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天逆毎
Ama no Zako
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Learning Phase: Realm of Hell
地獄道
Jigokudou
"What is an anarchist? One who, choosing, accepts the responsibility of choice."
― Ursula K. Le Guin
Four: Humanity
Die.
It's barely a whisper, but the word chases her when she sleeps. When she is finally released from the clutches of illusory dream worlds and the sensation of falling, it is an echo.
Die. Kill yourself. Die.
Lying in her futon as the rice paper screens filter in daylight, it is tranquil. Her life is stable. She has something to look forward to now.
Die.
It's an ominous cloud that looms over her, a strange, wispy sort of aura that doesn't belong with her anymore.
Breathing in the calming lavender scents of her pillow, she sighs.
Am I finally becoming insane?
"No more midnight escapades," she mutters into her blankets. Last night had been too much danger for her to handle in a lifetime.
400 steps north-east. Turned fifteen degrees clockwise and continued 200 steps until the river. Crossed the river and continued for 50 steps. He unsealed the scroll. It was something heavy. Two pursuers after discovery.
Azami sits up suddenly. What happened to the two that were chasing her? She made sure to be shrouded in darkness to keep her identity a secret—but if Uchiha Tsuze used his Sharingan, it would have been a different story. The moonlight would have been all it took for her to be unveiled.
And Jinrou. She endangered him as well with her recklessness. How could she be so stupid? Someone needs to storm in and violently stamp out her idiocy. Preferably erase the past while they're at it.
I could never forgive myself if anything happened to Jinrou because of me…
She continues to ponder whilst rubbing the last of sleep from her eyes. Apart from almost falling into a pit of self-hate and blame, she removes herself from the troubles of emotion and embraces the calming effect of cold rationality.
He didn't know it was me. Most likely, he knew it was a member of the clan.
Strange. Why would the clan head opt to kill members of his clan before capturing them first for questioning?
He would have surmised that I had followed from the compound. Enemy clans move in small teams for patrol and at least doubles in reconnaissance. He knew it wasn't an enemy ninja.
So, why? Why are there so many questions?
And there's the matter that Kozue had a sword—a chokuto to be precise…even though one wouldn't be armed with a sword suited for battle after a bath. Uchiha Tsuze wields a katana, but he hadn't been visibly armed last night.
The one that should be armed wasn't, and one that shouldn't be armed…was. How baffling.
Most confusing was how Kozue smelt like blood. There is a continuity error here—unless she bathed in blood, no human would smell like it after a bath.
Is it even related to last night?
More questions.
She feels an incoming headache from the gaping hole of information. Nothing can be pieced together with something so vague and solely based on her paranoia.
Azami breathes out slowly. No use thinking so much.
"I need to clear my mind."
.
.
.
She starts off at a slow pace, her zori crunching the dried leaves of the forest floor. It is autumn already, and the early morning carries a certain chill. Azami breathes heavily as she strains her body to keep jogging around the relative safety of the compound.
Apart from the occasional morning birdsong, it is quiet. No one else is in the vicinity. The trees look as if they have been attacked by an inspired artist's brush—rich red, orange and brown striking the foliage brilliantly.
Using a sleeve, she hastily wipes the sweat from her forehead. Sipping slowly from her water skin, she pants heavily in exhaustion.
"So...tired." She stops to regain her breath.
Doubling over lazily into a stretch, she relaxes into the dewy grass.
Something shifts the natural atmosphere of the forest, and she straightens immediately. Four shinobi pass by overhead, their dark clothes and armour a stark contrast to the brightness of the forest.
The fatigued girl bows her head in greeting, but they ignore her. Looks like the whole clan still disapproves of the product of mingling with outsiders.
Oh well. It was worth a try though.
As if hearing her thought and in order to prove her wrong, one of the smaller figures branches away from the rest and approaches her. She recognises him.
"Izuna," she breathes out, genuinely surprised at seeing him in an environment outside of the classroom. "Rough mission?"
