2
Izumi barely slept that night.
Panic had set in when she realized the magnitude of what she'd just done. Stealing from God. She spent hours pacing her apartment, homework forgotten on the floor, circling the unfolded flower now sitting on her little table.
Fear eventually gave way to dread, and she forced herself to go to bed. She expected to lie awake for hours, but sleep came quickly, creeping up on a mind exhausted from working itself into tighter and tighter knots.
Her dreams were muddled and murky. Half-glimpsed, remembered only in flashes of clutching hands and judging eyes.
She woke twice before morning, each time jerking up at some change in the background noise. The constant patter of rain on the awning over her tiny balcony. The wind picking up and rattling the door in its frame. Her tired mind imagined the rain stopping, as it only did when God descended to walk the streets, coming to judge her crime.
Morning was a stiff, jagged affair, dragging herself out of her futon and staggering through her routine. Any sense of relief or reprieve from her sleep lasted only seconds, as her mind dutifully whirred into action and regurgitated exactly why she felt so awful.
Izumi made it halfway through breakfast before she remembered her homework, and the papers due today. She decided she didn't care, though the blank pages did nothing for the weight currently bearing down on her.
Attending school was another story. She hovered, sandals in hand, pacing again, glancing between the door and window.
Would not going be more suspicious? Or would she turn up to the academy and find a crowd waiting, already organized to punish her?
It was finally the thought of lingering in the apartment all day, bouncing off walls growing closer and closer until she finally went nuts and confessed, that got her to leave.
She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her box-lunch, and departed.
The rain was lighter this morning, closer to a gentle misting than an actual downpour. To Izumi, it felt like it was moments away from becoming nothing at all, as God came down for her.
She wasn't tremendously religious. Her parents, judging by the few belongings she had of them, had been devout, but that had been before God came to Ame. She didn't pray more than a little, and only ever at a shrine.
But God had earned his title. A man powerful enough to ascend to a deity. Who single-handedly united a nation gripped by centuries of war.
Someone who knew every inch of the land beneath his rain.
He knew.
She fretted all the way to school.
Her homeroom was mostly empty; she'd arrived earlier than usual, but she took her seat and waited for it to fill. Her classmates were predominately boys, and weren't really interested in talking to her. The few kunoichi in the class were almost entirely from clans, and the two that weren't were both from high enough social classes among civilians that she didn't really have anything in common with them.
There were other orphans, other civilian-descended ninja, and they might talk on normal days, but today Izumi wasn't having it.
She was twisting a lock of gray-green hair around her fingers, coiling it in repetitive, neurotic motions, well before the teacher made his appearance.
XXX
It was a day as close to Hell as she could imagine. Every raised voice or loud noise, every approaching set of footsteps in the corridor outside the classroom. It was all distorted. Everything became oncoming doom. Her judgment, in everything that caught her eye.
Izumi twitched and flinched her way through classes until lunch. She begged off from the usual crowd of casual acquaintances and made for the bathroom. Her stomach was already roiling, and the scent of food, the idea of eating, sent her gorge rising. She made it to the sink- nowhere near the toilet, just in time to heave up half-digested breakfast and spew until there was nothing left by sour bile and her heart pounding in her ears.
Her afternoon sensei had just entered the classroom when she returned. He was a career chunin, keen enough to take one look at her pale face and raw lips, and ask her if she was feeling well.
Izumi had to shake her head. The urge to spill her guts- literally and figuratively, was too strong.
He sent her home.
Izumi went.
It felt like walking to the gallows.
The ever-present terror was greater now. The streets were less densely populated with most citizens at work, but every stranger, every noise around a corner was magnified into that same doom. The relative quiet and solitude only made it worse. She was alone, walking through hostile territory.
She moved quickly across bridges and paths- another route today to avoid the redlight – God would see and judge, and that would only incur more wrath, wouldn't it? Legs shifting between scarecrow stiff and ramen limp, Izumi sleepwalked her way home.
She looked up, expecting to see the entrance to her apartment bloc.
The golden face of the God statue looked down at her, his ringed eyes stern and disapproving.
Her feet had carried her to the scene of the crime.
Izumi dropped to the ground. Her knees scraped concrete, landing in a puddle, but she stayed down.
"I'm sorry."
She bowed. Hands forward, her face pressed flat against the cold stone, bangs soaking in the puddle.
