Glass Trinity, Chapter 7: Forged in Fire
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
'Stronghold' was putting it lightly, Mito thought as she entered feudal lord Kenshin Uesugi's greystone castle under thick banners of scarlet and gold. It was larger than her father's keep back in Uzushiogakure, larger even than the old feudal palace on the islands. She remembered being there as a girl and meeting the then-feudal lord, Harukage Nagao, Kenshin's older brother. Once, Harukage had been a great samurai warrior and had claimed the Whirlpool Country as part of his family's territory in Fire Country. Later in life, when the sword became too heavy for his aging hands to wield, he'd grown fat with a weakness for wine and women. Mito had known only the older version of Harukage, and she could not say she was sorry to hear that Kenshin had wrested control of the family's assets from Harukage and even shed the family name entirely, choosing instead to take the Uesugi name. Harukage's fate was uncertain, though Mito had heard whispers of his forced suicide by hara-kiri. It was all part of the game, the strong devouring the weak, and Harukage had lost it either way. She didn't dwell on it.
Kenshin's guards led Mito, Satto, Tajima, Haruka, Madara, and Izuna, along with a small group of Uzumaki and Uchiha soldiers, into the castle's inner keep where Kenshin would receive them. Mito still wore her battle uniform under a linen robe, but she tied her hair back in a bun to keep it out of her face. It wouldn't conceal the fact that she was a woman, but long hair had a way of putting off noblemen to any kind of talk that didn't involve pillows. Mito wasn't taking any chances.
The keep was plain for a castle as splendid as this one. From the sight of soldiers and civilian workers buzzing about the place rearranging furniture and carrying food, scrolls, and all manner of strange samurai weapons, Mito would have guessed Kenshin was supervising spring cleaning.
She dared not look at Madara since the group had arrived at Kenshin's castle in northeastern Fire Country, although this proved harder than she'd imagined. It was easy to slip back into her court persona, but Madara's presence somewhere to her right was like a physical weight. Perhaps he was looking at her, but she didn't turn around to check. Today was bigger than either of them, and she did not want to screw this up after her father had agreed to make her his representative.
"My lord," the guide said, stopping abruptly. "Your guests have arrived."
Mito looked around at the group of men and women bustling about. Some were crouched over a wide, wooden table and studying written plans of some kind. None of them paid the guide any mind.
"Lord Kenshin?" Tajima said, stepping forward.
"Shh! I'm in the middle of something, damnit."
The man who'd spoken was hunched over the plans with charcoal chalk in hand, his fingers blackened from furious scribbling. He muttered something to the man next to him and made some changes to the plans, scribbling here and there. This went on for several minutes, and Mito could hear whispers among her entourage. She spared them a severe glance over her shoulder, and the soldiers, both Uzumaki and Uchiha, ceased their gossipping.
"Blasted idiots. It doesn't make any sense, can't you see that?" Kenshin said, throwing down his chalk. It broke in two and left a black mark on the paper.
"But sir, we're trying to—"
"Oh, shut up. I had to call in the goddamned shinobi because of your incompetence. Now get out of my sight."
The samurai advisor frowned but held his tongue. Bowing, he excused himself with a muttered 'yes, my lord', and barked orders at his underlings to move out.
"Now then, who the hell are you?" Kenshin asked, looking the shinobi over.
Tajima spoke first. "Tajima Uchiha, my lord. My sons, Madara and Izuna, and my daughter, Haruka."
Kenshin looked Tajima up and down, a scowl on his face. "Hmph. Didn't expect you to come here yourself. How much am I paying you, again?"
"Enough," Tajima said with a smirk.
Kenshin grunted. "Well, at least I know I'll get my money's worth. I've heard awful things about the Uchiha."
"I'm pleased to hear it."
Kenshin turned to the Uzumaki next, and his eyes fell upon Satto. "General, where is Lord Ensui?"
Satto bowed. "My lord sends his regrets, but he could not leave Uzushiogakure unattended."
"So he sends you instead? I don't know what kind of deal you had with that fat oaf, but you work for me now."
Satto righted himself and smiled pleasantly. "No, my lord, not me. I'm not versed in issues of politics. He sends his daughter, Mito, as his representative."
Kenshin finally turned to Mito, who stood next to Satto. She held her head high as he peered at her, giving her a good look. He was a tall man, muscular under the red samurai armor he wore. His hair was black as night, unkempt and long everywhere it grew, and the wrinkles around his eyes suggested a man constantly irritated. No surprise there given how he'd dismissed one of his samurai moments ago.
"You must be joking," Kenshin said. "I don't know how you shinobi do things, but we samurai don't send a woman to do a man's job."
Here we go, Mito thought to herself. She took a deep breath.
"Lord Kenshin, my father sends not only his deepest condolences, but also an elite team of Uzumaki shinobi per the contract he signed with your late brother."
"...My god, you're serious," Kenshin said, too incredulous to be offended.
Mito retrieved a scroll from her sleeve and unfolded it on the nearby table over Kenshin's plans. Perhaps because he was curious (more likely because he wasn't used to being brushed aside by a woman), Kenshin followed Mito to the table and peered at the unrolled document.
"This is a copy of the contract my father signed with your brother. The feudal lord may call upon the Uzumaki clan during a time of conflict for military, tactical, and political assistance. According to the terms, our military forces will cooperate with yours, but they will be under Uzumaki command at all times. Lord Kenshin."
Kenshin stared down at Mito with a menacing scowl on his face and waited. Mito continued without letting his intimidation tactic faze her.
"My father has vested in me the power to assess whether this conflict will end in a victory beneficial to the Uzumaki clan. Nowhere in our contract are we required to aid you in a suicide mission. I'm happy to send General Satto to meet with your samurai commanders to start formulating a plan of attack, but before that happens, I'll need to know exactly what the situation is and what kind of enemy we're up against. Then, in my judgment, I'll determine how the Uzumaki clan will be best fit to aid you."
"Young lady, do you have any idea who the hell you're talking to?" Kenshin said, slamming a hand on the table over the contract. "I am not my brother. You work for me, not him."
"My lord, with all due respect, we are bound by the terms of this contract. If you would like to renegotiate them, then I would be happy to inform my lord father and set up a meeting. But first, you have a rebellion to quell and inadequate forces to do it. I suspect the problem is much more than a civilian uprising, and yet this is the first I'm hearing of it. Why else would you have called us and the Uchiha clan here?"
"Lord Kenshin, I don't mean to interrupt, but I came here to exercise my sword, not my patience," Tajima said. "Perhaps we could move this along?"
Kenshin glared at Mito, ignoring Tajima, and Mito held his gaze. They called him the God of War, an avatar of a true deity sent to earth to change the tide of war as the world knew it. Kenshin was renowned all over the continent by his allies and enemies alike. But in a world where magic was real and the magicians, long operating in the shadows, were finally coming to light and working together, the age of the samurai was facing a new kind of warfare in which even their sharpest blades could not claim victory unaided. Kenshin's enemies here were probably shinobi, and the only way to beat them was by fighting fire with fire. Mito knew it. Kenshin knew it. Tajima knew it. The only question was whether Kenshin's pride as a samurai, as a man, and as a god who would find no worshippers among his hired shinobi mercenaries knew it.
Kenshin leaned in close to Mito's face, and she could smell incense and tobacco on him. She kept her face straight, for once thanking her strict court tutors and their insistence on perfection.
"For your sake, I hope you lot are as good as you claim to be. All right, come with me. I don't like talking strategy in front of incompetent fools," he spat at the samurai tacticians that had failed him thus far.
Kenshin turned away and barked orders at some of the retainers running around. Tajima followed the man to a door near the back of the room. Mito gathered up the contract and returned it to its place up her sleeve. Only then did she take a moment to release the breath she'd been holding.
