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天逆毎
Ama no Zako
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Learning Phase: Realm of Hell
地獄道
Jigokudou
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players…"
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― William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act II Scene VII
It happens all too fast. He suddenly appears, an explosion of splinters and wild chakra.
"You thief!"
A yell. Mother screams. Mother is sobbing…she doesn't know anything about it, no, of course not—she wouldn't know because she'd never been the same after she was born. Mother had never been in the right mind, and she knew her sister distanced herself because of that.
Because Azami is too kind.
"Where are the treasures you stole?" the man roars, his chakra a dark mess. It is strong, and reeks of depravity.
She trembles. She shakes when the darkness invades every pore in her body. She is fearful when Mummy is thrown into the floor like a discarded doll.
Azami would do something in this situation. But Azami isn't here right now.
"We don't know…sir, please leave us be," she implores, voice quivering. Phantom pains from her useless legs shoot up, and she is struggling not to collapse then and there.
The man is quiet, tense. The darkness recedes back into its hiding place.
His voice is deceptively calm. "Very well. I will find them, even if I have to raze this useless compound into the ground."
A metallic sound rings through the room. A sword being sheathed maybe?
He disappears, a different man from the raging one before. But it is one and the same.
She relaxes a little, steadying her breathing. Her legs still hurt. She breathes. In. Out. In. Out. Steady, steady. Slowly, slowly. Everything is alright.
The quiet sobs stop, and she hears her mother get up to her feet. Slowly, slowly.
"…Honami?"
She gasps. There is a strange clarity to her voice, a sort of recognition that she had always longed for. But the air is tense, her mother's chakra volatile. Changing, morphing into something else. Something strange.
Something different, but entirely the same.
Strange. Wrong. Strange. It's wrong.
Honami's intuition foretells a foreboding end. She reaches for the kunai hidden in her sleeve, a relic from training days long gone. She is never the same after the fall, and Azami has never forgiven herself for letting her out of her sight.
Time stops. Azami isn't home yet.
She gulps.
Strange. Strange. Strange.
It is the first and last time Mother has called her name.
.
I don't want to die.
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Numb.
She is sitting on her knees for what seems like decades.
No, no-no-no. I don't know. No.
"It was a surprise Senju raid. Are you injured?" The shinobi arriving says, but she does not respond.
She is numb.
It's not supposed to be like this.
"Honami…" she rasps. "Mother."
Why are they…sleeping like this?
Numb.
She raises her hand to her face. No blood on her hands.
"You have to leave now, girl. We need to gather the survivors," a hand grabs her arm, lifting her up, dragging her way.
No, no, no! Let go of me! Honami and my mother are still there!
They're just sleeping!
"They're dead."
Hot tears, finally a sensation of something burning her heart away drives the numbness away. She screams, she screams so much her throat becomes raw.
Liar, you're lying!
There's no blood on her hands.
She turns towards her family for one last look. They are lying there, broken and sleeping. Her sister is clutching a kunai. There is blood everywhere, like a macabre piece of art.
She will sear the image into her brain, carving out a place for it.
There is blood on the kunai. On Honami's hands.
They try to ask her what happened, but she is mute. Only when they set fire to the ruined compound, even though the northern outpost was falling apart anyway, does she speak.
"I don't know," she says hoarsely, a wave of calm washing over her. "I didn't see anything."
There's no blood on her hands.
Her cool front protects her from the monsters lurking in the darkness, waiting to consume her.
Numb. She is numb.
No blood on my hands.
She is numb. It is nothing. It is gone.
.
.
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Azami awakes from the nightmare, gasping for air.
Just a dream. Just a dream.
The first slivers of dawn light are making their way into her room. Today is the funeral. She will not attend.
Slowly, slowly, she leaves the warmth of her blankets.
A morning run would clear her mind. Stamina training never harmed anyone.
She will not go to that memorial, that funeral, that burial—whatever it is. She will not bid goodbye to Honami, her breath of life, her precious, precious sister. Even Mother. They are not a memory now. They still exist.
