Chimera, Chapter 5: Guardian
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.


Winter in the badlands of Water Country turned its infamous mists to frost, which if continuously inhaled for extended periods of time left microscopic incisions in the lungs and drowned its victims in their own blood in a matter of hours. Zabuza Momochi had grown up in the outlands among the hills, and he was no stranger to the winter frosts or its dangers. The thick mask covering his face made him impervious to winter's bane. His breath misted through the mask, the only sign of life in this barren wasteland.

His team had gone on ahead to the small civilian settlement at the base of the hill upon which Zabuza currently stood. Kubikiribouchou was strapped to his back, a friendly reminder of the job he was here to do. The screams started soon after. Ravenous and desperate, that was the Bloody Mist's way. Zabuza cracked his neck and headed for the village.

A body burst from the window of the closest dwelling, and he didn't think much of it until he saw the Mist hitai-ate. One of his teammates was bleeding out on the snow. Zabuza drew Kubikiribouchou from his back without a second thought and burst through the door. He cut down the first person he saw: an old woman. She grunted and hit the floor, where a handful of senbon rolled out of her clenched fist.

Zabuza scanned the earth-packed cabin for more signs of rebellious life. A door swung lightly on its hinges toward the back of the room. He drew a silent breath and went through it. On the other side, he didn't even have time to think as a talented hand threw senbon at him with deadly intent. Kubikiribouchou maneuvered in front to protect him and the thin needles jettisoned off its wide blade, leaving little blue sparks on contact.

He moved like water, filling spaces as they opened up and drowning them in his presence. And Kubikiribouchou moved with him, the crest of a wave crashing down on the one unlucky enough to be caught battling the rip tide. A woman fell before him, young and lithe but not quite fast enough. The blade had sliced through the juncture of her neck and shoulder and cut through to the opposite armpit. Zabuza was already stepping over her before she could settle on the floor in a puddle of her frozen blood.

A man's cry of agony burst from beyond the left wall, but there was no door. Zabuza rammed the flat of Kubikiribouchou, still slick with the dead woman's blood, into the wall. The brittle wood splintered and burst until there was a hole big enough for Zabuza to step through. He found himself in a hidden room of the house with only a single trap door open on the ceiling. It creaked on its hinges and let in the arctic chill. In the middle of the floor lay one of his men, Shu, convulsing as death's seizure sapped the last dregs of life from him. An icicle, thicker around than Zabuza's forearm, was impaled through his abdomen.

Another's breathing slowly drew his attention to the far corner of the room where a little boy, still plump with his baby fat, was crouched with his hands out and shaking. They were crusted with ice. Silence stretched for a long moment as Zabuza and the boy sized each other up. Zabuza let his gaze fall back to Shu and the saber-like icicle that had been his undoing. He shifted, and the little boy lashed out. A thick bolt of hardened ice materialized from one of his hands and crashed into Kubikiribouchou, where it shattered on contact. Pieces of ice scattered to the floor, coated in the blood of the woman Zabuza had mangled just minutes ago. And there was silence once again.

The little boy finally cracked, and tears welled in his eyes at the sight of the blood on Zabuza's sword. "Mother?" He wore no mask despite the deadly winter condition.

Zabuza narrowed his eyes. "She's dead, boy. I killed her. Your grandmother, too."

The little boy shook with fear and grief, his round black eyes misty with tears that froze on his cheeks as they formed. And yet, he seemed more concerned with Zabuza than the killing cold.

"Then, kill me, too," he whimpered.

The boy could not have been older than five or six years, and yet he asked for death so easily.

"Why?" Zabuza asked.

The boy recoiled, as though finally sensing the gravity of his situation. He sank to his knees, and frost accumulated beneath him. "I... I don't wanna be alone."

Depraved and ruthless as it was, the Bloody Mist was all about procedure. Killings were scheduled and acted out by trained players. Politics were a courtesy that exercised the broadest extents of flattery, wit, and charm, but never objection. The Academy Harvest was no different. Every year, Mist shinobi would sweep parts of the countryside in the outlying islands of Water Country and search for young green boys and girls with the potential to serve under the Bloody Mist. Other villages thought the practice barbaric, of course. What was the sense in killing all but one when there is strength in numbers?

"What's the point of keeping them all when one alone will suffice?"

But no matter Zabuza's personal opinion on Yagura's so-called politics, his words echoed louder in this small shoddy cabin than they ever had before. Zabuza slowly sank to one knee next to an upright Kubikiribouchou, his eyes ever on the little boy trembling before him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

There were no shouts from reinforcements, no cavalry. Just the ice and snow and deadly frost crystals in the wind that could not reach this small child. The boy blinked a few times, and fresh tears fell from his eyes only to freeze upon his cheeks.

"Haku," he said.

"It only takes one card to send the whole house falling."

Yagura had promised him a position in the Seven Swordsmen the day Zabuza had said that to him. He could still remember the way Yagura smiled at him, curling, like the ends of paper as they burn and fade to black under candlefire.

"Not my house," Yagura had said confidently.

The little boy wiped his frosted tears from his cheeks, but his eyes never left Zabuza's. Wary, afraid. Dangerous.

It only takes one.