"You did well, my lady," Satto whispered. "Kenshin is known for his rudeness. The important thing is that he respects your position now."
"That remains to be seen," Mito said. "But thank you for the vote of confidence, General."
Satto smiled and signaled his soldiers to follow. Nearby, Mito caught Izuna's eye. So much like Madara, and yet none of the weight his brother's presence evoked. When he nodded, Mito was surprised at the acknowledgment, and it showed. Izuna turned away, hiding a smile, and walked after his father. Madara followed with Haruka, who winked as she passed. Mito fell into step with him.
"He's not familiar with the ways of shinobi," Madara said to Mito as they followed the rest of the group.
"No, but he will be," she said, eyes ahead.
Madara smirked and brushed his hand against hers, which Mito tried to pretend didn't affect her as they emerged into a much smaller room adjacent to the keep. A round table sat in the center, and Kenshin had taken a seat on the opposite side. Mito parted ways with Madara and took a seat next to Satto. When everyone was settled in, Kenshin stood up.
"All right, we'll do things your way for now, but I warn you all: I don't entertain fools at my table."
"Lord Kenshin, where are your generals?" Satto asked.
"You're looking at him. What kind of man would I be if I couldn't defend my own territory? Now, everyone shut up and listen, because I'm only going to explain this once."
Kenshin unrolled a map of his territory across the table and began to explain the problem. What had begun as a series of small civilian uprisings had escalated into full-on guerilla warfare the likes of which his samurai, trained in the etiquette of organized warfare, were unprepared to handle on such a large scale. Kenshin suspected involvement from rival feudal lords, his prime candidates being Wind Country's Shingen Takeda and Water Country's Yukimura Sanada, but the perpetrators had been careful thus far not to reveal their true identities. The next thing he knew, Kenshin's governors stationed around the Fire Country were dropping like flies, victims of assassination.
"Damn shadow games. This isn't war, it's a coward's errand," Kenshin said.
"It's important that we determine who the enemy is and attack the source. The uprisings are happening all over the Fire Country, and there's no way our forces or yours can spread so thin and still make a difference," Tajima said as he studied the map. "What can you tell us about Takeda and Sanada? Is it possible they're working together?"
Kenshin grunted. "Not on your life. It's every man for himself in this game. No, they've got too much bad blood between them to work together."
"Perhaps against a common enemy?" Satto said.
"Takeda doesn't have a contract with any shinobi. It's against his principles to hire mercenaries. His men are born and bred to be loyal."
"Then Sanada," Tajima said. "He's no stranger to mercenary work. He organized the Ten Heroes some years ago, but they've disbanded. Their former leader allied with the Senju clan."
"Don't bring your family shit into my house, Uchiha," Kenshin snapped. "I know you and the Senju got it bad each other, but this is samurai business."
"There's no indication of involvement by the Senju clan," Mito interjected before this discussion became truculent. "What happened to the rest of the Ten Heroes? Did any of them remain with Sanada? Perhaps they've organized their own shinobi forces."
"That I don't know," Kenshin said, thoughtful. "But that snake Sanada gets hard at just the thought of things like shadow magic. We've clashed before, but nothing like this. I don't like it. It feels like this is all misdirection while he prepares for the finale."
"There's nothing magical about shinobi. We are men, no different from you. And men make mistakes. Perhaps you just haven't been reading the signs carefully enough," Tajima said.
Madara stood up suddenly and took the room by surprise. He hadn't spoken at all, and Mito had to wonder what he thought about all this. His eyes roved over the map and the marked locations of past or current rebellions.
"It's not about where the enemy's coming from," he said, tracing the map with his fingers. "It's about where he's going."
No one spoke as Madara's cryptic words hung in the air, but Mito was most interested in hearing what he had to say. A box on a stand behind Kenshin held charcoal chalk, and she got up from her chair to retrieve it. She handed a piece to Madara across the table, and he accepted it without a word.
"What are you seeing?" Tajima asked.
Madara didn't answer; he drew.
"The formations," Izuna said, standing up and leaning over the map next to his brother. "They're not meant to scatter."
Tajima chuckled and shook his head. "I'll be damned."
Mito followed Madara's lines, searching the puzzle for an answer she could not see but that was so clear to him. To her, the lines were random, nonsensical, but not to Madara. Satto gasped.
"Not scatter," he said, understanding. "Converge."
"Where will they converge?" Mito asked.
Madara drew circles around a point on the map by the coast. Cut off by the sea behind and a stampede of fleeing civilians, soldiers, and undercover shinobi driving the flock, there was nowhere to run. Mito swallowed hard as she finally saw the big picture.
"Here," Madara said. He looked up at Kenshin. "They're converging here."
Kenshin's eyes roved the map and Madara's crude lines. Mito saw the light in his eyes change. He'd been so focused on the smaller rebellions, suspecting a bigger picture but never quite seeing it. Shinobi moved in different circles than samurai, and he'd played into that stereotype just as the enemy had hoped he would. The warlord knocked his chair over and swore.
"Lord Kenshin," Mito said, wanting to nip another argument in the bud before it could manifest. "May I suggest an immediate counter-strike before the guerilla forces reach here?"
"My samurai are spread out across the country. Some are days away on horseback," Kenshin said more to himself than to the room. "Damn it all to hell."
"My forces are here," Tajima said. "You have the might of the Uchiha clan ready to fight at a moment's notice."
"Aye, the Uzumaki, too. We're not many, but we're worth our salt," Satto said.
"This was supposed to be a planned counterattack, not a last-minute scramble to the finish line against an enemy I can't even see," Kenshin said.
"You can't see them, but we can," Madara said. "It's why you called us in, isn't it?"
Kenshin was silent a moment, thinking. Mito was ready to take charge of the situation when he finally broke out of whatever train of thought had whisked him away.
"I've got a hundred men here. I'll send messenger hawks for the rest scattered around the country. With any luck, the closest ones'll make it back in a day's time. You!" Kenshin shouted at one of his guards stationed at the door. "We're marching in an hour. Tell the others."
"Yes, sir!" The guard exited the room to do his master's bidding.
"General, I think it would be best if you met with Lord Kenshin's samurai troops. If we're going to outwit an enemy whose identity we don't know, we'll have to work together," Mito whispered to Satto.
"I was thinking the same thing. I'll get right on it, my lady."
"Where is my sword? Get me my sword! Damn shinobi. They think they can take Kenshin Uesugi by surprise? Not today!" Kenshin marched out of the room swearing under his breath. "Oi, Uchiha! And, er, you, woman! Get out here!"
Mito exchanged a look with Madara across the table.
"Madara, you go. I want you to lead this campaign," Tajima said.
"Father," Madara said, shocked.
"Remember what I told you last night. Now go. General Satto and I will meet with Kenshin's samurai."
Mito followed Kenshin back out to the keep, and Madara jogged after her. "This is it," she whispered to him.
"Yeah," he said. "Are you ready?"
Mito flashed him a smirk. "I better be."
It was nearly done.
Saizō ran a finger over Shukaku's scale and admired the swirling sand patterns it made, like magic. Months of planning would finally pay off. Finally, he would see a power reserved for fables and nightmares, and he would take it for himself.
"Kirigakure."
Saizō set down the scale on his desk and looked up at his visitor. "Anayama. What is it?"
"Raven came for you," Kosuke said, walking further into Saizō's tent with a bird perched upon his meaty arm. "Think it's from that Uchiha."
"Ah, just what I'd been waiting for."
Saizō rose and unclipped the message from the raven's foot. It was short and encrypted, but Saizō recognized the code. He read it through twice before holding it over the kerosene lantern on his desk and letting it burn.
"Anythin' important?" Kosuke asked.
"Oh yes, very important." Saizō watched the parchment crumple and blacken under the heat of the small flame. "Anayama, inform Lord Sanada that we strike tonight."
"Tonight? So soon?"
