So yeah. This chapter has been brewing in my mind for over a year now (insert maniacal laughter here) since I was laying on my living room floor with pneumonia in both lungs. There are two things that helped shape the plot of Samurai: my pneumonia of January 2011 and Tenzou. Also: Can't get through any of my longer stories without offing a certain Uchiha/wa. That might say something about my thoughts on a certain village abandonment. Anyway, thank you all for your amazing lovely reviews, I love all of them although I can't reply to some because you have the "reply back" thing disabled which is fine and such—can't have a policy and break it for just one author/reviewer/anything. I have promised myself to keep a regular chapter length and replying to reviews here in the comments would add waa-hay-hay-haaaay more length than any of us want. :)
In other news: there is still a lot of story to go, everyone (…not like another 100,000 words or anything, but another arc!) Now, onward to the funfacts!
Funfact: Ryokan were government and local inns where you could tie up your horse/etc and have a sleep, they also would feed you and let you have a bath. This has been covered before but figured it was due for an update. There are still a few in places around Japan and you can stay at them still—some are "original," and such and others are more modern. So yeah.
Funfact: Clarification: Ietsuna is the current shogun, his father Iemitsu is all dead and such. Iemitsu left Ietsuna under Jiraiya's care in the story, as well as all of us with headaches. Ieyasu, Iemitsu, and Ietsuna…are you seeing a pattern? Friggin' Tokugawa family. Ieyasu started the Tokugawa shogunate, Iemitsu started the persecution of Christians, and Ietsuna was the chillaxed guy out of like the whole dynasty (I think a few months ago I noted that he was chill in the manner that the guy with the axe is way more chilled out than the guy with the chainsaw, though a better description would be Ietsuna is the guy with a lighter vs his dad Iemitsu being the guy with the Molotov…you're gonna get burned, but after one of them gets done with you you'll be alive).
Funfact: Itachi has a wound on his forehead with blood that has bled "upwards." It bled downwards when it was made, because he was upside down when they cut him. That's because the …Japanese Inquisition…(yeah, I'm going with that) had a favorite torture method called "tsurushi" which is translated as "reverse hanging." It was basically hanging someone upside down for a long time to make them give up information and/or recant. Except humans pass out after awhile because all the blood rushing to their head. Tsurushi was awful because they figured out a way around that. They cut across your forehead Sylar-style and then you couldn't pass out. So yeah. Basically terrifying. And effective! The Spanish Inquisition had nothing on the Japanese Inquisition.
Funotherstuff: I wrote out Kakashi's panic attack the way I and a few people I know experience panic attacks. So that's all the research I did on it, feel free to attack me for whatever's wrong there I'm not going to change it because panic attacks are not the focal point of the story.
Well, without further ado,
Enjoy!
"Kakashi-iii—i," Naruto whined as Kakashi nudged him with his foot. The foreigner was cuddled up under his blanket, dewdrops sparkling across it. In the bare light of the false dawn his hair was ethereally blue, and his face was deathly pale. Kakashi shuddered once and then got control over himself again. He would not think those thoughts. He had stayed up all night rather than have nightmares of seeing her cold body, or worse the stone used to mark her resting place—or the name they would give her spirit, or his cold house, or his empty bedroom, anything. He would not grieve her unless he absolutely had to.
"Get up, Naruto, we have to start the day sometime," he said, trying to be as sympathetic to the younger man as possible. Naruto was being dragged along against his will, deprived of rest because of Kakashi—though if Naruto had stayed behind in Edo, Kakashi wasn't sure he would have stopped here as long as he had. The next ryokan was only seven or eight miles up the road, he could have pushed himself there had he been alone. He would have demanded fresh horses and been home by dawn.
"Is there anything to eat?"
"No, but we can get some rice just down the road. Now up."
He ended up tying a short lead to Naruto's horse, just in case the boy fell asleep. Kakashi promised himself that he would let Naruto rest as long as he wanted to—once they were in Fujimi. The sky was still dark, but Kakashi could just see his way from the weak light provided by the stars and the last of the moon—he picked a slower trot than yesterday, to be safe. The horses whickered occasionally, sensing the creatures and spirits that lived in the dark.
