Hey guys! Sorry for the long delay, I've been stuck on this one for a while. I've also been plagued with schoolwork and other stuff /totally not freaking out over Naruto ch. 627/ plus I've been drabbling in other stories. Emeralds will have a sequel! It's kind of messy at the moment, but I'm working it out. (It's more like a partner story).

Besides that, here's a chapter! Maybe I'll confuse you guys some more... (bwahaha)

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, because Kishi is a troll and taking ANOTHER break.

Note: Updates for this will take much longer than any other stories, due to its nature and length. No worries though - I haven't forgotten!

Big tournament tomorrow ~ off I go!

Chapter 12: Lies

.x.X.x.

Irrationality.

.x.X.x.

"You've got to be kidding me." Sumiko stared at the swollen mess that was her ankle. Not once did she even complain of the pain; she simply stared at the bruised joint and shifted the ice pack. The area beside her heel was black and blue, and she'd also sprained in the inside tendons of her ankle to boot. "You've got to be kidding me," she repeated, almost incredulously. "I swear it wasn't this bruised yesterday."

"That's because it was yesterday," Ryouichi sighed, patiently waiting for his younger sister to stop studying her ankle so seriously so that he could wrap in a compressing roll.

"I did not twist my ankle," Sumiko stated flatly.

"Obviously," replied the First Prince, tapping her knee as a cue for her to straighten her leg. "Tell me if this hurts." He took her foot and pressed it back into a position perpendicular to her leg.

Brashly, Sumiko's hand flew out and struck Ryouichi's face.

"Yes, that hurts!" she hissed. "Haven't I been telling you that?!"

"No, you haven't, actually," Ryouichi replied, rubbing his face nonchalantly. If there was anything this lanky, almost effeminate young prince could bear, it was the fact that his one brother and first sister tended to hit people when aggravated. The last sister wouldn't say "boo" to a mouse, so he'd never even considered her a threat.

"Ryo, do you know what this means?" Sumiko exclaimed overly dramatically. Despite her exaggeration, Ryouichi knew full well that the fourteen-year-old was devastated. She had a company dance recital the next day, and over the weekend a hunter-jumper competition in the Wave Country.

Sumiko hit her brother again.

"Do something, Ryo!"

"I'm not a shinobi, I can't heal you up with the snap of my fingers."

"Well, try," she whined, pulling away from him quickly after he'd finished wrapping her ankle. Sumiko could hardly walk, but nonetheless hobbled into her ballet flats and limped away whilst complaining the ears off of her maids.

Ryouichi, defeated, sat back on his heels and contemplated. He was eighteen, and by legal standards very capable of summoning a medic nin request to, say, Kirigakure. However, such a petty situation would inevitably arouse a few snorts of amusement from the surrounding countries – ah, Hurricane's young prince is so needy that he can't even deal with a minor injury on his own. And it was a call for personal issues, not one for the people.

Kirigakure, sadistically, might say: "Now if you had a grand massacre of 20,000, we might send over a few medics."

Konoha was too far.

Uzushiogakure…was known for their Fuuin, not their medics.

The Wave Country were in practically the same state they were in.

Kumogakure's medical troops at the moment were thin and stretched out, few of them close to the ocean. They had their own issues with the Grass Country, and were not about to spare precious delegates for a mere sprained ankle.

Now. Were there any shinobi in Hurricane? Surely, there must have been. He'd heard of a few that were roughly chuunin to jounin level, which was quite decent for a non-shinobi nation like Hurricane. However, the size of that set was hardly a handful, and they were dispersed throughout Hurricane like needles in a haystack.

Well, Ryouichi thought to himself, I could always use a magnet.

.x.X.x.

"I would ask you if you've ever killed a man, but I suppose I don't need to ask."

"No, you don't."

"What is it like?"

"Bloody. Most of the time."

"Well, that's a given. I mean, what do you feel?"

"…To be honest, it never gets easier. Hiding it becomes less difficult, but their eyes are what really gets you."

"Has blood ever frightened you?"

"Only twice."

"Twice?"

"When my two younger brothers died."

.x.X.x.

Everything was red.

Red flew from the Hokage Tower, soaking itself into the bright blue that was Sumiko's hair. All she saw was colors, and more colors, blindingly vibrant as they sped across the village in an indeterminable blur. Movement happened in choppy fragments, each one distorting the one before it. At once, there was a flash of white, then an entire panel of blue – Tobirama – before a curtain of mahogany swept past – Hashirama – followed closely by a series of darker colors that she could not place.