Zabuza held out his free hand to Haku. "You're not alone, Haku."

Yagura would never have this one.


"You're leaving again?"

"Yeah, boss's orders."

Mei crossed her arms. "Harusame's a slave driver, let me tell you."

Utakata laughed. "He's fine. He just trusts me with the responsibility, that's all. Besides, I like getting out of the village. It's livelier out there."

"Livelier? It's the middle of winter. Everything's dead."

He laughed again, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Nah, you got it backwards."

Mei bit the inside of her cheek and held her tongue. No need to ruin a perfectly sad and rushed goodbye with a reminder of the silence that stalked the village streets like a plague.

"But you just got back!"

Utakata put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to her eye level. "And I'll be back just as quick. So you hold down the fort while I'm gone. Don't let Ameyuri burn anything down."

Mei cracked a smile. "She's never cooking again, you have my word."

"At least not in my house."

He was smiling for real now, and Mei pulled him into a tight hug before he could get any stupid ideas like leaving without one.

"Hey, cool it! People'll talk, you know?" he teased.

"Oh, so being sixteen and having a guy for a best friend automatically means we're hooking up? How charming."

He winced. "You didn't have to say it like that."

Mei rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself. I'm way out of your league."

"Well, I can't argue with you there."

They watched each other for a moment in silence, remembering. Every parting could be the last, as many shinobi had learned before them. "Just be careful, okay? You of all people, Utakata."

He waved her off. "Yes, Mom. I'll be a good Jinchuuriki and be home before bedtime." He showed her his back, which was emblazoned with the Mist symbol on the back of his Jōnin vest. "I'll see you."

She watched him as he left to join his master, Harusame, at the village gates, and together they secured masks to shield their faces and took off into the fog. Mei shivered despite the layers of wool she wore. Winters in Water Country were among the nastiest on the continent due to the humidity. At least there was no wind today. Small mercies.

Not wanting to shiver out here any longer than necessary, Mei headed back toward Mangetsu's place, where they and Ameyuri were congregating for dinner. His parents were away on a mission that had been extended due to extenuating circumstances, so Mangetsu had had to take time off from his duties as one of the Seven Swordsmen to look after his baby brother, who was still an infant and totally useless in every possible way.

"Honestly, this kid is the most useless sack of shit I ever saw," Ameyuri said unhelpfully.

"Three-year-olds are more than just their fecal content," Mangetsu said from the kitchen as he searched for the right pot big enough to boil stew.

The living room was attached to the kitchen and offered a view between both rooms. Ameyuri sat on a couch, where she held up baby Suigetsu by the ankle and stared deeply into his big violet eyes. Suigetsu didn't cry or pout, but merely watched her back. As she spoke, his gaze was drawn to her filed teeth, and he reached for them.

Ameyuri chomped down and scared off his wandering hand. "Yeah, I see what you're tryna do, chump. Don't even think about it."

Mei finished setting up Suigetsu's baby stool at the table and joined Ameyuri. She scooped Suigetsu up in her arms and leaned their foreheads together conspiratorially. "Listen to her, Suigetsu. You don't want to know what happened to the last guy who tried it, believe me."

Suigetsu laughed happily and patted his chubby hands against Mei's cheeks. Ameyuri was not so pleased.

"What the fuck's that s'posed to mean?"

Mei shrugged. "Oh, you know, just an expression."

"Hey, you're not talking about that guy from the pub last week, are you?"

In the kitchen, Mangetsu sighed. "I think this is the point where my mother would warn against filling Suigetsu's head with nonsense."

"He's barely three and stupid. Grow a pair," Ameyuri said.

Mei set Suigetsu down on the floor and let him waddle around while she went to help Mangetsu in the kitchen. Finally free of the grabby adults, Suigetsu set his sights on his brother's Hiramekarei, which was propped against the wall. It was big, probably shiny underneath all those wrappings, and it was his big brother's most prized possession. So naturally, Suigetsu needed to see what all the fuss was about. He made slow progress, but Ameyuri was too engrossed in what was going on in the kitchen to mind him.

"Wow, wish I had a camera. No one'll believe you two slaved away in the kitchen for little old me," she said.

"No one's slaving, and the only reason you're not helping is because we banned you from coming within ten feet of all kitchens," Mei said.

"Hey, is this about that time at the May Day feast? 'Cause I'm tellin' you that burger was possessed. How else could it've flown off the grill like it did? Not my fault."

Suigetsu had reached the wall and was now carefully inching his way toward Hiramekarei. He bared what few baby teeth he had in a devious grin as his prize was nearly within reach.

"Oh, and I suppose the fire spread on its own, too, not because you tried to fan it out?" Mei said.

Ameyuri climbed over the couch until she was kneeling on the backrest. "Well, duh, that's how all natural fires spread."

"What's natural about a burned hamburger patty?"

"Ugh, Mangetsu, hit her for me."

Mangetsu was busy stirring the broth. "I'm not getting involved in this."

Victory! Suigetsu slapped his little hands on Hiramekarei's bandaged length and pushed with all his might, but it didn't budge. Undeterred, he tried again and again, slapping his hands against the padded metal over and over.

"What's that sound?" Mei asked.

