Chapter 14: Flames of Desolation

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Kishimoto-sensei in any way and form, and I do not own the few Latin quotes that will pop out here and there. I however own the plot and the Ocs, as well as the description of some places and the characterization of some less-known characters in the original anime/manga.

Warning: Mention of torture. Nothing too graphic, but if you are not comfortable with it, It's at the beginning of section Inukami.

Sorry, this chapter is slightly shorter than the other ones.

Sighing softly, she turned toward the direction of the attack, a droplet of blood sliding down her chin from the scratch the kunai made.

"Yare yare, seems like we have company."

A shinobi stood before her, a kunai in a hand and a wakizashi in the other, his expression menacing. He wore the standard jonin vest, bloodied and badly scratched, his Konoha hitai-ate tied loosely around his waist, several weapon pouches hanging from it. Dark brown hair cut at his shoulders made him look younger than he really is; Kuro estimated him to have seen about nineteen summers. He wasn't all muscles and strength and hidden talent. In fact, he probably could have passed from a well-toned and trained civilian with his lean form and slightly tanned skin speaking of hours of training under the harsh sun, but he held his sword in a confident grip, just at the right angle, posture rigid but relaxed enough so that he can handle his weapon correctly. The young shinobi had something like a permanent frown on his face, but Kuro was too accustomed to that expression to be affected; but the too familiar expression brought a pang of guilt into her heart, and Kuro almost froze. She knew that face. The crease between elegant eyebrows, dark midnight hair and sharp eyes... no, she cannot allow herself to be distracted. Everything about him spoke of experience and age and so much more, but Kuro knew that he was only the standard jonin who has seen a thing or two in the war.

'How much had they fallen,' Kuro thought grimly, 'that being so wary, so experienced and battle-scarred at this age now seem to almost be normal.'

She set her mouth in a thin line, frustration beginning to grow within her. She could kill him, sever his head from his body with a simple flick of a wrist, end his life painlessly in half a second, she knew, but she couldn't. She can treat him like all the others she killed today, and yet… because no matter what, this was not a friend, not an ally, but still not an enemy, and so is not worth killing.

'And only human,' her mind added. She didn't despise them like most of those like her do. No, she respected them and was almost dangerously fond of them, because she knew such emotion would only harm them in the long run. Only human and those two words imply so much, weakness, pain, death, helplessness and aching memories that her kind thought long buried. So she left them alone even when she knew she was needed, never helping because she couldn't. She ran away, away from the memories and familiar places that held so much, away from the ones she chose to left behind, in fear to not be able to let go. A coward, he would call her if he was still alive. And the painful loneliness only grew with time and her fame, along with the sneers and the glares and the hits. She had watched silently as her people warred, fought against those she wanted to protect, slaughtering and killing and laughing and blood so much blood and she couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything. She was only a tool, broken as she is, and her words mean nothing to her people. 'Once, perhaps, once they may have listened. But now it is too late, just as I am with everything else.'

"You! What are you doing here?" the shinobi asked. Weak he was in her eyes, but she cannot help but to allow her eyes to soften some more. Weak but courageous, and so much emotions, sensations that she cannot even begin to understand, not now, not again. He was nothing compared to her, and yet here he is, blissfully unaware of the danger he's in, demanding answer from her, from the demon, the monster.

"Me? Shinobi-san, you are a hundred years too early to demand answers from me. But I guess you are justified." One glance at the little girl behind her confirmed her doubts: the jonin had mistaken her as the assailant, what with the girl's still frightened gaze and the slight trembling of her little, smooth hands, not to mention Kakashi's very still form beside the girl.

"Do not lie to me, Iwa scum! Do not think that I'm too soft to strike you even with your hostage!" Ah, still jumping to conclusions. Kuro scowled behind her mask. Being called a scum was bad, really bad, and the shinobi would normally already have his tongue cut off from insulting her, but she cannot blame a man who was only trying to protect. Still, being affiliated with Iwa left a bad taste in her mouth, especially with that man controlling Iwa's troops.