But everything, everything, was red.

.x.X.x.

It's cold.

.x.X.x.

"It's cold, Ryou!"

"Ice tends to be that way, Sumi." After ordering his younger sister to ice the swollen joint and sit patiently – "I'm not a dog!" she protested – Ryouichi was currently attending to Katsurou, who had taken a nasty fall from his horse and had a bruised shoulder. As characteristic of the Second Prince, he'd brushed it off nonchalantly, climbed back on his black steed, and continued jumping every single wall and fence in sight. Now, he was sore to the point where picking up a pencil hurt his entire arm.

"Chill, Sumi," snorted Katsurou, rolling his eyes.

A knock at the door produced Aunt Tari, toting a ridiculously small dog that consisted of a fluffy body, a fluffy body, and more fluffy body. The pup was completely orange, with a white tuft on its chest.

"I found this little one outside the garden," Aunt Tari said. "Anyone want to adopt her for the time being?"

Sumi, finding the little Pomeranian to be the most adorable thing to ever walk the earth, squealed and held her arms out. As if they were fated to be together, the puff of a dog bounded over to her excitedly.

Ryouichi sighed inwardly, relieved. At least it seemed that his sister's apparent mood swings were subdued for the time being, now that the dog had her attention. He finished up applying a few healing salves to the minor cuts on Katsurou's arm, and then sent him away.

"Don't go riding again," he called as soon as Katsurou made a beeline for the stables, just down the path from their study room. Katsurou's fault here was making the mistake of taking that path, right outside of an airy library with floor to ceiling glass panes. Had he taken a detour, perhaps he would've gotten away with it, despite his current inability to lift up his arm.

The door to the study slid open, and Katsurou dodged a puff of blue as he exited. Said puff of blue was comparable to the puff of orange sitting in Sumi's lap, huffing merrily as Aunt Tari organized shelves around them.

"Mariko, did you bring the documents?" Ryouichi asked.

The girl held out a thin manila folder, filled with sparse, mostly unfinished documents. He thanked her, and she took a seat next to her sister quietly.

The orange dog made a face at Mariko.

"I'm going to call her…Mami," decided Sumiko. When no one reacted, she continued rubbing the little dog's pointy ears. She began chattering away to no one in particular, knowing full well that Ryouichi could multitask and that Mariko, currently in her quiet stage, would not answer. A few nods here and there supplied her with all the replies she needed, and effectively distracted her from the burning ice pack pressed to her ankle.

"What are you looking for?" she asked her brother.

"People," Ryouichi answered vaguely. He was, actually, trying to locate the few shinobi on their island, but it hardly seemed likely that any of them would be medic nin. That, and why would they come to the capital anyway? It was known that the king had had some issues with shinobi in the past.

"What kind of people?"

"Useful people."

Though, in all honesty, Ryouichi had could not ascertain the usefulness of any shinobi on the island of Hurricane at this point in time. He wondered, suddenly, if Mariko had looked at the files. A short glance back at the small girl gave him nothing; her face was neutral and her usual curiosity quelled in a moment of silence.

"Mari, dear, can you bring me that book? It's behind this shelf and I can't reach it," called Aunt Tari. Obediently, the small girl – ten years old and skinnier than a baby deer – wiggled behind some of the shelves and retrieved a few fallen books. Her ability to squeeze in small places did not help her case, because everyone was constantly harping on her to eat more. In a few years, she would gain a healthy appetite, but for now she was content picking at her meals and perhaps stealing some cookies later.

"Amethyst is thirty miles to the east, right?" Ryouichi asked to the air. Aunt Tari nodded, though he didn't see her, and the other two didn't know. The village, known for its small caves filled ot the brim with amethyst crystals – and sometimes, the rare diamond or emerald – was home to one of the shinobi on his list. A kunoichi, actually. This woman appeared to be adequate in taijutsu and some ninjutsu, but nothing else appeared on her profile. If I really need someone, I guess she'd be the closest, Ryouichi supposed. Then again, she's probably not a medic.

By the time he found a medic, Sumiko's ankle would have already healed.

"Ryouichi, if I keep icing it, will it be better by tomorrow?"