"Of course. Shinobi are warriors who lurk in the shadows. Those samurai won't even see us coming."
"I hear they called in some help."
"I'm well aware. But I've called in some help, too."
"Hey, Kirigakure. You think this'll really work? Think it'll lure out that monster?"
Saizō smiled at his partner. The light of the kerosene lamp offered little light, and half of his pale face was cast in shadows. Even though Kosuke was almost twice Saizō's size, the sight made him shiver just a little, knowing all too well what could be lurking in those murky depths where no light could reach.
"Slaughter enough lambs, and the wolf will come running."
Uzushiogakure was heaven on earth as far as Hashirama was concerned. A part of him was sure fairies had built the place, so in tune with nature as it was. The clan leader, Ensui Uzumaki, had welcomed Hashirama and his entourage warmly, and they wanted for nothing. Even Tobirama had taken to the place, eager to learn of the clan's history and current status as suzerain nation-state. Ensui had provided Hashirama and his highest officers with their own quarters complete with on-hand staff to see to their needs. Sasuke seemed to have taken a liking to his, a pretty native islander named Lena.
When Hashirama mentioned this to Ensui as they walked together under a natural Ginkgo tree tunnel, Ensui laughed.
"I can't say I blame him. Lena is a treasure. She normally assists my daughter, Mito, but she agreed to help out with your party while Mito is away."
"You have a daughter?"
"Yes, my pride and joy. She's young, but she's got a good heart and an even better head. Pity she wasn't born male. She could have been an excellent leader."
Hashirama thought that an odd thing to say. Tōka was a rather excellent squadron leader and one of many sources of sage wisdom to Hashirama, and she was a woman, too. But he could understand a man's desire for a male heir. "Well, Inari is young, but I'm sure he'll make a great and just leader one day."
"Ah, my nephew. Yes, he's just a lad, but he'll grow. Children always do."
There was something about this place that soothed Hashirama's nerves, nerves he didn't want to burden Tobirama or anyone else with. Maybe it was the fresh air, no traces of blood or rot anywhere, the sound of breaking waves against the rocky shores. The whirlpools in the distance, peaceful death traps only more alluring when viewed from afar. Ensui was a good man, Hashirama could tell, but he was also a cautious one. The older generation usually was, just like Hashirama's father before him.
"I confess that I came here under pretense," Hashirama said. Diplomacy, in all honesty, was not his forte, and he found that honesty served him well enough. He'd never been the savvy political type, preferring to look out for his own instead of parlaying with foreign leaders. But he had to try, or Tobirama would berate him endlessly.
"I gathered as much," Ensui said, grinning.
Hashirama stared at the older man. "You knew?"
"I'm an old man. When you've lived as long as I have, you tend to see through the frills. It's all right, I knew this was coming eventually. Frankly, I'm surprised you waited this long."
A little bummed, Hashirama tried to gather his thoughts. Sincerity had always been his sharpest blade, and it had won over even the most skeptical men, like Sasuke. Something told him that Ensui, however, had an agenda all his own that might be difficult to mitigate.
"Then you know I want your oath," Hashirama said.
"And you know I have to respectfully decline that generous offer."
Hashirama slowed to a stop. A man-made break in the Ginkgo tree tunnel cut a view to the ocean beyond a wooden balcony, probably a popular spot for young lovers to admire the view at night.
"Lord Ensui—"
"Please, just Ensui. My counselors aren't here to watch us."
Hashirama nodded. "Ensui. The Senju and Uzumaki are connected by blood. We were originally one clan with one name. I understand why the Uzumaki and so many others branched off, and I can see the fruits of your labors. This place... It's really something."
"It's a legacy I plan to leave to the next generation," Ensui said, the pride evident in his tone. "Here, we can practice our trade without involving ourselves in the affairs of the mainland."
"But that's just the problem. The mainland's problems extend beyond the coastline. You'll get dragged into it eventually, so cut your losses and join me. You can maintain your way of life and still ensure the next generation's legacy by eliminating the conflicts of today."
Ensui sighed. "I understand your position, Hashirama, I truly do. But I cannot send my people to their deaths fighting a war with no end. It's nonsensical, no better than ritual suicide."
Hashirama ran a hand through his long hair, frustrated but unwilling to give up. "The Uchiha won't be a problem forever."
"Oh, really? And how do you figure that? They've been a problem for you for the last 1,000 years, and nothing's changed. My ancestors split from the Senju for a reason, and I won't be the one to question their judgment."
"We're part of the problem," Hashirama said more harshly than he'd meant to. "There's blood on both our hands. That kind of wrong isn't easy to forgive, even after 1,000 years."
Ensui stiffened, but Hashirama held his ground.
"Unfortunately, it's not something I can forgive today. I'm sorry, Hashirama, but the Uzumaki will remain a neutral party. I have no quarrel with the Uchiha, and I'm not keen to find one. If you want to discuss other items of business, then I would be more than happy to oblige you. But I won't entertain any further talk of an alliance."
Ensui began to walk back toward the Uzumaki palace, and Hashirama watched him go. The man was stubborn and set in his ways. Even Hashirama's usual charisma wouldn't sway him now. There was no point in beating a dead horse for now. Better to consult with Tobirama and think about a different route.
"I have a dream of creating a place like this one day," Hashirama called to Ensui.
Ensui stopped and looked back at his guest. "Do you, now?"
"But it will be a place for everyone. Senju and Uchiha, even Uzumaki if you decide you want to be a part of it."
Ensui smiled knowingly. "That's some dream. But I think that's all it is, a dream. Traditions are not so easily broken."
When Ensui turned to leave this time, Hashirama didn't stop him. Alone under the Ginkgo trees, the only sounds that reached him were those of the beating ocean below the balcony and chirping birds hiding among the leaves above.
"Not alone," Hashirama said. "But together, we can make our dream a reality."
With no one around to listen, even Hashirama could question the voice that dissipated in the emptiness with no one here to echo his resolve.
War and peace were night and day in the blink of an eye. For Mito, the change in those around her, Uzumaki, Uchiha, and samurai alike, was so jarring that she had trouble getting her bearings. Perhaps the most remarkable change of all was the one she saw in Kenshin. He'd gone from the cantankerous, even reluctant political leader to the heart and soul of the battlefield. A god of war in every sense of the moniker.
"I don't care how you shadow lurkers do things on your own time; here we play by my rules," he'd explained at the onset of the march from the Uesugi stronghold. "This is my front line. I want you to mix with my samurai. And I want you to fall back when I give the command. The rear guard will take your place. These guerillas want to play hide and seek? Then we'll flush them out with their tails between their legs."
"Switching the front and rear guard to compensate for exhaustion," Satto said, picturing the setup based on the crude plans Kenshin had penned. "It's genius."
"You're damn right it is," Kenshin said, rolling up his plans and storing them. "I thought of it."
Mito had remained silent, not wanting to speak up during talk of battle strategy given her lack of experience. Madara had been silent through the entire exchange as well, though for different reasons, she knew. He would be leading the Uchiha into battle tonight.
And what a battle it was.
Samurai outnumbered both Uzumaki and Uchiha forces, their red armor standing out against the blacks, blues, and whites of their shinobi allies. Some wore snarling demon masks.
"All the better to scare the shit outta them," Kenshin had said when he caught her eyeing his ghoulish mask.
He'd laughed at her startled reaction, and she let it slide. No use standing up for herself to a man who would never think twice about her until she proved her worth at every turn.
Oh, to be a woman in a man's world.
Madara and Izuna were too far away to see from her position, but Mara and a few other Uzumaki soldiers marched with Mito, probably to look out for her. For all her earlier vehemence about equality on the battlefield, Mito couldn't deny that it was a comfort to know she wasn't charging into this mess all alone. As though sensing her troubled thoughts, Mara flashed her a shy smile, which Mito returned even though she didn't feel the emotion behind it at all.