"Iwa? Oh please, as if I'll ever bow before that cursed village," she snarled behind gritted teeth.

The Konoha jonin looked incredulous and a glint in his dark eyes told Kuro everything. A resigned sigh escaped her lips and she parried a volley of shuriken, forcing herself to not dodge to the side to protect the little girl behind her.

"Yuki," she started while throwing back a few kunai of her own, "run when I tell you to." The little girl, too afraid to answer, nodded and the small displacement of air caused by that movement transmitted her answer.

"And onii-san?" she asked in a small voice, almost inaudibly.

"Don't worry, I'll bring him back. Do you know where to go?" Yuki shook her head in denial, and she felt a little bit sad that she had to be protected this way when she clearly knew nothing of whatever is going on and what she should do. She should have listened when her mommy told her once what to do in case of emergency, but she had been too preoccupied by her dolls and her toys.

"Okay, then I want you to head directly to the Hokage monument. You know where it is, right?"

"Hai..."

"Good. Don't think of anything, just run there. Don't do anything if you see a friend or someone you know, because it will only delay you. Once you are there, there will be misters with that symbol onii-san has on his forehead to guide you. Okay?"

"Hai, Tenshi-san!"

Kuro tilted her head to the side, allowing her long hair to be brushed to the side by a gust of wind. She eyed her opponent carefully, as she didn't need to injure him, only to knock him out; not that she wanted to kill the man that had caused her so much trouble. Her trained eyes could pick out the smallest of twitches, and her body was fast enough to respond seconds before her enemy could even move. It was easier now as he was a swordsman because the lack of diversity of movements restrained most of them: she would be able to predict in which direction the sword will be coming from. She will win, if her mind didn't slow her down.

Foreseeing the attack with the slight inch of the shinobi's free hand toward his left weapon pouch, she quickly sheathed her own sword in its black scabbard, the light metal hanging from her dull silver belt, and launched a dozen of senbon coated with paralyzing poison toward the Konoha jonin.

"Go!" she whispered to her protégé as her opponent was distracted while he concentrated on dodging the small and sharp projectiles. Yuki quickly bolted, nimbly jumping over debris and rocks, not daring to look behind. Her long hair narrowly missed a sharp metal pole on which they surely would have tangled, and the girl felt her heart sink at the guilt. She had abandoned them – Kakashi-nii, Tenshi-san, her friends and the old lady living next door who probably needed help. But Tenshi-san told her to run, to go, to flee, and if she does so then she would see her mommy and doing that right now seemed so important, because her mommy was kind and gentle and powerful, so she would protect her.

Not even looking back once, the small girl disappeared in the chaotic landscape that was Konoha.

Suddenly, Kuro jumped in the air, barely avoiding a volley of shuriken. Flipping in the air and landing on her feet several meters away, she retaliated with a few well-aimed kunai of her own.

'Tch, why did he have to be too stubborn to realize that if I was an enemy I would have used that little girl as a hostage rather than letting her go?'

Using the few seconds she had until the jonin finished dodging all the kunai, she jumped out of the building and landed on her feet several stories below on the street: she cannot risk destroying the place without burying Kakashi. As expected, her opponent followed her without a second thought and immediately rushed toward her.

"Katon: Gokakyu no jutsu!" The Leaf jonin yelled after a quick set of hand seals, and Kuro swiftly dodged to the side.

'A fire affinity? So my gift had affected them more than expected, even after all these years...'

Holding a set of kunai in her right hand, Kuro began to make one-handed seals quicker than most jonin can do. "Katon: Hosenka no jutsu!" she shouted, smirking as her opponent's eyes widened and began dodging the blazing projectiles. She didn't wait for him to stop running and threw the five kunai she held in the direction he dodged, forcing him to jump in the air. The impact of the fireballs lifted a screen of smoke, and Kuro stood, all senses on alert, waiting for it to settle down. The dust was too thick for her normal eyes to see through, but her ears would be more than enough to make up for it. For a few seconds, all was silent and the only sound she can hear was her own panting. She had been fighting for hours, and even if her chakra reserves were still able to sustain her for a few more battles, her body was beginning to tire.

