A/N: This came out slightly... much later than usual. My apologies for that! I've been dealing with a lot of personal problems, so I tried my hardest to release this on time. It didn't work. It's a miracle this is going to be out at all, but I'm sticking to my mantra of releasing this weekly.

Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, you're all far too kind. It makes me want to cry! Really.

Thank you Ser Serendipity for beta-ing this chapter. Remember, read his stories if you ever want to see a decent fight scene. The tips he gives me are invaluable.

Naruto was not invited to the funeral, and so, he did not attend.

He'd heard from Itachi that the body hadn't actually been found, but by some circumstance or other there was a funeral. Naruto wasn't sure if the eldest Uchiha had actually told Sasuke, so he let the topic slide and didn't mention it to his friend. The sheer emptiness that was covering Sasuke now could be a mask for a twisted contortion of rage.

He suspected as such. Sasuke had locked himself up for a full week, in Naruto's room. The blond hadn't uttered a single word of protest. Though Naruto had never lost someone, per se, he knew the delicacy of that wild, volatile sadness; he knew if he were to touch it, it'd burn out instantly, or consume him in an inferno.

And so, he left Sasuke be. On the rare occasion Sasuke went the toilet, Naruto ran into the room, not sparing a glance to root around curiously for what exactly Sasuke had been doing for all that time. He'd take spare changes of clothes and other necessary provisions, and quickly leave before the Uchiha had a chance to come out.

One time, Naruto had brushed past him, not able to get out quick enough with a photoframe and three tops and shorts in hand; the Uchiha had looked barely conscious, hollowed out like a porcelain doll, face painted with sharp flicks of kohl and crimson. They were half-lidded, half-dead; as Naruto had stumbled during his hasty exit, the boy hadn't flinched. Sasuke had walked past him, his lithe body moving slowly and gracefully. In the split second the blond had looked at him, he'd seen gaunt cheeks and a complete lack of recognition.

He hadn't wasted any more time looking.

Itachi was preparing him food regularly; little well packed onigiri, usually. Naruto had his doubts about whether Sasuke ate them or not, but either way, at the end of each day they were gone. Even Naruto had to admit that no matter what filling they were cooked with, it was doubtful that plain rice was going to provide much nutritional supplementation – but he could recognise Itachi's gesture as a way to coax Sasuke into eating something. Otherwise, it was unlikely the boy would eat at all.

But today, Sasuke had gone out. He had left, dressed in a well-fitted suit, and Naruto had awkwardly – sadly – waved the two off. Itachi too, was wearing a similar suit, and Sasuke looked... strange, next to him. Though Naruto considered Sasuke kinda tall (taller than him anyway), next to Itachi, he was tiny. Half his height, or less, and seeing them both dressed in black, well-tailored suits was strange.

Naruto felt slightly like he'd been cut out, but the feeling was fleeting and obnoxiously self-centred. He batted it away as quickly as he did all negative emotions.

That said, Naruto had liked Mikoto. It didn't warrant all that much for him to like an adult; if they didn't act unreasonably rude, he considered them a friend. It was an optimistic attitude that hadn't served him all that well, but the lack of cynicism didn't give anyone a reason to dislike him. As far as Naruto knew, apart from causing annoying (but funny!) hindrances in people's lives, he did little to upset anyone.

Mikoto had been relatively kind on the very few occasions he'd seen her. Gentle and caring, if slightly stern. Pretty. She was probably motherly, but it's not like he'd know.

The two had left for the funeral, and Naruto had taken the opportunity to go back into his room and reclaim his personal space temporarily. He'd been fine with rolling out the futon in the other room, but this room had a certain sense of self that made him feel ultimately at ease.

It was immaculate, and he wondered whether Sasuke had actually tidied before he'd left – '...then again, he's probably just super clean anyway...' - and Naruto looked around for any signs of living. From where Sasuke sat, to what he'd done throughout the week, there was no clue or shred of evidence to be found. No unmoved dust, and as far as Naruto could tell, Sasuke may as well have sat in the middle of the floor for the whole week.

It was a consideration he did not immediately discard.

As he looked around in drawers, cupboards and the like, he checked under the bed-

-underneath lay a pile of onigiri. The weeks supply, presumably, all with small pieces missing that Sasuke must have ripped off to place back onto the plate. All to make sure Itachi didn't worry, but perhaps Itachi had known, letting Sasuke do it so he could feel better, so he could feel that his older brother wasn't so worried about him...