"Maybe. Wishful thinking never hurts."

"But no, seriously."

"I don't know."

Sumiko harrumphed and folded her arms, laying back in the cushions she'd pulled from various seats and arranged into an enormous pile in the middle of the study. Mariko sat on the other side, petting the dog and flipping through a few short stories. She was quiet now, but it had been a month since she'd closed her mouth. She was bound to pull from her period of silence soon – they occurred once in a while, but never lasted long.

Can the Uzumaki seal wounds? As in, sew up broken body parts with Fuuin jutsu?

Unlikely.

But Ryouichi, being the diligent young prince he was, set about to studying the various possibilities that ninjutsu could reveal to him. He himself had no talent for ninjutsu, and was completely uninterested in the excited workings of Katsurou. As the First Prince, he supposed his few regrets included not being able to become a master horseman like those before him, or excel at anything besides an instrument. He was quite proud of his violin, but he could not shoot an arrow like Katsurou, and he could not dance or ride as well as Sumiko.

"RYOUICHI!"

The prince whipped around to see both girls hurtling themselves behind the stack of pillows, eyeing a spot on the ground warily. Aunt Tari had left the room, finishing up her dusting and organizing and leaving them with the dog.

"What?"

"There is a huge ass spider over here," Sumiko hissed. "Kill it."

The young man sighed, running a hand through his sapphire hair. It would be a long, long week.

.x.X.x.

Time freezes over.

.x.X.x.

"Move, and I kill her." A kunai poised to a throat, skin porcelain and unmarked. The tip of the blade draws blood, slicing ever so thinly into her skin.

Hashirama put his hands up.

"I carry no weapons. Calm down," he called in a smooth, practiced tone that exuded calmness and willingness to negotiate.

"Oh? It doesn't look like I'm the one that needs to calm down." A gesture to Tobirama; he was livid.

"What do you want?" hissed the white-haired Senju, drawing a blade.

"Tobirama, stop," Mariko tried.

"Don't," said the man, "move."

.x.X.x.

"I thought you only had one brother."

"I had another. His name…was Kawarama."

"And what happened to him?"

"He died when he was seven years old."

.x.X.x.

"I'm sorry, but I no longer offer shinobi services. I apologize for any inconvenience," said the woman brusquely, tucking her strawberry blonde hair behind her ears. She was approximately fifty, a few gray hairs peeking out from beneath her tresses — a light, half-blood Uzumaki coloring with a vitality that still ran quite strong — swept back into a messy braid.

"No, ma'am," he said. "I was just wondering if you were a medic nin, by chance. I wasn't necessarily requesting, just…asking."

"I've had some experience," the woman answered. "I am capable of performing medic nin duties, but as I just told you — I don't work as a ninja anymore."

He was dejected. She was a medic, and she wouldn't work.

But she turned to him.

"Why are you asking?"

"My sister has an injury, and she is devastated," he explained. "She is a dancer, and this is her debut in the biggest theatre in all of Hurricane. I wanted to help her."

The woman smiled slightly — her name, Risa, meaning laughter in a lost foreign language, fit her well. Evidence of years and years smiling in pure happiness showed in the lines on her face, causing him to wonder where her brightness had gone.

"I know you mean well, young man," she said, "but I cannot help you. I am truly sorry."

"Would anything change your mind?"

"No." The finality in her tone, the shortness of the single syllable, everything about her demeanor told him that she was not going to heal Sumiko.

"Well…thank you for your time, ma'am."

He walked out the door, the hood still pulled low over his head, revealing only a set of peculiarly green eyes, a prim nose, and a straight jaw. If anything, he hoped that the glare of his glasses had shielded his emerald eyes — he was just another green-eyed boy, inquiring on a regular day.

Risa, the former kunoichi, caught him in the street.

No, she didn't quite catch him; more like she saved him. Out of curiosity — she was intrigued by the lone boy who sought out her name and did not appear, by his slight city accent and traveler's outfit, to know his way around — she had followed him. Despite her claims that shinobi life was a thing of a past, she could tail the shadows of anyone with ease.

The young man made the mistake of taking the wrong way home, or to wherever his transport was. He walked, unfortunately, straight through the dark alleys of Amethyst's south side, where thugs and other thieving rats were known to jump out from the corners.

He was inevitably attacked, and forced to his knees.