She can still feel their touch—light, gentle. A soothing ambience, and she knows. She knows that Honami's will is still running through her veins. Calming and strong, that silent stubbornness so unique about her still exists.
Wiping the sleep and the tears from her eyes, she faces the new day.
After all, with her sister's chakra running through her veins, she is ready to take on the world.
Three: Unravelling Lies
The lessons continue even when Madara doesn't need a sling anymore. Four bratty children hassle her day after day—actually, the two youngest kids are quite endearing, unlike their older brothers. So it becomes bearable, to describe it loosely.
Izuna resembles a proud black cat: sharp, sly and serious. Madara…reminds Azami of one of those animals from the far away rocky lands in the northwest—the one with spines.
A porcupine.
"So?" Impatiently, said person hounds Azami for an answer. If he could be represented as an animal, the porcupine would be curled up into a little ball, bristling like the bratty child he is.
Her arm suffers spasms under the table because she tries to quash her rising ire, and the need to punch him in the face.
Patience. Patience. Don't throttle him. Patience.
She sighs, looking through his writing. His handwriting is a good combination of neat and artful. "You're actually smarter than I had originally thought you were. But the kunai trajectory questions aren't really good."
"Theory and calculations don't matter when I can just throw it directly at targets," – he crosses his arms defensively – "Sometimes, thinking too much wastes precious time and that equals death."
From beside him, Izuna shakes his head in silent laughter—already predicting Azami's snippy answer.
She narrows her eyes into green slits. "…And not thinking is just idiotic and also equals death. People should always think before they act, during action and always reflect on their actions to improve."
A pause.
"…Do you have anything to add, Izuna?"
He coughs out a response, turning straight-faced. "No. Of course not."
"Good," she says whilst shooting daggers at Madara, who had been rolling his eyes.
"Actually, I do have one question which isn't related to the lesson," – Izuna leans into the table – "Why are you still here? The funeral for your…community is happening now."
She is silent, waiting for the unintentional barbed comment. Actually, she isn't sure that Izuna is purposefully or unconsciously like that. Or, all this could be overthinking and reading too deeply into Izuna's personality and therefore meaningless conjecture.
"…You don't want to pay your last respects to your dead family?"
Ah. I see.
There it is, the sting under his seemingly 'gently-prying' question. Despite her souring mood, she tries to gather her thoughts.
"I—well…there's a time and place for everything. My period of mourning as well," – a small tug on her shirt sleeve diverts her attention away – "Hey. Jinrou, Shinsei. Don't just crawl under the table like that."
Shinsei stares at her sombrely. And despite his quiet countenance, which is strangely reminiscent of Madara, sans the raging, he speaks. "Does your heart hurt?"
Uchiha Shinsei, a boy of few words.
His antithesis, Jinrou, jumps into her lap. "We'll fix you, Azami! Don't be sad, because we'll definitely get back at them for you—pow, bam and poof!"
She finally cracks a smile when they both hug her, clinging to her like barnacles. Her thoughts must be really obvious, for little children to read her like the Sharingan seeing hand signs.
These two are too cute for their own good.
Her gaze unconsciously meets Izuna's, the sting of his words not fading yet. He smiles blankly at her, not budging a millimetre from his seat. "No thanks. I'm not a very touchy-feely person."
"Understandable," Azami replies shakily, the tremors in her voice barely evident. "I am too."
Thankfully, Madara doesn't say anything untoward when she cuddles his two youngest brothers. He works in silence as she reads a story to the two in her lap, trying to cover up the tension that she caused.
The sharply defined lines of her sight blur. Every image bleeds into each other.
They don't say anything even though she is holding Shinsei and Jinrou close to her—squeezing them like they could suddenly vanish from her embrace. Even Madara considerately turns a blind eye to her quiet sniffles.
No, of course she isn't crying. She only has some dust in her eye. Just some dust.