"Just keep your eyes open, my lady," Satto had told her when they had a moment of privacy. "One step at a time. You can't go forward unless you deal with whatever's in front of you first."
Years of intensive and specialized training were enough to lull anyone into a false sense of security. As the sun set and night converged over the burned and barren plains of the Fire Country, Mito shook her head to remind herself that this was not a dream, that she was really going into battle. That this was kill or be killed. She'd never felt her green sixteen years more than she did at this moment.
It began all wrong. There was no futile parley between parties, no formalities or even a cliche big bang to start the race to the death. As darkness encroached, people just started dying for no reason at all.
"Look sharp, ladies!" Kenshin roared as he charged into battle with a katana longer than any Mito had ever seen before.
Before she even had time to breathe, she was fighting. Her first opponent was dressed in green samurai armor and a mask of dirt and sweat. There was a hunger in his eyes, feral and fearful, that ignited a primal instinct in Mito. She flipped backwards and fell into the familiar defensive position of her Whirlpool kata. One second, one precious moment to breathe, and she lunged.
He swung a short sword, slashing blindly but viciously, and Mito fell with the arc as though avoiding ribbons instead of razors. She caught herself on the ground with a hand and twisted. Her opponent stumbled forward, not having expected her to move the way she did, and Mito took advantage of the opening. Drawing her tantō with her free hand, she swung her legs through the air and kicked her opponent hard in the side, sending him falling to the ground. Without slowing down, she whipped around and landed on top of him. The blade of her tantō plunged deep into the man's chest and pinned him to the ground. Wide-eyed, he watched her as they fell.
One second, not even enough time to breathe, and he was gone, never remembering hitting the ground. Mito watched it happen, saw his soul light up his eyes and fade away, leaving only her own reflection in them just as Madara had said it would happen.
Two seconds. Three, four, five. She couldn't move. His blood crawled out of him like it wanted to be anywhere but near her knife. She could smell it, and it was getting worse the more the knife jiggled inside him, cutting and scraping under her shaking hands. Six seconds, and a hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality.
"Mito!"
Mara pulled her back, and the knife with her. Mito coughed, having forgotten to breathe, and took Mara's offered hand.
"Are you all right?" Mara asked, searching Mito's face for something.
There was light in Mara's brown eyes, little flakes of gold that glowed under the light of the moon rising in the east. Mito couldn't see herself in them, and she was grateful for it.
"Yeah, I think so," she said, swallowing. "I'm sorry."
Mara spared a glance at the body of the enemy Mito had killed. "Forget him and keep moving. There will be time to think after the battle."
Mara nodded and left Mito to intervene in a nearby tussle in which one of their Uzumaki brethren was outnumbered three to one. Mito looked around, and suddenly she could hear. Screams, battle cries, steel on steel and the roar of jutsu, fire, water, earth, all around. And the rattle of death, a new sensation, yet one that roused something old and tired in her bones, like they knew this song well. If there were time, maybe she would have cried. But there was no time, not for anyone. Only those who could outrun their fates would survive here.
So Mito ran.
The ran toward a group of dark-clad enemy shinobi ganging up on some of Kenshin's samurai, pummeling them with high-level douton. She bit her thumb and tasted blood, but she never slowed down, not even when she scraped the ground with her bleeding palm and screamed:
"Kuchiyose no justu!"
Not even to fly through one-handed seals and lunge at the nearest enemy shinobi, spinning but never losing momentum, and strike his heart with the glowing flat of her palm. He fell, and the others hesitated in the chaos only to suffer fatal burns from flying acid that melted their gi and armor, through their skin to their bones. They crumbled into ash and disappeared, unlike the first man she'd killed.
"Lady Mito," Sazae said, slithering up beside her master.
Mito patted a hand over the giant snail's spiked, ebony shell, like sharpened diamonds. Sazae towered over Mito now at nearly ten feet tall and still growing.
"Let's flush out the enemy, Sazae," Mito said.
"Right away!"
An acid wave swept through the plains, and men and women screamed, scrambling from their hiding places in trees and in the ground and among genjutsu to escape death.
Something was weird about this fight.
Izuna stepped on the body of a green-clad samurai and sprang into the air. At the apex of flight and gravity, he crossed his twin tantō and slashed left and right, decapitating the enemy below him. The severed head landed just to Izuna's left and rolled away. Bloody Sharingan searched for his brother, but he didn't have to search long as Madara backed up towards Izuna, fending off a kunoichi wielding a spear.
Izuna gritted his teeth and sent more chakra to his eyes. Just as Madara drew back to regroup, Izuna threw one of his tantō at the kunoichi.
"Kai!"
The blade hit her in the belly through her black gi and she stumbled, coughed up blood. And then she vanished, powder on the wind. Madara retrieved the tantō and handed it back to his brother.
"Genjutsu?" he said, eyes searching for the source.
"A good one at that," Izuna confirmed. "Too good."
Back to back, the brothers regrouped and moved with the tide of battle. The break was short-lived when a river of acid splashed in their general direction, and they were forced to part to avoid a grisly death by disintegration. Izuna glared at the stuff, his eyes watering with the acid's emitted fumes as it leaked into the earth and burned it away.
"Mito," Madara said.
Izuna noticed the large snail summon not far off, as well as the unfortunate soldiers who hadn't been as nimble on their feet to avoid its acid. As though materializing from the shadow of the moon, more and more shinobi, all dressed in black, rushed to the source and converged on Mito and her summon creature. When Madara moved with them, Izuna called him back.
"Brother! She's not your responsibility!"
Madara faltered. He never faltered, and Izuna lost his composure for a moment. It was a moment too late.
Hands, tens of them, sprang forth from the earth and grabbed at the brothers' legs, dragging them under. Madara swung his chokutō and severed some of them in one swoop. Izuna kneeled down and released the genjutsu once more, his eyes stinging in the process.
"Izuna!" Madara shouted, rejoining his brother. "What do you see?"
Madara had always been the better fighter between the two brothers, but Izuna's affinity for genjutsu was unrivaled. Right now, he wasn't seeing much more than the paranoia on their allies' faces at fighting an army of smoke and mirrors.
"These enemies are mostly illusions mixed in with the real bodies," Izuna said. "I've never seen anything like it before. Whoever's doing this is a master."
"Madara!"
Izuna caught a glimpse of Haruka running toward them, her katana shimmering red with blood.
"Haruka," Madara said. "What's happening?"
"Kenshin just sent in the rear guard. We're falling back."
"No, we're not. This isn't the real enemy."
"What're you talking about?"
"Most of these shinobi are genjutsu," Izuna explained. "Look."
He charged a nearby shinobi, whose face was half covered in a black mask, and ripped it off while focusing his chakra. The shinobi's face peeled away where his mask had been, revealing bloody muscle, bone, and finally ashes as he crumbled into nothing, as though he'd never been there at all.
"You can see the difference?" Haruka said. "Well, point 'em out to my sword!"
"There," Izuna said, crouching low and squinting into the night. "That's where they're coming from!"
Madara and Haruka followed their youngest brother's gaze to an empty space that looked just like the rest of the oily night sky. But Izuna was sure of it. Whoever was doing this was channeling chakra through that dead space and spawning an endless army. Take it out, and they could reveal whoever was behind this.
"Haruka, Izuna, on my mark," Madara ordered.
Izuna leaped back toward his siblings, already forming the necessary hand seals for the Uchiha clan's trademark ninjutsu.
"Katon: Gōkakyū no jutsu!"
Izuna, Haruka, and Madara released a triple Great Fireball that streamlined into a concentrated sun flare. Izuna squeezed all the air out of his lungs and watched the fire pierce through the dead space, hitting it as though it were a solid wall of ice. Beside him, Madara forced more chakra into the technique, so Izuna mirrored his example.
