See? Not dead.
I was just working on some other stuff, mainly my RWBY crossover, and so this got put on hold. Basically I just purged this idea out of myself mostly until I was dry heaving, and then worked on binging the other stuff. Now that I have managed to think about this chapter a little bit, I have finally endeavored to type it up.
And it's a doozy. Just to warn you. And Also, just to say, we are getting pretty close to the end here. I never intended for this to be a long foray, so if this seems long, its only because its taking the place of several other chapters of 'normal' stories. One thing I think anyone will say, my stories aren't what you call normal.
Anyway, see you on the other side. A demain.
He was a dream. He was a ghost, invisible and light in the thin mountain air. Deaf. Blind. Numb.
Did the others feel this way? Or were they all too focused on the battle ahead? Did any of them have time to contemplate what they had gotten themselves into, or was that burden left to him alone when they placed their faith in his hands?
He couldn't ask them. Com channels were reserved for emergencies. They were invisible in all other ways, and didn't want to be given away by stray chatter. And bsides, nothing else could be heard above the deafening whoop of the rotor blades.
He didn't need to ask them or course. They had already knowingly pledged their lives to his cause. This time spent traveling in the near pitch-black predawn was reserved for rest, and prayers.
But he was too wound up to sleep, and didn't have any gods left to pray to. So he thought about the others in their prayers. How many were beseeching the god of death to pass them over this time? How many were silently fingering rosaries in comforting repetition? How many down below were staggering out of bed and laying out their rugs for the first surah of the day? How many would get to meet their gods by day's end?
It was his job to make sure that number was as few as possible. Surprise was key to this, and so far they had that. The unavoidably noisy helicopters they were riding in would be heard soon enough, but by the time their enemies figured out where they were coming from, it would be too late. Then came the second crux of his hastily thrown together plan. Overwhelming force. And that's where he came in.
A series of three beeps in his headset made him glance down at his watch, the tritium hands glowing softly as they snapped into position. It was time.
He placed the helmet over his head, careful to clip it in over the headset before sliding the goggles down over his eyes. Now that he was sealed in, the invincible feeling was complete. With all the armor and equipment piled on top of him, he felt bigger than his lithe 18-year-old frame decried. Stronger, too, for though he nearly doubled his body weight, he still felt as light as a feather. It was an illusion he knew well. There wasn't such a thing as bulletproof. Neither in body, nor in plans.
He glanced around in the tinted light to see others doing the same, or if already done, checking their weapons unnecessarily. It was just repetitious comfort. Tactile distraction. Drilled into them, much as the plans for this mission, so that they could do without thinking.
What would it be like once this was all over? Would they manage to override those Pavlovian responses and rewrite themselves back into society? A society which had changed in their absence, would change in their actions right here, right now.
First though, they had to survive.
Not only survive, but win.
He felt the whole craft shift suddenly as they broke formation, smoothly entering a tight loop that banished blood to the toes. He could see the others hastily finding handholds on the bulkhead, though they were so tied into the momentum of the craft that it hardly mattered. He had stuck himself down with chakra as a precaution in case he fell asleep. But as it was, they were riding the metal bird like a surfboard.
They became weightless as the chopper went into a nosedive. He though he heard a whoop of excitement echo through the headsets as they descended on this roller-coaster-like ride. Silence didn't matter anymore. Everyone on the ground already knew they were coming. They were counting on it.
Just as his weight returned to his feet with the helicopter pulling out of its quick descent, he threw back the sliding door which kept them sealed in from the frigid pre-dawn and gazed out onto the glacial valley.
A sea of grass sped by under his feet as he leaned out, xenoliths jutting up here and there like obstinate watchtowers keeping guard over this untouched land. This land had been home to only a handful of humans since the last ice age, and it still reeked of prehistoric musk.
But now there was other life down on those plains. Bodies like ants spewed forth from the Earth and crisscrossed the ground, dark speckles swimming from boulder to boulder in a tizzy. Looking anxiously for the sight of Valkyries' wings which woke them their slumber. Looking to the sky, for them.
They wouldn't have to wait long. There was the briefest flash of golden light as the sun peaked over the far mountains to the East, and for the first time the young man could see his handiwork in all its glory.
Sure, it was far from perfect. He had based it off of Jiraya's notes which had been more scribbles than anything else. He had managed to apply them to something several hundred times the mass of a human, so it was bound to have its faults. They were emphasized now with the sun's rays shooting straight at them, the chameleon surface refracting light down its length and lighting them up like a disco ball.
It must have looked like a falling star to those on the ground. It must have scared them shitless.
But it had worked until now. Kept them hidden in the blue-black sky from even the sharpest of optics and eyes. And now, they wanted to be known.
He smiled to himself behind the checkered shamagh as he leapt from the moving vehicle. It was still going too fast for most people to land without breaking anything. But they were not most people. They were shinobi, and legionnaires. And between the two, they were durable and crazy enough to try anything.
"Geronimo!"
He swore that most of the valley had heard his cry as he descended feet-first to the ground. The man directly underneath him surely did, as seconds before he made impact, he looked up in frightened disbelief and dropped his weapon along with his jaw. He didn't even try to run.
Five tons of arms and armor crumpled the adult male body underneath like an aluminum can. (1)
He rolled out of the landing, himself no worse for the wear, rifle already up and trained on the darkly silhouetted forms against the horizon. He squeezed a long burst off at a group of them caught in the open. They went down in consecutive order as the muzzle of his rifle jerked down and to the right. So far no one had managed to even bring their weapons to bear on him, too stunned with his arrival.
He took advantage of their fearful paralysis and took his time lining up the next shot. The man under the red dot of his scope jerked and fumbled with his rifle, trying and failing to get it up in time. He went down with but a twitch of the finger. Another movement, another measured pull, another body disappearing into the grass.
By then the other insurgents had been roused from their stupor and began to unload their arsenal on him willy-nilly. Their weapons were top of the line. These people were anything but. Not one shot among the fusillade of fire managed to even get close to him as he finished emptying his own magazine downrange.
He didn't pause to check his score. He dropped the empty magazine from its housing and slipping in another before the first hit the ground, and still before any of them could garner enough courage to actually aim at him. He ducked behind a nearby boulder as the stray shots nipped at his feet.
He paused and closed his eyes, listening to the first chorus of combat behind his granitic shelter. The bullets pinging off the impenetrable rock, the insensible shouts of anger and desperation, and the steady whoosh of the pinwheel blades as his transport skimmed overhead, still a mere blur to the naked eye.