He stretches his arms slowly, seemingly loosening his joints. "No—three hours of patrol. Being on standby isn't easy on my arms and legs."
"First time?"
"Yeah. When are you on?"
She grins wryly. "Apparently my abilities aren't good enough. I've never been given the honour to be on patrol to protect our clan."
Izuna glances at her critically before shrugging. "That's going to change. The new schedule is out-since five minutes ago, I believe."
Azami frowns. "And this matters to me because…?"
The slight furrowing of his eyebrows is all the warning she needs to prepare for the incoming slew of words.
"There's new rules now—everyone who wears the clan emblem is supposed to report for patrol to cycle out those on missions," – he crosses his arms – "We have half an hour to memorise our times, and now the routes are changing alternately apparently. Every three days."
She whistles lowly as she processes the information. "That is some strategic innovation we have here. How long did it take again? A decade?"
Izuna sighs. "Why are you so snarky today, Azami?"
She airily dismisses him. "Maybe because I got out of the wrong side of bed today, or maybe it was the disturbing dreams I've been having…about a kunai and a hammer, you see—"
"I don't want to hear anymore!"
Laughing, she shoves his shoulder. "Just joking. Let's check out the schedule then. Thanks for telling me."
The patrol system is changed. Due to increasing skirmishes with other shinobi clans whilst engaged in bloody battles with the Senju, the clan is running low on manpower.
Everyone who wears the clan crest is called to duty. The more capable: to the battlefield. The younger ones are thrown into the patrol system to ready them for the battlefield. However, it's not the conventional system anymore.
Three members of a team. Madara is the leader, Azami is the newbie and Jinrou is the youngest. It's his training exercise, the last bout before formally introducing him to the bloody warfare of the shinobi world. Three teams of three will patrol according to their designated routes, which spans around the Uchiha territory and much farther away in terms of distance in order to cover more ground.
Patrol teams now function as scouts as well. The team in the next shift is required to be on standby for an hour before continuing the route. This is so that the whole nearby area is scoured thoroughly every day and night.
It used to be three-hour rotations, but since manpower is low, it has been increased to six hour shifts, quarterly. The morning shift is sunrise to noon. The afternoon shift is noon to sundown. And then from sunset to midnight is called the dusk shift.
These three are relatively standard. The dusk shift sees a minor amount of danger, whilst the daytime shifts saw many minor fights and the least amount of deaths statistically.
Azami stares at the large scroll, memorising the route. She isn't in luck.
They are on the night shift, from midnight to sunrise. That is the time where most patrol teams go missing, are killed, and basically encounter the most enemies.
Even worse is that her team is made up of her, an inexperienced member, and the extreme newbie, Jinrou. The only vaguely competent one is Madara.
From the get-go, it isn't looking good for them.
.
.
.
A bead of sweat rolls down her temple, adrenaline kicking in. Somehow, she quickens her pace, not unlike the quickening of her heartbeat. Madara senses her disquietude, signalling at her to slow down.
But don't you have a bad feeling too—she wants to ask him, but a glance at an anxious Jinrou stops her. There is no need to unnerve him further.
Still, the only one experienced here is Madara, who has to deal with the burden of two nervous newbies.
From the corner of her eye, she catches a dark blur vanishing into the shadows of the dimly lit forest and her heart skips a beat.
Leaves rustle behind them as a chilly breeze picks up force. Some dust flies into her eyes, and she stops momentarily leaping from branch to branch to soothe the irritation.
Azami only blinks for a moment. And it only takes that one moment of darkness and quiet for everything to go wrong.
A small sizzling sound, and a sudden spark of chakra fells the trees in the vicinity in a shower of splinters and dust.
She gasps at the numbing sensation in her shoulder—lighting release oh crap—
...And she is sent careening to the darkness of the forest floor. Alone, separated from Madara and Jinrou. The dust cloud is making it hard to breathe and see their figures.
Are they alive? She pants, coughing loudly and grimacing at the small flecks of blood on her hand. The lightning release has painful side-effects. Humans in general aren't resistant to lightning, their bodies made of almost half water.