The sky was just letting on towards light when they changed horses at the ryokan. Kakashi bought rice for Naruto and soup for himself—if he threw up it wouldn't be awful, and he hadn't eaten but a few bites of rice the previous morning. Naruto ended up drinking the soup, now cold, after stealing it Kakashi's motionless hands. In his heart he knew that his reaction was going to be seen as untoward, and that to most men his haste was unnecessary—wives were arranged out of economy, existing as mothers and helpers. He also knew that people died, of all assortments of illnesses too. But Kakashi didn't want to accept any of these for Sakura. She was a force to be reckoned with sometimes, despite her bouts of shyness.
Riding faster as they came closer to Fujimi, Kakashi prayed—as he had for much of the night—that she had overcome the infection. Naruto was quiet—tired and grimy, poorly fed—but kept up with him. When Kakashi saw the first few buildings of the village he almost urged his horse into a gallop. He stopped himself, but only barely as he and Naruto cantered through the center of town. Kakashi saw the town doctor and glared until the man wilted under his gaze as he passed. Tenzou had mentioned nothing of Fumio, the doctor, coming to see Sakura, which meant that the man had refused to attend her—the wife of a samurai! He would deal with the doctor later, he told himself.
Fumio screamed suddenly, right about when Naruto would have passed by the doctor. Kakashi glanced behind him once, seeing Naruto circle again on his horse before starting to follow him. The yellow haired man had probably made some sort of grotesque face. A smirk twitched on Kakashi's lips—he'd told Naruto to act the part of a demon if anyone ever saw him. Apparently Naruto had seen who Kakashi had been staring at. Riding out of town was grim for Kakashi as he wondered how fast he could push his mount without hurting it. He decided to save the last of its strength for the last half mile or so, trotting for fifteen minutes before he forced the borrowed horse into a fast canter. A gallop would have done the poor thing in, and that seemed something that would accrue only worse luck than he half-expected already. Naruto fell behind a little, but Kakashi was sure the dust cloud kicked up behind him would be easy enough to follow. The early morning sun beat down on him relentlessly—it was so warm out…if Sakura had died she would already be buried.
His house was the same as he had left it nearly a month ago—the roof needing new thatch, the fence in good repair, the white paper of the shoji all accounted for and neat. Kakashi threw himself from his horse, barely even looping the reigns around the tie-up before hurrying to the house. His noisy arrival attracted the attention of those inside, but Kakashi had no mind for them. He didn't even take off his shoes as he dashed in.
As he stormed through the main room, Masaki and Tenzou rose up—they were pale and the alarm was evident on their features as they grabbed for his arms. Kakashi suddenly couldn't hear what they were saying but it seemed they didn't want him to go to his room—which could only mean one thing.
Shaking Masaki off and muscling forward despite Tenzou's efforts, Kakashi made it to his room and threw the shoji open—he ignored the harsh crack as it hit the end of the groove, the shudder that went through it as it settled at an odd angle. He ignored it because he was going to die.
The room was cold and dark, which had his heart pounding even harder than before. Not even a darkened lantern sat inside. Kakashi started gasping for air, fighting to get further inside as Tenzou continued to pull him away—or at least try. His bedding was rolled up and stored exactly where he'd left it, which was fine. It was Sakura's bedding—sitting innocently in the middle of the floor—that had him sinking to his knees as he pulled it towards himself, choking on each ragged breath. He smoothed trembling hands over the fabric, knowing that it had been folded for at least a few days. Tenzou's hands continued to pull at his arms, and were once again joined by Masaki's.
Suddenly he could hear again—Tenzou was saying something, but Kakashi's body was unable to stand another moment of this. He had run out of steam. He hadn't eaten or slept for an entire day and night, he had pushed his aching and protesting body sixty five miles in that amount of time, and it had all been for nothing. Kakashi's vision grayed for a few moments before returning to normal as he stopped struggling against Tenzou and Masaki, staring mutely back at his empty bedroom as they dragged him away.
Orochimaru resisted the urge, the necessity to cover his mouth as he followed the guards into the prison. Since arriving in Edo, he had carefully bribed a few people here and there into giving him the location and the access to this place—the prison where the bakufu kept political prisoners. The place was gloomy, and the air smelled of human sweat and excrement, with a tinge of mold playing in every breath he took. To think that they were keeping what was rightfully his here was nauseating.