Naruto felt a pang of envy, but brushed it off. Although Sasuke hadn't eaten for a week, the water Itachi supplied was not untouched; so at least the boy wasn't dehydrated. He'd probably have been dead. Then again - sure, Sasuke might have eaten one onigiri here and there, perhaps, but the pile of onigiri left behind made it clear that he'd eaten very, very little. Although the life Sasuke was currently leading was likely completely sedentary, it didn't take away how dangerous such a drop in sustenance could be. And Naruto had been worried about the nutritional content – he wasn't eating them anyway. Hmph.

For an hour, Naruto left, considering consulting a baker until remembering that yes, the best baker in town treated him like dirt. He eventually came to the library, and with a lazy looking woman at the desk who barely gave him a second glance, collected a large cookbook that had a laminate cover that was slightly bent from use. In the middle of the street, Naruto placed the cookbook on his knee in a make-shift substitute for a table, turning to the baked confectioneries section, and skimming over the ingredients. Going to the supermarket closest to the Hokage's Tower ('Hah! If they try anything, I'll just bring Hokage-ojii-san down!'), he purchased a broad range of ingredients. Upon arriving home, Naruto plonked the ingredients and book on the table with a magnificent bang that made the table legs groan in pain, proudly putting his hands on his hips as he basked in the glow of his achievement.

After brushing himself off, the blond left for the kitchen, setting about the difficult process of creating puff pastry, and after two hours of smoke and toil, came out with a relatively edible-looking reward.

Packing them in a small food box that Itachi generally kept for onigiri, Naruto left a badly scribbled note inside before leaving them on his pillow.

He decided to go for a walk.

The funeral was as cold and military as every Uchiha that had ever lived, and Itachi hated it. Every moment and every word was about "honour", about Mikoto's previous "jounin status" and her activation of the Sharingan. And the platitudes about how fantastically she had raised her children... Itachi, and everyone else in that room, knew full well that not only were her children not well-raised; she had had about much say in it as a man did in his own death.

But since Uchiha Itachi was her son, she had to be a god-send of a mother.

Why no-one mentioned her kindness, he'd never know.

With every word, Itachi noticed his younger brother becoming progressively more distressed, fingers clenching, and eventually Sasuke began to cry. The elder Uchiha sibling pulled Sasuke to his side, tears wetting the edge of his suit but the boy uttering not a single sob. All Itachi could hear was an occasional pitiful sniffle.

He'd been grateful to pick the flower arrangement himself. Itachi had gone to the Yamanaka's personally. Their ikebana was beautiful, and as Itachi inspected the array of flowers, he smiled.

No red. Just beautiful, soft blues, light purples and cream. No white, no red, and no black. Itachi could not have imagined anything more perfect. It was the only thing he'd liked about the whole funeral.

The fact that there was no body was disconcerting. For Itachi, there was no true sense of closure; no lowering of the coffin, no goodbyes. There was simply a meeting of people, all dressed in black, with flowers, remembering the life Mikoto had lived.

Which Itachi found, with increasing concern, he knew little about.

He'd been glad to arrive home, and Itachi was not sure how he'd have felt about Naruto, but he was not home all the same. Although Sasuke had been dead and empty the past week – Itachi had expected no less – he noticed the younger boy looking around subtly, gaze wandering in a silent search for Naruto's often loud and obnoxious presence.

Again, that had been a mere misconception. Naruto had not been loud, nor obnoxious this week. Itachi was not sure whether he resented that, or if he was grateful for it. He suspected the blond knew just as well as he that any kind of radical mood might've set off Sasuke.

Itachi retreated to his room, slipping a couple sleeping tablets as he did. He was finding it increasingly hard to sleep at night, with nightmares dominating his every thought. It was sickening, tiring; he just wanted to sleep, but the sleeping tablets were just a simple release. The consequences didn't matter that much to him. Sleep for a while, and a sharp, quick tongue later; he'd visibly upset Naruto a couple times during the week. Itachi knew he'd have to stop taking them altogether soon. He sat at his desk, pulling the chair forward.

The noise of a sliding door.

"I'm home."