"Throw out all the change you have!" a gruff, bearded man screamed at him.

"Give us your wallet, your jacket, your boots, and any valuables!" shouted a second, shoving the boy down. They immediately went for his pockets, but he surprised them with a short knife that he whipped from his belt.

"You naïve little brat, you don't even know how to hold that knife," spat the first thug, knocking it easily from the boy's hand. The woman prepared to jump in, but as the man pushed the young man back down, and his hood slipped back from his face, she gasped.

All the thieves — five total — took involuntary steps back.

A head of bright blue hair revealed itself from the cape, and the First Prince of Hurricane appeared before them.

"Your Royal Highness," stuttered the thug who had pushed Ryouichi down. The glint in his eyes told the blue-topped boy that he had no intentions of pulling back even if he faced the heir to the throne.

That was when Risa jumped in, knocking out all five burglars in the span of ten seconds. They hadn't gotten the chance to react when she'd thrown them down, rendering them immobile and unconscious.

"First Prince of Hurricane," she called.

"Ma'am."

"No, Lord Prince," she said, turning a stern eye on him and kneeling. "Do not address a subject in such a manner, please."

"I don't have subjects — everyone is a person of equal standing opinion, peasant or prince. A subject is someone who is forced to be an underling."

"Well then, my Lord," Risa said, standing. "Do tell, why did you hide your identity? You surprised me there, quite a bit."

"I'm not exactly…here with permission," admitted Ryouichi, sheepishly pushing his glasses up his nose. Risa raised a brow, then nodded in understanding.

"I see. And I'm going to assume one of the princesses is the one ailing, according to your story?"

"Yes, that's right. Sumiko."

"Ah, the First Princess. Of course, she dances, how could I forget…"

"I do not wish to bother if you if you choose to remain in Amethyst," Ryouichi told her. "Nonetheless, I thank you for your time, and for saving me. You have a favor from the Royal Court."

"Should I ever need it, that is," Risa said, a pressed smile forming bitterly on her lips. "Honestly, I do not wish to be involved," she said, "but for the young Lord Prince, I think I may have enough chakra left in me to be of some use."

"But, ma'am—"

"Call me Risa, please."

Ryouichi staunchly refused to leave her without some form of polite address, and so "Risa-san" became his travel partner home; along with one private guard, eight horses, one archer, one cavalry officer (plus his squire), and a member of the Coast Guard, all sworn to absolute secrecy from the King.

"Well then, Lord Prince," Risa announced. "Should I happen to fall into trouble with the King for your escapade and shenanigans, I suppose I shall take you up on your offer with the Royal Court."

Ryouichi smiled, genuinely.

"I truly appreciate this, Risa-san."

"It's not every day that I can travel to the capital for free, and meet the Aokami family." She sighed, almost wistfully. The prince wondered if she had issues from the past that deterred her from the path of a shinobi, but did not question it. However, she seemed to read his mind — "It's all over your face," she told him — and began to explain. Ryouichi discovered that despite her closed first encounter, she was willing to open up. It seemed that the strong, ruby seals of Uzushiogakure had worn away over time, leaving a strawberry-gray head on a once-successful kunoichi. (Even so, the sheer life force of her Uzumaki blood washed away most of the grays with a healthy, vibrantly shimmering silver-rose color, thought Ryouichi.)

"Your husband was killed?" he asked, when she offered her story.

"Yes. After that, swords reminded me of his death far too much." She frowned down into the horse's mane, riding silently for a few minutes. "His death forever haunts me; it reminds me that because my skills were not adequate enough — both in combat and in healing — I was no able to save him, in the end.

"We made a promise on the moon. I regret that promise, to be honest. We vowed to protect each other till the end. We swore one another to this fate on the night of a full moon. Lord Prince, do you know what the moon was like the day he died?"

"It was different?"

"It was a new moon. For me, there might as well have been no moon at all. He was dead, and I had failed him."

They were silent for some time, until Ryouichi felt brave enough to ask her where this had occurred.

"This is an old thing. Perhaps you've studied it. The squabble with Kirigakure, twenty-one years ago, at the southeastern cliffs of the sea?"

"Yes. The Eagle Incident," recalled Ryouichi. Kirigakure, for reasons kept undisclosed, had tried to annex Hurricane more than once. However, when the hardy island refused to comply, Kirigakure offered partial occupation. When that idea, too, was turned down, they attempted negotiations regarding representatives being sent to the island to learn from Hurricane's highly successful economic system.