"Please forgive me."
There was no response. No crash of thunder. No massive, golden hand coming down to smash her like an insect.
Izumi rose slowly, still kneeling. Something warm slid down her cheek, and it took her a moment to realize she was crying. Hot tears joined raindrops.
"What should I do?"
No response.
"Please."
Golden eyes held her in place.
Izumi shuddered, frantically looking over the shrine for a sign, an inspiration.
Her gaze found the source of all the trouble.
The wish box.
But she couldn't just bring the pages back. The message was already read, the flower unfolded. It was done.
And wishing for forgiveness? That was just… stupid. You didn't wish for something like that. You had to make it happen.
She came to her feet. Moved toward the box.
Some of the slips were the same, some different. There was no origami slip though.
Of course there wasn't.
She needed to write a slip though. That much felt certain. The pieces were falling into place.
Izumi needed to write something, write back to make this right.
Write… back.
She repeated the thought in her head a couple times.
Her eyes went wide.
"Of course!"
She snatched up the pen and a slip.
Stopped.
What to write though?
The previous message had been a woman baring her heart and soul. Her deepest fears.
She was halfway through writing before she scribbled it out and crumpled up the slip. She pocketed the ball and began anew.
It took four more tries before she had something legible and right.
It needed a be a trade. Paying karma for karma, otherwise she'd be doomed for sure.
A secret revealed in return.
' I'm alone too. I worry that I'll always be alone. That being an orphan means always being that way.'
And a wish.
' I wish that the origami woman would find someone so she isn't alone. That her love may live. Trade my lot for hers, o God, please. Let me be alone and unloved she won't have to be.'
It took her another half-dozen fiddly attempts with practice sheets before she got the origami down. It looked… she grimaced. It looked like dog shit. Like a little kid having their first go at the hobby.
It was supposed to be a cat. It was cat-like, if she tilted her head to the side. Two legs, boxy head, and a stub tail.
But it was complete, and it wasn't getting any better.
Izumi pinned it up in the corner of the box where the flower had been.
Above her, the statue was still and silent, a sentinel in the rain.
She pressed her palms together, said a quick prayer for forgiveness, and then ran like hell for home.
XXX
She woke the next morning in a tangle of damp, sweaty blankets. Getting out of her futon was an ordeal, all feeble limbs and panting breaths.
She'd gotten so stressed that it had actually made her sick.
Not that she didn't have reason to stress.
It was only desperate hope that let her believe her return slip would be an acceptable trade for the flower. Because the alternative meant that divine retribution was still coming.
Or maybe that getting sick was just the beginning? Bad karma snowballing until she was buried under the weight of her sins.
The thought sent her heart pounding in a way that made her dizzy. Might have just been the fever.
Academy wasn't happening today. She'd be lucky to make the walk there without collapsing, and her nerves were still frayed to the breaking point.
Huffing and puffing with the effort of moving, Izumi crawled back into bed. Her apartment didn't ever face the sun directly, so it was constantly dim and gloomy. The perfect environment for her to sink back into a sleep mired in fever dreams.
Waking for the second time wasn't any easier. Her sweat-soaked t-shirt was half-twisted around her body, and she'd shifted during sleep in such a way as to leave an awful kink in her neck.
She stripped, showered, and dressed in the loose clothes she usually wore when lazing about.
It was… not so much easier to be calm now as it was that she'd gone numb. What was going to happen would happen. She'd done her part, now it was time to see what God's choice would be.
She giggled weakly at the thought.
Breakfast- lunch? She glanced at the clock. Lunch found her rummaging through the tiny kitchenette for something to eat. Just moving about was tiring, and her head was thudding dully, but there was nothing that could be easily made to eat.
She finally sighed and dropped the can of soup stock back into the cupboard.
There was a food stand a couple levels down on one of the main roads. Not more than a five minute walk normally.
Izumi bundled up, pulling on the heavy raincoat she used in the winter. It was too warm for it, but that was the fever talking. And getting soaked would only make it worse.
Her wallet was empty. She bit her lip before dipping into the jar in her closet where she was saving up for a sword.
Just a couple bills. She'd replace twice as many next payday. That was the deal.
Karma for karma, a little voice echoed out of her head.
The notes got stuffed in her jacket pocket as she made for the door.