Naruto's voice was quiet, and Itachi heard the two clatters that symbolised Naruto slipping off his shoes at the door, his footsteps becoming softer without the shoes on. Itachi heard the door to Naruto's room opening and Sasuke coming out. Whereas he expected the noise to go straight to the bathroom, he heard Sasuke walking into the kitchen, and felt a sigh of relief. It was a small step, but one that hopefully signified some kind of improvement.

"Oh, did you like them?"

Silence.

"You bastard! Anpan are hard to make, you know!"

There was a pause.

"Usuratonkachi."

Itachi felt his mouth twitch into a smile.

Jiraiya did not like the taste of ocha, nor the smell.

He placed two small china cups on the table, pulling out a chair opposite Orochimaru. The man looked lost in thought to anyone who'd look, but Jiraiya recognised the look for what it was; observation, and amusement. The snake-like man turned his gaze from outside the window to Jiraiya.

"Is there something you need?" Orochimaru purred, tilting his head with a sly smile. "You've not spoken to me since I arrived."

'Well, what do you expect me to say...?'

Jiraiya pierced Orochimaru with a sharp glare, but the pale man simply took a sip from his tea. The toad sannin crossed his arms. "Uchiha Mikoto."

"Ah, lovely lady. Pretty and talented. Shame she had to die, isn't it?"

He narrowed his eyes. "You know more than you're letting on."

"Now that," - Orochimaru paused, tilting his head with an amused expression - "is questionable." The man ran a smooth white finger around the rim of his glass.

"She wasn't just a doll. She was a real person, and she died!" Jiraiya felt himself clenching his fists, with anger at his teammate, so careless with the life around him but painstakingly protective of his own-

"I'm not sure."

Jiraiya hadn't expected that answer.

Orochimaru took a long sip of his tea, and gazed outside. Konoha was an unfamiliar sight to him. "Things have taken an unexpected turn."

The serpentine sannin turned to him, grinning and letting out an ominous chuckle. "But I'm keen to see the outcome. Ne, Jiraiya?"

Haku pursed his lips tightly. The streets were filled with the dead.

"Haku. Come on."

He wasn't scared. No; it was not the dead that scared him, but the stillness. And every single one looked so very alive, sleeping in odd and awkward positions everywhere. Their skin had purpled at the bottom from the routine body decomposition process, blood pooling in the body due to gravity.

Yet, as Haku looked down the road into Otogakure from the gate, he did feel scared. Some of them had baskets that were just a few centimetres from their grip, their contents spilled out onto the lane.

Judging by the lack of struggle, the lack of panic on their faces, on any of their faces – Haku could only assume that they had all died at once.

No blood spattered the streets. Even with a mass poisoning, poison would kill the thinner people first, the children first. Panic would ensue. Haku was terrified.

Not a single person had seen their death coming.

"Haku, don't pussy out now." Zabuza's words were cold, but his intentions kinder. The young boy swallowed and nodded.

"Yes, Zabuza-sama." He forced a foot into the city.

He did not drop dead. A breath that he didn't know he'd held forced itself out of his lungs, and Haku found himself shaking slightly. He stepped forward, staying close to Zabuza whilst carefully looking straight ahead and nowhere else.

Certainly not at the dead littering his feet.

"You'd better get used to looking at them, Haku. If you recognise anyone from the bingo book, we can behead them and make a fortune."

Deep breath. "Of course, Zabuza-sama."

Haku didn't like this kind of disrespectful act – scavenging the houses for money, goods ('I guess they don't need it anymore-'), but he'd do anything for Zabuza. It was all for the greater good. Zabuza's dreams were kind, at heart.

For hours, Zabuza pilfered money from the pockets and homes of the dead, and Haku cut off their heads with a self fashioned blade of ice. The bloodshed was less than expected; without a heartbeat, it was a feeble dripping, even from the jugular. The blood was thick, too; more like a dark slime than anything.

They'd stored the heads in a large woven sack, but it had begun to dampen and had quickly become full. Zabuza had offered Haku a couple of storage scrolls instead. Haku tried desperately to leave the faces as nothing but fleshy mounds of nothing and no-one, but sometimes he slipped up. He refused to cry.

Haku suddenly felt someone.

"Zabuza-sama," he breathed quietly, tugging on the man's arm. Zabuza turned his eyes down to Haku, and the boy felt even smaller. "There's someone here!"

"I know, kid. We're gonna be working for him, now."