Mangetsu paused from his cooking and looked back over his shoulder at Ameyuri looking ready to pounce on the next thing that walked across her path. "Ameyuri, where's my brother?"

"Huh?" She looked around behind her, around her, then at the far wall. "Oh, shit!"

She leaped off the couch at blinding speed and rushed to the other side of the room just as Suigetsu's repeated slapping finally knocked Hiramekarei off its balance and sent it crashing to the floor. Out of nowhere, a wall of water sprang up at Suigetsu's feet and swept him away from the danger zone. Ameyuri hefted Hiramekarei up as Mangetsu, half-liquefied, began to rematerialize now holding Suigetsu around the middle.

Suigetsu, sopping wet, nevertheless clapped his hands. "Oh, shit!" he chanted.

Mangetsu sighed deeply. "Mother will kill me."

Mei manned the stew as she watched from the kitchen. Ameyuri managed to settle Hiramekarei against the wall again, but not without some effort. "How the hell do you carry this thing everywhere like it weighs nothing?"

"Practice," Mangetsu said.

"Well, you shouldn't keep it out in the open here. It's obviously dangerous for Juicebox, Jr."

"Oh, shit!" Suigetsu said again.

Mangetsu cupped a hand over his brother's mouth. "It's only dangerous if no one's watching him to make sure he doesn't touch things he shouldn't."

Ameyuri scowled. "Oh sure, it's all my fault."

"Technically, it is," Mei called from the kitchen.

"You shut up and keep stirring, Lava Girl."

Suigetsu had managed to wrangle free of Mangetsu's hand and now pawed at his brother's shoulders. "Manshu, down! Down!"

If Mei hadn't been looking, she would've missed the barest traces of a smile as Mangetsu gazed at his baby brother.

"You want to go down?" he asked.

"Yeah!"

"Okay."

Mangetsu dropped the boy on his rear and headed back to the kitchen. "Watch him, Ameyuri."

Ameyuri gaped in shock. "You just dropped a baby. What the fuck's wrong with you?"

But Suigetsu landed with a splash. He'd liquefied instinctively to cushion the fall. Happily, he struggled to his feet.

"God, it's like a smaller, smellier version of Mangetsu," Ameyuri said.

She kneeled down, and her twin Kiba swords clinked against the hardwood floor. The sound drew Suigetsu's undivided attention. Sharp and shiny, just what he liked! Donning a grin that reminded Mei eerily of the way Kisame looked when he was especially pleased with himself, Suigetsu waddled with his hands outstretched toward Ameyuri.

But she was ready this time for his grabby hands and flattened a palm against his forehead to stop him. He ended up missing her swords, but he earned himself a healthy consolation prize in the form of her long, red pigtails.

Mei laughed. "See, I told you long hair would be a bit hit with the boys."

"Oh, you just keep talkin'. You're lucky I'm banned from the kitchen."

Mangetsu went back to his cooking prep without another word, and Mei decided to join Ameyuri and Suigetsu in the living room. She kneeled down opposite them and watched as they faced off in a stalemate. His glare was nearly as fierce as Ameyuri's.

"Okay, tell you what, kid." Ameyuri drew one of her blades hilt-first and angled it toward Suigetsu. "I'll let you look, but you gotta let go of my beautiful hair. Deal?"

Suigetsu saw her drawing Kiba and immediately let go of her pigtails to grab at it. Ameyuri held him back, but she let him near enough to touch Kiba's hilt. The change in Suigetsu was instantaneous as he petted the ancient weapon and felt all the intricate grooves and layers that had gone into its mythical craftsmanship. His eyes were so wide Mei was sure they might pop out.

"Look at you, a smelly Swordsman in the making," Ameyuri said.

Suigetsu plopped down on his behind and continued to play with Kiba's hilt under Ameyuri's watchful eye. Mei reached out and ruffled his messy white hair, but he paid her no mind.

"Hey," she said, "how do you know he'll be a Swordsman? He doesn't have filed teeth like you and Mangetsu."

"He will," Ameyuri said. "And you better pray he's not a biter."

"When his adult teeth grow in, they'll be sharp," Mangetsu said. He was dishing out portions of beef stew for each of them now. "That is, if he's one of the chosen ones."

"Chosen? You're saying it's some kind of destiny thing?" Mei asked.

"The legendary Swordsmen're legendary for a reason," Ameyuri said.

Mangetsu brought bowls to the table one after the other. "The legend says that the swords only choose children that can cut as deeply as they can. Otherwise, they wouldn't be worthy. Naturally sharp teeth are a sign of being chosen."

"Huh, I never knew that," Mei said.

Mangetsu shrugged. "It's not widely advertised."

"So that means Kisame's chosen, then."

Ameyuri and Mangetsu exchanged a look briefly before she spoke. "Yeah, but there's also a quota limit. It's not like he can just have a sword that's already chosen someone else. Guess he's a back-up."

Mei crossed her arms defensively. "Kisame isn't back-up anything."

"No, he's not," Mangetsu said softly. "But whether or not my brother will be chosen remains to be seen. For now, let's eat."

"Finally! I'm starving!" Ameyuri was the first to reach the table.