Everything eventually becomes dust. The Senju, the Uchiha, her family—all people, all things fade away with the passing of time.
This whole world…just a quintessence of dust.
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.
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"Excuse me."
The quiet atmosphere is interrupted the door slides open.
A grim-faced Kozue walks in wearing a black yukata, the paleness of her skin standing out even more against the dark colour.
"Kozue-san!" the four brothers greet her in sync before Azami even opens her mouth.
Tired, the woman smiles at them, before kneeling next to her. She turns towards Kozue in response.
A murmur, speaking volumes.
The clan head wishes to see you.
Lead. Someone has slipped a block of lead in her throat and she must swallow it.
She cannot.
Handing both Shinsei and Jinrou to Kozue, Azami slowly rises to her feet. Without glancing at Madara and Izuna, she mumbles a half-hearted 'I'm going to the bathroom' as she leaves them behind.
She won't look back.
Azami's view of the clan head is built on her years of eavesdropping, rumours and hearsay about the man. Even Madara and Izuna would probably have a more accurate portrait of the man's personality, with his father being apart of the council.
Uchiha Tsuze. The clan hails him as one of the most skilled kenjutsu experts. Tall, bearded and muscular—he is known for wearing his hair long, as a part of his warrior code. Apparently, the swings of his sword cut so cleanly, you don't even know you are injured until too late.
Until fairly recently, he had a wife and two young children.
She has never met him face-to-face.
But when she sits on her knees formally in his presence, his face—his countenance seems familiar. She must have met him before, but nothing comes to mind. It's strange because Azami never forgets the people she has encountered—no matter how long ago, or how brief it was. She never forgets.
This is weird.
The sitting room is simple and clean. The shoji door is left half open, letting a refreshing spring breeze tickle her cheeks. A lingering spiral of smoke from a tobacco pipe wafts into the air. There is no such thing as personal touch in Uchiha Tsuze's home.
She bows her head. "Good afternoon, Tsuze-dono."
"Good afternoon," he replies humourlessly. "Uchiha Azami, do you know why I have summoned you?"
Her back grows rigid, and she forces down the urge to fidget because of the uncomfortable sitting position.
"No, sir."
Her answer seems to displease him, because his face is just a little more tense than before. "What do you remember of the attack on the Northern outpost?"
Azami purses her lips in thought. Something about this man doesn't sit right with her. Also, the destruction of her home can be partly attributed to him because he never paid the outpost any attention whatsoever. It was like a sitting duck for enemies to attack whenever they felt like.
She possesses a bias against the clan head, which greatly clouds a purely rational judgement of the man.
However, her intuition is saying that she shouldn't tell him the whole truth.
Putting on a pained expression, she takes in a deep breath. "I…don't remember much. Just, I came back from out gathering herbs and my mother and sister…were already killed. It was a very, very sad day."
Tsuze remains grim. "Anything about the attackers?"
Raising her eyebrows, she shakes her head innocently. "No. It was empty when I arrived. The Senju raided the outpost, didn't they?"
He pauses, piercing her with his dark eyes. For a split-second, she thinks she sees the Sharingan—but it might have been a hallucination.
"Yes," – he says slowly – "The Senju."
"…Also, I am still mourning their deaths. I cannot speak any more of the incident without feeling pain," she waves her hand about theatrically, playing up the 'mentally-shaken little girl grieving'.
"Hm," is all he responds with—not even one word of the sympathy. He looks out into his garden.
Tsuze lets her to stew in tense silence. He doesn't speak another word as he sips his tea. All he does is attempt to distance himself away from her as far as possible. Probably whilst harbouring disapproving thoughts. Her parentage is common knowledge within the clan.
Reaching within his kimono sleeve, he pulls out a poorly wrapped package.
"Open it."
Azami cautiously moves closer to the low table, hand ghosting over the string that held it all together. Tugging on it, she gradually unveils what is hiding beneath.
A small gasp escapes her. "It's beautiful."