The man was walking slowly, and it wasn't that they were in a rush that was irking Haku, it was that this man was so completely comfortable. His pace was leisurely. Leisurely, in a city filled with corpses, in a city that stank of death. The pervading silence. No nuke-nin had come near the place, for fear they'd die.

Being in this man's presence made Haku feel almost as though that fear was a reality.

"You know the deal. Half upfront."

Laughter. It was low and ominous, and not in any kind of way sombre. It was thoroughly amused, and Haku detected a tone of sarcasm. "The Demon of the Mist, grovelling for money? What a sight. It's almost an insult to share a title with you!"

Zabuza said nothing, eyes cold and unaffected by the goading banter, and Haku felt a pang of admiration for his master.

"Well. You know how it goes, don't you? Bring me that kid, and you get the other half." The man drew a large ('huge!') wad of money out of his cloak, passing it to Zabuza.

The man's body shifted to Haku, having noticed his unbroken gaze. "It's rude to stare, kid." He leant down, and Haku almost stepped back for fear of the monstrous features. The man gave him a sharp-toothed grin.

"Hoshigaki Kisame. Glad to make your acquaintance."

Itachi wasn't a "mission objectives" kind of person.

It was to be expected. Though law and order was all fine, if he was ordered to do something out of line of his morals, simply put – Itachi would not do it. That was the end of the matter. So, when other things caught his eye – and his mission wasn't all too urgent, timewise – he wasn't entirely unwilling to postpone it.

Itachi also wasn't a tracker, but he had caught a very brief whiff of blood on the wind, and he sensed two chakra signatures not too far up ahead, heading for Otogakure as he was. On one hand, Itachi could end up invoking hostility in a neutral enemy, which would be problematic in itself for politics. But someone could be injured, or have kidnapped someone-

Pushing aside his rapidly spinning thoughts, Itachi pushed on.

As he drew closer to the chakra signatures, he began to feel a dim chakra signature, that of an injured civilian, or dying ninja. 'The situation's worse than I thought...'

They disappeared. 'What-'

Itachi felt the brief gush of air, and ducked to avoid the fine slice of a spinning sword. It plunged cleanly into the trunk of the tree he was standing on, causing the branch he was stood on to shake unsteadily.

"An Uchiha, huh? Is Konoha sending lackeys after me?"

Itachi kept his gaze steady. He'd detected the source of the voice, and he heard chuckling as the enemy emerged from the leaves.

"Momochi Zabuza, one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist," Itachi stated, as though reading from the Bingo Book as he looked at the ninja. At his side was a... tiny young girl- no, boy. And on his other side was a mass of red hair and a limp body that he could see little of; Itachi estimated it to be a young boy, around the same age as the other child.

Zabuza smirked. "You Uchiha can be so assuming of your own strength. Beneath experts in silent killing, you're just another corpse." A shunshin later, and the bandaged man was beside his sword, pulling it from the tree with a single arm. 'Strong,' Itachi silently concluded. 'I'd better stay away from any direct hits.'

Zabuza all-but-gently placed the kid into the arms of the child beside him. "Keep him safe for now."

The child nodded, and Itachi noticed the child's dark, shadowed eyes and painting on his forehead. 'The Ichibi Jinchuuriki. But if that's so, then...'

Chuckling. Itachi found it a great deal more disconcerting when the humour was invisible behind white bandages. "You'd never believe the security faults in Sungakure, you know. Taking this kid – by surprise, of course – was just too easy."

Itachi pulled out two kunai, wielding one in either hand. 'The Ichibi Jinchuuriki is considered a failure. The boy is insane. So what would Zabuza want with him?'

"I recognised your face from the bingo book, Uchiha Itachi. You're pretty young to be an ANBU." Itachi turned quickly, blocking a hit from Zabuza's sword with his kunai and bringing his leg sharply into Zabuza's shins. The man flipped backwards, his eyes giving away the devilish grin behind the bandages. "But you're still just a kid."

"My age is not a matter you should concern yourself with," Itachi stated, his tone bland. With a flurry of handseals, Itachi brought a hand to his mouth.

"Katon: Goukakyuu no Jutsu!"

The size of the fireball enveloped Itachi's entire front vision, and he knew Zabuza wouldn't have a chance at dodging.

"Suiton: Suiryudan no Jutsu!"