Mei picked up Suigetsu, who was now pouting since Ameyuri ran off with his new toy. "You know, I'm really happy you have a brother."

Mangetsu was instantly suspicious. "Why's that?"

"Because it suits you. Taking care of someone who can't take care of himself, I mean."

"I only do it because my parents're away on a mission."

"Hey, when're they comin' back? I hope you're getting paid for babysitting," Ameyuri said through a mouthful of stew.

"They were supposed to be back last week, but complications arose."

Suigetsu began to tug at Mei's ponytail. "Hungee! Hungee!"

Mei rubbed his back. "Okay, okay, time for food. Don't fuss, Suigetsu."

"Hungee!"

"Suigetsu's like, what, fourteen years younger than us?" Ameyuri said. "Bet he was an accident, huh?"

Mei stomped her heel over Ameyuri's foot, and Ameyuri spit out a chunk of potato in surprise.

"Ow, shit!" she swore.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Suigetsu chanted.

"It doesn't matter," Mangetsu said as he took Suigetsu from Mei and settled him into his high chair. "He's my brother. That's all I care about."

Mei and Ameyuri exchanged a look, and Ameyuri grinned, her earlier discomfort forgotten. "True. But he's gonna have a hell of a potty mouth on him when he gets older."

"Oh, and whose fault is that?" Mei asked.

Knocking at the front door interrupted the conversation, and Mangetsu got up to answer it. "Kisame? What's up?"

Kisame peered inside at the set dinner table and something in his gaze faltered. Mei frowned. Something was wrong.

"Mangetsu, I need to talk to you. It's about your parents."

"Another delay?"

"No."

"Kissme!" Suigetsu cooed when he saw Kisame. He slapped his hands on his stool tray.

Mei ruffled his hair, suddenly cold and wanting to feel warmth.

"What's going on?" Mangetsu asked.

Kisame studied him a moment, peered inside once again, and sighed. Mei looked back at Suigetsu, and her heart froze.

"They were killed in action. A team retrieved their bodies just now."

Silence stretched as the weight of Kisame's words sank in. Mei's breath didn't come, and Ameyuri was uncharacteristically still and quiet. Mangetsu said nothing, didn't even flinch. Kisame put a hand on his shoulder.

"They're gone," he reiterated.

Suigetsu's slapping caused his baby spoon to fall and clatter to the floor. Ameyuri jumped in her seat, the only sound in the hollow void that had become the Hozuki family dining room. Mei continued to hold onto Suigetsu.

"I see," Mangetsu said finally. Hollow, like it wasn't really him speaking at all. It sent a shiver down Mei's spine. "Thank you for letting me know."

Ameyuri knocked over her chair when she stood up abruptly. The noise startled Suigetsu, or perhaps it was the chilly aura in the room that bothered him. He began to whimper. "Manshu?"

Mangetsu stiffened at his brother's voice.

Kisame let his hand fall and swallowed hard. "So, Yagura's gonna need replacements. Mei, since you're already here, there's no need for me to make two trips."

Mei's jaw dropped. "Me?"

"Us," he clarified. "We start at the end of the month."

He wasn't looking at her. He didn't see her trembling.

"Manshu," Suigetsu said again. He was working his way up to a good cry that would burst any minute now.

Ameyuri snapped and marched toward the door. She barrelled past Mangetsu and got right in Kisame's face. "What the fuck is your problem? What d'you mean, they're gone?"

Kisame let her get close, but he didn't fight her off even as she screamed two inches from his face. "Just what I said."

"You're a fucking piece of shit, Kisame." She shoved him hard, and he let her. She cast a scathing glance back at Mangetsu, one Mei hadn't seen much of since the Chuunin Exams. "And you, you're just gonna stand there and take it? What the hell's wrong with you?"

Mangetsu's eyes were wide as he held Ameyuri's gaze, but he said nothing. She shook her head and released a breath of angry frustration. "Goddamnit!"

She stormed outside. By now, Suigetsu was putting his fresh lungs to good use and wailing like his life depended on it.

"Manshu!"

Mei gathered Suigetsu up in her arms, and though he tugged at her to get away, she held him close and brought him to Mangetsu. He immediately reached for his brother and cried into his shoulder. Ameyuri was pacing outside, red with anger and uncaring that she'd left her jacket in the house. Mei went to her just as Kisame went inside with Mangetsu.

"Tell me what happened," she heard Mangetsu say. There was an edge to his voice that she'd never heard before.

"Ameyuri," Mei said.

"No, fuck Mangetsu and fuck his holier-than-thou bullshit. I'm so mad at him!"

"Ameyuri."

"And fuck Kisame. I swear I'm gonna beat the crap outta him when he gets outta there—"

"Ameyuri!"

Mei caught her by the shoulders and forced her to stop pacing. There were tears in her eyes, and Mei gasped. She had never seen Ameyuri cry in all their years of mutual suffering growing up in the Bloody Mist.

"And fuck his stupid parents for dying and leaving him and Suigetsu alone," she spat. "I'd kill 'em myself if they weren't already dead."

Mei pulled Ameyuri into a hug before she could lose control and begin to sob, too. The two of them were never much for physical contact of the kind that wasn't violent, but this time Ameyuri didn't put up a fight. Mei held her tight and didn't care that Ameyuri cried into her shoulder.

