。 。 。
6, [Beginning]
"You two...you've heard of the Resistance, right?" I asked.
Jiraiya shrugged, while Kato gave me a hesitant nod. "Only what my mother has told me, though."
"So not much?"
Kato's nods turned reluctant.
"Same for you, Jiraiya?"
Jiraiya's childish features became uncannily guarded. "It's not something that we're encouraged to talk about, Ryūto."
"He's right," Kato assented, deep green eyes skittering around our surroundings nervously. "We attend a shinobi military school. They don't want us straying too far from patriotic idealism."
"Fair enough," I agreed, and glanced down at my lunch. The juicy pork chops and steaming noodles suddenly seemed extremely unappetizing as the first wave of remembrance hit me with a dizzying punch.
Two Years Ago
Six months after the finale of the First Shinobi World War and the commencement of the Sandaime Hokage's reign, a single blue sheet of paper, barely bigger than a standard explosion seal, was deposited in the Hisoru household's mailbox.
Hisoru Ryūko, still bleary-eyed in the dew-heavy dawn, sifted through the metal slot on tiptoe. Printmaking had exploded after ninja deployed in Kumo returned with rudimentary machines. The young girl saw a spike in advertisements, catalogues, and letters stuffing the family mailbox. As she dug out the papers, she wiped at the thick makeup covering her face- the foundation was making her skin itch again. But it was important that she covered her unnaturally pale skin with a fleshier hue, and wear thick Sunglasses to hide her intimidating eyes, even for getting the mail.
The single blue sheet of paper caught her by surprise- a mistake? a harmless prank?- but after turning it over, understanding dawned upon her strangely angular face. With a quick glance around the quiet neighborhood, she dashed inside, clutching the lone sheet of blue to her chest under a mountain of literal junk mail.
"By the sage, Ryū-chan! I know you love stir-fry, but we have plenty! No need to rush!" Hisoru Daisuke commented cheerily as he slid his large frame into the cozy kitchen table, watching his daughter sprint into their small kitchen.
Ryūko ignored her whimsical father and went straight to Hisoru Taka, who was chopping vegetables and pork. The Hisoru table was once again populated by fresh foods after the wartime rationing frenzy fizzed out. "Kaa-san?"
"Yes, Ryū-chan?" Taka asked, hands a blur as she obliterated the stir-fry ingredients.
"It's tomorrow," Ryūko replied, setting the azure slip of paper next to Taka's chopping board.
The knife stopped, barely sinking into a plump green onion. Taka took one glance at the offered paper and called her husband, who came ambling in.
"What's with all the commotion?" Daisuke's laid-back demeanor all but disappeared the moment he saw the paper. Gently pushing his willowy daughter aside, he flipped it over, revealing the white side with written instructions.
"Oh," he said softly. "It's time."
After a year of carefully planning, secret rallying, and half a lifetime of oppression, the civilians of Konohagakure were ready to rebel. Daisuke and Taka were among the first to head out the next day, dressed in white and blue. White for purity, representing their hatred of red- the color of bloodshed, the color of ninjas. Blue for independence from the shinobi, whose wars forced the civilians to live as second-class citizens in their own hometown.
What, you think war only affected those who fought it? I remember nights when we had nothing to eat but a handful of last season's rice. I remember the cramped space of our basement, where we hid for days on the end in fear of an invasion. I remember the medic-nin forcing our neighbor to give up their house when the hospitals became too crowded for the ever growing injured population.
Safely tucked in my bedroom, I followed the flow of blue and white towards the village center. Watching history unfold felt surreal- I could feel the pulse of time in my veins, the tingle of change in my blood. A real revolution! How exciting! And dangerous. This is civilians against shinobi, after all. As the last of protestors shuffled out of view, I sent a prayer to the spirits and the sage.
"Oh, the great omnipotent, and those who walk the shadowed worlds beside us- please grant them safety."
"I wish I was never chosen to be the Sandaime."
It took every shred of Shimura Danzo's self-control for him to refrain from reaching across the table and throttling the current Hokage. Instead, the dark-haired jounin gave his friend a tired look and politely downed his sake. "Frankly, no one would want to be Hokage with the current state of affairs."
"Don't remind me." The young Sarutobi bemoaned, cradling his head in his hands. "Why is it so hard? People should respect me. They're supposed to listen to every word I say! I mean, look at my rec-"
"Your kill count and average mission completion time are useless in politics, and even more useless to civilians." Danzo cut him off coldly. "They don't need to be reminded that you're trained to kill. With your current attitude, you'll only worsen the situation at hand. Need I remind you that today is the third day of mass demonstrations against the so-called shinobi elitism?"
"No," Hiruzen said glumly, sliding a hand through chestnut hair. For a second Danzo almost pitied him, but his sympathy was swept away by a strong wave of despise, because this was Hiruzen floundering at the job that he knew he will be perfect for, the job that was not his only because he was a second too late in sacrificing himself on the battlefield.