Four jade magatama strung on a tough, shiny, black cord. The comma shape of the beads reminds her of the tomoe of a Sharingan. It is in almost perfect condition, sans one bead with a crack running through the glimmering green surface. Each jade bead is a different colour: on light purple, one a golden yellow, a pale green and the cracked one is a strange icy blue.
The coolness of the jade is so different from the warmth of her fingertips.
It looks as if it is glowing.
"What does this mean, showing me this?" Azami asks politely.
Tsuze crosses his arms. "It was found near your sister's corpse. It was probably her possession." He looks straight into her eyes. "Did she carry this around with her?"
Again, she shakes her head. "I don't know," – upon seeing his expression, she carefully changes the implication of her words – "I hadn't been talking to Honami as often before she…died. Maybe she found it somewhere, or Mother may have bought it from that travelling merchant last year. You remember the merchant, the one with red hair?"
A wry smile. "I do. He caused the clan some trouble in the past."
She smiles back courteously.
Tsuze looks at the package. "Take this with you as a…memento."
"Yes…thank you, sir." She reaches for the necklace, the jade cool against her skin. She begins to wrap it up again, her heart heavy.
Just as she stands, he addresses her again. "Azami."
"Yes, Tsuze-dono?"
"Have you ever heard about the Three Sacred Treasures?"
Yes. I have.
She turns to face him.
"I don't know," she says instead, the lie flowing smoothly from her mouth. "If you'll excuse me…" She motions to leave in the most polite way possible.
He nods.
As she moved towards opening the shoji door, he talks again. "You seem to be unaware of a lot of things, aren't you?"
"My memory is hazy from grief," she says coolly. She bows.
"Have a nice night, Tsuze-dono."
After getting a reasonable distance away, she sighs. She resolves to never see that man again.
But there are times that plans go awry.
.
.
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She's taking too long.
Madara scowls as he devours the snacks Kozue brought in.
She's been in the bathroom for way too long. Did she fall in? Or is she just taking a—
"Azami must be taking a super long crap," Izuna remarks, mirroring his thoughts.
Jinrou throws his arms up, the inarizushi squashed in a small hand.
"Constipate!" the little boy squeals as Shinsei swipes his food and shoving it into his mouth. The usually quiet Shinsei joins him, both chanting, 'Constipate!' over and over again.
"It's constipated. She's constipated," Izuna corrects them over their mantra.
"…Or constipation," Madara adds smugly, a sense of victory at verbally attacking someone who isn't there to defend themself. Wrong calculations are for the weak.
"Constipated! Constipation! Constipatation-Constipatated-consti—!"
A haggard voice interrupts the chorus. "You two…don't spout nonsense to the innocent children."
Izuna adopts a wide-eyed look. "I am an innocent child."
"I doubt that. You're more of a demon spawn." She takes the two youngest by their hands. "Come on, children. Kozue-san says it's bath time."
Both are reluctant to leave. Children never seem to like bathing—even her little sister when they were young…
Azami tugs them up. She glances at the other two, just sitting there and not moving. "Children? Why aren't you coming?"
Kozue told her that they all bathed together before, no big deal. So why aren't the two oldest brats responding?
Izuna holds his hand in front of him, palm open and rigid. "I'm fine. No thanks. Not now. Maybe later. Separately. Right, brother?"
Madara's head is turned away. "No way in hell," he mutters.
Weirdos. Azami ignores their edgy responses to pay attention to the little ones in her grip.
"Okay then. Let's go, Shinsei—no, don't run in the halls Jinrou!" They all leave, and it is just Izuna and Madara in the room.
"You're blushing," Izuna observes, keeping a poker face.
His brother bristles like an endangered porcupine. "I. Am. Not."
"Pffft—" is the only thing Izuna can say before Madara tackles him into the tatami floor. And he is laughing at his brother's flushed face.
All seems right with the world. He is happy.
"…and then, I sent your measurements to the tailor for some clothes that actually fit you. You're a growing girl, after all."
