Chapter Five - Flight

Genji pulled himself over the edge of the cliff top on his stomach, glancing around carefully before he stage-whispered an 'all clear.' Moments later, Yurei and Ryūkei joined him, cloaked as he was against the chilly desert night.

"We should go northwest for a little while, then start heading due north," Yurei murmured, tilting her chin in the indicated direction. "Just so we get a little extra distance between us and the guard at the northern edge."

"Then let's get to it," Genji agreed. Using their elbows and knees, the trio squirmed off through the sand into the darkness.

"I'm sorry, Michima-senpai; there's not hide nor hair of them throughout the entire village."

Glowering at the young man in front of him, Michima stayed where he was, lounging sulkily in the desk chair that had once seated the Kazekage. "Is that so, Yūichi? And are you absolutely sure you looked everywhere?"

"Yes, sir," was the calm answer. "The only explanation is that they escaped. Without much of a moon to see by, they could have gotten past the guards —"

"Careless!" Michima exploded, coming to his feet so quickly that he knocked the chair backward. "Didn't I say that they have the serum? If they get it back to their people, and we go back empty-handed, Ridä-sama will have all our heads!"

"They can't have gone too far," Hiroshi interjected, once again the voice of reason. "Leave three here in case they return, and the other five can go to pick up their trail and track them down."

The voice of reason found himself almost immediately face-to-face with the voice of wrath. "Are you trying to undermine my authority, Hiroshi?" Michima asked softly, eyes narrowed. "Would you like to lead this squadron?"

"With you at the reins, I don't see how I could," was the reply. Lowering his voice, Hiroshi leaned closer. "Hot-headed threats will only do so much. As a leader, you have to give your people direction. The threats will galvanize them to action, but you must provide that action; tell them what to do, otherwise, they won't do it."

Calming visibly, Michima nodded. "I see. Very . . . insightful." Hiroshi took a step back and bowed silently, and the group's leader turned back to the others. "He makes a good point. Yūichi, Sōma, and Tanrei: gather the packs. We're moving out."

The three youngest members of the group nodded grimly and in determination. Michima turned toward the door, his long desert cloak billowing ominously around him. "The rest of you, with me. We'll retrieve Ressa and Toku from their watches, and see if there's a trail to be found."

The last sentence, he muttered to himself as he left the records archive. "Ridä-sama isn't taking my head. Not if I can help it."

Midnight came and went before the three fugitives felt safe enough to get to their feet. Yurei rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the tension brought on by three and a half hours of using her arms to pull herself along.

"Not the most flashy of escapes, but I think we did pretty well," she said optimistically.

Genji gave her a look that was part irritation, part sulk. "There's sand in my pants," he stated flatly. "Tell me how that qualifies as a good thing."

"At least we got away clean," Ryūkei said, shaking grit from his cloak. "But if we want to stay that way, we should keep moving, at least until dawn, then find somewhere to rest until tomorrow night."

"Good idea," Yurei agreed. "It'll let us avoid the worst of the heat."

The three of them started off again, trudging through the loose desert sand. Yurei glanced behind them, at the tracks they were leaving. "Genji, can you do something about our footprints? If the enemy gets this far out, it'll be better to not leave them a trail to follow."

The redhead nodded once in confirmation, then extended a hand behind him; his fingers made a swirling motion, and little gusts of wind stirred the hundreds of grains into motion. Within seconds, their footprints were smoothed over.

Ryūkei glanced backward, watching the effect. "Handy trick," he commented, facing forward again.

"He always got top marks in evasion exercises," Yurei said wryly, rolling her eyes. "Until we figured out his game. He'd cover his tracks, double back into the village, and be napping in the classroom when we got back."

"When the cats are away, the mouse will play," Genji said, shrugging. "You're just jealous that neither Lightning or Water Style is good for anything like what I can do."

"No, but it's a good way to shut you up," the dark-haired girl said, her smile more of a warning than true good humour. "Maybe I should use it now?"

The brewing argument was interrupted by Ryūkei. "Water Style seems a little . . . strange, for someone who grew up in the desert. Wind, not so much, but even Lightning is different from normal, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well, Yurei's a little different than the other kids," Genji muttered. Anticipating the swat aimed at the back of his head, he ducked as Yurei's hand swished past harmlessly.