Itachi smiled slightly. 'Clever-'

The fantastically large water dragon extinguished the flames completely leaving the place filled with steam and-

Zabuza's eyes widened as he noticed the shuriken hidden behind the flames a second too late.

One implanted itself in his shoulder, the other in his right rib, and the last in his upper arm. He let loose a small grunt, his stance slouching at the pain, and Itachi thought he saw a shuffle from the bush to his right. He knew that child was worried for Zabuza.

"Why have you kidnapped that child? That will surely cause an uproar that will cost you your head." Itachi's eyes analysed every part of Zabuza's stance, the bush where the small child was hiding. "For the Akatsuki?"

Chuckling. Zabuza's breath was slightly too heavy for him to have been unaffected by the small barrage of shuriken. "I do what I do for my goals. Employers are employers, and nothing else." The nuke-nin stood straight, grinning. "But you're a fool, Itachi."

Itachi found the air around him thickening with fog. 'Wha-'

The air around him echoed with a voice that came from all directions. "I am Momochi Zabuza, Demon of the Mist- and my sword will never strike a man twice!"

The Uchiha found himself with a distinct sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at his feet for a split second- '-they're not even visible! How did he manage to create a fog this thick?'

Itachi remembered the mass of steam that had emerged from the clash of their fire and water techniques, and resisted the urge to curse like a sailor.

"You know, don't you? I can power my hidden mist technique even without the presence of water, but with you creating all that steam, it's almost zero visibility!" Zabuza's laugh was coming from everywhere, all at once.

Itachi felt almost like kicking himself, but forced himself to think.

'My Sharingan is useless in these conditions. But Zabuza can't see either – he's relying totally on his hearing for this. He's perfected this technique... my only hope is using his senses against him, and copying his technique.'

Itachi was somewhat proud to say that his prowess with the speed of his handseals was close to unparalleled, and he quickly performed them, summoning shadow clones into the surrounding trees, performing a quick shunshin into the trees.

"Shadow clones, huh? Simple enough, Uchiha! I'll cut down each one until you're dead!"

Zabuza's presence drew closer, closer to the clone in the trees to the right of the clearing, and then-

"Agh!"

-an explosion.

The sound of a tree falling and debris scattering resounded throughout the clearing.

Itachi had almost reached the two children-

"Not yet, Uchiha Itachi!"

Itachi found himself pushed hard against a tree, throat being crushed by the hardy forearm of Zabuza. His gaze was manic. "My arm...!"

The Uchiha knew without looking that Zabuza had lost his left arm in the explosion. The scent of blood was overpowering at this close a range, and the fury in Zabuza's eyes only intensified when Itachi hooked his leg around Zabuza's and pushed his shoulders, hard.

Zabuza almost fell, instead stepping backwards and wobbling slightly. The nuke-nin glared, leaning down to bring a round-house kick to Itachi's head-

Itachi caught it flawlessly, yanking hard to pull Zabuza out of his crouch and onto his back. Zabuza attempted to kick Itachi's jaw with an upwards swing, but the Uchiha caught it again and moved his leg to crush Zabuza's ribs-

Two senbon hit him in each hand with precision that caused an involuntary loosening of muscle. Zabuza took advantage of the momentary distraction, propelling himself up and attempting a low kick to the legs that Itachi evaded effortlessly.

'Senbon... that kid's accuracy is flawless.'

"That kid is your tool," Itachi stated. "Aren't you strong enough alone?"

"Sometimes it's not the prestige of the tool, but the shinobi who wields it!"

Zabuza began on him with a flurry of one handed punches, skilfully covering his lost arm with sheer force and speed; but whereas such agility came naturally to Itachi, it did not to someone like Zabuza, with a large frame and hefty punches. The Uchiha could see him wearing out, and when he stopped for a single moment-

-Itachi dived back, and an explosion came from below.

The clearing became covered with a thick layer of dust mingling with the mist, a cry of "Zabuza-sama!" from his left- and Itachi heard the loud, harsh crack as Zabuza hit a tree. He heard wet coughing, and the spitting out of blood. His breathing was so loud it echoed; Itachi suspected a cracked rib had punctured his lung.

Itachi walked over slowly. "I hid one of my exploding clones in the ground. I managed to disguise the noise with the first explosion." He approached Zabuza; the mist was dispelling, and the man was a wreck. "Take your subordinate, and go. Leave the Jinchuuriki here, and I won't kill you and the child."