Assuming a basic stance, she lowers her centre of gravity. Her feet are shoulder-width apart and her legs tense. No use worrying about the other two.
Someone's here.
She reaches into her weapons pouch on her thigh, calming herself with the sensation of cold metal on her skin. It's okay—not dead yet, unknown enemies who have lightning release, medical ninjutsu, and can mask chakra. This isn't looking good with this strange, wide-reaching combination.
Breathe in, Azami. Breathe out. Focus. Focus!
Watch out.
Just as she feels the harmonious flow of her chakra humming throughout her body, intuition kicks in. She jumps off the ground, swerving away from the tree next to her that explodes in a shower of lightning sparks and splinters.
She feels the blood running down her arms. Shallow cuts. Not too bad. Not good, either.
A boy emerges from the smoke- around her age, maybe slightly older, armoured…and baring the crest of her clan's worst nightmares.
(He checks for her corpse, but she has dodged that attack.)
There is no doubt about it: the pair of two crescents, in reverse on the ends of a flipped cross. Her enemy.
Senju. The clan with a thousand skills.
Azami grits her teeth to stop them chattering. She is taut with tension in order not to tremble like a leaf in the wind.
Not good. They're unpredictable. Too much variety in jutsu.
It is one thing to be told of your enemy, and another to face them in reality. Azami notes his complicated topknot (useless in battle), the young face…a human being who probably has a family, maybe a sister, and many people who love him dearly…
Immediately, she erases his humanity from her eyes. She will not die yet. No. Not here. Not—
He disappears.
She panics.
Where—Damn I have no idea what I'm doing.
She pushes off the trunk in a burst of speed, heart pumping, mind reeling in the midst of battle.
The reality sinks in. If she loses here, she will die. Die like a pig in this stinking forest of darkness.
The slight spike of killing intent is what saves her from the first blow.
Turning her head whilst in mid-air, she narrowly dodges the first punch. The second uppercut is caught with her jaw. It snaps her head up to the sky, and for a split second she feels nothing but the bearable impact before she screams.
Searing pain. Her insides burn. It hurts. It hurts- it hurts – please- no more, no more, no more—I'm on fire, help—I don't want to do this anymore please-
Her heart pounds faster and faster- this fucker infused his punches with lightning chakra!
Dark spots dot her peripheral vision. She stumbles back- dizzy and panting because somehow it's so hard to breathe—
Everything fades to black, and it is silent and peaceful. It is a moment of unconsciousness, a temporary escape from the world. Azami wakes up, finding herself in the midst of falling, the enemy getting closer and no way in hell she's going to let him shock her again.
She springs from her feet into a series of rapid backflips to get the fuck away from that crazy lightning kid.
Azami isn't fast enough. A flat palm strikes her right arm, but she jerks away quicker this time, getting away with a sharp, painful sting…then numbness where her arm hangs uselessly from its socket, occasionally twitching.
It's a one-sided beat down, and she is losing. Her face aches; there are cuts all over her arms from the previous explosions, flying debris and she has had enough.
Totally rage-inducing.
She bombards him with kunai to make him jump to the left. Suddenly veering to the side, she sends a fireball to him whilst he is in mid-air. It catches him by surprise, and he evades one moment too slow.
The smell of burning flesh fills the air. The enemy is groaning, his face contorted in agony as he cradles his right arm.
An arm for an arm. Azami grimaces as shuriken fly at her.
She responds faster this time, slowly acclimatising to his movements. Pushing chakra into her legs, she leaps away from the incoming shuriken. Some are embedded into the ground. Others follow her—probably infused with lightning chakra, and somehow able to vaguely track the tiny electric surges of her nerves.
The Senju are terrifying.
It's not the end yet. Never challenge an Uchiha in shurikenjutsu.
She retaliates with her own fire-chakra infused shuriken barrage, shuriken for shuriken. It doesn't cancel out the lightning chakra, because of her fire nature, but it stops them from following her.