His own breath, the steady in and out, rise and fall of his chest underneath the innumerable layers of cloth and steel (2). Suddenly no longer scared of being alone, but relishing in its liberation.
But the others would be soon to follow his reckless advance. He hoped that he had drawn the enemy's fire for long enough so they could exit the helicopter in relative safety. That was always the most dangerous time, transitioning between the craft and the ground.
There was a slight increase in pitch as the craft slowed its descent and hovered across the ground. The noise was everywhere in that open terrain, surrounding his body even as the electronics in his headset dulled its painfully loud roar.
Their adversaries would have no problem finding the craft while it hovered above the ground, cloaking seals or not. The cushion of air it rode on would give it away as it billowed out the water-like grass underneath.
So once again it was up to him to provide a distraction. He was good at that.
This was where every bit of tactical, as well as common, sense went out the window. He burst forth from his cover whilst dumping every round from his fresh magazine towards the ghostly foe. He was both strong and practiced enough that he could control his grouping even in full-auto. But he didn't even try to do that. He leapt up on top of his cover while hosing down the entire area, making sure he couldn't be ignored.
It was impossible to miss him. His camouflage suit of greens and browns stood out starkly against the pale horizon and the gray boulder underneath, and the newly-born sun illuminated him on center stage for his gun to bark out a soliloquy of steady syllables that was the lingua franca for this day and age.
It was impossible to miss him, and yet they did.
The shots once again scattered all around his feet and whizzed by his head. He had made himself a perfect target, and by now even the most inexperienced among the insurgents had learned to place him underneath their front sight.
And yet none could touch him. Maybe it was the brazenness of the action, the incredulity of such a bold and foolish maneuver which made them falter in their aim. And maybe it was divine luck, once again coming to his aid when it mattered least.
He didn't even notice his excessive chakra output which lit him up even more and subtly deflected the bullets on their course.
Suddenly another barrage of fire opened up in the opposite direction. He hopped down from his perch as the rest of his squad caught up to him and began to shoulder the brunt of the fighting. He strode forward nonchalantly as he once again exchanged his empty mag for a fresh one. They weren't in a hurry to push back their opponents just yet.
They were waiting.
"Nice of you to join me." He spoke into his coms, crouching half-heartedly behind a sharp crag between two rocks and gazing out at the mayhem that was ensuing without his effort. "Any word yet?"
"Kestrel One had reported no sightings just yet, sir."(3) The voice came back unfalteringly. Naruto ignored the formal address. "No visuals on the ground either." The echoes of gunfire popped in his headset.
He watched from his place on the small ridgeline as his forces advanced on the enemy insurgents. It was like watching a strategy game play out in real life. Or, at least, that's the way he wanted it to be. He wanted to become as detached as possible, so that he didn't have to care about the lives being bartered just meters below him.
It would be a lie to say he valued the enemy lives as much as those of his own. But still he didn't relish in the killing. He knew he had to keep a cool head, though. He was responsible now, and if he did things right he would minimize casualties on both sides.
He whipped his head around as an explosion went off in the distance. Staring into the sun, he couldn't quite see where it had been. But he didn't need to. The unique crack and sizzle that had overshadowed the explosive charge told him all he needed to know.
"Kestrel Three reports dissidents sighted. Mjolnir's 6-9 launched. Confirm impact. Kill waiting."(4)
So it had started. Little surprise it was Belletriste's group. Though if all went well, the intent was not to kill, but to disable. They would have to wait and see if his seal modification worked. Naruto hoped that they would get their answer soon.
Several much closer, conventional explosions drew his attention. One of them was a little too close for comfort and he threw himself down before the shockwave could do it for him. He felt the heat wash over him even through the protective clothing.
Right then, back to his game.
Shooting himself out of his cover, he dashed downslope at the highest concentration of enemies, sharp eyes searching for the most dangerous among them. He spotted one with an RPG, most likely the one who had just had the nerve to fire at him, for he was busily reloading the cumbersome Soviet-designed weapon.
Before he could deal with the heavily armed man, however, he was forced to throw himself to the side as several shuriken sunk into the grass by his feet. He came out of his roll, attempting to draw a bead on the perpetrator. Unfortunately, this shinobi seemed to be faster than the average he had encountered thus far, and a second wave of bladed stars was already hurled his way.
The shuriken bounced off the flat side of his rifle as he held it out in front of his face to defend himself. One managed to get lodged in the plastic handguard, but he paid it little heed as the enemy shinobi landed on the ground in front of him and began to charge while flipping through hand seals.
The man was fast, otherwise too fast for anyone to shoot at him with any accuracy. Naruto was that otherwise.
He quickly fired from the hip in a desperate yet accurate burst which tore through the shalwar-wearing shinobi, who then stumbled as the clean bullet holes in his chest spewed forth a thick and viscous liquid.
Mud!
Naruto spun around and brought up the butt of his rifle just in time to block the blade which descended upon him. With just a little more effort, he shoved the sword back and kicked out at the now exposed gut of the shinobi who doubled over in a wheezing grunt that surely knocked the air out of him.
Before the man could lift himself off the ground with his sword, Naruto ran up to him and kneed him in the face, effectively ending his participation in the battle.
He looked briefly down at the incapacitated shinobi as if searching for something. The enemy probably had no idea who he was given that the shemagh and brain-bucket effectively hid his face. But still, Naruto might have known him.
He didn't linger on it, lest he lose his nerve. Instead, he raised his carbine with one hand and in a single shot, felled the man with the RPG who was already lining himself up for another shot. He tipped over backwards, and his finger must have hit the trigger for the rocket fired anyway and careened upward into the ever bluing-sky.
Naruto looked remorselessly at the recently dead, and then to the feet of the unconscious shinobi.
Was he a hypocrite? Perhaps. And he could live with that.
The real question was, did he leave the shinobi alive out of kindness? Was it generosity to spare the man's life, or was it apt punishment for the lives that they lead? It was a question he asked of himself quite often these days.
He slung his rifle across his back and out of the way. It was clearly time to switch to melee weapons if there was a chance of any more enemy shinobi. Guns were good, but now the fights were getting personal.
It wasn't quite time to call the strike, though. Not just yet.
Another couple of insurgents ran over to the fallen body of their comrade, quickly looking around for the culprit, and almost as quickly spotted him.
They never stood a chance.
He was upon them even before they had a chance to shoulder their weapons, and they dropped to the ground the moment after.