"Fuck 'em all," Ameyuri sobbed.

Mei's breath misted, and she knew they needed to get inside soon or they would catch pneumonia. She could hear Suigetsu's cries coming from the Hozuki household.

"Come on," she said, ushering Ameyuri in the direction of her house. Her father was at the Mizukage's tower at this hour, so they would have the place to themselves and he wouldn't bother them.

"Mei," Ameyuri said as she struggled to walk alongside her friend.

Mei kept her eyes resolutely ahead. The tears threatened to fall, but she bravely kept them at bay. They would only freeze on her cheeks. "We'll be here when he needs us," she said. "He's not alone."

They made their way through the freezing fog, and soon there was no trace of Mangetsu's house behind them, swallowed by the mist.


She hadn't seen Mangetsu in days. Ameyuri had absconded somewhere to train the day after news of Mangetsu's parents had reached them, and Mei hadn't heard from her since, either. Even Zabuza seemed oddly preoccupied at the Academy, of all places, where he'd enrolled a new clan recruit from a harvesting. The boy was a frail thing, almost feminine in his smallness, but he possessed a powerful bloodline limit—all the more reason not to get attached given the high mortality rates of bloodline limit carriers. The other kids tended to gang up on them, the way they had done with Mei. Only the strong survived.

Her new partnership with Kisame was not due to begin until the end of the month, and since the incident at Mangetsu's house, Mei had not seen much of Kisame. With Utakata still away on his mission, Mei had only her father for company. She sat across from him now, hours after they had finished their dinner, and recited her lessons for him.

"Tell me about the Senju-Uchiha Alliance," Yuu said as he stirred his tea.

Mei stared at a crack in the wooden table. "It was the result of a thousand year feud between the warring clans. The death of Izuna Uchiha motivated Madara, the Uchiha clan head, to accept the Senju's terms even though they were unequal. The Uzumaki clan mitigated."

Yuu tapped his spoon over the rim of his teacup. "An Academy student could have recited that drivel. Do you know nothing at all?"

Mei let her eyes fall shut and breathed deeply before continuing. "No, sir. Konoha was not formally created until some time after the alliance was cemented. That's because Madara Uchiha, Hashirama Senju, and Mito Uzumaki left to travel the continent in search of the nine Bijuu. Mito was the first person besides the Sage of Six Paths to discover how to seal the beasts into inanimate objects and later into living people. Many say it was their extended adventures together that drew Madara into a false sense of security until it was too late for him to back out of the alliance. He lost the support of his clan."

Yuu nodded. "Many? And I suppose you say otherwise?"

Mei opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Hashirama slew Madara, but he would have failed without Mito. Some historians claim she and Madara were in love at one point, and the fact that she was instrumental in sealing the Kyuubi within herself not only robbed him of his ultimate weapon, but also of his last dignity. Hashirama took his life, but she took his honor. That was his true downfall."

Yuu's frown deepened. "How like a woman to elevate another woman."

"On the contrary, Father, history shows that we're our own worst enemies. Most women fight other women because they believe themselves to be no match for men."

"I suppose you think that makes you special," he sneered.

"I'd like to think it makes me like Mito. She understood her position, and she used it to achieve a calculated end. Besides, isn't it true that while men live to flaunt their battles, women wage war in the shadows?"

Yuu set down his tea. "Perhaps you can learn something from Mito Uzumaki and all the women before you who lived their lives in the shadows of men far greater than they ever were. In that sense, I suppose you are like her."

Mei clenched her fists around the skirt of her yukata under the table hard enough to hide their rageful trembling. Her eyes, however, softened as she smiled for her father. "You are wise, Father."

He grunted and waved her off like an afterthought. "To bed with you, girl. I tire of your presence."

Mei lowered her head so that her bangs hid her expression, and she took a moment to clench her teeth. Then, in one fluid motion, she rose from the table and bowed low to her father. "Goodnight."

Yuu said nothing, and Mei backed away toward the sliding shoji door. Once through, she walked at a sedate pace toward her room down the hall. It wasn't until she was secured safely inside with the door shut that she gave into the urge to shake. Heat rose to her face as a wave a of incandescent fury passed through her. But she was silent in her private tantrum.

Ignorant fool. It's him who knows nothing.

Her room had become a repository of other people's lives, but the books she treasured the most were those tucked away behind the tall brass mirror in the corner. Tales of women throughout the ages, current and ancient, from the world renowned Sannin, Tsunade, to the Uzumaki Princess Mito who had shouldered the weight of two tragic but great men on her shoulders, to the mythical fables surrounding the first kunoichi and creator of ninjutsu, Kaguya Ootsutsuki. Women of greatness, not because they were born to it or stumbled upon it, but because they snatched it for themselves. Whether for good or for evil or just for themselves, they were every bit as important as their male contemporaries; there were just fewer of them. Shadows, after all, are not meant to be seen. That is, until they took that final leap directly, fearless, and all of a sudden they were the ones casting shadows with the all the power of the sun in the palms of their hands.