Crunch.
Izuna gagged and fell to one knee, seeing stars from the lack of oxygen in his body. His grey mail and leather felt heavier than they had only moments ago. Panting, he looked to see that his and his siblings' efforts had not been in vain.
A jagged crack severed the night sky, teeth opening to reveal mysterious depths within, and Izuna opened his mouth in a silent scream at the vision on the other side.
The world was silent save for the ringing in Mito's ears as she got acquainted with the dry, cracked ground beneath her cheek. Her body ached, and she didn't even want to count how many broken ribs she'd suffered, but she struggled to her feet. This opponent was strong. Inhuman, even.
"That all you got, little girl?"
Big, hairy, and mean. He wore barely any armor at all, but his skin was as thick and sinewy as tanned leather. Mito spit out blood from a hard punch the enemy shinobi had landed to her gut, the one that had sent her hurtling to the ground out of nowhere just as she'd finished weeding through three of his allies. Mere shadows, genjutsu, as it turned out. There was no light in their eyes when they fell and vanished, turning to ash between her fingers. This one, however, was more real than any enemy Mito had faced all night.
And he was charging straight for her.
Mito had no time to be afraid, no time even to think, just react. She slammed a hand on the ground and sent a stream of chakra through the earth, imagining it twisting into ancient runes and stringing together.
"To me!" she shouted.
Out of nowhere, the air before Mito bent, refracted like light through a crystal, as the seals she'd lain on the ground glowed blue. The hefty shinobi's fist curled into a ball and he punched the distorted air just as it thickened, darkened. Mito lost her breath.
Crunch!
A spiked, black turban shell sat just inches from Mito's face dripping slime that seared the earth beneath it. Mito heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of two eyestalks peeking out at her from inside the diamond-hard shell, followed by a pale head striped in blue.
"Just in time," Mito said.
"Are you injured, Lady Mito?" Sazae asked.
"Not any more than I was, thanks."
On Sazae's other side, Mito's attacker had fallen back to shield himself from a counterattack. She hoped he'd broken his entire arm punching Sazae's shell, the crazed brute. An explosion had Mito on edge and she jumped, searching for the source.
"General!" she shouted. "Sazae, let's go."
The large turban shell followed her summoner as Mito ran towards Satto, who was busy fending off more black-suited shinobi. Mito ignored the pain in her middle and whirled. She let loose a small seashell from up her sleeve and tossed it toward one of Satto's attackers. It cracked on impact with the shinobi's shoulder and burst into a splash of snail acid. He screamed and fell to the ground, crumbling to ash until only the acid was left to sear the ground where he'd been fighting.
Satto took advantage of the distraction to spin close to his attacker and hit her in the face with the heel of his hand, knocking her back. She barely had time to scream and claw at her face when it literally disintegrated with a thousand tiny pops, miniature explosions that peeled away her face and dropped her in half a second.
Out of nowhere, Mara tackled the remaining shadow enemy with a handaxe to the back of the neck, knocking him to the ground and falling through him as he vanished into thin air. She looked up and flashed Mito a grin despite the blood and swelling that had forced one of her eyes closed, and Mito returned it. There was little time to relish this momentary victory when seven more enemy shinobi converged upon their small group.
"Damnit," Satto said, backing up toward Mito and Sazae. "There's no end to them."
"They're controlled by genjutsu, sir," Mara said, assuming a position beside Mito. "No one seems to be able to track the source."
"Then what the hell is Tajima doing? The Uchiha should be able to do that much, at least!"
The enemy executed rapid hand seals in sync, too fast for Mito to keep up with. She motioned for Sazae to prepare to shield their small group, but blocking all seven attackers could prove too much for the resilient turban shell. Mito racked her brain for a way out, anything at all.
Crack!
As though inhabited by an invisible force, the enemy shinobi ceased their jutsu and fell to the ground, clutching their heads in pain. Mito watched, horrified, as they came apart at the joints, like unraveling ragdolls, disintegrating and leaving no trace behind. All was still for a second or two as the Uzumaki processed what had just happened.
"Lucky break?" Mara asked, looking around for a possible culprit.
"Don't bet on it," Satto said, pointing. "Here comes the cavalry."
In the distance, Mito could see a mob of people running towards Kenshin's forces at full sprint. Some wore stylized green armor and wielded iron blades. Others wore much lighter, looser gi and moved their hands in the telltale formation of hand seals. Beast summons, both large and small, slithered, galloped, and flew along with their summoners. Kenshin's harsh voice pierced through the din of battle and confusion, ordering another regrouping of soldiers from the rear guard to the front, and the samurai struggled to obey before the enemy was upon them. Tajima was among them, barking orders to his clansmen before launching a curling stream of yellow fire at the charging enemy. It stopped some, but not most.
"We have to help them," Mito said, drawing her tantō.
"Aye," Satto said, already taking off ahead of her and Mara.
"Mito, you're hurt," Mara said, eyeing Mito's midsection.
"I'm fine. Let's just hurry up and help them!" She ran off, Sazae slithering along behind her.
Mara bit her lip in worry, but there was nothing left to say. She broke into a run and followed her princess into the heat of another battle.
"You!" Haruka shouted. "You turncoat son of a bitch!"
Within the rippling remains of the illusory dead space, Tajitsu Uchiha stood with another man looking pleased as pie with himself. Izuna could only stare at his adoptive brother, incredulous that he would betray the clan like this. He'd never cared for Tajitsu and he even felt a bit sorry for the man, having been denied his natural birthright, but that was life. As far as Izuna was concerned, birthright was a fiction created by men afraid of their own inherent weakness who passed that terror off on those born less fortunate. He and Madara had subverted that effort and trampled it underfoot.
"You weren't kidding about your sister's foul mouth," said the man standing next to Tajitsu.
He was slender and silken, as though there were no bones in his body and he moved simply with the wind, snake-like, almost feminine. He smiled when Izuna's eyes alighted on him, like he knew a secret. Izuna wasn't sure he wanted to know.
"Who are you?" Madara demanded.
"I'm Saizō Kirigakaru," the man said.
Izuna recognized the name, as would any trained shinobi with even a shred of knowledge about the world. Saizō Kirigakure was once a prominent member of Sanada's Ten Heroes, the right hand of Sasuke Sarutobi and his opposite in every way. Hailed as a genjutsu master, he'd used his shadow tricks to sabotage the siege of Osaka Castle three years ago, a move that led to the deaths of over half of the Ten Heroes and Sasuke's defection to the Senju clan. Izuna put the pieces together easily. Saizō had betrayed Sasuke on Sanada's orders, the same Sanada suspected of launching this campaign against Kenshin and the Fire Country.
"I'll fucking murder you," Haruka said, advancing on Tajitsu.
"Haruka," Madara said. "Stop."
Haruka obeyed, but she shook with rage. Her sword itched to draw Tajitsu's blood.
"Tajitsu," Madara said, stepping forward. "Why did you betray us?"
Tajitsu's smirk faded, replaced with a repulsion the likes of which Izuna had only seen before Tajima had adopted Madara and him.
"Us? Don't you dare lump yourself together with the likes of my bloodline. You disgusting trash."
Izuna shot his brother a glance, but Madara was implacable.
"So that's what this is about." He chuckled. "You're upset because Father passed you over for me. You're so pathetic. You couldn't even outshine the bastard son of a whore."
Tajitsu shook with rage, but it was Saizō who spoke in his stead.
"I think I've heard enough. Now, who wants to die first?"
"How about you!"
Haruka charged katana-first at Saizō. Her Sharingan swirled furiously, slowing time and giving her a head start as Saizō faced her. She slashed, and he backtracked, neatly avoiding each deadly slash.
"Izuna, help Haruka," Madara said. "I'll deal with the turncoat."