It looks like he isn't ambidextrous, and she has taken out the use of his dominant hand.
(Back in the early days of target practice, holding her own against the rest with her skill in her aim remains her pride. Hours upon hours of extra practice, sore fingers and cuts on her hands were the price.)
The strength of her fireball release seems to be just that little bit stronger than his mastery of the lightning release, which she must exploit. It's her only advantage.
However, the Senju boy is still faster than her. More kunai are targeting her this time, with the dreaded exploding tags. Her hands automatically go into the tiger seal. The kunais hit the target.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk—
They hit a block of wood instead, the speed of the execution of the body replacement jutsu just a hare's breadth faster than the kunai.
Ram. Snake. Tiger. (Her right hand is shaky, and she needs to hurry before the pain comes back again.)
Azami peers out at the enemy ninja, who has his eyes closed in a bid to sense her. Fat chance, this guy isn't the experienced chakra sensor of his team. And even if he is, it looks like the pain of the burns to his arm is affecting him.
She calms herself, ignoring the spasms in her own arm. Her dominant hand is her left, after all. It's going fine. Calm yourself. Think. Think. Think of a way to get out of this alive, and then check on Jinrou. Check on Madara. Everyone's going to be fine.
The moment she waits for…is that moment of clarity, that sudden epiphany combined with clever tactics- aha!
A plan forms. She checks for the ninja wire. It's there. It's fireproof.
Shadow yourself. Make use of the darkness. Trick him.
She's ready.
The whizzing the shurikens alerts him, and he dodges them easily. She keeps throwing them from different, erratic angles, not letting him rest. She lets him see glimpses of her as she darts between the trees.
(Her arm aches. She ignores the painful tingling, jabbing a pressure point to force her hands to move)
He keeps dodging, still agile despite his injury.
It's time. Everything rests on this. He can't notice. Not yet.
The image of her charges towards the Senju ninja—no, the boy, for he is just a boy caught up in a war not of his own making. He shakily punches with his left hand, denting the ground when she evades it cleanly.
(There is no shadow, no sign of real presence. But it is dark, and in the heat of pain and adrenaline he doesn't notice.)
He is still faster than her. He jumps, bringing his leg up in a powerful swing to kick her into the ground, lightning sparks foretelling the unimaginable pain when it connects with her abdomen, and it goes through her…driving through the mirage to make contact with the earth.
(She twitches her fingers, pulling and pulling, setting the trap…)
The Azami in front of him vanishes in a burst of smoke. He frees his leg from the earth, and he lifts his head up towards the moon shining overhead, the clouds finally breaking.
"A clone, huh?" – he mumbles, realization dawning.
I'm so sorry.
It's the end. It's his loss, he realises when he sees the moonlight illuminating pieces of chakra wire pulled taut around the whole area. He can't move without it cutting into his skin.
"Sorry, Touka. Looks like onii-chan can't come back. Don't give Hashirama too much trouble, okay?" He glimpses the Uchiha girl in the shadows, just a little girl. A little older than his sister, maybe. Just a girl.
He couldn't bring himself to kill her. And that gap between his will and hers, the desire to survive is what she took advantage of. She sees through him, and he sees through her.
The sorrowful look on her face is what makes him smile in the face of death.
"Katon: Ryuuka no Jutsu," Azami mutters as she steps out from hiding behind a tree trunk. The fire is fast, flying across the wires.
Flames engulf him. It's strange that he is smiling.
Once again, she is watching someone burn.
(He has a sister, friends, people who love him. And she is the one who stole his life.)
I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry—I'm sorry.
In her moment of regret, she aims at where his heart and neck are—launching the kunai with solemnity. A quick end is better than slowly burning to death.
The smoke must have gotten in her eyes. They are watering from the smoke. These are not tears. Not for the enemy, not for someone who ambushed her with the intent of killing her. Even though the intent was half-baked. Definitely not.
Yet, she is crying again. What is she crying for?
Once again, she is watching someone burn. To death.
Ah, yes.