'There!'

Kuro deflected the powerful kick with a swat of her hand and parried the sword swing that followed it. However, she didn't expect there to be that much force behind the attack and was sent crashing in a wall, out of the smoke screen. Raising and arm to shield herself, she gritted her teeth as an abnormally long kunai pierced her left shoulder and pinned her to the wall. She hissed and grabbed the handle, pulling it out of the wound. The kunai must have severed a nerve, for her left arm was now limp and devoid of all sensations. The blood flowing from the injury began to seethe, as if boiling, and soon the flesh began to mend itself. Kuro released a sigh and stopped the chakra flow to her shoulder: she cannot afford to lose any more chakra after the stunt she pulled to heal Kakashi, so closing the wound will have to do. She can always reconnect the blood vessels later, when she isn't in the middle of a battle, preferably in her den.

Her ears picked up the faint sound of sandals against gravel. She twisted, desperately trying to get away from the killing blow she knew was coming, and she would have if not for her limp arm. She was thrown into the wall again and Kuro felt a few of her bruised ribs crack painfully. A hand grabbed her neck and lifted her in the air in a bruising grip, not allowing her to breath. Once again, she knew she can get away with a simple twist. She knew that the man's strength was nothing compared to her own, and that if she doesn't kill him, she may really be killed. She can twist his neck before he even realized, she can burn him to ashes in mere seconds. But she also knew that, deep down, she cannot bear the thought of killing yet another comrade, because to her, he was one. This man, her soon-to-be killer, her mind added, was born in the village he cherished. Born in the place he worked so hard to protect, a descendant of those he fought and died for.

Red, burning eyes stared into her own, full of hate and wonder.

"How about a little trip the the T&I, Iwa-scum?"

Kuro smiled at Uchiha Fugaku, a wetness she had not experienced since long behind her eyes. She slowly released the dead grip she had on her sword, tense muscles relaxing under the silent command. No, she would not kill this man. She did not and will not.

-Inukami-

It hurts. It hurts everywhere, her body, her ears, her eyes, her mind. The slow dripping of water from a crack on the ceiling was killing her senses, and the occasional drop that slides down her heated skin makes her feel as if burning from the inside. She cannot feel her arms, tied to the ceiling since Kami knows how long, and her legs felt as if she will never be able to walk again. Her midsection constantly sent waves of painful sensations up her spine, but she was too tired to even twitch. How long has it been? Her captain had been in here with her and Taka, but he was brought somewhere else soon, something about security and patrols, one of the guards she spied on had said. They were left alone at first, only visited by guards who brought them water and occasionally, bread that tasted like rotten meat. She was pretty sure that the food had been drugged, since her metabolism would never allow a fever to last as long as it had. None of her teammates, even her captain, were able to move a single muscle without screaming in pain. The poison must have been something that enhanced all sensations to extremely painful levels. If she was less tired, she would have joked about the T&I salivating at the prospect of using said poison, but her mind was too worn out to even think about anything else than pain and pain and hurt.

Then, the torture started. Nothing too serious, not the intensive ones she had heard about from reluctant lips. They were not trying to obtain information. No, they were aiming for something greedier, something that she had only caught whispers of, a subject never openly spoken of. They were trying to break them. To destroy all senses of themselves, and to reshape them into someone else-something else, because the hits and the abuse followed by too gentle touches cannot be more obvious.

A slave.

They wanted to make her into a slave.