He couldn't even say Tajitsu's name. Izuna wanted to stay with his brother, but he trusted Madara's judgment. Tajitsu bared his teeth and welcomed the onslaught as Madara prepared to strike him with a fire jutsu. And then Izuna noticed the problem.
"No, Brother, wait! That's another genjutsu!"
Tajitsu lunged and went for Madara's throat. His face was dark, half obscured in the cover of night and the sickly light of the half moon above. Madara swore and swung his chokutō just as he completed the fire technique. Flames arced along the swing of his blade and slashed Tajitsu when he came in range. Shadow claws raked at Madara's face and neck, and Madara turned his head just in time to avoid a fatal swipe. Izuna could only watch as the illusory Tajitsu ripped flesh and tendon from Madara's neck and shoulder, like an animal. Madara plunged his flamed sword through Tajitsu's middle, slicing him in half in one fell swoop. They broke apart, Madara stumbling to one knee and Tajitsu crumbling to ashes, laughing.
"Where is he?" Madara asked no one in particular, ignoring his bleeding wound.
The real Tajitsu was far away, escaping the scene and heading toward the thick of battle in the distance. Madara growled and hauled himself up. Nearby, Haruka was busy fighting the real Saizō, who had surrounded her in genjutsu doubles. Izuna hesitated.
"Stay with her, Izuna!" Madara said as he took off toward the battle.
Izuna had no time to protest. Haruka's cry brought him back to reality. Saizō had slashed her with a tantō in the lower back, though she couldn't detect the extent of his genjutsu. Izuna paled and ran to aid his adoptive sister, forming seals as he ran.
"Raijin!"
Sparks crackled at Izuna's fingertips as he molded his chakra, ignoring the pain in his hands. Lightning bolts, thick and yellow, shot forth from his hands and struck the genjutsu clones. The area lit up like fireworks, and Haruka took advantage of the distraction to dart away from the heart of danger. The real Saizō, however, had disappeared.
"Leaving so soon?" a voice echoed all around Izuna.
Hands burst from the earth, disconnected from any true bodies, and grabbed Izuna's and Haruka's ankles. Izuna was too slow and he was pulled down. Fingernails ripped into his skin, yanked at his armor to get to the soft flesh underneath. He cried out and struggled, angry, furious, seeing red, the blood, so much blood, his blood, and he screamed.
Thunder sparks crawled all over his body and spread to everything he touched, a disease of the light. They cut into the hands like a million razor blades, drawing phantom blood to water the earth. The hands twitched and crumbled to ashes, but the blood Izuna spilled gathered in pools on the ground. A thousand cuts hurt worse than a single stab wound, and Izuna struggled through the haze of pain to right himself.
"You have an annoying habit of seeing things you shouldn't," a voice said directly in his ear.
Izuna shook with fear and pain and rage, and he rolled away from the direction of that ghostly voice. Lightning was all that was left to him, so he called upon it again to shield him, body and soul, as he rolled to escape danger.
It followed.
Bleeding and shaking, Izuna opened his eyes and searched for the source of his demons, to see in the dark and find the Who's There? that stalked him now.
"I think I'll just take those precious eyes of yours!"
A hand, a real hand this time, reached for him and sent shadows his way. Fast, too fast. The last sight he would ever see.
But she was faster.
Haruka skidded in front of Izuna, bleeding from every visible patch of exposed skin and through her now shredded armor. She pushed Izuna back with one hand and he fell, the longest fall of his life, as she took the punishment meant for him.
Her scream would haunt his dreams and steal sleep's sweet release for the rest of his days.
Shadow claws ripped her apart, stealing the part that made her Uchiha, that made her a warrior. Haruka fell her to knees and covered her face, tore at it, thinking maybe if she dug deep enough, she could dig the shadows out. Izuna's vision blurred.
"No, stop! Haruka, stop it!"
She screamed louder and dug deeper. The blood fell like rain, no end, and the barren earth at her feet sucked it dry. Izuna struggled to his feet and lunged at her, pushing her down and ripping her hands from her face. She was strong, almost stronger than him, but he was determined and still sane besides.
"Haruka!"
When he finally managed to lift her bloody hands from her face, there was not much of a face left upon which to gaze. Two gushing holes, sightless and seeing through him, stared back up at him. Bits of her dribbled down her cheeks like tears, and Izuna had the maddest idea to brush them away with his hands, gather them up as though he might be able to stuff them back inside her.
"Stupid woman," Saizō said from a short distance away.
Izuna could barely see Haruka anymore, and he heard nothing. Her screams had fallen silent as she fell limp, passed out from the blood loss and shock. And yet, he could not look away even as she blurred red and black in his swimming vision. His hot tears fell upon her cheeks and mixed with what remained of her gouged out eyes, running red down her face.
"Haruka," Izuna whimpered.
"Now then, I have a Bijuu to meet," Saizō said.
Izuna turned on Saizō, who had the gall to walk away like nothing had happened. "Stop!" he shouted. "You monster, I'll kill you!"
Saizō paused and chuckled. He had not a drop of blood on him, and his long, black hair fell perfectly about his shoulders, like he hadn't even broken a sweat. Looking back at Izuna over his shoulder he said, "I highly doubt that."
But Izuna heard the voice in his ear, a whisper, followed by pain in his back like none he'd ever felt before. A clone loomed over Izuna, its dagger nestled to the hilt in Izuna's back, while the real Saizō merely looked on, mildly curious. Izuna slumped, but not before spinning and slashing the clone with his own tantō, dispelling it with the magic of his gifted eyes, eyes that had been spared Haruka's fate.
"I'd love to stay, but I really must be going now. Until next time, little one."
Saizō disappeared and Izuna fell over Haruka's unmoving body. Only the rise and fall of her chest, shallow and shaky, kept him awake.
"Brother," Izuna whimpered, wishing he was stronger.
It was no use. Even with Kenshin's ingenious battle strategy, his army could not withstand the might of Sanada's foot soldiers and shinobi combined. They had lasted this long on that strategy, but time was friend to none. As Mito spun and sealed the heart of yet another enemy shinobi, only to find two more ready to take his place, she knew in her heart that this was a losing battle.
I'm not strong enough, she thought to herself even as she twirled and twisted like water, agile, as though she felt none of the pain in her midsection or tasted the blood clawing its way up her throat.
Sazae was gone, having exhausted her chakra and suffered too many wounds to continue. Mito dismissed her to recover, and now she was alone without a shield to watch her back. She fended off whatever stragglers got past Mara, Satto, and the handful of Uchiha that had taken up position nearby. As her latest opponent fell with a dagger in his throat, Mito rolled and tossed another acid-filled shell toward an overwhelmed Uchiha soldier. It exploded upon impact with an enemy samurai's ear, melting through half of his head. The runoff splashed the nearest enemy behind him, melting through his armor and eating through his chest. The Uchiha, a small kunoichi with short hair and a mean look, used the gory distraction to plunge her knife into the heart of her third attacker, use him as a stepping board, and launch a stream of fire from midair at the next opponent behind him. Mito watched a moment, awed at her quick thinking and improvisation, but a moment was more than she had before a meaty hand swung at her face.
She saw the blow coming in the nick of time and dipped backward. Using her hand as a springboard, Mito spun and twisted her legs around. She made contact with her attacker's arm and shoulder, knocking him off-tilt, but it was an ineffective strategy against such a large, dense man.
He was the same one who'd punched her ribcage before. He came at her now with his left fist, the right balled and purple, disfigured from when it met Sazae's diamond-hard shell. "Little girl," he said, grinning silver and gold from too many fights and not enough teeth.
Mito bounded back, putting distance between herself and this superhuman. Sazae was not around this time to come between them, so Mito would have to improvise. Stall.
"Who are you?" she demanded, drawing her tantō and holding it before her.
"I'm your death," he said.
Mito gritted her teeth. "Not today."