Mei stripped out of her yukata, suddenly hot despite the winter chill, and changed into loose-fitting ninja clothing. She gazed out the window at the red lanterns glowing in the near distance. The fog blurred them and gave them the appearance of wandering ghosts, lonely in the night. Utakata still wasn't back from his mission, and it had been too long. He was strong, and Mei had the utmost faith in him, but they always found their way back to each other after extended periods away.

"Where are you?" she whispered against the glass. Her breath fogged it up.

It was late, nearly midnight, but Mei was not tired. Lately she'd found it hard to sleep. With no further missions until this new partnership with Kisame started, there was nothing to keep her busy and distracted. Normally, she would seek out one of her friends, but that wasn't an option right now. As she stared, the red lanterns in the distance seemed to bob and beckon, will-o-wisps calling her to her fate among the mists.

"Fuck this."

Mei went to the closet and pulled on her winter shinobi jacket and boots. After dressing and leaving a water clone asleep in her bed, she opened the window and escaped the confines of her room. Outside the cold was blistering and wet, but it was better than being stuck in that small, stuffy room. Pulling her jacket tighter, Mei walked toward the red lanterns that marked the edge of the fishing district and disappeared into the mists.


An oil lamp was the office's only source of illumination save for the crescent moon outside. Ao hovered near the door, silent as he awaited Yagura's orders.

"My lord, about the scouts' reports. If we don't act soon, it'll be too late."

Warm light cast a golden veil upon Yagura's smooth youthful cheek, but his back was to Ao as he gazed out the window. Despite his better judgment, Ao's gaze lingered on his leader's back. The longer he stared, the more the shadows undulated—his imagination?

Yagura looked back over his shoulder. One eye glowed green through the darkness. "Yes, we have to do something before it's too late," Yagura said.

Ao cleared his throat. "Right, sir. I'll send word to all the Jōnin in the village. We'll start with diversionary tactics. With any luck, we can avoid any serious confrontations."

"No, mobilize every shinobi in the village. I want this threat gone. Permanently."

Ao stilled. "Sir? Forgive me, but you can't be serious. What you're suggesting is all-out war. Mist casualties will be innumerable. We can beat back the invaders without—"

"I said, fight," Yagura snarled in a voice that was not his.

It wasn't even a voice, but more of a feeling. A threat. Adrenaline made Ao tremble with the desire to flee his sovereign's presence.

"Do it," Yagura said in his normal voice, turning back to the window.

Ao bowed low. "Y-Yes, sir."

Without another moment's hesitation, he left Yagura alone to call on all able shinobi in Mist, from Genin to ANBU. Yagura peered at the village below. Red lanterns blinked like a hundred sinister eyes through the fog in the distance. Yagura's mismatched eyes, one vacuous lavender and the other glowing green, gazed deeply into the rolling mists.

"Kill them all," he whispered.

"Yes."

"Kill them!"

"Boil their blood."

"Kill them before they kill you..."

Yagura gripped the windowsill, white-knuckled, and whipped around. He searched the dark corners of his office.

"No, I'll get them first." His breaths came quick and shallow. "I'll get them all."

"All of them."

He raised a hand to his aching head and dug his fingernails into his scalp until it bled.

"All of them."


Not long after Mei had set out with the intention of walking along the shore, something in the air shifted. Doors were locked up tight and shutters were drawn. Her steps were light and silent. Cautious. When had she decided on the need for caution? She walked by a narrow alley, and something metal crashed to the floor. A trash can, perhaps. There was no telltale meow from a neighborhood tomcat looking for fish scraps. Mei put a hand on the hilt of the tantō at her hip. The crescent moon overhead smiled down at her with red teeth, a bad omen.

"Smoke," she said, smelling it on the wind.

Another rattle of something, this time behind her, a block or two away. Mei abandoned the sword at her hip and released a deep breath. Mist hid her from the red lanterns' blinking eyes, and she ran.


Ao stole through Mist's shrouded streets. The fog had gotten thicker as the minutes ticked by and more shinobi rose to his cause. They flocked to the noises, the rattles and scrapes and growls. Mist shinobi were silent as the fog itself, and the enemy was thus easily distinguishable.

"Die, you cowards!"

Ao's Byakugan saved him in time to avoid a hammer that would have bashed in his skull. Moving without thinking, he jammed a curved kunai into his assailant's back between the shoulder blades. The man cried out and fell to the ground, twitching. Blood poured out of him and stained his braided hair. Ao retrieved the weapon and wiped it off on the dead man's pants.

"Captain," one of Ao's subordinates said. "It's the Kaguya clan. They're coming from the south."

"Go quietly. Yagura wants them gone."

"Sir?"

"You heard me. No survivors."

The Mist shinobi were not the types to question orders, and so they moved to do their duty. But the enemy kept coming in droves. It wasn't long before silence was a fond memory and the fires broke out. A big man with an axe came in swinging without a care in the world. Ao watched as he plowed through five or six Mist Chuunin, careless of the wounds he amassed on his pyrrhic quest. Curved kunai stuck out from wounds in his abdomen, and blood coated his thighs and left hand. Still, he swung true and steady, cackling all the way.

"Come out, little ants!" he shouted.