Danzo watched Hiruzen mope, finishing his sake. He had his own grievances, but tonight Hiruzen was the one who needed distractions- and advice. He wasn't here to comfort an old friend- did you really think Shimura Danzo was the caring type? No. This was a prime opportunity to sway the Sandaime Hokage, to exert some influence over Konoha's fate.
"So, what are you going to do?" Danzo prompted. "You can't allow the protests to continue. Shinobi and civilian tensions have been at an all time high since the end of the war."
"I know." Hiruzen clasped his hands together. "I've been thinking of ways to meet some of their demands. Since they want power and autonomy, I can give them more seats in the council, or let them elect their own representatives- civilians, of course- to rule their own districts-"
"No." Danzo interrupted. "The point of a council that summits only in your office is so people will build loyalty to you, and to you only."
Hiruzen considered this. "I know, but breaking up the chain of command will pacify them. I can strip away the representatives' powers once everything settles."
"And what will they do when they realize what you're doing?" Danzo asked. "The protests will start again. Besides, creating a closed system of power will further divide shinobi and civilians."
Hiruzen's body language was angry now, though his tone remained immaculately calm. Juvenile. "Well, I need to do something."
"No, you don't." Danzo countered. "Wait for that frustration to build, until they resort to violence. This will give you an excuse to use force- not too much, but enough to warn them off."
Hiruzen's expression darkened. "I'd rather not reinforce the idea that shinobi are their enemies."
"Do as you please, then." Danzo relented uncharacteristically. If Hiruzen didn't want to use violence, well, there were other ways to clean up this mess.
"I was going to give them three more seats in the council anyways," Hiruzen continued firmly. "The shinobi population was halved by the War, and it was thanks to the civilian economy that we were able to recover so nicely within a year. They deserve some recognition."
"Three more seats? Only three more seats? Are we a joke?" Haruno Sento's entrance was as dramatic as his personality. The ladder rattled with each angry word. A few heavy footsteps later he hunkered down, the entire room shaking with his wrath and heft. Damn, he's scary.
"Calm down, Haruno-san! And lower your voice." My mother chided.
"We spend months prepping for this protest, and this is what we get? Bullshit."
"What were you expecting? For the Hokage to coddle us? It's a good start."
A good start indeed, I thought to myself, listening the argument bounce between Taka and Haruno Sento in the cramped confines of my parents' basement. Technically, I wasn't allowed in these meetings, but let's just say that the empty cushion crate in the corner was big enough to fit my tiny self.
"Yeah, Haruno. Keep yer shit together. We lucky the Daimyo didn't kill us." Daimyo was slang for the Hokage around some parts of town. For those people, Sarutobi Hiruzen was no different from a noble landlord who treated his subjects like dogs.
"Shut the hell up, Hanawa."
"Who's going to fill those seats, anyways? Any candidates?" Daisuke prompted as Sento fumed.
"No one." A distinctive nasally voice said. It was Kouji, the meat bun purveyor, whose notorious dislike for these meetings almost surpassed her dislike for human interaction. If she was here, then things were getting serious. "You'd have to be crazy to take that risk. Everyone will be after them, no matter what the say or do. Think about it- the shinobi clan leaders and those savvy jounin are gonna screw with them. Those Yamanakas are gonna make them spill every secret, and the T&I team members will turn them into Daimyo worshippers faster than a ninja can slit your throat. The civilian representatives already on the board are gonna make them look like idiots. With only a week to prepare for the next meeting, they will look like idiots, even if they were Nara bastards."
I blinked after her spiel. She was pretty smart for a meat bun vendor.
"Sure it'll be difficult, but I'm sure you know some people who'll be interested, Kouji-san. Everyone eats at your place." Daisuke suggested. I could see the small smile on his face.
"Why not you, Daisuke?" Someone suggested. "Or you, Haruno-san?"
"Forget it!" Sento rebutted immediately. "I'm not dealing with that shit."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Daisuke added.
"They're right," Kouji said. "Haruno-san's family runs all of the logistics in this part of town. Daisuke and Taka do all the record keeping. If anything happens to either of them, consider this whole business done."
Agreements were made across the room. The Haruno Shipping and Logistics Company oversaw imports, exports, and distribution of everything from soap to mackerel. Sento, despite his foul temperament, was a very generous donor, and my family was knees deep in record keeping for everyone with the slightest involvement. Losing either of them in political turmoil would be a crippling blow to the Resistance's efforts.
"I do have some people in mind, though." Kouji announced. "Young, smart, and just nameless enough to make the cut."
"Who?" This voice was completely new. I'd never heard it before, not even on the streets.
"I'll make arrangements to speak to them." Kouji continued, completely ignoring the question.
"Thanks, Kouji-san. We're counting on you." Daisuke said.