More enemies spilled forth from behind a massive outcrop where the other two had come from. Naruto already had one of the fallen enemy's rifles in his hand and he chucked it at the group, bowling a couple over but more importantly sewing chaos through the tightly bunched ranks.
He felt himself smile behind his mask as he sped into their midst. He was the most accomplished shinobi among their group. This was where he belonged. Right at the front leading the way.
He bobbed and weaved, kicked and punched, stomped and gouged with fists, feet, fingers, knees and every other part of his body. He relished in the almost non-existent feeling of his gear as it clung tightly to his body throughout his aggressive gymnastics. They had finally managed to procure equipment to suit their needs, and boy did it make a difference.
It was the little things in life which always brought a smile to his face.
Next on the list, instant Ramen rations. But that would come later. And maybe by then he would have put this life behind him as well.
He had just bodily thrown one of the foreign fighters into another two, when a fourth dressed in Afghan garb leapt over the domino fall of the other three. It was soon very clear that this person was no native.
Naruto leapt backwards to gain some distance from the mosh pit and the new ninja insurgent who had already sent a blade of water at the spot he had just occupied. Despite the aridity of the valley, It tore up the ground and threw a veil of churned earth into the air, obscuring them from his sight.
He leaned back as a slender hand clutching a kunai whizzed past his helmeted head. Kevlar would have done nothing to prevent the sharpened steel from penetrating right through to his brain. But both attacks were dodged with little effort. This person had nothing on the scythe-wielding shinobi from before.
And they had nothing on him.
He latched onto their extended arm but their hand slipped through his grip. The skinny arm like a bokken broke his clasped fingers and the enemy backed off in a hurry, eager to gain distance and throw another jutsu his direction.
He noticed that it was likely a woman behind that tightly-wrapped shemagh and mushrooming pakul. It almost brought a smile to his face, realizing with irony that their nation's kunochi had managed to force their way into the traditional hegemony. Accepted based on the merit of their skills.
But then he frowned, realizing more likely it was yet another example of the rest of the world seeing them as both something more, and something less than human.
He was getting complacent. He let her finish her sequence and launch the prepared attack at him before he reacted. Or maybe he was getting cocky because he knew that the enemy kunochi was not match for him?
Was it really hubris if he had the means to back it up?
He had watched her form the seals, already knowing what she was about to do. And as soon as the infant moldings of chakra left her lips, he was already forming his own, stronger version of the attack.
He saw her eyes widen as she inhaled in preparation, his concussive ball of wind already speeding at her. She hastily loosed her own Suiton technique but it was too little and too late. Naruto's barreled through the half-formed attack and sent the kunochi flying, smashing against one of the isolated boulders.
He narrowed his eyes behind his goggles, wondering if he had made the technique too powerful as he recalled the slightly mushy sound she had made when she had impacted. But regrets were something to worry about later, it was enough for now to restrain his arrogance. Something he thought he had purged, by now.
Just then his radio crackled to life.
"Springhare One reporting in for Kestrel Three: Kill confirmed. Repeat, Kill confirmed."
Which, ironically enough, meant that no one had died. Naruto allowed the smile he had worn in combat to return to his face as he hopped back on the open com channel.
"Otocyon (5) here. Sighting confirmed. Two Sierras. Any other contacts out there?" The reply came back almost instantly.
"Negative, sir. Kestrel Two reports use of Mjolnir four but has kept five and six in reserve. Tangos only down here. No word back from Caracal."
So, no more shinobi other than the ones he was dealing with right now? That was odd. Then again, his NCO had already used his three missiles, so maybe the bulk of them were farther East. He hoped that his modifications had done the trick. His commanding officer could hold his own until he finished up here.
"Right. Tell Kestrel One to be prepared to support Caracal (6) if need be. Keep in contact with Springhares Two and Three and let me know what's going on. Also, be prepared to launch Mjolnir's on my position, I think-"
With the electronic headset drowning out all of the ambient noise, it was the briefest flashes of light that alerted him to the enemy's approach. By the time he turned, the blades were already drawn and waiting for him.
"-I seem to be in the thick of it here."
Three of the five locally uniformed ninja attacked him all at once. Two of them launched simultaneously a fire and wind technique, while the third in the cover they provided circled around to the side to pepper him with assorted bladed weapons.
Naruto once again felt himself smile despite the unavoidable combo thrown at him which now drowned out his entire field of vision. If either the chakra or physical attack hit him, he would be toast. No clones to sub out with, no Kyuubi to heal him or shroud him in corrosive chakra, he was stuck with only his ingenuity and resilience.
It was all he ever wanted.
The fireball consumed everything within a 50-meter radius of where he had stood. It consumed all the dry grass and left naught but scorched earth and a discarded carbine in their wake. The metal blades impacted what remained and their attached tags detonated, cratering the barren patch and kicking up huge chunks of loosely consolidated soil into the air. There was nowhere to hide.
The two shinobi who had held back immediately went on guard as they saw something larger than both the ash and the dirt fall through the air. The one on the right unhesitatingly launched a blade of wind from their kusarigama at the body in freefall as it seemed to reach for its own blades to bear on their unsuspecting allies.
The atomically-sharp attack sliced the shinobi-soldier clean in half.
Two halves of a rifle fell to the ground.
The shinobi who had cast the fire-jutsu was blasted into his partner by another wind attack from a spot that was blind to the other two in reserve, as well as the last shinobi whom they heard cry out as he was summarily dispatched.
One looked to the other in apprehension that was reserved behind his headwrap. The other did not acknowledge him as they stared down at the battle which was being quickly tied up, their eyes an unreadable emerald slate mounted in that gap allowed by the mask.
They watched their two comrades be tossed around by the shinobi who was also bearing the sign of the Legionnaire, the flaming bomb patch which had become infamous in their part of the world as it had elsewhere (7).
Those three hadn't been slouches by any means. None of them were. They were, after all, the only ones left after arduous months of fighting in hostile territory.
But their brethren circumstances had made their enemy, had taken their members out like they had been fresh Genin. It shouldn't have been a surprise, really. They knew the final battle was here. And they knew he would be the one to lead it.
Just as Naruto knew the familiar outline of his enigmatic adversary, the same one that had dogged him from his first mission onward. He still didn't know what drove him to pursue that particular shinobi. He struggled to deny that their continued existence reminded him of Sasuke. He had never gotten closure, and so transferred his discontent to this faceless avatar, eager to finish at least one thing he started out to do.
He didn't know them, didn't know how to justify this compulsion. But both knew what came next.
The veiled ninja who was fighting on behalf of the Afghan rebels held their hand against their comrade, preventing him from engaging the obviously dangerous opponent. He looked at his leader skeptically, but the message was clear.