These are tears shed for the victims. She is a victim. So was the boy. Everyone is a victim of a useless battle of pride between generations.
He dies for that pride. He dies because she wants to live. That is why Azami cries.
They all die for nothing. And wipes her despair away, as she steels herself. She has to find Madara and Jinrou.
I don't want people to die for nothing anymore.
The exploding trees take Madara by surprise. He reacts immediately, pulling Jinrou into his side to shield him from the debris as he springs to relative safety.
"Azami's not here," Jinrou whispers.
"She'll be fine on her own," he answers. "She has to be."
It's like he is trying to convince himself, rather than ease Jinrou's worries. He stands in front of his brother, half of his body naturally shielding him.
He can't worry for her. Not now, when there's two enemies charging for them. The spike in chakra gives them away, and a wave of killing intent strikes them. Madara shrugs it off like dust off his shoulder.
Jinrou doesn't fare so well. He is frozen in place with fear. His first patrol shouldn't be wrought with enemies in sudden ambushes.
Madara lays a reassuring hand on the boy's tiny shoulders. "Stay calm, Jinrou. And stand back," – he looks deep into his brother's eyes, trying to convey the fact that he will protect him, no matter what – "I'll keep you safe."
He can't check for his reaction, but he hears Jinrou draw his short sword.
Let's go, then.
He engages both of them at the same time, mind going into overdrive. Analysing, reacting, predicting, evading. All the while trying not to let them through. Jinrou wouldn't be able to win against them. Not against these Senju ninja.
One has precise attacks. He aims for the vitals all the time. Using scalpels—probably the medic. His strength obviously isn't his forte. The other seems to dabble in taijutsu mostly, but weapons could be concealed. He is agile and speedy.
Both seem to be older than him. Maybe just standing on the cusp of manhood.
But Madara is faster. He is dodging strikes, jabs and their teamwork taijutsu expertly. Though they move in sync, each complementing the other, he is holding his own against being double-teamed.
He has to overpower them. The constant attacking is putting him on the defensive. There is no time to make hand seals.
A scalpel nicks the tendon between his shoulder and neck where the armour doesn't protect him. Madara quickly sweeps his foot under the Senju's to divert his attention before delivering a high kick, right in the jaw.
Intuition kicking in, he springs backwards as his hands move automatically at the sight of an earth dragon barrelling towards him.
So the taijutsu guy had earth jutsu. They tried to distract me. Hmph.
He directs more chakra into the jutsu, breathing out a fireball twice its normal size. Fire is stronger than earth. That is an elemental fact.
Narrowly dodging another scalpel, he readies his chakra for another jutsu. Both enemies are in range. The earth-user is heading towards him, and the other isn't that much of a challenge alone.
It's checkmate. Everything will end with this—
"I have to go on! I have to!" Jinrou screams as he rushes past a motionless Madara, blindly charging head on into the fight.
No—a genjutsu?
"Kai! Kai! Jinrou, snap out of the genjutsu!" he yells, desperately trying to break the illusion. This distraction earns him a scalpel slashing at the sides of his abdomen, the flesh not covered by armor very vulnerable.
He ignores the sting of pain. "I told you to stand back, idiot!"
In a frenzy, he somehow manages to shake off the slashing scalpels and run towards Jinrou. He has to make it before the enemy. He has to.
Madara reaches for Jinrou's collar, the new Uchiha crest on his back giving him encouragement to reach him.
The sword drops from his grip as he falls back into Madara's arms, still.
Breathing out at Jinrou's falter, he feels his heart drop when he sees the blood. Slowly, he raises a hand towards the boy's neck. There is no pulse.
A kunai is sticking out from the place where his heart should be. He died instantly.
No.
The enemy is relentless, continuing to attack as he holds Jinrou's body in his arms. Jinrou, who will never laugh again. Who will never see again. The light of life has left his eyes, never to return again.
Madara lays him down gently.
Dead. Dead-dead-dead—
He sees red. He roars in anguish, just screaming as everything fades into a blur as he pummels the murderer into the earth, where he should be buried for eternity.
