance flickered to his covered head as easily, his nostrils flaring. They had recognized the torturer in each other.

"Ning, stop."

All the while, he tried to articulate those words, his glance remained on Ibiki's impassive face. In an uneven line, his lips curled in an amused grin. His sunburnt hand fell on the guard of his large sword.

"Now why would I do that? The bitch is making us wait," Ning rolled his eyes, his shoulders hunching forward. "I know you don't mind these lands, but I do. I hate Japanese women. Boring conversation. Boring body. You can't even talk properly, so you don't have to worry about women, but I do."

Annoyed, he glared at Ibiki who hadn't moved despite the insults. Unlike his brothers, he didn't enjoy fighting as much as he enjoyed striking the right nerve with the right word. There was something vile and sticky in blood, while insults could detonate harder than blows without soiling his hands.

"Boring men too, I suppose," he raised his hand again towards the sliding door but it slid open.

Sora calmly wiped the blood off her hands with a rag and he sneered.

"How nice of you to finally join us, dear whoring sister!"

He leaned in to pinch her cheek, but a bigger shadow followed his gesture. Before he could retract his hand black and silver blurred, the impact sending him over the veranda. His skull slit open, hammering. He tasted blood and he tried to roll on his side but a foot pressed him down. When he gasped, mud filled his nostrils and mouth, his stomach churning.

Beyond them, their soldiers lunged at one another.

"You don't touch her and you're not bringing her back to China," Morino Ibiki said darkly and swords clashed, iron cuffs slamming through ribcages. He shivered with the pleasure of the first gasp of pain. Blood filled his mouth. When he was younger, he had less control and he would lick the tears of those he tortured.

"I don't want him or his soldiers on my mother's lands," Sora added softly pressing her hands to her sides so some of the pain would lift. There was always something she needed to do despite the pain; as much as they were things she couldn't do because of it.

Ibiki looked up sharply at her. She held herself stiffly, her dark hair whipping at her pale cheeks as she looked at the ravages of one army against another. She had always thought if she were to come back, time would have swept away her mother's blood and her spilled guts. She thought she wouldn't face her uncle's unbearable ghost still in her house. Still inhabiting what didn't belong to him. She thought if she were to come back, at least some emotions would stir inside her, that it wouldn't just be cold detachment at the mere idea of honour. Sora never bothered with honour, yet they all arranged her life to follow it; in marriage and in birth. She looked at the sky, an eagle spreading its wings across it. All her life, she had been nothing but a terrible pawn.

And Ibiki saw it all across her face, as her chest heaved and she shook with laughter. It was raw and savage and his foot dug deeper into her brother's body, crushing the bones until it stiffened.

"I didn't authorize you to fight my battles, Ibiki," her voice gritted icily and he kicked her brother's limp body away from him. He ran a hand on the uneven skin of his head, pinching his lips so he could control his heavy pants.

"Chinese soldiers on Japanese soil, hardly your battle, Sora," he shouted pointing at the men still fighting behind him. "Dismiss them, goddamn woman, or do I have to do everything myself?"

"These aren't my men, but you can try to dismiss them yourself if you want to lose your time."

She looked down at her own trembling fists, vaguely aware of the thin trails of blood running down her arms. Bo came to stand next to her and she was still smiling. This was her family; generations after generations hurting one another, uncaring about the violence of it all. Dull pain surged through her arms, pouncing back and forth, like waves. It was nothing compared to what Ibiki and her were still leaving unsaid. He panted, disheveled and shouting louder than necessary to his men.

She straightened her back before turning towards her other brother. His shaven head had taken a darker shade with the reflection of the sun.

"Did you torture my student, Bo?"

Normally, her eyes would turn black and she would read him, word for word, speaking for them both, but her jaw twitched, her eyes remaining green as she let him work out the words, cold and unapologetic. As children, they turned towards one another, as naturally as the others drifted apart because even if the lands and riches were great, there were still six of them. They were brother and sister out of convenience.

"No," he spat out, pointing at Ibiki over their brother. He cocked his head on the side watching her and his shortened tongue flicked between his lips.

"Hn," she climbed down the stairs of the veranda without glancing back. She gritted her teeth at the pain came sparkled with each of her steps as her shoulders bounced back and forward. "You're the least moronic of my father's sons, Bo..." She trailed off. Her blood dotted the wood, then the grass.

She had never said it out loud but Bo knew. They had all been raised in violence; the six of them, among cut hands and severed tongues and beheaded shuddering bodies and each corpse, each surviving howling man taught them they couldn't negotiate with death. They could never say: "You hurt me, so I will hurt you."

They never quite forgave and when Sora's levelled her glance to meet his, there was still icy laughter in her eyes.

She knew he had lied.

"Tell your men to be careful with Shi, Bibiki-kun. I don't want his stitches to rip open. Now, let Bo take his moronic brother away. You are leaving those lands, Bo. You and Ning, I don't want you here. On my lands. Find other lands to do whatever it is you two are doing, here. I don't care, but leave."

Bo inclined his head slightly, raising his hand to call back his men. Her eyes turned black, small veins pulsing on her neck. I want the throne, she read on his face and she knew he wasn't negotiating. Ning was nothing more than a decoy.