He's mine.
Naruto was thinking likewise as he faced off against the last two shinobi in enemy employ. He was eager to end his competition with the scythe-wielder, however one-sided it might be.
He didn't know why he didn't call for backup. The Mjolnir's had been made for just this purpose: to incapacitate enemy shinobi by overloading their chakra network using a modified EMP blast. The prototype weapons had been procured with great difficulty in a hurry, and he had nearly broken himself trying to get them ready in time for just this mission.
They would have ended it with a single stroke, a handful of words spoken into his com would bring down the still concealed helicopter with its compliment of missiles on their position and fry them all. It would remove the most competent fighters from the battle, but also deprive their enemy of the last vestiges of hope they clung to. They could all give up and go home.
So why didn't he?
It seemed no matter how much experience he garnered, no matter how much he tried to sacrifice his urges for the sake of the larger picture, the mission, the safety of his comrades, he was still at the mercy of his instincts. The lust for battle still drew him, time and time again. No, it wasn't battle he lusted after. It was the simplicity. The sense of accomplishment.
He wondered if humanity would ever be rid of it. How could they, if he himself could not overcome those feelings? But what else could substitute? Those consecutive moments of combat were proof that he was still alive, that he was still worth something to the world and to those around him.
What was he without that?
Whether or not his adversary thought the same he would never know. They suddenly charged him head on- a foolish move even he would recognize. The other held himself back and looked on with amazement at the impressive display of speed and aggression. But then he was engaged by the rest of Naruto's squad who had finally circled around and were shooting at him, forcing him to retreat and find cover.
Naruto meanwhile was preoccupied with his current engagement. His nemesis rushed at him with their kusarigama held low and tight to the body, lashing out at him with quick and acute strikes like the stinger of a scorpion. He drew a machete strapped to his assault pack and began to counter rather than dodge. But it was clear that despite his increased training and practice, he was not at the skill level of his opponent.
It was also apparent that they knew this, and so kept up with the assault, not giving him a chance to disengage or use one of his other weapons. If it was a mere battle of attrition, Naruto could have easily won. But each deflection of the enemy blade was getting narrower and narrower, and he didn't want to test his armor against that kind of strength.
It was clear that it wouldn't have done much against that blade, especially when the ninja coated it with a thin blade of wind which cut his machete clean off at the handle, and Naruto was forced to narrowly dodge a follow up that was aimed at his head.
He grimaced as he palmed a double-edged dagger (8) given to him by Manu shortly before the Belgian transferred out. He held it in a crouch, with two fingers parallel to the blade as he watched his enemy cautiously.
They looked back at him with their head cocked to the side, an amused sheen in the jade-like gaze, their wind-blade held at the side. They had clearly expected him to use something more destructive than the tiny dirk he held now in his defense.
Naruto smirked, seeing the blinding arrogance from the other side. He wasn't going to give them a chance to learn from this mistake.
He shifted the dagger just to the side of his body as he channeled some of his excess chakra into a pre-arranged seal. It was just something minor that he had cooked up in his spare time, but it was something he was sure his opponent wouldn't be prepared for.
It was no longer arrogance that was blinding, but light, as a miniature flashbang erupted from a panel on his chest. He had closed his eyes in anticipation, and his polarizing lenses took care of the rest. But the insurgent with their polished gemstone eyes was caught head on by the disruption device.
Naruto rushed in, within the midst of that split-second disorientation he thrust the stiletto blade towards the center of mass as the ninja raised their hand to their face in a futile effort to stifle the blindness.
He would have been disappointed had the match ended so suddenly, but was not too happy either when against all expectations, the enemy stepped in rather than out, twisting their body so that the spear-point passed only through rough-hewn cotton and not flesh.
Naruto cursed as his blade became ensnared in the voluminous robe and threatened to pull away from him, just as his opponent, still in their blind state, hacked downward with their scythe. Luckily for him, the moment's lapse in concentration broke the blade of wind that was cycling over the metal one, and he was able to grab the weapon hand as it descended down towards his unarmored neck.
"Oh no you don't!"
Deciding to use the same tactic, he stepped further in rather than try to disentangle himself and his blade from the billowing cotton shirt, simultaneously bringing a knee into the person's gut.
"Oh, come on!"
He yelled out loud without being aware that anything had left his mouth, exasperated that his efforts had been stymied yet again by the still blind and disoriented ninja, who nonetheless countered his knee using their own as well as pure instinct.
They pushed and pulled and stumbled in the deadlock they suddenly found themselves in. Every second he was caught up in it was another second for Naruto's opponent to regain their awareness, and was another moment for him to get further frustrated.
Was this really all he was capable of? Still take away his jutsu and his seals and what was left was just as ungainly and raw as it had always been. But he still had one thing he could count on, even in his lack of refinement that plagued him to this day.
Ingenuity.
He drew his head back, unbeknown to the enemy ninja, and with his powerful neck muscles whipped it forward. His already thick skull when reinforced by the helmet overlaying it was as devastating as he could have hoped. It sent the enemy shinobi tumbling backwards, but drawing Naruto along with it.
He summersaulted over their fallen body, wrenching his blade free with a grand rip of weather-worn cloth and sunk back into a ready stance. He was positive that his little trick would not be the end to their game.
They were quite dazed, though, and struggled to right themselves. Not waiting for this to happen, Naruto rushed back in again.
Emerald eyes widened as the upside-down image of the armored shinobi bore down upon their prone form. They rolled to the side as the stab whistled past them, dodging again with one hand soon after as another of the same was sent their way. And another, and another. Suddenly it was them on the defensive as the legionnaire stabbed wildly at their fleeing form, not giving them a second's pause.
Though Naruto had the distinct advantage at the moment, he was again getting frustrated by the lack of effectiveness of his attacks. It was a fine blade to be sure, but it was more suited to quick and precise strikes with its diamond-shaped blade and fine taper. He was just a more….collateral kind of guy.
Despite the venerable and ancient rocks around him, there wasn't enough life to give him a boost of Nature Chakra. So he had to rely on some more traditional methods.
He broke off suddenly, backpedaling while weaving a handful of seals between the blade clutched in one hand. The eyes of his opponent narrowed as they struggled to mount a defense. But it was obviously too late, and they only had time to dodge.
He drew in a sharp breath, and then like he was shooting a spitball, unleashed an especially dense sphere, the size of a basketball, at the stunned ninja. He resorted to hand seals in this case because he required the concentration to condense the air down to such a small size. But this way, there was no way they could avoid it, or its intended target.