Ao activated the Byakugan and flew through a round of hand seals. Drawing upon the mists for water, he sent a hail of needle-like water rivulets toward the attacker and hit him dead center. The man teetered and belched up blood, but he kept coming. He caught Ao in his sights.

"Damnit," Ao swore, drawing his katana.

"Do that again!"

The attacker—more monolith than man—lumbered toward Ao like a drunkard toward the liquor cabinet. He swung his axe, greedy for blood, and Ao met the searching blade with his own. They crossed and passed each other, close enough to see the whites of the eye, and it was too close. There was something in the assailant's eyes, something too familiar, and Ao faltered. Perhaps sensing hesitation, the attacker put all his weight into the blow and fell forward. Ao, however, was quicker and uninjured. He twisted to the right, grabbed one of the kunai embedded in the attacker's flank, and stabbed it into the base of his neck.

Ao's katana and the attacker's axe clattered to the ground, and the attacker fell with them. Ao stumbled to catch himself. His breathing was labored and laced with adrenaline. The Byakugan quickly confirmed that his assailant was dead. After a few seconds of just standing there, Ao retrieved his katana and looked to the moon. It was red with rising smoke and heat from a fire that had broken out somewhere nearby.

He cast one last glance at the fallen shinobi, remembering the look of madness in his eyes. The Kaguya clan were known for their predilection toward violence, but this was something else. It was suicide. And Yagura was happy to grant them their wish, force it upon them, in fact. Mist shinobi ran ahead of Ao to pursue the encroaching threat. Ao cast one last glance at the fallen enemy before taking off after them.


If he'd known, he wouldn't have come.

Liar.

"This is your destiny. You don't want to disobey your destiny, do you?"

"No," the little boy said aloud.

But as he ran through the streets, barefoot despite winter's chill, he wasn't so sure. Why did destiny have to be so cruel? What had he ever done?

"You existed. That was your crime."

The little boy choked on a sob as his father's words echoed in his memory, but he didn't cry. It wasn't the time to cry. His father was counting on him. Screams mingled with laughter in the night and rose as high as the fires that broke out around the Bloody Mist Village. That was what his father called this place. Said it was cursed, that the raid tonight would cleanse the village and their clan.

Destiny, he'd called it.

So destiny was running over freezing cobblestone streets with cuts in his feet but no will to stop because whatever was chasing him would catch up. Destiny was the encroaching mist that got thicker the deeper he went and clouded his lungs and his vision like a toxic miasma. It was those red lanterns that lit a fateful path before him, but to where? He didn't want to know.

Men lay dead at his feet. They hadn't expected him. But something had. Something had noticed, like a slumbering beast drawn out of hibernation at the first scent of blood in its territory. And it wasn't letting him get away. The little boy ran past his fighting clansmen, past the fires, and followed the red lanterns, beacons in the night strong enough to penetrate the viscous fog that followed him.

Until he hit a dead end. Shaking, he clutched the crude knife in his hand, bloody with entrails of men twice his size and half his worth. He felt around the bricks for something, as if the wall would open up and lead him to salvation. But there was no escape from the roiling mist, bloody with the glow of the will-o-wisps that had led him here to face his destiny. Wide green eyes glazed over with fear and excitement, and he waited for the beast that hunted him. But there was nothing but the fog.

He swallowed and slashed his knife through the gaseous veil. "Who's there?"

Men's shouts in the distance reached him here as if through wool, muffled and so far, far away. Another world, mesmerizing, where the shadows that closed in on him were friendly, and dreams weren't just dreams. A hand reached for him through the mist, and his first instinct was to reach back.

Mother? he wanted to say.

Monster...

"Don't be afraid," a woman's voice said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The little boy bared his teeth and brandished his knife. The mists slowly parted to reveal the figure of a young woman in shinobi gear. Her long hair, which he'd mistaken for a veil in the shadows, was pulled back from her face and revealed bright green eyes that reflected his own. She peered down at him and at the knife he held.

"Don't come any closer!" he warned.

She stood there in silence for a few moments just watching him. In the background, the world continued to burn, though she seemed not to care.

"Did you make that?" she asked.

The little boy cast a glance at his weapon. "So what?"

Slowly, so he wouldn't spook, the woman stepped closer and held out her hand. It was padded with armor, but he could make out her soft hands underneath it. Unblemished. And perhaps it was simply that a six-year-old boy could not distinguish truth from lies, but he wanted to think it was her hands. They were like a child's hands, untouched and unscarred, though she was no child and he could not understand at his age that a lack of scars was the mark of the most dangerous kind of shinobi. He gave her the knife.

"Bone," she said after a moment of examination. "You made this."

It wasn't a question this time. He nodded.

"Show me."

The little boy held out his trembling hand. From his palm, a jagged bone broke the skin and grew upward. The natural grooves and cracks in it filled with his blood, which dripped onto the cold cobblestone street. She kneeled down so that they were at eye level.

"Kill them all," his father had ordered.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The little boy swallowed. Her gaze never left his as she waited, patient, for his reply.

"Kimimaro," he said softly.

She studied him a while longer before holding out the bone blade to him, hilt first. "Kimimaro," she said. "Let's get you out of here."