Azami listens to Kozue's smooth voice, finding herself feeling exceptionally grateful under the care of such an attentive woman. She soaps her hair, lifting up the tresses to meet at the crown of her head.
"…So before the children return from their mission—which is taking very long…I'm thinking of showing you something interesting—oh?"
The sudden break in her sentence made Azami stop massaging her head, the soapy bubbles dripping down her face and narrowly missing the sensitive eye area. Soap getting into her eyes is always a bad situation.
"Kozue-san?"
Kozue leans closer, a befuddled expression spreading across her pretty face. "That. On your collarbone. A lotus tattoo?"
Ah. That.
"It's a birthmark," Azami explains. She tilts her head, second-guessing herself. "I think. My sister has one too. Actually, she had one."
Kozue smiles sadly. "It's a beautiful shape."
"Yeah." She empties the bucket of warmed water onto her soaped body, washing the suds away. "I think so too."
The conversation flows to natural stop, and a few moments of peace and tranquillity transpire between them. It is too quiet.
Loud splashing sounds come from the large bath.
"Don't play too much," Kozue calls, standing up. "What are you two doing?"
Wrapping a damp towel around her head to hold up her hair, Azami walks over to the wooden bath as well. She sighs at the sight.
Shinsei is splashing water at Jinrou, who seems to have fainted from staying in the heat for too long. Overactive children. Too much energy in their little bodies.
Azami offers to take Jinrou home after he recovers enough. She surmises that Madara and Izuna have probably went to the communal bath already instead of wasting their time to wait for their youngest brothers to play around. They'll be back to pick Shinsei up anyway.
From hindsight, she should have just let Jinrou stay overnight instead of wandering the compound in the dead of night with him, when the place is silent and evils lurk in the shadows.
It isn't her fault that she doesn't know the exact location of their home. Every home looks the same at night. It isn't her fault that she is too tired to be making careful decisions.
She catches movement from the corner of her eye. The pattern of that kimono is familiar—she'd seen it earlier today.
Uchiha Tsuze.
Now, where is he going at such a late hour? It reeks of suspicious activities—and her intense curiosity overrides her rational mind. She makes the first, pivotal decision of her life. One of many choices.
Adjusting the sleeping Jinrou on her back, Azami decides to follow that man.
She knows how to mask chakra. It is the first thing she succeeded at doing, before tree-walking and all that fancy stuff. So she leaps after the clan head silently, travelling at a higher height because of her lighter body weight, even with Jinrou on her back.
He isn't stopping. We've been going at it for a while now. Almost at the heart of the forest.
Azami senses that he is slowing down now—he's going to stop. Pre-emptively, she stills all movement behind concealing foliage, looking down at him from a higher-vantage point.
She breathes silently; afraid that he could hear the beating of her heart and skewer her with that sword he is so famous for.
He doesn't appear to notice them.
She squints, the slivers of moonlight showing the barest of his movement as he jumps to the forest floor, silently lethal. It doesn't seem explainable if he catches her spying on him so far away from the main compound.
Beads of sweat roll down her forehead. Why did she think this was a good idea?
No matter, she has to keep going. Just don't be discovered. Everything will be fine.
Tsuze takes out a scroll, unsealing whatever is inside. It appears to be heavy—maybe a stone, by the sound of it impacting the forest floor.
Azami ventures down a few branches to take a closer look.
He is staring at something—a huge box, a flat piece of…something—it's too dark to see it clearly. It is definitely made of a heavy material though, that is definite. She leans down further, and is just about to make out the object…
Jinrou wakes up. At the most inopportune moment.
"Mmmm…tired," he murmurs in her ear. The sound carries over the silent forest like a crack of thunder. Her heart falls like a boulder rolling off a cliff and into an abyss, forever plummeting to a grisly death.
Tsuze looks up in her direction. He knows now.