As expected, they tried to get their body out of the way first, leaving the kusarigama to trail behind. It was impossible for them to hold on once the attack struck. It blasted the weapon out of their grip, and far, far, out of the reach of anyone other than Naruto's allies.
Gotcha!
The second sphere of air was not nearly as dense as the first, but it came so soon afterwards that it was totally unexpected, totally impossible to move out of its way as it barreled into the enemy. The double-tap threw them into another awaiting boulder which cavitated upon impact.
This time Naruto did not linger considering the viciousness of his attack. He was gone, lost with the moment and already back on the move, right hand held out from himself in preparation for one of his favorite techniques that had not gotten to use in recent months for its lack of subtlety.
This may not have been the opportune time, either, but that fact concerned him little. The only thing left in his mind was ending the prolonged conflict once and for all.
Their body fell away from the fractured rock and they landed on all fours, blood and tattered cloth shedding off their back and onto the virgin grass. Their fingers sunk deep into the cool and fertile soil, massaging the roots which burrowed deep down into the earth, and connected them all in one huge, living mass.
They heard the distinct swirling noise of the Rasengan as it descended upon them. It was not something easily forgotten.
Summoning what little strength they held in reserve, they pushed back from the ground just as it was torn asunder, dirt and plant life being ripped to shreds as the gnashing ball of energy destroyed that land which had remained untouched by human hands for millennia.
Seeing that he missed, Naruto canceled the Rasengan and looked up to see the battered ninja backing away from him, one arm clutching the other whose pale-gray sleeve was stained a muddy red. He crouched there, unblinking and waiting for them to make the next move.
He snapped to action when in a flash they drew a kunai and chucked it at the space between them, hopping back when he noticed the tag tied to its handle.
He braced himself for the explosion which never came. The hissing puff of rapidly escaping gas filled his ears as he cursed and opened his eyes.
"Coward!" He shouted at the smokescreen before foolishly diving through it.
He had abandoned reason yet again. He knew this. It might get him killed one day, but that was just his character, to act on impulse.
There was no guarantee that this enemy was the last, though. He should be thinking more critically, retreating so that he could properly assess the situation. Had he done so, he probably would have ordered a strike with one of his missiles, and be done with it. Or he could wait until backup arrived. Either would do.
It's what a good leader would do.
But why he couldn't shake the personal attachment he found to this fight? Did he so badly need an enemy, someone like that to prove his existence? He didn't want to believe he was becoming like his best friend and rival. But come to think of it, he had never really given a thought as to how the other young man felt.
Was it that same feeling of inadequacy, that lack of accomplishment which had accompanied him for as long as he could remember? Had they all along been one and the same?
He followed those feelings through the smoke.
Their side had lost. Their purpose was gone. They had known it for months, perhaps years, and had just been waiting for the day it would all end. When there was but one of them left.
She was that one. And today was the day.
And she would fight. The rest of the world had moved on without them, left their kind behind to turn to rust and blow away in the ever-changing wind. Yet they still had purpose. Killers always had a purpose in the world of man. For as long as there were humans on their earth, there would be conflict.
But she fought now, not to fulfill that inevitable prophecy of violence. Not out of revenge, hatred nor lust of battle. Not out of desperation, inevitability nor boredom.
She picked herself up again and again, against insurmountable odds because she believed it was the right thing to do.
And the hell of it was, her opponent thought the same. And he would keep going until there was a victor, an end to this conflict which stacked upon so many others. He wouldn't give up in his own sense of righteousness until the fighting ended, or he did.
She knew this. After all, he was the one who inspired her to do the same.
"Get back here!"
Did he realize he slipped back into their native tongue? Did he even realize he was speaking? He had all but lost himself in the confrontation, perhaps recognizing this, but ignoring it for the finality it promised.
The least she could do was put up a good fight.
She dodged the second Rasengan Barrage, tossed around like it was going out of style. Their war had been one of subtlety, of hearts and minds and not of unparalleled devastation. This was his chance to cut loose, and he was going to take advantage of it.
"Kuso! Where did they go?"
The last of the enemy shinobi had suddenly gotten cold feet and was fleeing their battle. Naruto stayed on their tail with all the tenacity of a dog with a scnet, but they just kept running away. Where did they think they were going to go?
The Whakan corridor, the entirety of Afghanistan and the surrounding terrain was nothing but a series of barren hills and valleys many leagues in width and breadth. Civilization was few and far between. Sympathetic populations sparser still. The Coalition forces controlled everywhere else in the area. There was nowhere to run.
At this thought, his opponent suddenly halted, and Naruto came to a screeching stop a stone's throw away. He erected himself slowly from where he landed in a crouch, standing broad and defiant against the other with their back towards him.
This wasn't how soldiers fought. This wasn't even how shinobi fought. There was no cloak and dagger here, no politics and no pretense. There was just them, they had left their comrades far behind, so they wouldn't get caught up in the chaos.
Naruto flinched, having just realized that this could have been all just an elaborate set up to lure him away from his support. If it was though, he would make them regret it.
She was leading him, just not for the reason he suspected.
With back still turned, she knelt down and thrust her hand into the recently turned soil, her hands latching on to the familiar form buried beneath, its stainless metal surface still cold from the sub-zero nights which swallowed this part of the mountains. But it was familiar, like a friend, and it brought a warm feeling.
Naruto looked on in morbid curiosity, he knew he should be preparing for a prearranged attack of some magnitude, but part of him just wanted to see what they had in store. Of course, he wasn't prepared when the ninja spun on their heel, wrenching a long-black case from the earth and heaving it in his direction. He was even less prepared when the case split along its length and unfolded into massive fan with three purple moons adorning its face.
He barely registered being airborne, high above the grass sea. So high up he could see the entire battle stretching up the valley for kilometers. Action figures, playthings on a surreal canvas moving here and there, to and froe at a glacial pace.
Nothing else passed his notice. Not the familiar weapon used to send him into the sky. Not the obvious hints that had been dropped along his path like caltrops all along. Not even the emerald eyes that stared down at him with a mixture of pity and pain.
And something else…
He did see the shadow though, the menacing bird of prey as it descended upon his airborne form. He twisted his body unconstrained by gravity and thrust out a hand which nearly caught the massive weapon. He did catch it, but with nothing underneath him, he slipped down amongst the surly bonds of the planet and sped towards the ground, shocked enemy in tow as he refused to relinquish his grip.