Ao stared at the group of cornered Kaguya shinobi, the last of the raiders. There were not fifteen of them when before they'd numbered in the eighties or nineties. The small group was surrounded on all sides by Mist shinobi hours after the raid had begun. Now, they waited.

"Is this it?"

All eyes turned to Yagura, who approached now through the crowd of Mist shinobi. He stepped on the bodies of the fallen, both Mist and Kaguya, as though they weren't even there. His luminous green eye glowed more sinister in the light from surrounding fires.

"These are the survivors, Lord Yagura," Ao said.

The Kaguya sneered at their enemies, but none actually dared to attack. Yagura planted his staff in the ground and smiled.

"What survivors?" he asked.

Some of the Mist shinobi exchanged looks, but no one said a word. One of the Kaguya shinobi leered at Yagura.

"Well? C'mon, little man. This ain't finished."

Yagura's smile fell. "Oh yes, it is."

He slammed his foot on the ground and swept his staff in an arc before him. Boiling red chakra bloomed from its tip and raced toward the gathered Kaguya survivors. As it neared, it condensed into pink coral branches that ramified in all directions. The Kaguya shinobi roared and lunged with their swords and fists, but the coral moved too fast. Sharp branches pierced stomachs and burst through the backs of the Kaguya shinobi. The attack rooted them in place while more coral points pierced their legs, arms, even clean through their skulls. It grew right through them like weeds through loose fertilizer. Ao looked away, unable to stomach the sight.

"Are you sure that was all of them?" Yagura asked.

Ao swallowed the bile in his throat. "Yes, sir."

"Check again. These Kaguya are like rodents. It only takes one to spread the plague."

Ao bowed stiffly, and Yagura took his leave. The rest of the Mist shinobi watched him go in silence. From within the coral web Yagura had woven, some shinobi still screamed and moaned in pain. But no one moved to help them.

"You heard him," Ao said. "Fan out and make sure none escaped."

His own voice sounded distant to him, like an old recording instead of his own. He coughed into his arm and tasted bile fumes. But the Mist shinobi obeyed. Only Momochi Zabuza remained, the last to go.

"That means you, Momochi," Ao said.

Zabuza said nothing as he stared back. Heat in the air rippled his image, and Ao bit his cheek. But Zabuza turned to leave just as Ao worked up the courage to say something else, something convincing. Alone with the mass grave, Ao keeled over and threw up. All the while, the last of the Kaguya clan moaned as they waited for a slow death.


Mei ran through the streets with Kimimaro in tow. She dragged him by the hand and led him through the village's back alleys, the same ones she and Utakata had memorized as kids playing tag or hiding from Mei's father.

"Where're we going?" Kimimaro asked.

Mei pulled him around a corner. "Shh."

Time was precious, as precious as this little boy's life. Mei had never been particularly sympathetic to the plights of children—no one had given a damn about her as a child, so why should she bother? But this boy was special, like her. Doomed, like her.

The Kaguya clan was well known as the scourge of Water Country, reckless bandits and pirates that pilfered and plundered their way through entire towns, leaving nothing but ash and smoke in their wake. Yagura didn't bother with them because he was waiting for something. It wasn't until Mei met Kimimaro that she understood. But Yagura would not have this boy for his little collection of bloodline freaks, not over her dead body.

They rounded a corner and came upon some wandering Mist shinobi. Kimimaro squeezed her hand, but Mei exhaled deeply and the mist thickened. Someone swore, and the distraction was enough to buy Mei time enough to slip past them with Kimimaro. In minutes, they had reached the village's outskirts. Kimimaro tugged on her hand.

"Kimimaro," she said gently. "You have to leave this place."

"My father's still back there."

Mei cast a glance back toward the village and the conflagration near the city center. "No, he's not."

Kimimaro's gaze fell to his feet, and Mei bit her lip.

"Listen to me. You're better off not sticking around. People like you and me have it rough here. You have to find something better."

He looked up at her, and there were tears in his eyes. She kneeled down and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Trust me. You're better off far away from this place."

Kimimaro looked back at the village, but his tears didn't fall. Mei watched his profile, strong for a child so young, and wondered if this was the right thing to do.

"Okay," he said.

He pulled away and wandered toward the woods. Mei's hand reached after him, those final thoughts dying with his every step. Soon, he was gone amongst the shadows.

"It's better this way," she said.

But the only one left here to convince was herself.


Yellow eyes watched the lonely little boy as he fled for his life through a dark and dreary wood. And when he finally stopped to rest, afraid of what he might find behind him, they lingered, curious.

The little boy kneeled before a lone moonflower and admired its thick, fleshy petals open to the moonlight above. Shadows watched as the boy traced the petals, mesmerized even after visions of horror. How easily a child's mind forgets when it finds something new, something beautiful.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

The little boy looked up, startled. "Who's there?"

"Makes you want to pick it and keep it forever, don't you think?"

Monsters masquerading as men lurk around every corner.

The little boy rose and gazed up at the man with the yellow eyes swathed in friendly shadows. "But it'll die if I pick it."

The man grinned. "Yes, but it will be yours."

And maybe there's no purpose for monsters or men in this life. But sometimes, by chance or by grand design or maybe just because, they stumble upon each other.

Like the little boy found that flower.

And like the shadows found him.