He takes them both on, the medic ninja is once-again pushed to the side because he will break that man for what he has done, and he will not rest until he avenges his brother. His younger brother, who he could not protect.
He stumbles when the man finally falls into the pool of is own blood, broken and dead, dead, dead. Somehow, it is hard to keep standing.
It's hard to breathe.
And Madara falls, gasping for air. The blurry figure of the medic walks closer, closer, closer.
"P-poi…son," he rasps at the man, who does not answer. A hand grips at his collar, dragging his limp body that refused to move, move- damn it—to eye level with a scalpel.
He watches a bead of liquid roll off the sharp metal. Lacing the scalpels with poison—he should have discovered that sooner, with all the small nicks and cuts. Especially the slash near his stomach. The cut is deep, and the poison would have been directly introduced to his bloodstream.
Not…good.
Silence.
"…Strong paralyser," a deep voice says finally in a sort of grim goodbye. With his other hand, he readies the scalpel to slit Madara's throat.
He wills his hand to move, only managing a shuddering movement. Move. Move-move-move!
Gritting his teeth, he weakly kicks out at the ninja, thrashing about.
"Impressive. But you will die here."
He has to buy time to move more. He has to move. He has to live.
"Why?" Madara wheezes out.
"For my fallen comrades and the Senju clan." The taciturn reply is ironic.
"He…killed my-my…brother."
"And you killed him."
Here, something welled up within in—something that rebels against this senseless slaughter between Uchiha and Senju. Between all the shinobi clans. Why is it like this?
Why did Jinrou have to die for something this pointless?
Madara locked gazes with the Senju, a fire in his eyes. "But…why?"
He starts to swing the scalpel, aiming at his throat. "Because you are an Uchiha. And I am a Senju."
That reason isn't good enough.
Madara shuts his eyes for the impact.
Why do I have to die for nothing? This world is unfair! I hate this world!
He breathes in sharply when he senses the incoming scalpel. This is it. His end.
The memory of that stupid girl crying in the training ground weeks ago emerges, and he remembers the way her hair fluttered in the breeze, the irritating way she smiled, that playful glint in her green eyes.
He likes the colour green. It's calming. He never told her that, did he…and she might, like Jinrou, be already—
Thump.
The sound of panting, and the man that holds him captive drops him, groaning.
Madara forces his eyes open, only to see a hand holding something metallic on the ground next to him.
Just a hand. Severed cleanly.
Slowly, every so slowly, he raises his gaze to see the man on his knees in front of him, and a sword at his throat.
The sight of the person holding the short sword—Jinrou's sword, brings a surge of relief.
She's alive. She won.
"Now, let's make this quick. Answer me, or I slit your throat," – Azami's soft voice has an edge to it like the blade she holds – "Who told you that we would be here?"
The man groans in pain. "I will not betray my clan."
Azami presses the blade further into the tender skin of his neck. "Not a Senju then. Probably one of your allies. Easy targets? You tried to capture us first. Then you deemed Jinrou useless. So, what information were you hoping to get from us?"
He remains silent.
She sighs. "So I am close to the truth. Well. I've never interrogated ninja before, so I guess I'll let the more experienced Uchiha pry those secrets out," – she glances at Madara – "Can you move now?"
He nods, struggling to get to his feet. Reaching in his pouch for a kunai, he shakily points it at the man's heart.
"Speak now, and we'll spare you the torture," he says hoarsely.
The man narrows his eyes resolutely, before his body tenses.
"Madara, stop him—"
He can't move his arms up. He has no more strength.
Blood spurts from the man's mouth. He convulses, eyes bulging and body shuddering for many long moments as Azami lets him fall on his side, unmoving.
Madara gapes at the scene. "What?"
She sighs again. "He bit his tongue off, and choked himself. Well, he saw through me."
"…What?"
Azami lets her left arm fall back towards her side, as her right seems to hang uselessly.