What the hell was he thinking? Did he have a death wish? She brought both feet down into his chest, trying to knock him off her weapon. It worked, but instead he grabbed her legs and spun around, reversing their situation and sending her flying towards the ground faster than before.
But unlike him, she had a remedy. She placed her fan underneath her, riding it with a burst of chakra up and out of danger.
Naruto felt himself growl in a primal and nostalgic way as his flighty enemy literally flew out of his grasp. But little were they to know, he had a few more tricks up his sleeve as well. Or rather, up his pantlegs.
Once again his heavier center of mass worked in his favor as he was able to orient himself feet-first towards the ground and stay there even with the buffeting currents trying to tumble him. When he was only a few meters above the ground, he funneled some chakra to the soles of his feet, the tread already inscribed with yet another seal he had concocted in the recent weeks.
He rode a cushion of air down like the helicopters. It wasn't much. It didn't have to be, his bones were already accustomed to absorbing just such a shock. But now the real test would come, his once again airborne opponent hopped off their ride so they could launch another wind-based attack at him.
He smiled and crouched down before he leapt up into the air over the wind blade which gouged a new Faultline in the landscape. Up and over, and up, and up, and up. He had dumped a little more chakra than necessary into the seal. With its spot on the bottom of his boots, it was sure to wear out sooner rather than later. But if would hold for now.
That was the beautiful thing about seals, though. He didn't have to memorize a bunch of hand signs or even practice a specific mold for his chakra. The only thing that he was limited by was his imagination, and a steady hand.
His adversary certainly found it impressive, if a bit shocking. One minute she had the high ground, the next, the very concept of the term was revisited. She didn't have much time to come to terms with it, though. Naruto was already halfway to her and was quickly closing that distance. She didn't have a choice but to brace herself for impact.
His fist impacted the folded metal surface of the fan like a sledgehammer. Which was nothing compared to what he used to be able to do with the Kyuubi's strength, but it would have to do. He twisted his body and kicked the fan aside, only to have his enemy spin around with the momentum of their weapon and strike at him again, using the fan like a bat. Unable to dodge and unable to block, he did the next best thing and elbowed the thing out of their hands, shooting it towards the ground far below.
He saw their fathomless eyes widen in surprise before he slammed his fist across their masked face. He didn't stop there, couldn't stop there, couldn't stop to think about what he was doing. He grabbed them by the wrinkled collar of their tattered shalwar and slung them in the same direction as their weapon.
Dazed from the initial punch, she didn't have time to think about a landing strategy. She just sped towards the rapidly approaching ground, gazing back up at the indomitable soldier she once knew. It was a long way down.
And it was a short stop.
She felt her back arch over the butt-end of her weapon sticking out of the ground like a tombstone. She cried out in silent pain as she was impaled on that blunt edge, inexorably sloughing off and landing crumpled upon the ground where she whimpered lowly, unknown.
She wasn't sure what her tears were for. Maybe it was for the irony finally catching up to her.
Naruto landed once again upon the ground across form his adversary, who lay immobile next to their weapon.
Was that it? He had barely worked up a sweat. This was the first time he had gotten to really stretch his legs in a while, and he was almost… disappointed that it was over. It was anticlimactic to him, but more than that, he felt it should have been more, harder. Something, anything to justify the way he felt. Something to make sense of all those who had died before this.
Were the lives sacrificed on both side all just a culmination to this moment? Not just the ones lost in this unwinnable war, but all those that came before, all the centuries of hatred he was only obliquely familiar with.
Where was the satisfying ending he needed to be rid of this inadequacy?
"Get up." He growled, demanding, pleading.
The tears were so heavy. Everything was so heavy. She just wanted to lie there and die, at the bottom of the grass sea staring up at the black metal obelisk, winking at her in the rising sun. But he was asking her to go on, and she had no choice to do so.
Why? because that's what he would have done.
He saw as they dragged themselves up using the fan as support. He could see their body shake as it worked against itself, irreparable damage propagating beneath the surface of a fractured spine. But still, they obliged him.
He felt angry. He felt sick. He felt alive.
His helmet and the rest lay by his feet. When had he taken them off? Why did he do so? Those questions were chalked up to the rest which would never be answered, attributed by the military tribunal to combat-induced stress and mortal egotism.
He wanted to be able to meet her stare, emerald eyes jading over as his frozen ice-storms weathered away at her conviction. She saw him without the mask. The figurative one eroded away, the literal discarded. She saw his pain, his hopeless with the impossible cause he had assigned himself.
Poor Naruto. Don't you understand that what you seek isn't a destination you can reach alone? Where are your friends? Why did you leave them behind? Why do you hide behind this curtain of agony and ignorance?
Open your eyes,
Open your eyes and see me,
Open your eyes and see yourself.
He saw her scream, yell out to the heavens as she ripped her weapon from its earthen prison. Saw her streak copious amounts of blood onto its unfurled face and swing it at him with all her own pain, anger, frustration and sadness.
And finally, he saw her.
"Temari?"
Her name came out like a whisper heard above the battle cry as she made to finish what they had started. And suddenly everything, all the things he must have deliberately ignored came rushing back at him, into him, and he was paralyzed as it assaulted his every sense. He realized what had happened, but by the time he would realize what was happening, it would be too late to change anything.
It was okay, though. It was justice for what he had almost done. What he had done. He had substituted the dreams of another for his own. He had killed because of it. He had become something he was not, so that he could believe in that sophistry.
"ENOUGH!"
Was peace really a lie? It sounded so tempting, so perfect. But life wasn't perfect, and there were costs in the pursuit of such divine goals.
Kamatari materialized from the pocket dimension created by the summoning ritual, riding on a hurricane of wind chakra and adrenaline, speeding at Naruto who could do nothing but stand and watch.
It was all well and good to make sacrifices in the name of peace. But somewhere he had lost his way, bartered what made him, him. And that was unacceptable.
Temari was crying as she put the last of herself, the last of her everything into the summoning technique. It might have been one of the most powerful attacks in her arsenal, but it was also familiar, something comforting in this comedy of errors that was their lives. Whatever happened, whatever the result of her last effort, she didn't want to be alone.
Why wasn't he dodging? Why wasn't he moving himself out of the way? Did he consider this his punishment for straying from his path? Did he simply want to be done with all of it, to be rid of the burden only he really expected of himself?
It wasn't Kamatari's place to question why he was there.
It wasn't Temari's place to stop him.
And it wasn't up to Naruto to condemn himself.
So it was up to him, once again. He just hoped he made the right choice, this time.
"Onamae-wa, nan desu-ka?"