He lunged and Mito charged. Watching his fist and his feet, Mito let him graze her shoulder, stifling a cry of pain, and wrapped around him. Using his shoulder for leverage, Mito plunged her tantō into the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He howled and shook, and before Mito could push away, he grabbed her over his shoulder and yanked her over his head. The ground rushed to meet Mito, and it was not happy to see her. Her chest exploded in pain, and she was sure he'd cracked whatever ribs he'd missed last time. She coughed up blood, thick and hot. Unbelievably, the brute was undeterred.
"Maybe not so little," he grunted, pulling the knife out of his shoulder, "to hit Kosuke Anayama."
Blood spurted from the open wound, but it didn't faze him. Mito scrambled back in horror, slow and seeing double, barely breathing.
Think.
It was just a little blood.
Just a little bit of gravity crunch, crunch, crunching down on her ribs and turning her insides to jelly.
But there was not even time enough to think. A blur of white and grey and strawberry blonde rushed between Mito and Kosuke, pushed him back and dragged him to his knees. Mara spun as though possessed, her enchanted hands swiping and searching for an opening that would put an end to this war machine.
"Mara," Mito said, her voice garbled from too much blood in her mouth. She turned her head to cough it up.
Mara pushed him back, and Kosuke grunted, afraid to let her touch him where it counted, perhaps having learned his lesson with Mito before her. Blood dribbled to the ground, staining the brown grass with a liquid light that glowed under the half moon and Uchiha fire. A flash caught Mito's eye, and she was more worried than she'd been before.
Madara.
He ran like a man to his death, cutting down enemy shinobi who stood in his way with fire and blade alike, and he suffered retaliation along the way. Flying was a better way to describe his mad dash. He jumped over those who stood in his way, defying gravity, and burned them to cinders as he flew over them. Nothing slowed him down. She followed him with her eyes as he came upon his target, a face Mito recognized: Tajitsu.
"I'll kill you for this!" Madara said, raising his sword against his own brother.
Mito had no time to think about what this meant or why. Mara continued to fend off Kosuke, who was nimbler than he looked. A vague memory from her studies returned to Mito, something about Sanada's Ten Heroes.
Kosuke Anayama.
Known alternatively as 'The Hammer'.
Mito struggled to a sitting position, gasping in pain and regretting the action. Any constriction of her lungs sent lancing pain through her middle, a pain that traveled to her extremities and made simply existing an exercise in agony.
"Die!" Kosuke shouted.
Mara slapped his abdomen with her palm, finally connecting a hit, though not to a vital area. In return, she earned a swift punch to her jaw that snapped her neck on impact. She fell to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs, and Mito watched.
She watched as the light left Mara's blue eyes, eyes whose last vision was of Mito, bleeding and beaten, gone before she even hit the ground. Just like that, in less time than it takes to breathe, to feel pain, to be sad. Kosuke heaved and clutched his abdomen where Mara had landed her last hit, and still he was not done. Terrible, bloodshot eyes turned once more on Mito as if to say, 'Where were we?'
There was no time left.
He came at her, mangled hand shielding his ruined middle, and she struggled against the pain, the despair, the hatred born of revenge and regret pooling among her blended innards. It became her strength, those few precious seconds. For she had died in Mara's eyes, and now all that was left was malice and chakra enough to put an end to this monster.
Mito kicked off her shoe, unable to stand in time and in pain, and Kosuke descended upon her with his fist. She met it with her bare foot at the knuckles, giving with her knee and rattling from the impact. Chakra could only cushion so much. She cried out and pushed with all her might, but not him, only the magic inside her.
He hung there, wide-eyed and staring, and she died all over again. Tiny explosions, cracks that broke him apart from the wrist to the arm to the shoulder where she'd wounded him before. Sploosh, sploosh, sploosh, blood bursting out of him with every slowing heartbeat. And he shattered, bones and body and soul, as Mito's sealing magic shut him down, brought him down, and finally snuffed out the wild light in his eyes. He slumped to his knees, his fist still resting against her bare rune-covered foot. Mito panted shallow, frantic breaths as she looked into his dead eyes and saw only herself.
With a grunt of pain, she shoved him to the side and let him fall, the battle finally won. Mara lay a few feet away, and Mito crawled toward her on her elbows. She couldn't say when the tears had started, time having blurred together. All she could do was smooth away the dirt and blood from Mara's youthful face, too young to fight and too young to die for a princess she barely knew, barely loved.
"Damnit," Mito sobbed, smoothing the pale flesh of Mara's cold cheek. "I told you not to die for me."
It hurt to cry, hurt to breathe, but nothing compared to this feeling, the emptiness of failure and loss, not for herself but for another.
"My life isn't better than yours," she said, blinking through her tears.
Boom!
The earth shook and Mito tensed up, looking around for an enemy attack she was sure would come.
"We're saved!" called a samurai bearing Kenshin's red sigil.
Mito looked to where he was pointing and saw a wave of samurai, a riptide flooding this barren shore to wash away the ashes. Kenshin's reinforcements had finally arrived, and they got to work fast launching kerosene bombs and cutting down anyone who got too close.
"Madara!"
Tajima's voice cut through the din, and Mito turned towards it. Madara and Tajima were back to back looking for something Mito couldn't see. She blinked through her tears, a new sensation of dread boiling in the pit of her belly. Something wasn't right.
Madara lunged at nothing at all, tearing at the air with his chokutō. Mito frowned, not understanding. Was it a genjutsu? Tajima, meanwhile, fought Tajitsu and a clone, though Mito could not discern which was the real Tajitsu. The three of them whirled around each other, Tajima slashing with his katana and Tajitsu merely dodging. Mito remembered Haruka commenting on Tajitsu's lack of prowess as a shinobi, and she could see why. But that genjutsu...
Why were they fighting at all? Something was very wrong, The sun began to breach the eastern horizon in the distance. Mito gritted her teeth and pushed herself onto her knees. She saw stars and nearly vomited if not for her sheer willpower convincing her body that gagging would only intensify her pain. Through blurry eyes, she rested a moment and followed Madara's and Tajima's battles.
Except Tajima was gone, and instead of only one clone, Tajitsu now had two. Tajima was nowhere to be seen. Bile and dread waged war in the back of her throat as she began to understand.
"Tajitsu! Show yourself, you craven!" Madara shouted.
"I'm here," all three Tajitsu figures said.
Madara turned on them, red eyes mad with betrayal and inhuman fury, and he lunged.
"Die!"
"No!" Mito screamed.
Demons chewed at her insides as they propelled her voice to carry across the space between Madara and her, a warning that reached him too late. She gasped and raised herself up on shaky legs, reaching for Madara just as he was too late to turn back.
Madara's flamed chokutō plunged through his target's middle, ripping and cauterizing and too fast for much blood to escape. An impaled Tajitsu stared down at Madara, wide-eyed and silent, while Madara panted and shoved his blade deeper.
The illusion faded and reality came apart at the seams.
Mito watched as Tajitsu's face warped, aged, and revealed that of another. She watched as the the look of grim satisfaction in Madara's eyes warped, too, to something of confusion, denial.
Fear.
"My son," Tajima said, reaching out his hands to rest on Madara's shoulders.
Red eyes grew impossibly wide, a child's eyes, as seeing became feeling became believing.
"Who says illusions can't win a war?" the real Tajitsu said from behind Tajima. He was bleeding from his left flank where Tajima had sliced him, but he was very much alive, and smiling.
Madara looked but saw nothing. "Father?"
Tajima convulsed and coughed up blood. His eyes had faded to their natural black color, bloodshot, as he focused his remaining energy on the son he had always wanted.
"Live," he said.
"You've died many times."
"Only if I can see the look in their eyes."
Mito's tears fell fresh and hot, cleaning the dirt and blood from her cheeks. She cried the tears Madara could not as he watched the reflection of his own death in Tajima's fading eyes. And when Tajima fell, Madara fell with him, leaving only Tajitsu looming over them.