"Don't," Kouji snapped drily. "I'm not guaranteeing anything. And don't be too rowdy at the next protest. The ninjas were humoring us today."
The next punchline of the comedy show hit us in the stomach before we could finish laughing.
"They're all dead." A pale and haggard Kouji rasped, her mousy hair tousled and greasy from stress. She sat, tense as a taut fishing line, on the edge of a cushion in our living room. Her knuckles were white from their tight grip on a mug of boiling-hot tea. Those were the first words she'd spoken since she'd pounded on our door in the middle of the night and was ushered in by my startled family. "Every single one of them."
Daisuke, still disgruntled from being rudely awoken, snapped his head towards her. "Kouji-san, you don't mean..."
"I had five people in mind. I didn't tell anyone anything about any of them. But," She took an uneven, shuddering breath. "When I went to see them tonight, every single one of them were dead. Clean cut to the neck. The blood was still wet." She spasmed, clearly recalling the memories a bit too vividly.
"Fuck!" I flinched, shying away from the tiny crack in the living room door. Tou-san only cursed when he was extremely stressed, and I couldn't help but to shrink a little more as I felt gooseflesh blazing down my arms.
Even my mother's no nonsense demeanor had been shaken by the news. She was covering her mouth with a trembling hand, barely hiding her horrified expression.
"Look, Daisuke, Taka. You guys are great people, and this Resistance has potential. But we're up against people who can spit fire, who can wrench every sorry secret from you, and who can fucking find and kill people they haven't even heard of." Kouji took a huge gulp of the burning tea. "I'm here to tell you- be careful. Or better yet, leave this while you can."
While you're alive went unsaid. Something wet hit my bare feet, and I reached up to my face- I was crying.
"Report, Raven?"
"It went well, Taichou. I located and destroyed all the targets."
"And did you leave the two families notes?"
"Yes, sir. They should find it in the morning."
A familiar surge of chakra to my head sent me toppling out of memory land.
"Welcome back, Hisoru-san." Inodan, dressed in casual clothes, looked at me indifferently, her hand slowly reaching away from my forehead. Wait, what? Isn't it still lunchtime? I blinked, suddenly seeing a well-lit, well-decorated room.
"How are you faring, Ryū-chan? Is your brain still functioning?" Kato was on me in a flash.
"I'm fine." I said, weakly trying to remove Kato's death grip on my shirt. "Where am I?"
"My house!" Kato announced. "You were acting really strange, and I didn't want you to go home alone and accidentally kill yourself, so I took you home."
"Oh. Thanks." I said, slightly horrified. How did I not realize that an entire afternoon passed by?
"Kato, let Ryūto-kun breathe and go get our dinner from the main kitchen. Ask Inoko-chan for an extra serving."
"Hai!" Kato was gone in a whip of blue-blonde hair, and I was left with a jounin interrogator. I instantly tensed, leaping off the couch and retreating as far away from Inodan as I could, taking out a kunai.
She sighed. "Don't be scared. I only did a cursory scan of your mind last time, to check for signs of recent violence."
I eyed her suspiciously, still holding up my weapon.
"I just helped you, in case you haven't noticed. You were experiencing post-traumatic stress. It's not good to lock it all away and leave it there- it'll rot your mind. Also, I found your file. You didn't tell me you're the daughter of the Hisoru family, assumed dead."
"I don't want to remember! Ever!" I hissed sharply, not even bothering to correct her on the daughter part. "Why did you find my file? And why do I have a file?"
"Katomaru-kun trusts you too much, and it's only been days. I have to look out for my son." For a moment her indifference melted into a threat, and I swallowed. "As for the file...well, everyone in Konoha has one."
"So what are you gonna do now? Execute mefor treason? Or what, dig around my brain to find out more shit about the Resistance?"
"No, actually. I doubt there's any civilian out there willing to rebel after what'd happened two years ago. What I want to know is...well, why in the name of the Great Sage are you training to become a ninja? You should either be an extreme pacifist, or plotting to kill all of us. Not that you'd succeed."
"What if I am?" I said before I could even think who I was talking to, what I was saying. "Where better to learn how to kill ninjas than at a shinobi academy?"
The room was dead silent, and I felt my heart pounding its way out of my throat. Fuck.
"I'm going to write that off as a temporary burst of anger and aggression, Hisoru-san." Inodan said very slowly, ice-blue eyes digging into my skull. "And I want you to know that I will be watching you even closer than I was planning to. Anyways, Katomaru-kun should be back...in a few seconds. I'll leave my other questions for next time."
I shoved the kunai away right before Kato reappeared, a tray of steaming food in his hands. "Dinner time!" I put on my sweetest, most gluttonous smile and followed him to the table with my heart at my throat.
Sorry for the delay...my summer's been almost as busy as my school year. Hope it made sense...