Passing the pale, blank faces of the Uchiwa clan was eerie. They were silent for the most part, some of them bruised and bloodied, while others had their heads bent in prayers that echoed in the darkness. The faces faded immediately after they passed by, the torch light brought by the guard being the only illumination in this wing of the prison. He made sure not to look into any of their eyes as they flashed occasionally.
The guard, who had been reluctant until Orochimaru had casually doubled his offer, stopped near the end of the hallway and opened one of the doors. The man went inside calling for Uchiwa Sasuke to step forward, and when the young man did the guard led him out. The door was locked once again and the guard stepped a few feet away to give them an illusion of privacy.
Sasuke stood proud and tall, but Orochimaru still pouted a little at the younger man's appearance. The once unruly jet black hair was subdued from lack of washing, and his cheekbones stood out prominently from his thin face.
"They have not been taking as good of care of my Sasuke as I was promised they were," he said softly, his eyes catching now on the dirty clothing his lover wore—the kimono had been a fine one once upon a time, but seven months in prison had changed that. Sasuke remained silent, which made Orochimaru smile just a touch—this man still knew what he liked. Peace, quiet, beauty.
His smile turned severe as he stepped close to Sasuke, his face serious. Those large black eyes met his unflinchingly. Gods, he had missed this.
"Tell me you've renounced that traitorous religion, and I'll get you out of here," his hand snatched up to grasp Sasuke's jaw, forcing the boy to look directly into his eyes.
"I renounce all of it, Orochimaru-sama," Sasuke said with hard determination. Orochimaru's face relaxed and his hand released Sasuke's chin in favor of smoothing away the Uchiwa man's bangs. The backs of his fingers just barely touched Sasuke's cheek, a touch which the younger man leaned into just the slightest bit.
He knew why Sasuke had come to him—it was to gain the power of a Kyoto lord, not being satisfied with the power afforded to the second son of a rural aristocrat's family. But that made it better, knowing that his favor was everything Sasuke strived for—and that he could get anything he wanted from the young man because of it.
"Then I will bring this knowledge before the shogun. Ietsuna will surely be glad to pardon you—all of us make mistakes in our youth and he should know that better than anyone," he said as he stepped away from the Uchiwa man. The guard opened the bars once again and Sasuke went inside without a fuss. Orochimaru turned towards the exit with a smirk—Ietsuna was barely older than Sasuke, and easily manipulated.
In the back of Sasuke's cell a man lifted his head from his prayers, and Orochimaru caught only the barest glimpse of him. He was badly beaten, bruising closing one of his eyes as dried blood further caked it closed. There was a wound high on his forehead, but looked to have bled upwards instead of down. The man's open eye was bright with fever or madness, Orochimaru wasn't sure which. He wasn't all that concerned with the Uchiwa religion so much as getting what he wanted from Sasuke—he didn't care if Sasuke decided to continue practicing it, so long as he never again did something as stupid as get caught.
Itachi, however, didn't know these things. His brother sat down once more near the bars—preferring to be as far away from Itachi as possible it seemed. He stared at his younger brother as he meditated on what to do. He had been leading the family in prayer occasionally through the winter to keep their spirits up before the trials were to begin in the summer, and the echoes of the prayers had taken residence in his mind nearly constantly. They gave him the strength to endure the beatings he was given for "riling" the other prisoners. Even now, as he was weak with fever, he had led one such prayer yesterday.
The echoes also whispered to him what he had to do. His brother had been corrupted. He'd known that for months already, but Sasuke had so easily rejected everything that the whispers in Itachi's head became louder chants. Sasuke had only renounced his faith to the man from Kyoto, not yet to God himself, so there was still the chance that he could end up in purgatory. As he crept silently up behind his younger brother, Itachi comforted himself that his brother would not face an eternity of torment—that eventually Sasuke would see and repent his sins, and would live in eternal bliss with the saints and angels.
"This is for the best, Brother," Itachi murmured as he wrapped his hands around Sasuke's neck.
Sakura was feeling a little better this morning, enough to run her fingers through her hair in an attempt to detangle it—though the effort left her breathless. She had spent most of the night coughing up whatever had been in her lungs, and although the infection was still there she felt she had won some sort of battle against it. There was still a lot of it whatever it was. Her hair bothered her, however, and since she could sit up for more than ten minutes at a time she wanted to do something about it.