The fighting around them slowed to a halt as the Uchiha witnessed their fallen leader and the treachery of his trueborn son. A slender man stepped forward through the crowd and came to a stop next to Tajitsu.
"You Uchiha are so dramatic," he said.
He held something in his hand, which he lifted before his eyes to examine. It shimmered violet and gold, like sands in a phantom wind, and Mito stared at it, mesmerized.
"Now finish him, too. We need more blood to lure the beast out of hiding."
"I want to savor this moment, Saizō," Tajitsu said.
While they talked, Madara continued to stare at his dead father, dead by his sword and his blindness for not seeing through Tajitsu's genjutsu. He was still, too still, and Mito was torn between going to him and staying behind. Tajitsu and his ally, whoever he was, had the upper hand, and she was in no condition to keep fighting.
"Burn."
It was so soft, a mere whisper on the wind, that Mito was sure she'd imagined it. Tajitsu drew his sword, pristine from lack of use, and brandished it over Madara. He bared his crooked teeth in a grin, the look of a man who'd made his dreams come true and now suffered the consequences of getting everything he wanted.
"What was that? Speak up, I can't hear you with your face in the mud where it belongs," Tajitsu said.
Madara fisted the dry earth, now damp with his father's blood, and shook, like he'd been possessed by something not of this world.
"I said, burn!"
Madara looked up and Tajitsu stumbled backward, his face drained of blood and no longer grinning.
"Your eyes—"
Tajitsu stepped back and screamed. The earth where he'd stepped turned black and licked at his foot with searing hot tongues. He stumbled, and the same darkness attacked his other foot where he stepped. It crept up his legs and over his armor, ravenous.
Madara rose and advanced. The Uchiha and other soldiers watching scrambled backward, terrified of whatever power this was, Madara's hatred and hurt personified.
It spread.
Black fire, so hot Mito found it hard to breath even from a distance, as though she were looking directly into the heart of the flames. But these were like none she'd ever seen, blacker than the night sky and feeding on the encroaching light of day. Ghost fire summoned from a place far from this world. And it was moving faster.
Tajitsu's serpentine ally cursed and leaped away from the stygian flames, dropping the shimmering trinket he held by accident. The fire ate it up, popping and crackling, and released a rancid stench like that of burning corpses, rotten and smoking. The fire caught up with the fleeing enemy, like phantom ropes that ensnared their prey and consumed both armor and flesh from their bodies.
Soon, Mito heard nothing but the howls of dying men and women. There was no further clang of steel, no crackle of elemental ninjutsu in the air. Only pain, heat, and Madara's hatred.
Tajitsu ran and tore his armor from his body as he went, anything to escape the demonic fire chasing him and his allies.
"Saizō!" Tajitsu screamed, reaching to the sky all around him as though invisible hands would lift him from this ruined earth and carry him to safety.
But the man called Saizō had disappeared, and the shinobi and samurai he'd brought with him soon followed, retreating.
"Stop! I-I'm like you! I'm an Uchiha!"
"You are no one," Madara said in a voice that seemed not his own.
For the first time in their acquaintance, Mito was afraid of him, this thing he'd become.
Tajitsu tripped and fell, and the black flames surrounded him. They attacked his hands and feet and drew wails Mito had never heard from another living creature. Madara stood over him, immune to the fire's destruction, and looked down on him with transformed eyes that could see the truth now.
"Forged in fire," Madara said, his eyes widening and commanding the flames to grow. "Entombed in ashes."
Tajitsu's screams croaked and cracked as the ghost fire entered his lungs and tore out his tongue. It spread through his veins and boiled his blood so he couldn't even bleed out normally. Mito watched him shrivel and sink into the ground. Even his ashes burned, until, like the illusions he'd cast, they vanished without a trace. Only echoes of his screams remained, reverberating farther and farther away under the roar of Madara's dark fire.
"Final push, men!" Kenshin's voice rang out over the area. "Kick 'em out of my land!"
Kenshin's remaining samurai charged at the retreating enemy, eliminating any stragglers along the way. Whoever they missed, the black flames didn't. They grew larger, hotter, and they weren't stopping.
"Brother!"
Izuna ran toward his brother. The back of his armor was destroyed and damp with blood, like he'd been stabbed. It was all over his hands and arms, and Mito thought she might be sick again. Whatever had happened to Izuna, he'd gotten past it, perhaps with a medical ninja's aid. None of it mattered, though, as he saw only Madara and fell upon him.
"Brother, stop this!" he cried out.
Madara continued to glare at the spot where Tajitsu had met his gruesome end, blind and deaf to the rest of world.
"Aahhh!"
A samurai in red, one of Kenshin's, fell victim to the dark fire. It raged out of control, indiscriminatory in its hunt for flesh and blood to roast. The screams started anew as panic ensued.
"Izuna," Madara said, focusing on his brother.
"Stop the fire," Izuna implored his brother, having gotten through to him. "It's out of control!"
Madara blinked and looked around. When he turned in Mito's direction, she saw the blood dribbling from his left eye, like tears.
"I don't know," Madara said, dazed as though in a dream.
"You must!"
The stygian wildfire extended in all directions, chasing bodies, both enemy and ally. It would kill them all if it wasn't stopped.
I have to do something.
There was only one thing she could do. Pushing through the spike of pain that weakened her with every step, Mito ran toward the nexus of the phantom flames. From her hip she unlatched a scroll she carried with her at all times, blank, and held it between her teeth. Her fingers wove together in patterns she'd dreamed up on lonely nights alone, nights away from her life as a princess and a perpetual bride-to-be. Blue chakra seared her palms, raising ancient runes that melted into the scroll when she took it from her mouth and unclasped it. Grasping the end with both hands, she let the roll fly through the air and ran ahead of it. Eyes squeezed shut as if blindness would keep the pain at bay (it didn't), she skidded to a halt and launched her hands over her head with all her might.
The empty scroll flew through the air, unrolling as it went and leaving a fluttering ribbon of paper behind it. It stretched across the battlefield, over the phantom flames, and fell upon them.
"Bind!" she shouted.
The scroll sucked up the black flames as it fell. Its edges crinkled under the extreme heat, blackening, but Mito's chakra stopped them from burning and disintegrating. Her energy left her as though someone had turned on a faucet to her vitality. Her knees shook, but she fought to remain standing despite the burning in her fingers as she tried to control the trajectory of her chakra and the strength of the seal. The fire was unlike anything she'd ever worked with before, more volatile than even snail acid. The pain from her injuries and this final exertion was a blessing in disguise as it focused her concentration on the task at hand rather than the cries of fear from those all around.
As the scroll fell to the ground little by little, the flames disappeared underneath it. Mito yanked it back toward her and it rolled itself up, smoking as it traveled. Madara and Izuna watched it go, watched Mito finally stumble and crush her ribs all over again. It wasn't until the scroll was back in her hand, searing to the touch but abating slowly, that she let herself hit the ground, too tired to wallow in pain. She clutched the scroll, blackened around the edges, to her chest. It was warm through her cracked whalebone armor, almost a comfort.
Madara's fire.
Voices drifted to her ears, cries of victory and relief, 'We won!' and 'We did it!' Hands found their way to her shoulders and legs, pulling at her, lifting her up. Satto's face, one eye fused shut with dried blood and soot.
"My lady, can you hear me? My lady..."
Two faces, two lonely boys who had lost more today than Mito had ever lost in all her life. Beautiful eyes, red eyes, full of hatred and love and something in between, no longer burning but too afraid to grieve. She couldn't see them anymore, so tired—so tired—but she knew they would be there when she woke up. Eyes like that never sleep.
Mito clutched Madara's hidden fire to her chest as the world faded and she faded with it, dreamless.