She had struggled, planned dozens of escape routes with Taka, even went as far as being able to steal the key to their cell, but they never got out. It was frustrating, being so close to liberty and yet so far, the sunlight just out of their reach. After their near escape, the guards decided to put them into separated cells but they still kept them close. The clever bastards had sealed their chakra to minimum levels, but what they didn't know is that all Anbu were taught how to store chakra in small quantities all over their bodies without disrupting the natural flow of chakra. That's how Taka managed to send her messages to plan their next escape, but the information stopped coming in a while ago. Something had happened, and that belief was cemented with the constant cursing and muffled groaning of pain that came from Taka's cell, but Inukami can do nothing else but to wish he stayed strong through whatever torture he was under.

Inukami was exhausted. When someone would enter her cell to perform whatever sick torture that interested him, she would retreat into her mind and focus on her goal. On Konoha, on home, on the voices and the faces of her friends. She would dig up memories buried too deep to remember, and she would relish in the utter calm that was the presence of her captain. She blocked out every muttered word, every unwanted sensation that the drugs caused, that the big, roaming hands stirred deep inside her. For days, she hid in the dark, sat on the green grass of her mindscape, repairing with little success the cracks that appears far too rapidly for her to keep track of. She mended together what she can reach, but she knew that it will not hold for long. The grass was quickly turning to ashes and the deep gash on the sky kept growing, little pieces of night falling and shattering on the ground. She kept the memories away, hiding them in the void beyond the sky, but they were quickly becoming too heavy to bear, and soon all the weight will crash down and destroy what little sanity she had left.

Did she even have any anymore?

How many hours has it been since she had been tied up here, helpless and panting in pained pleasure? Guards have passed many times before her cell, their steps heavy with the clang of metal plates against others, and often she had heard them release soundless pants of heat, their armor constricting their slightest movements. Many times screams had echoed in the underground prison, cries of pain and fear followed by loud, satisfied grunts of sick pleasure. Suddenly, footfall reached her ears again, almost too light to be of a trained civilian, and this time, the sound didn't make her senses scream in pain. The metal door of her cell silently opened, and Inukami squeezed her eyes shut. However, hours of being held in a cell with no light whatsoever had made her body unaccustomed to sudden movement, and so a bright column of blinding light came into her vision. Gritting her teeth against the hot white pain she forced her eyelids to open despite the pain, and the blurry form of a shadow against all the white greeted her. Blinking away the tears that refused to fall, she whimpered in her throat. They were coming. They were coming for her, and this time, she cannot escape what is about to come.

Her breathing became more and more frantic as each footstep resounded on the stone walls of the cell. She squeezed her eyes shut, too afraid of what she knew was coming. Too afraid of the abuse, too fearful of the pain. A single twitch of her arms felt as if she was lifting a boulder and her deft fingers were useless against the harsh ropes that bit into her skin, but she tried nonetheless. She struggled, forcing her body to move and to get away even if she knew it was well over her limited capacities. But then, a touch, a single one, nothing more than the whisper of a silent promise in the dark, and her mind screamed as half of her sky crumbled.

It was agonizing, the pleas, the fear and the wishes that were all too empty to ever become true, that passed before her eyes in a blur that made her mind swirl with despair and hope. Inukami wanted to live. She wanted to see the daylight, to watch the world as time passes and to smell life again. She wanted to feel the soft brush of leaves on her bare arms, the slight crunch of grass and rocks under her feet as she waltzed, unrestrained, under the unblinking stars. She wanted to run, to fly, to soar toward the sky in a mad sprint, the light casting a shadow on her snarling mask. She wanted to be free, and yet, she knew that those dreams will evaporate very soon, too soon, and she would be no more than one of the many lingering memories that fade with time and battles. She will not be remembered, not spoken of. Her passing will only be a small, unfortunate event in the course of those who dwell in the shadows. But even though she was so small, so insignificant in their world of battles and of death, she knew that somewhere, she was still needed, and her heart aches for the time when she would have to leave those she cared for behind.