Naruto found himself staring up at the heavens, the clear blue sky that particularly abyssal shade of blue that came when one was so close to the edge of the world. His body was heavy, cold and soaked with blood. But he felt no pain, no release.
"What's your name, kid?"
There came a whisper from far away, deep in his past. And another, so close.
Even if he could, he didn't feel like moving. He wanted to remain stationary, for once in this constantly changing word which made no sense of up or down, right or wrong.
"I'm talking to you kid. Entendes? Tu t'appelles comment?"
The whisper was getting fainter, and a rumbling hum was taking its place. The chattering thwack of the giant crickets was back. Why couldn't they leave him in peace?
Temari hobbled over to him, looked like she was going to say something but didn't. He wouldn't have heard it anyway. She dropped her fan, then dropped to her knees, reaching down and shifting something off of him. He felt lighter, but still so cold. And he still didn't want to get up.
He was faintly aware of other voices, incomprehensible on the tip of his awareness.
She glanced at what she had removed from on top of him before she tore her eyes off of both, looking up to the horizon. A deadened expression crossed her face as she drifted away from him.
The mumbles which were but soft tingling vibrations surrounded him now, drowning him on the edge of his conscience. They flooded into his vision, taking Temari away from him and crowding him in a haze of darkness and frenzied motion.
"He's going into shock!"
"Get that vest off of him."
"Who has the med-kit? I need it here now!"
"You deal with the commander, he's more severely injured."
"He's already gone, I need to do what I can now. Don't distract me!"
"I can't stop the bleeding. How far out is evac?"
"They're not going to make it…"
These were among the many words spoken which fell on deaf ears. When he recalled the incident later, he would say it was like they were spoken in a foreign language, one that he only now understood.
"Onamae-wa… onamae… name…name…
The whisper was still the only clear thing, and it was drifting ever farther away.
"He's still breathing! Get that stretcher over here now!"
"Stay with us…."
"Je m'appelle…"
"My name is…"
"Come back…Naruto."
"With all due respect, ma'am, it doesn't look like either of them is going to make it. That puts you in charge."
Karui glared at the young upstart that dared to tell her what to do, dared speak such words in front of her. True, he wasn't that much younger, and had likely fought in the last shinobi war as well. But somewhere along the line, she felt like she had become old, worn down by the drudgery of battle. She was still going to set him straight, though.
"He'll make it." She needed no clarification. "They both will." She tacked on as an afterthought. But truth be told she was only sure on the former. The latter would survive, if only to spite their expectations.
"Well, in the meantime," Trained so that he withstood the death glare bearing down on him, the legionnaire pressed on. "what should be done about her?"
Karui tossed her rifle on her shoulder and removed the sweaty casque, letting the breeze run through her short-cropped hair. She sighed and glanced over to flock of prisoners held at gunpoint on their knees with zip-tied hands behind their backs. Set aside from the herd was the dusty blonde, more dust than the other now, being treated by one of the combat medics.
She sat like the rest on her knees, hands bound behind her and with a chakra-seal, ancient surplus from before the last shinobi war, slapped around the plastic handcuffs. What should be done with her?
Furthermore, why were those sealing tags even necessary? Why hadn't Naruto requested air support? Why didn't he stick with the plan he himself devised?
It had worked for the other two squads, flawlessly in fact. The moment enemy ninja had engaged them, the Mjolnir's had been called in within seconds, and within an equal timeframe the dissident forces had surrendered. Once it had been obvious that anyone with a chakra network was out of commission, they had given up all hope and desire to fight.
But Mjolnir's one through three still lingered in their custom braces, jury-rigged to the outside of the Super-Puma, Kestrel One. It had been pure stupidity on Naruto's part that he had neglected to call in for support. Not because he wasn't capable of taking on whole armies by himself. Not because he had broken his own rank. Not even because he had abandoned the rest of his squad to go on this personal crusade.
All those reasons in themselves were grievous, yet pardonable offenses. It was because he had yet again ignored the pleas of his comrades, thinking he still had something to prove. Whether it be to fate, to them, or to himself.
Now he had no choice. He would either learn, or it would cease to matter where he ended up.
In a way, she wanted to blame their commanding officer, for expecting too much from the young man he had seemingly taken under his wing. She wanted to blame herself, Tenten, and the others for being unable to reach him. She wanted to blame the woman in front of her, for being on the wrong side in all of this.
But that was a luxury she wouldn't allow herself.
"What the hell are you doing here, woman?"
She strode over the trampled grass and over to the isolated POW. She was being doted on by Squad One's medic who had nothing better to do now that the series casualties had been evacuated. All two of them. And he occupied himself with cleaning up the minor cuts and bruises which littered her face and upper body. The other wounds couldn't be dealt with. Not yet.
The redhead veteran saw the former enemy combatant look at her with carefully guarded apprehension. She motioned for the other soldier to leave them alone.
"Screw off." She jerked her thumb back over her shoulder, to where the rest of the squads were milling about, waiting for mop-up and extraction.
The young man nodded dutifully and left without a fuss. He was a former cloud-nin, like herself. And he had been a shit Irōnin, but was now a great combat medic. Something obsolete that had found new life in the expanded world.
"So…" She looked down her nose at the defeated woman whom she once held in the highest regard. "Are you going to tell me or what?"
Temari didn't move her gaze from where it settled on the woman's booted feet crushing the wilted grass.
"He just always had to be right, didn't he?" Though irked by the non-sequitur, Karui heaved a sigh and answered.
"Yeah, that he does." Naruto, for it was obvious whom they were talking about, always had both the luck and the obstinacy to be right an annoyingly large percentage of the time.
"So how can someone who is always right, be so often wrong?"
Karui had to restrain herself from lashing out at the helpless yet seemingly defiant blonde. How dare she question all he had done, all they had done, when she had been fighting them every step of the way? But before she could even lift a finger in retaliation, Temari continued.
"He saved my brother, you know? He showed him the way to peace, showed all of us the way to peace. And I followed in his footsteps. I thought that I was doing what I was supposed to…." She snapped her head up to meet the patronizing glare, and any rebuttal Karui had died in her throat and she took an involuntary step back as she was confronted with a rekindled passion.
"We handed out food. We treated the sick and injured. We built schools to revitalize a country that has been bombed into the dark ages. But every time we tried to do some good, our efforts were spurned. The people we gave the food to, starved the day after. The sick and injured went right back into the dangers that got them there. And every school we built was razed to the ground, time and again."