King Hiroto was suspicious. He hadn't the experience of an old king, but he was smart and quick to analyze. Kirigakure meant to spread their spheres of influence, and he was not about to let them.

Refusal led to an attack on the southeastern cliffs, as Ryouichi had stated. A group of secret Hurricane shinobi, a small coalition organized by the state — a weaker equivalent of Konoha's soon-to-be formed ANBU black ops — had been sent on a defensive mission. They'd successfully warded off and defeated Kirigakure's small attack squad. The Mist had underestimated Hurricane's ability to retaliate, and thus faced utterly humiliating defeat on a brutal winter day. Due to the nature of the mission, and certain information that had been leaked to the Kiri nin, the Hurricane group was ordered to kill them. Fifteen Mist shinobi were thrown off the legendary Eagle Cliff, the southeastern drop to the sea that was rumored to be the cliff from the Emerald Eagle story.

It was unfortunate for the Kiri shinobi that the Emerald Eagle was not there to swoop them from their deaths.

After that, Kirigakure had remained passive, attempting to amend the (practically nonexistent) ties between the two island nations. The Water Country was thoroughly frustrated that they could not gain the precious resources of such a prosperous neighbor, but they were pacified for the time being, and only sent nobles over in hopes of alliance via marriage or friendly, mutually beneficial exchanges.

However, the Eagle Incident did not occur without damage to Hurricane's side. Evidently enough, Risa's husband was killed.

"I will never forgive Kirigakure," she admitted. "Which is a fault on my part, because I should have no reason for holding such a hateful grudge. I don't like thinking about it, but I shall tell you, Lord Prince, so that you may learn the truth that your textbooks do not allow you to see.

It was the night before the attack, and my husband was on reconnaissance. All four members of his team returned alive, except for him. And there he was, that horrid Mist shinobi who stank of blood and had the most terrifying face. He killed my husband before my eyes; my husband, Kyoya, had been taken captive, and when I went to search for him, they went ahead and stabbed him. Five times in five vital areas."

Ryouichi inwardly cringed, and was unsure as to what reaction he should have been displaying on his face.

"There is no need to be so tense, Lord Prince. A simple nod will let me know — no, I know you are listening." Risa smiled at her fingers briefly, fingers weaving braid in her mount's course brown mane. "He died an honorable shinobi. I just couldn't save him. I don't suppose my healing abilities are adequate enough for anyone anymore, and they failed me when I really needed them."

"I think," Ryouichi interrupted boldly, "that what's important is that you heal yourself."

Risa looked up sharply.

"If you learn to heal yourself, you will learn to live again. Even if the wounds heal, the scars remain; but they are not ugly scars. They are bookmarks of precious memories that you will never forget. I think that's what's important."

"You are wise for such a young man," Risa said, watching the boy gravely. "While your words have wisdom, they also have much emotion. Be careful with your feelings, child. When you become king, you will realize that this world is full of darkness. It will rip your soul out if you are not careful."

"It hasn't ripped out yours, has it?"

Risa regarded the blue-haired boy, currently donned in his dark cloak and riding slacks. He had chosen a low-key party; plain, dark, and dun-colored horses, officers riding in drab village clothing, and he himself in a traveler's attire. She had noticed that, in their packs, they had city clothing stored beneath the supplies. When they entered the vicinity of the capital, a gradual change of clothing would be made to meld into the city rather than appear like lost villagers meandering through the great Esmeralda.

Here was a young prince who thought. And he thought so very carefully.

"I suppose that's right," she answered softly. "As long as the darkness is kept at bay, I suppose that I am strong. For now."

"For your husband," added Ryouichi.

Risa offered a genuine smile.

He thought so very carefully, not for himself, but for the people.

.x.X.x.

A point in time is not a point at all. Time is not a line, but a dimension. If you twist and turn it enough, perhaps you'll be somewhere back in time from the future's point of view.

Or, perhaps, you'll stop forever.

.x.X.x.

A tear slipped down her face, struggling to grasp at the large, calloused fingers that wrapped around her throat. The kunai was pressed to her jaw. She was choking, and the warm blood that slicked down her collarbone and the bile that rose up her throat was unbearable.

"I said, don't move."