Where going to school required her to go up at the juncture at the end of her bloc, getting to the shop had her descending. Four flights of dreary concrete stairs, the landings littered with trash or pungent with urine. They got worse the closer they got to the street. More accessible for anyone to come and go.
Izumi held onto the railing all the way down, using it to keep from falling whenever her head spun too badly.
Staggering steps carried her into the market. A massive canopy spanned the entire street, canvas diverting the rain away. The sudden dryness was always a bit shocking. She was outside, so it should be wet.
She laughed softly at that.
A fishmonger looked sideways at her.
Izumi kept walking.
Just the fever talking.
The stall was just a bit further in, an oasis of color with its bright red awning and bunting. She stumbled through the curtain and sank onto an empty stool between two men.
"Welcome!" the shopkeep bellowed, waving at her from behind the stove.
Izumi waved a limp hand back. His words were too loud. Her head was thumping worse than before. The color, and the sound, and the smell of eel on the grill, was… just too much.
"Unadon, please," she said slowly, aiming her question at the shopkeep's assistant. "And green tea."
She wasn't sure what his response was, but she shoved bills at him, and he took them. After a moment, he returned her change, and Izumi let herself slump onto the counter and buried her face in her arms.
The thud of bowl hitting counter woke her. She sat up, just in time for the assistant to draw back from where he'd been about to nudge her.
"Thank you," Izumi mumbled.
The food was good. Perhaps too heavy on an empty, churning stomach, but it stayed down long enough for her to finish. More importantly, the tea cleared her head and sinuses.
She was just slurping up the last of the eel when a conversation further down the bar caught her ear.
"- in Konoha! I heard Orochimaru rolled in and offed the Hokage," the man sitting to her right said, gesturing wildly over his fish.
His associate, a woman in a loose robe, rolled her eyes. "Eh. Couldn't he have at least done us the pleasure of dying too? Snake bastard. I ever tell ya he wiped out my grandad during the war?"
"A thousand times." The man downed the last of his sake and waved for more. "But Konoha's a real mess right now. I bet Kumo invades."
"Don't say that! We're right in the middle of it."
Izumi sat up straight on her stool. War. But… she was a ninja. A trainee, yes, but a ninja still. If there was a war, would she get pulled in? It was part of her duty to Ame, but… War.
"Er… excuse me?" she said softly.
The man glanced around before looking over his shoulder. "Aye? You need the salt or something, sweetie?"
"Do you think there'll be war?"
The two adults exchanged a dark look.
"Shit, kid," the woman said. "We were just talking. Don't worry about it."
"Don't swear in front of the girl!" The man turned to face her fully, his expression placatory. "We were just speculating, yeah? Even if there was a war, it wouldn't involve us. Ame's neutral. Nothing to gain from getting involved."
"I was just wondering," Izumi said. Her heart was beginning to pound, and every beat sent an unpleasant, echoing throb through her skull. "I'm at Academy now, but… I'm still a ninja, right?"
The man set his drink down, staring. "Fuckin… just a kid."
"No." The woman spoke this time, leaning around the man to meet Izumi's eyes. "That, you don't gotta worry about. My nephew's a chunin. Saotome Yamada, you know him? No? Doesn't matter. Kids don't go to war in Ame."
Izumi frowned. "Sorry?"
The woman repeated herself. "God's decree. You're too young to remember it, but when he took power, there were a lot of kids your age on the front against Konoha. God stopped that. Gotta be at least a fully qualified genin to go into combat, and even then it's just minor missions. Getting your feet wet. Saotome tells me about it when he's in town."
Something stiff and metallic unknotted in Izumi's spine. She sagged, catching herself on the bar. "That's… that's good to hear."
The adults began talking about the last war, and Izumi politely excused herself.
She tipped, thanked the chef for the meal, and departed.
The climb back up to her apartment was longer than she'd realized. Coming down had been mostly gravity, a controlled fall. Going up was entirely her. Hips and legs and knees working, all off-kilter, moving in a drunken rhythm to send her lurching up a few stairs at a time, then pausing to catch her breath.
She nearly lost her lunch on the third landing, and it was only sheer willpower that kept it down.
The familiar hallway to her apartment appeared after a long while. She wasn't sure how long it had taken, only that she couldn't remember the last couple sets of stairs.
Izumi paused on the threshold.