"You owe me, Sora, so stay out of my way. I'll only tell you this once because even if you don't call me your brother, I consider you my sister. But this is as far as I'm willing to negotiate." His hand twitched on the guard of his sword and she bit the inside of her cheek, her blood turning to ice in her vein. "I know where your daughter is. Some of my men are accompanying her, in fact. You already have a butchered son in a tomb. Don't make this any more difficult for you because if it comes to this, you won't be able to fix her like you fixed your student. Let's try again, now shall we? Do you mind my men and I staying here, little sister?"

"No," she muttered, unblinking, unmoving. There was always a childish part of her which thought if she stayed petrified long enough, there would be no pain. Ibiki narrowed his eyes at her, his jaw twitching, his teeth grinding. His pants grew heavier.

"Sora!"

"Not at all, Bo."

But she had also been as terrible of a child as she had been of a pawn.

She would have to remind him of that.

-X-

"Naruto," he said stiffly, gasping at the hot air. Blood steamed down the side of his face and he firmly held on to his arm. "You can't keep doing this."

Naruto turned sharp blue eyes towards him, frowning slightly. His armour was still too shining; silver instead of red. Stubbornly, he peeled the hand off his bicep.

"Mind your own business, Hyuuga. They have retreated since I came here. Wasn't this what you wanted?"

Hyuuga Neji hated the way Uzumaki Naruto blended in the crowd of raised swords. It was the raw shouts, in the impatience that led him every day to bolt out of the strategizing meetings. He didn't care about the war. He wasn't leading an army. He didn't want the Japanese throne. He wanted revenge. He searched death and Uchiha Sasuke on the battlefield. He never called out for his men to regroup and march forward. He merely called out to his friend to step forward and face him.

Neji dreaded the day Sasuke would answer his call. He had never seen Naruto being this rash and impulsive. He dreaded the chaos that would ensue between a man who would do everything to win and the other who had nothing to lose.

"Naruto," he tried again but the entrance of the tent whipped back into place.

He followed him, like he did the day before. And the day before that. They were trapped in an endless circle of aching muscles and broken bones strapped hastily back into place. He drifted just as much as Naruto. There was Tenten never far from his mind, drifting in out of him when he cleaned his katana. There was Shikamaru pushing pawns forward more carelessly, his head wheeling whenever a blonde woman entered the room. Kiba only sneered in response. Even if Neji could see it all, unfolding in front of him, with each stride they won against the Uchiha and Senju clans, they were farther by miles from their women. If they didn't win soon, they would lose it all; humanity and love. Blood was etched deeper into their skin. They became their wrinkles- early ones, dried ones that turned back to flesh in their dreams.

Once on the battlefield, they were mere echoes, ants. Bleeding ants. Crushed ants. They ran down the hills, dispersing, fighting, for the only queen they served; honour, and it was how most of them found death.

Neji yelled over the clash of armours and katana. Two men blocked his view, but when they shifted he could see the vivid detailed flapping hair of Naruto and his raising arm. Sasuke was smirking. They found each other on the battlefield with soldiers expiring at their feet. Neji charged back, gritting his teeth at the shock running up and down his arm. He screamed for Kiba.

But Sasuke and Naruto were oblivious to the world around them. Their swirling katana drew a circle around them no one dared broke. They felt the end in the armours of blood they wore. They smirked, almost appeased.

Neji blocked another blow aimed at his chest, his hand lunging forward. Below his palm, the soldier's heart contracted painfully. He spat blood and Neji lowered his katana to behead him. Fast-paced, she sprinted between armed men, unarmed.

"SASUKE-KUN!"

He gasped, snapping his head back up. Next to him, Kiba's chest painfully heaved, her scream still rippling through the air. They all stilled, except Naruto and Sasuke. They pushed the handle of their katana forward.

A flash of pink divided them. They hadn't noticed it until, Haruno Sakura stood between them. Until Naruto's katana pierced through her.

Her green eyes widened, pain ripping through her, soaking the three of them. Her knees grew wobbly and Naruto let go of his katana, howling. Sasuke's katana thudded onto the rocks. He gasped. His eyes were as widened as hers, but it was Naruto who caught her sinking body, dragging Sasuke's impaled body with them. She died in his arms, her arms still tangled with Sasuke's. Naruto's sword bound them together and as the blood oozed out, there were his howls of pain choked in tears and Sasuke's dark eyes blinking reflecting the pink of her hair. They turned to glass, a dull red, that only made him howl louder.

Once, they had promised to each other that they would always be together.

But they shook him off their bodies. They peeled them apart, calling his name again and again. As if he could forget it now. They let Sakura's paling cheek fall back against Sasuke's chest, even if it didn't heave anymore. The more he fought back, the farther they appeared: cold and white, a ripple of black and pink onto the puddle of death. His howls turned hollow, their promises shattered because again and again Sakura had chosen Sasuke and now, there was nothing he could ever do to make her change her mind.

He turned his head away before he could see one of the Hyuuga soldiers cut off Sasuke's head, holding it by the hair. The blood cascaded on her face. They were now both unrecognizable.

The air buzzed, titled cheers, and it was all uneven ground beneath his feet.

Naruto had lost everything and he was emperor of Japan.

-X-

Apart from the fact, that I'm a terrible person who has just butchered and killed some of her characters, I was thinking... Smaller chapters and more frequent updates? We are talking about 2-2.5k word long chapters instead of the usual almost 4k words. What do we say: Yes? No? Maybe? Of course, that means less scenes and not less details.