"We're not." The long-haired Senju did not move a muscle, only offered his hands. "Tell us what you want."

"Your hearts."

.x.X.x.

"Hashirama wasn't there when Kawarama died, I was. It was almost sort of cruel, you know? When Itama died, I wasn't there, but Hashirama arrived just as the Uchiha left. Before Itama died, he told us that Kawarama would roll in his grave if we let bygones be bygones and forgive everyone out there.

"That's why I never forgave anyone. Not even myself."

.x.X.x.

Once in the inner circle of Esmeralda, a brief stop was made so that Ryouichi could lay out the rest of his plan.

The archer and the Coast Guard officer would escort Risa to Emerald Palace via the north gates in the back. They would circle the stables and take the least conspicuous route possible; something for which Risa was rather grateful for, because the last thing she wished for was attention.

Ryouichi, without his guise, would pretend to be taking an easy ride through the city, entering through the south — the main — entrance on a new mount he'd exchanged for at an inn. Befitting a prince, a sturdy grey mare of heavy build and draft blood that was so clean that she sparkled a snowy white. He and the rest of his entourage (in the form of his hastily put together guard) would direct themselves back to the palace in this way.

"You've thought about this, haven't you?" Risa asked.

"I've thought about it too much," Ryouichi mumbled. "It took a day and a few hours to reach Amethyst, and now another day and a half back. I've been out of office for two entire days, and my father's bound to be livid."

Katsurou was covering incredibly well for his brother, a transformed bunshin performing the daily tasks of the First Prince with an unbelievable likeness and ease. Despite his appearances, Katsurou was more diligent and attentive than one might have thought. Ryouichi knew that though his younger brother seemed to laze off and ignore all royal order, Katsurou was paying close attention all the details of palace work. His keen eye memorized Ryouichi's handwriting and habits, all the way down to way he rubbed his temples and pushed up his glasses.

And so, Ryouichi worried.

A bunshin could easily be seen through, especially by the king. Their father, Hiroto, was obviously experienced in the realm of ninjutsu, but the extent of which was unknown.

Hopefully, Katsurou was holding his front up.

They reached the palace gates — Risa and the two men had successfully entered the back — when an angry dappled gray mare stormed up to them, leapt the paddock fences, and clopped across the courtyard with much gusto. She flattened her ears at them and made a noise that sounded nothing like a horse.

"The devil," muttered the cavalry officer, reigning in his own gelding.

At the sharp whistle of a skinny ten-year-old, the swift mare turned on a dime and cantered down to the palace doors, nickering eagerly. With unpredicted ease, the small girl clambered onto the mare's back and trotted up to her brother.

"Ryo, how was your ride?" she asked, surprisingly loud for the distance. Plus, she was talking again.

"It was lovely, thank you Mari," he replied, in the same volume. The members of the court looked unperturbed, thankfully. The Second Princess knew very well that this ploy was to be played until the very end, especially in such a public place close to the city.

Upon entry, his horse was taken to the barn — another confidant of any of Ryouichi's personal operations collected the borrowed mare to return to the inn — and Ryouichi entered the general library. All in an instant, the doors were closed and Katsurou rushed into the room. He briefed Ryouichi on the myriad of issues that had cropped up the past two days, ending with "You have a meeting with a Tea Country delegate in thirty", before slouching to his room.

Quite the successful mission, fortunately enough.

This was not the first time Ryouichi had pulled a personal quest. Last year, he had traveled to Kumogakure for a conference with a young lord; a strange encounter, he would say, in a strange situation. The entire trip was three and a half weeks, and Katsurou had pulled his older brother's weight in an astonishing feat.

"You could be the Crown Prince," Ryouichi had said.

"Hell no," Katsurou hissed back.

Moreover, a request for conference with the king had been dealt with efficiently and impressively in-character. Ryouichi had never been more proud to have a partner-in-crime such as that of his brother.

"I'm surprised that went well," sighed Ryouichi when Risa and the rest of his siblings returned after the meeting.

"This one," grumbled Sumiko, jerking thumb at Katsurou, "nearly messed it up this time. Dad asked for some documents he had not heard of, and you would've been busted if Mariko wasn't there."

"What happened?" asked Ryouichi.

"Luckily, Mari answered, 'oh I took those' and pulled them from her pocket," Sumiko said, throwing her younger sister a glance. "It was like magic. How'd you do that?"