"I won't let you hurt Zabuza-sama!"

The child appeared in front of him, with eyes hardened by woe but kind, loving-

'What is this?'

A dome appeared around Itachi, one of the likes he had never seen – 'Ice? A Kekkei Genkai?' - and in the moment he hesitated, he saw that they were mirrors, reflecting a thousand blood red eyes. In an instant, the young boy was within all of them, running circles around him – and it was clever, indeed, Itachi commended; simply a reflection, not an illusion, was enough to fool the Sharingan.

'But-'

The child jumped through a mirror, and though the motion was quick, unbeatable before most ninja-

-the Sharingan made the movement as clear and slow as the setting of the evening sun.

Itachi jumped, grabbing the child by the shoulders and slamming him into ground. The ice mirrors began to fall, melting around him, and the Uchiha stood up, walking to the bush and hauling the unconscious Jinchuuriki over his shoulder. A noise made him stop.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Out of the shadows came a shark-like man with teeth, presenting a grin that chilled Itachi. Recognition sparked in his head, and he took in the Akatsuki cloak. "Hoshigaki Kisame."

Kisame smiled, looking him up and down. "You took out the Demon of the Mist and his lackey. Impressive for a kid." He pulled the colossal bandaged sword from his back, unwrapping it to reveal a... peculiar, spiked... thing.

"I was sent here to kill those two, so it's a shame you didn't do the job for me. No matter." Kisame smiled, his grin about as welcoming and warm as the jaws of death. "I hope you kissed your mother goodbye this morning."

As his sword began to move ('Oh, what the-'), Kisame turned to Itachi as he swung the sword in his right hand. "You may think, where's the blade? But no worries! My sword doesn't cut."

His grin widened. "It shaves."

Itachi paled.

"That's Itachi's stuff."

No response.

"Stop rooting through it!"

No response.

"Oi! Sasuke!"

"Shut up, usuratonkachi," he bit out through gritted teeth, opening the envelope that had been haphazardly left on the table. It had been left amongst other papers, the likes of which seemed to be mission reports and similar items.

"That isn't yours! Oi! I'll tell him!"

Sasuke ignored him completely, unfolding the paper. Naruto didn't like being a snitch, but...

"Leave his stuff alone!"

"It was on the table."

The blond said nothing more, as Sasuke unravelled the scroll and skimmed his eyes over it. It was true that it was on the table, so it can't have been all that confidential...

'Besides, Itachi-nii-san is a ninja... should he be leaving this lying around?'

The paper appeared to be a photocopy, and Naruto read it carefully over his shoulder. There was a rough note in the corner that read "Photocopy of public library conviction notice".

"The murders of Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Fugaku and Shimura Danzo brought to court hearing on the 12th

Evidence and proceedings on the 14th, two days of deliberation resulted in the accused voted as guilty. Element of doubt acknowledged by judge, but a full jury convicted the accused of first degree murder. Also convicted of the second degree murder of Uchiha Mikoto.

Additional Notes: Culprit escaped village from prison in unknown manner, cell was found empty on 17th before transferral to high security cell. Little supporting forensic for the murder of Uchiha Mikoto, mainly circumstantial.

Accused: Hatake Kakashi"

Though Naruto struggled to read the harder letters (which was almost all of them), the little which Naruto could pick up was more than enough.

Hatake Kakashi had murdered Sasuke's parents.

"Hatake Kakashi." It was almost a whisper.

Naruto turned to the Uchiha, opening his mouth-

"Hatake Kakashi," Sasuke said again, eyes cold, hard, his fingers ripping through the document in front of him as he clenched his fists. "Hatake Kakashi. Hatake Kakashi! I will remember that name for the rest of my life!"

Sasuke's face was frozen in anger, the most distilled coldness Naruto had ever seen. Blood thirst and rage knotted his eyebrows, and every muscle was tense with fury.

"I will kill that man with my own hands, like he did my parents! I will avenge them, if it is the last thing I do!"

A/N: Wow. Fight scenes. So hard, but if I could do them well... sigh.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was the biggest pain in the world to get out of my system.

I'm really sorry that it was so late, but I hope it's a good quality and I hope that you all love it. Thank you all so much for your supportive reviews and kindness, and all your constructive criticism. Please remember that I live off constructive criticism, so please please please leave some if you can!