"That's what we've been trying to stop! That's why we're here in the first place! To put an end to the fighting so that-"
"Fighting requires two sides! You were part of the problem!"
"Bullshit! The people you were supporting are misogynistic, genocidal fanatics! They were the ones wrecking the country!"
"And you're just a bunch of mercenaries! That's all we ever were! Killers, murders, assassins for the highest bidder! What makes you think you are doing things any better?!"
Karui didn't have an answer for that. Even though she had asked herself the same thing many times previous to this, she was still far away from having satisfaction.
"But the people you fought for are wrong." She asserted. Even though she knew it to be true, it still felt weak.
"How can you decide right and wrong if you never even listen?!" Temari hissed out, and once again Karui found herself at a loss.
Temari drew patient breath, trying not to invalidate her point by losing her temper. She had been holding it in for so long, though, and now she had nothing else to lose by voicing it.
"Do you think I fought for them because I believe in their religion? Because I support the disparity between sexes? Classes? Races? Do you think I fought out of convenience? Greed? Pathological desire?"
"I'm sure I don't have any idea why you did what you did." Karui spat out, refusing to meet the accusing stare.
"I fought for them because no one else would. Because no one else would listen to what they had to say, no one ever listened to what they had to say. Everyone who came into this country intending to do some good just forced their version of the truth down their throats. Every change that came into their lives brought nothing but instability and destruction. Sound familiar?"
Once upon a time they had been the small fish in the big pond, subject to the whims of the masses. They had always been separate shinobi factions. One day they had been forced to come together, to form villages. And then they partnered with the Daimyos to form nations. Later on, when confronted with the enormity of the globe, they had formed their own confederacy. And each time, there was pain.
There was still pain.
"But we had something these people don't. A common enemy…" Temari's glare was deadly, and despite herself Karui felt shame hammering away at the back of her skull. "And, inspiration, to do better, to be better."
Right now, though, their inspiration was still working on himself. Trying to find the flame that once made him a guiding light.
Temari smiled softly and let herself relax onto her legs as she struggled to find comfort in that compromising position.
"I guess… I was a fool. Stupid, to think I could try to change them from within."
"No more foolish than using strength to get your way." Temari looked up in mild surprise at the redhead who scoffed at the hopeful glance.
"Don't get me wrong. Your choice was beyond stupid. How you thought you would make things better I'll never know. People will look at you as a terrorist, a murder. Some will even see you as a traitor, and they wouldn't be wrong for thinking so."
"And what about you?" Temari batted back, undaunted. She wasn't asking for an opinion.
"I suppose history will take care of us." Karui sighed, suddenly inexorably weary. She kneeled down across from the bound woman, leaning on the butt of her rifle next to her in the tall grass. "History makes fools of us all."
"Then what was the point, if not to try to do good?"
"We were trying to do good. We did do the right thing." But she didn't sound convinced. "Is it our fault if it all goes to pieces?"
There was a long pause after that rhetorical question which was filled by the rustling of grass in the midday breeze. If it wasn't their fault, whose was it? That spot would only be filled with a person to blame, and no one wanted to fill that vacancy. That's why they were called the losers.
"Do you think things would have be the same, had they gone the other way?" Temari's whisper broke their silence. If their roles as prisoner and captor had been reversed, what then?
"Maybe. I guess in a way it was just a race to the finish line. We just happened to get there first."
"Maybe," Temari shook her head and Karui cocked a curious eyebrow. "No. It's never just that simple. There was never that one white ribbon at the end of the road for us to cross. It just keeps going. The question is now: where do we go from here?"
"For you? Right now? I imagine a quick military tribunal and summary execution. You are an ununiformed fighter in a warzone. That's a war crime." Karui had grown tired of pontificating chatter that was going nowhere. They had won, for better or worse, and like the other woman said, they now had to deal with it.
For her part, Temari smiled at the ironic statement. Once they had both been ninja, and disguises were part and parcel of their job description. And even now, dressed in clothes from a different world, she never felt more like herself.
"Something funny, princess?" She didn't answer but shook her head.
"So, was it worth it? Fighting against your countrymen for a bunch of ragheads?" Karui kept niggling at the betrodden kunochi, irrational vindictiveness covering just how empty she felt. There wasn't any answer for that.
Was it worth it?
She stood up in a huff, suddenly eager to get away from these heavy ideas and back to the inane carousing of her comrades, who were too busy reveling in their windfall victory to care about what came next.
"I don't know…" Temari considered softly, almost to herself. Yet Karui paused in her retreat, back turned to the conquered woman. "I think I'll ask Naruto, next time I see him."
"Putain…" Karui growled to herself as she stormed off, leaving the one prisoner under guard but off all by herself.
Temari watched the woman retreat to her comfort, and let her own forced smile droop. She let herself flop over onto her side, and then rolled on her back so she could gaze up at the white speckled mountains and the fathomless blue sky, all framed in a dusty green frame of wild grass. Things which never changed, even as her tears fell silently and blurred all the colors into one.
1) Yes, I did the calculations (these are metric tons, it makes the maths easier.)
2) Most armies today use ceramic plates for their body armor, but there is very little reason to. Equivalent steel protection is only a few pounds heavier, and can stop blades better than ceramic (knives go right through layered kevlar). I figure that if they are shinobi, they get what they want, and let's face it, at their physical level, 30kg (68lbs) of armor is nothing when you can do the things they do. But still, bullets hurt...
3) Most of the recent French deployments have been named after animals, and in particular African animals. I have decided to stick with this theme, and so the Helicopters are Kestrels.
4) For those of you not familiar with the Marvel comic (which spoiled all the fun out of knowing mythology) Mjolnir is Thor's hammer.
5) This is the species name for a Bat-Eared Fox, native to South Africa
6) Another SA native, a big cat, like a bobcat. This is Belletriste's codename. I didn't get to mention it, but the leader for Squad two (Karui) would be Atelerix, a SA hedgehog.
7) The flaming bomb has been used by the FFL since their inception, and was coopted for the US artillery in WWI.
8) Fairbairn-Sykes Commando dagger. Pioneered by the SAS in WWII and retained for many years afterwards (it's on their beret badge for pete's sake). The Belgians still retain traditional ties to the SAS (their own regiment was disbanded recently), so I figured this would be a valid parting gift from the cumbersome Belgian.
So yes, for those of you who bother to read the notes (as well as the story), I do my research. Always happy to elaborate on anything, this is just the ADD reader's digest version.
Oh, and at the end, Karui is calling Temari a whore (not to be confused with Poutine, which is delicious.)