"How did you do that, kiddo?" asked Katsurou incredulously. "I almost had my hide tanned, but you were my hero. Heroine, that is."

"I heard them talking about it later, so I looked for them just in case."

Just in case sounded a bit too good to be true, but they were grateful for the little one anyway. The little gathering ultimately ended in Risa healing Sumiko's ankle. Sumiko, who had no clue as to what Ryouichi's mission had been about, was completely and utterly surprised. When her ankle was fixed up, she squealed and threw her arms around her brother, thanking him over and over for being her hero, just days before her big events.

.x.X.x.

"I failed. I couldn't do it."

"I never forgave myself."

.x.X.x.

Creatures, writhing and black, emerged from the man's back, masked in animal-like faces. Hearts pumped their movements, to Mariko's horror.

"I'll replace these with yours," hollered the man. "Number one will be the God of Shinobi's heart, and number two will be a Hyoton! Numbers three and four I'll find in Kiri; they've got plenty of Kekkei Genkai to spare there."

Hashirama made his move.

"You'll be stopped, here and now!"

"Ah, I told you not to move, didn't I?"

The knife slit across the blue-haired woman's throat.

Mariko screamed, long and painful, sharper than a needle. Her wail cut through the Konoha air like a knife through flesh, excruciating and sorrowful.

Her vision blurred as Katsurou fell to his knees, hands shaking, both of them watching their sister crumple to the ground from the man's arms.

Bloody.

.x.X.x.

"There is no pain like the pain of a loved one's death. It is not like killing a man."

"Because it never gets easier?"

"No. Because it continues to get harder and harder until you crumble. And then…

"You are nothing."

.x.X.x.

She danced like she was the wind, the clouds her shoes and the sun her heart. She was the star of the capital city's famous theatre, she was the champion of the Wave Country's most renowned equestrian competition.

Beautiful and free, she was the First Princess of Hurricane.

.x.X.x.

Time stops. Rewinds. Breaks.

.x.X.x.

Hurricane's beloved star fell to the ground, face down and striking azure hair washed across the floor with her blood. She was stained.

Stained with blood and forever beautiful.

She is not dead, she is not dead, she is not dead.

.x.X.x.

"I really wonder what happened to Risa's husband. You know, the story she told us."

"Sumi, there is nothing to wonder. He was killed."

"I still feel like…never mind. Forget I said anything."

"No, tell me."

"It's nothing Ryo. Good night."

.x.X.x.

She wasn't sure if she saw what happened.

Hashirama was a blur, and Tobirama was like an angry ocean typhoon, breaking the way and smashing everything to pieces.

She felt Katsurou's arms encircling her, and then the two of them were rocking, slowly. A tear dropped onto her hand, and it wasn't her own.

"She's dead, isn't she."

It wasn't a question.

.x.X.x.

I think she killed him.

.x.X.x.

"She is not dead."

.x.X.x.

Not on purpose. Maybe, she thought he was the Kiri nin. Maybe he betrayed Hurricane. So, she killed him because that was her duty, and she never forgave herself. One, for being unable to save him from turning sides, and two, for killing him.

.x.X.x.

Don't think about it too much, sis. I'm still here.

.x.X.x.

"One day, I want to know what it's like to fly."

"Dream on, Sumiko."

"You never know, Katsurou. The glass is always full if you think about it — half water and half air."

"Are you saying I'm a pessimist?"

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Well, I'm not."

"So, do you think I would be able to fly?"

"Maybe someday."

.x.X.x.

The midst of a typhoon, the eye of a storm,

Let the river horses take you to all but the world,

The unreached mountain watches,

As your emerald heart unfurls.

When you reach the end of time,

And the Hurricane Wolf devours your soul,

Protect your heart and watch your feet,

For the moon sees sins at whole.

.x.X.x.

Irrationality is pain. Pain becomes fear. Fear becomes a lie. It's all a lie.

.x.X.x.

I can't tell if she's lying or telling the truth.

If she's asleep or awake.

If she's here or there.

If she's dead or alive.

It's not like anyone would know, since I've never posted it (well, maybe on dA)

but if you check, Risa is the name of one of my KHR OCs, and Kyoya...is a KHR character, lol.

That, and ooooooooh did I just kill someone?

*plays ominous music here*

Hidan: Kakuzuuuuu so oldddd.