She could go home and go to bed.
Or… she could keep going. Three more levels to the bridge. And the shrine.
If there was a change, or some kind of sign, it would be there.
If she didn't, she was going to wonder until she did.
More than that though, she needed to.
She sighed and turned toward the up-flight.
The ascent had a dreamlike haze to it. Her head was throbbing painfully now, and her vision swimming and looping erratically.
The open sky above the bridge brought rain, chilly on her burning skin, but enough to clear the haze once more.
She crossed the bridge, feet dragging, toes of her sandals kicking through puddles.
The shrine was unchanged. The statue hadn't moved. There was no sign of some great passage.
Izumi leaned on the wish box to catch her breath. At least her dumb origami cat was still… was still…
Her return slip was gone.
She stared, wide-eyed for a long moment, her hair slowly growing lank around her face. She slicked her bangs with with her fingers before returning to staring.
Anyone could have taken it, but she knew that it had been the origami woman. It wouldn't just be some random person.
A smile slowly formed on her lips.
The offering was accepted.
She looked up to meet God's eyes.
Kids don't go to war in Ame. That's God's decree.
How many other things had God done, how many mandates had he given that had changed the course of her life?
A fat raindrop splattered the concrete at her feet, ripples forming in one of the puddles.
One action with wide-reaching results.
And… God's rain covered the entire country. His actions reached an entire people.
Suddenly, the massive golden statue didn't seem quite grand enough to do him justice.
Izumi pressed her palms together once more.
For the first time in her life, she felt truly, honestly faithful.
She walked home, savoring the rain, and not even nearly vomiting on the climb down could detract from her mood.
XXX
Elsewhere
"Higher up, please. It needs to be over the tenketsu."
"Here?"
"Mine are a little recessed. A tiny bit to the left- yes, there, perfect."
The needle was curved, almost fish-hooked, to let it arc smoothly through a loop of skin over his spine. She pressed it through, holding his skin on the other side so that it didn't deviate.
He was silent, his arms on his knees, his head down as she worked on him. They'd done this enough that he didn't even hiss at the pain. She had always been surprised that he could even feel pain with this body, but apparently he could. She wished sometimes he hadn't confided that in her. It made every in-and-out of the needle just a little more guilty.
She withdrew the needle and picked up the chakra receiver from a surgical tray. This one had been constructed as a hinged ring, one end male, one female. Using the needle hole as a guide, she began inserting the receiver. It was… unpleasant, on a visceral level. Like stabbing someone in slow motion.
The male end emerged from the hole, tip sheened with red. She clicked the ring shut and sealed the clasp with a quick burst of fire chakra between her fingertips.
"There. You'll be able to do the rest yourself?"
He stood, his movements stiff and jerky. She stepped back and waited for him to acclimate.
He rolled his shoulders, then his elbows, wrists, hands, and then fingers, working them individually. The actions repeated, large to small, as he worked out the kinks. It took a few minutes, but he eventually stopped stretching and turned.
"It will do, thank you." He smiled – and that was always odd – Nagato's crooked smile on another man's face. "It's much less of a strain than using another Path to do the ones I can't reach."
"This one is… Animal?"
"Yes." He flicked the body's long hanging bangs, still the mint-green color of its original host. "I'll finish inserting the receivers in a little while. You can go back to your message. Is that from a spy?" He chuckled weakly, his mood light after a successful integration of the new body. "Why in the world did they make it origami?"
Konan eyed the letter sitting on the table between them. "That, I'll have to find out."
XXX
XXX
Notes: This story is ending up surprisingly religious... I do find fictional religions very interesting, but it will shift somewhat as things get moving. Largely a chapter about Izumi's internal struggle. The conversation at the restaurant was a late edition, but I think it works well to justify that section. Otherwise it's just a page about Izumi going to dinner. Child soldiers definitely felt like the kinda thing Pain wouldn't be okay with. Dude's kind of a nut, but after growing up as an orphan in a war torn nation, there's no way he's going to go for child soldiers when he doesn't have to. That... that's probably true for all the nations at this point except Mist and Sound. It also helps us establish a timeline for where we're at. Not particularly relevant at this point, but it will matter a bit more eventually. Don't expect this to be some giant epic or to segue into the stations of canon, as seen from Ame. That's not what this story is about at all.