"Tenzou, get my mother please," she asked softly as she opened boxes—in search of her combs for the first time in days. Tenzou voiced an assent before getting up from where he sat most of the time, occupying his worried hands with carving trinkets and a few small boxes. Pakkun stood up and stretched, his nose questing along her hairline with a pleased snuffle. Throughout the last week and a half, he had been inseparable from her—nearly biting Asuma when the man tried to muscle him out a few days ago.
"Mother, could you help me to the bath house? I'd like to wash this illness away, if you'd help me," Sakura said when Ume opened the door. Pakkun turned his attentions to her, trying to lick her face while his tail waved to and fro. Sakura smiled, half-heartedly grabbing for it to get him off her mother. Tenzou's worried face, rectangular, pale, and flat, peered over Ume's shoulder. The man always worried, it seemed like.
"And Tenzou, if you could take my bedding out to the garden and lay it out over the fence—I think it needs to air out a little. I'll sleep on the futon from my sewing room, if you'd move it in here while I'm washing. Please?"
Soaking in the bathwater was relaxing, even if the peace was broken by her coughing—after a while of breathing in the warm, moist air Sakura felt that she was actually accomplishing something with each cough. Her mother combed her hair slowly, never pulling even the tiniest tangle out. Sakura drifted, not quite dozing but not quite awake, so she didn't know how long it was before she heard the thunder of a single horse bearing down the road towards the house. Reluctantly she dried off and put on her yukata. They would probably have need of the lady of the house if they were riding out here on such a fast horse, so she might as well start getting decent.
Tenzou's voice started shouting across the yard, followed by Masaki's, only a minute after the horse had been sharply reigned back at the front gate. Sakura didn't even wait for her mother's help before starting to pick her away across the yard. By the time she reached the porch she was out of breath, but she didn't need to go any further. Supported between her father and Tenzou was Kakashi, looking groggy and confused and terribly upset until he saw her.
Sakura was too out of breath to say anything, but she didn't need to apparently. Kakashi wrestled towards her, dropping to his knees in front of her. His hands smoothed over Sakura's shoulders just once before he yanked her towards him, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck. He didn't make a sound as he did it, but his entire body shook as Sakura felt a few tears hit her skin and roll down. Sakura tried to sooth him as much as she could, but the effort of getting to the porch set her into another coughing fit.
Kakashi changed his embrace so she was better cradled in his arms, so it was easier for her to breathe. When she subsided, he tucked her head against his shoulder and pressed his lips to her forehead. She was alive, she was still alive—he wasn't yet sure if he was going to yell at anyone for scaring him so badly, but Sakura was alive. Kakashi was dizzy as he let go of all the tension he'd harbored since he'd read that awful letter.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," he said. She laughed, her voice was raspy but Kakashi didn't care.
"I'll see what I can do…you, however, need a bath." Kakashi smiled as he curled his bruised fingers into her damp locks. The water still clinging to every strand made Sakura's hair sparkle.
"And you need to finish combing your hair—I think we can work something out."
He went outside to make sure the horse was properly tied up. People out in the country enjoyed such a level of complacency that he worried he was starting to pick it up. He heard the persistent thudding of a horse kept at a slow trot and looked far down the road where a man with yellow hair was making his way towards the house. He ducked down around the fence, mentally preparing himself for the man's arrival. The yellow haired man was probably the man his master had been looking forward to meeting over the last few months—he didn't ask himself why the man was this far north in Fujimi, but he knew that his master would be pleased to know he had caught the foreigner.
He found a rock and weighed it between his fingers—not heavy enough to do any damage unless he threw it at the man's face, but just heavy enough to create a distraction. He would have to vault over the entire horse to get the man to the ground—
"Sai? What are you doing?" Tenzou called from the porch. Damn. He dropped the small stone and made his excuses.
"I thought I heard another horse on the road, but I was getting a pebble out of my sandal before I went out the gate."
"I thought I heard one too, let's check." And that was how they met Uzumaki Naruto, who insisted he had traveled from Edo with Kakashi and had just fallen behind on the last mile. Impressing the painter with his paranoia, Tenzou tied the strange looking newcomer to the fence and decided to wait for Kakashi to get back from his trip to the bath house.
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