Crap. He knows. Damn. What do I do—what do I do—I don't know…
"Quiet," she mouths at Jinrou silently. Sensing her agitation, he abides her order.
Azami tenses her legs. She observes him, reading his lips now as his form is lit up by moonlight, the clouds passing over already.
Spies…in the tree at 8 o'clock…Kill—
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk!
Kill them.
Three kunais hit the trunk of the tree she is hiding in, missing her by a hair's breadth. The tell-tale fluttering of paper pushes her into action. With a burst of chakra into her legs, she leaps away to escape.
Three explosions, and the tree is no more.
She runs for her life, flying through the trees at breakneck speed. She doesn't know if she is fast enough, she has never raced anyone.
Not a good time to find out. Azami grimaces when Jinrou squeezes her, his fear palpable.
She has no time to make any hand seals, no jutsu, and she is unarmed. The only thing she has is chakra. The only thing she can do is run.
Two pursuers. Neither are Tsuze. Two unknowns. So she runs.
She doesn't know what else to do. She pictures herself as the wind itself, moving at one with the air, breathing as one with the wind.
The compound comes into view.
No one is pursuing her anymore. They just…vanished.
She stops behind the bushes of the training field at the edge of the compound to gather her breath under the cover.
In. Out. In. Out.
Breathe.
Her arms are numb from holding Jinrou for so long. Slowly, he slides off her back.
"Azami okay?"
With wide eyes, dilated from fear and adrenaline, she collapses to her knees. "No, I'm not okay."
She then vomits into the bushes, all dignity lost. A small hand pats her back, a tiny little comfort. Wiping her mouth, she smiles at Jinrou shakily.
"I'm okay!" Jinrou says, laughing. "So fast, Azami! Like, whoosh! But it was scary."
Too fatigued for proper words, she grunts a nonsensical response.
Following Uchiha Tsuze had been a bad decision. She should not have brought Jinrou along. If she had been killed, this innocent little boy would have been dragged down by her stupidity.
I'm sorry.
She coughs into her hand, the relief at being alive still hitting her hard.
I'm sorry.
.
.
.
A hand reaches out from the darkness, clasping her shoulder in a tight grip.
Azami gasps.
"Now, what are you two doing this late at night?"
She relaxes. "Kozue-san."
They are safe. It's fine. They won't die tonight.
The woman frowns, evidently displeased. "I've been worried sick—and I've sent Madara running around the compound looking for you two."
Kozue sighs at their sheepish smiles. "Let's go back home. I'll tell Madara that you two rascals were out for a midnight run. It's dangerous at night, you know? Don't do it again."
"Yes, ma'am," Azami and Jinrou chorus.
She lets Kozue lead her by the hand like a small child. Nevertheless, her eyes are drawn to the sword strapped to the woman's hip.
Even in her state of fatigue, Azami notices that Kozue strangely, smells of blood.
She dreams of pinwheels, of the glowing magatama beads, of whirling tomoe in red eyes and rings that spin her round and round in circles. She dreams of a masked bird that flies over the forest, the harbinger of war and bloodshed.
Her birthmark burns.
つづく
End notes
Fun Fact: Azami's personality type is the 'Independent Thinker'.
Well. This chapter. Where should I start?
This is where the plot starts to take form. Many important introductions have been made, and they are integral to the story! This will be getting a little complicated, so be attentive to the details.
Before people say stuff—it was never explicitly stated that Uchiha Tajima was clan head. And even if he was, a few liberties won't matter. Everything will fit in with canon.
Yes, Hashirama and Tobirama will be appearing in this story. They will feature heavily in the future arcs, along with Madara and Izuna. But that isn't the complete cast. There are some very interesting turns to take later on.
Also, canon will happen. This story won't verge off what is set in stone in canon. I might write a 'what-if' as a part-two of the epilogue if people are curious though.
Next chapter, everything goes to hell. More Madara and Izuna next chapter, of course!
Seriously, crazy stuff is going to hit the fan.
Phew.
Tollpatsch