"Dead men tell no tales. His blind trust in his clan is admirable. So he fights, and kills in the name of the clan. And he died a pointless death, a victim of this cycle of hatred."
She casts her eyes towards where Jinrou lies, seemingly sleeping. "Him too. A victim."
"…A cycle of hatred," Madara murmurs, staring at the body of his brother. Trembling from the effects of the paralysis, he crawls towards Jinrou. The progress is slow, and he ends up dragging himself across the forest floor. His body shudders from the paralyzer, tingling uncomfortably.
Jinrou, Jinrou, Jinrou.
"I'm sorry," he says softly, cradling Jinrou in his arms.
She watches him sadly, averting her eyes upward to give him that moment of privacy to mourn.
The sky is a brilliant red. Dawn is breaking. It's just another day.
But it's the first day without Jinrou.
.
.
.
The sun has risen. The forest should be filled with signs of life, of morning birdsong to welcome the incoming day, but it is deathly silent.
Azami stands there, just breathing. Her grip loosens on the short sword she is holding, and it drops into one of many pools of blood—already drying onto the tips of the once green grass.
Raising her hands to her face, she stares at the scarlet stains blankly. The adrenaline is fading fast, and she feels the heaviness of her limbs. It requires so much effort to keep standing there, in this gory aftermath—to keep living, and breathing with the burden of the loss of lives.
Enemy lives, but they were once living humans as well. Her hands are finally covered in blood.
A strangled cry fills the forest.
"…Madara?" she whispers, walking forward a few steps towards him. He is kneeling in blood—not his, but could have been.
A question—are you okay, lingers on her lips, but she can clearly see that he isn't. He's not okay, not fine, definitely not. He is emotionally broken, a small crack forming on an unmarred heart that could never be filled again.
He doesn't reply when he looks over his shoulder at her, tears streaming down his face. He just contorts his face painfully, roughly wiping at his eyes and instead smearing blood all over his skin.
"Let's go back, Madara. I've sent out a flare," – her voice is hoarse – "Help is coming. Home. Let's go home. Everyone's waiting."
"…Not everyone," he murmurs. "Jinrou's dead, too."
A sense of déjà vu washes over her, and her mind wanders back to a time long gone, an endearing and childishly fun time where their worries about war and politics were distant. Where all that mattered was who got the last snack, who could run the fastest, and who had the nicest handwriting.
"The Senju got him," she finally says after a long period of silence, her eyes watery and warm. Emotions catch up to her logical mind, and the tears fall. She once thought she had no more tears left after her family turned into ash.
But she cannot stop crying. Not when life is like this. Not when death looms over them like this.
Madara's low mutters fall silent, and he punches the ground. Over and over again.
"I couldn't protect him. Again. Again. Again!" He yells, his voice raspy and his knuckles raw. His hands are shaking—the side effects from the paralysis still affecting him.
As inexperienced as she is, she could still sense the storm of angry chakra. Strangely, his tempestuous chakra feels magnetic.
(Since when could she feel chakra like that? Wasn't this her sister's ability…?)
She cannot look away from that eerie chakra, its humanity beautiful in its fury and its anguish.
つづく
End notes
Poor Madara. He goes through so much. Anyway, the chapters before were all building up to this one. That is what I do, build up things until they EXPLODE!
(Sobs) JINROU! WHY!
…And another Hashirama reference. He doesn't appear for some time though.
Anyway, I hope people noticed Azami's development. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Also, I try not to paint people in a totally negative light. Not everything is black and white.
Azami is not strong- not overall and not physically either. Her current skillset is pretty meagre compared to the calibre of all her enemies: some kind of battle sense, a bit of stamina, agility, basic Uchiha techniques and a newfound sensitivity for vague emotions in chakra. Not even a sensor-type, which would actually be useful, haha.
So of course she needs to get beaten into the ground. It's not fun when they're too strong. But she will have time to shine, and moments of awesomeness.
On another note…what are your thoughts so far? I think this is nearing the end of the introductory arc of the plot.
Much love,
Tollpatsch.