Dropping her hand back to her side, she turned her attention to Ryūkei. "My parents weren't originally from Suna; we moved to the village when I was two. Dad worked with the mining operations, in the gold trade. I entered the academy at five, graduated at twelve, and was put into the same team as Genji." She indicated said teammate with a nod. "He's a Suna native, by the way. Born and bred."

"Out of curiosity," Genji put in casually, "what chakra nature do you use, Ryūkei?"

The desert man shrugged. "Wind Style, like you."

"Really . . . huh. I would've pegged you for Water or maybe Fire Style." The redhead shrugged. "Oh well. I guess you really can't tell a book by its cover."

Ryūkei didn't say anything, merely shifted his gaze to the sand in front of his feet, and the trio fell into silence. One hour, then two went by, with minimal further conversation. Fatigue began dragging at muscles as the three fugitives battled the constantly shifting terrain.

It was just past three in the morning when Genji stopped, shaking first one leg, then the other. "I don't remember the trip in to Suna being this hard a walk," he commented, continuing to stretch weary limbs.

"It's just because you haven't really slept in almost thirty-six hours," Yurei reassured him. "Another few hours, and we can stop to get some rest, okay?"

"Maybe not."

When they turned to look at him, Ryūkei's finger was pointing out across the desert in the direction they'd come. A dust cloud was rising in the distance, turned silver by the moonlight.

"How can they have followed us?" Genji exclaimed, tiredness temporarily forgotten. "Our tracks were covered perfectly, I'm sure of it!"

"But we didn't cover the tracks we left as we were leaving the village, back when we had to crawl," Yurei pointed out grimly. "They must have found those, and then guessed from there."

Ryūkei tensed just visibly. "Should we run for it?"

"Or stand and fight?" Genji added, hands curling into fists.

"No," Yurei said slowly, one finger on her chin as she thought. "I think there's one more option." Dropping to the sand, she moved off due east in the same manner as when they'd left the village. "Follow me. Genji: make sure to cover the tracks this time."

Both men started after her, pulling themselves through the sand. Genji paused every few metres to disturb the sand over their tracks, hiding the flattened paths of grit from view. Ryūkei kept an eye on the dust cloud, watching as it moved across the desert behind them.

Finally, Yurei stopped, and turned to face them. "This should be far enough," she murmured, gauging the distance between them and the cloud. She pointed at the sand in front of them. "Genji, I need an East Wind Slam, as quietly and as far down as you can, then another one straight across. Got it?"

Understanding broke through the redhead's obvious confusion. "Oh! Your old 'glass houses' trick! Gotcha!" He moved a little further away from the other two.

"'Glass houses?'" Ryūkei questioned, lifting one eyebrow.

Yurei grinned. "Another throwback to the good old days. You'll see."

The ground below them vibrated slightly, and a dark hole appeared where Genji's fist had hit the sand; a hole big enough for the boy himself to fall into. Seconds later, there was another vibration, and a stage-whispered "All done!"

Crawling to the edge of the hole, Yurei and Ryūkei reached down to help Genji climb out. He dusted himself off, the dark sand of the desert underlayer falling off his clothing in little clumps. "Your turn," he told his teammate.

Shrugging out of her cloak, Yurei passed it to him, then jumped into the hole. "Spread that over top so the light doesn't attract our friends," she told him. "Better use yours too, just to be safe."

"Right."

The two boys spread the cloaks over the top of the hole, Ryūkei still mystified as to what was going on. Genji, on the other hand, seemed completely serious and focussed on the task at hand. Once the double layer of fabric was in place, he said, "All right, Yurei. Hit it."

Ryūkei couldn't make out the words that the girl muttered, but there was suddenly a soft crackling noise that he recognized all too well: the sound of Lightning Style jutsu being activated. He looked to Genji for some clue as to what was happening in the hole, and found the other boy grinning back at him.

"Hey, don't look so worried. There's a bunch of holes like this all over this desert. Every time we had to cross it, we'd make a place like this for the night. It's totally safe."

"All right, guys — we're good to go," Yurei's voice said from beneath the sand.

Genji pulled back the cloaks, and Ryūkei peered down into the hole . . . to find it shimmering in the moonlight. The lightning had melted the sand into an L-shaped glass tube, secure from the wind and their pursuers. Yurei grinned up at him.

"Pretty cool, huh? Come on down."