Inukami was an Anbu agent, she have been for a long time, and her existence in the world of light had been replaced by a new life of constant bloodshed under the moon. Inuzuka Tsume do not exist. The most dangerous, vicious female dog and soon-to-be Alpha of the clan do not exist. Chuunin Inuzuka left on a seduction mission two years ago and never returned. What came back was Inukami, snarling and dangerous, waiting to catch its prey in its titanic maw of blood-red claws, followed by a wolf of the purest breed of night.

But for a second, Inukami, the vengeful claw, the Anbu, faded into Inuzuka Tsume, little, helpless Tsume, without her wolf and her pack to back her up. As the tingling of hot, barely controlled breathing tickled her ears, she let out a small, last prayer to the unseen sky.

Let me go.

The rustle of light fabric echoed eerily in the silent cell, and Tsume heard, as her heart sank, the sharp intake of air following the clang of her mask dropping to the floor.

"Well, aren't you beautiful..."

His voice was sultry, rich, deeper than most, as if the sound did not come from a human throat, but Tsume picked up the distinctive scent of alcohol. The hope of the man being somewhat merciful was crushed.

"I wonder if you'll be as feisty as your friend?"

Taka.

That bastard, he-! He dared to touch Taka!

Snarling, she bit the hand that rested on her chin. The man hissed in pain, and a resounding slap sent Inukami's oversensitive senses on fire. Refusing to let out the screams that threatened to burst, she bit her tongue, but a small moan still escaped. The man- she refused to open her eyes in fear of retaining any memories of this moment, if she would still be able to remember- grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked painfully, exposing her neck in a vulnerable position.

Don't.

Something warm now rests on her chin, a hand calloused by the many years of handling weapons, and she forced herself to forget, to not feel, to not see. Instead, she focused on her breathing, erratic despite her mind telling her to calm down, that she can, will survive, and she felt at peace a little more. The hand moved down, grazing her bottom lip, sliding on her neck.

Close your mind. Breathe.

The man smirked and licked a wet trail from the base of her neck to her chin, then harshly bit into the skin of her exposed shoulder, drawing fresh, red blood that he drank eagerly. His free hand roamed downward, resting for a brief second on her breast, then slid down her stomach to rest on her hip. Inukami sucked in a small amount of air, bracing herself for what was about to come, trying to ignore the state of her mindscape, the burning grass below her feet and the crumbling, darkened sky around her.

Do you truly want to escape?

The hand slipped in the waistband of her pants, and Inukami jerked away, only to be pulled back by the ropes and the hand in her hair.

You still have a choice left.

The knot in her stomach tightened, her fingers moved into a single hand seal, and as her consciousness retreated a little farther into her mind, she released a single pulse of chakra.

Please.

An explosion was heard, but the sound that would normally have crippled her was only loud enough for her to hear.

Forgive me.

Something scratched her arm and ingrained itself with a wet, soft sound into flesh. She waited. She waited for the pain to register, for her over-sensitive skin to burn with the probably deep cut, and she waited for the red, hot flames that would come soon, that would free her. She waited through the haze, through the memories, through the guilt and the blood, after the gurgle and the hand that disappeared from her skin, sliding out of her torn clothes.

She waited, but nothing came.

'Is it... over?

Before she can answer herself, mad giggles froze her in place, and she soon realized that it was herself.

She whimpered, and her reaction was followed by another loud set of sadistic giggles, all promising blood and death. She wanted to curl into herself, to protect herself from the pain. To perhaps never feel again, and then will she be safe? She wanted to scream. Why is she hurt? Why does she feel numb? Why?

She suddenly felt a wave of glee surround her, and the answer was whispered calmly into her ears, for her to hear, for her to understand. A vengeance for her to carry out.

'Konoha.'

Then, it all crumbled. White flooded her vision, and a cold, numbing sensation ran through her muscles in waves of pleasant and almost lazy passion. The voice faded in a shrill cry of agony, and Tsume felt a soothing, gentle force quickly retreat from her mind. Almost instinctively, without purpose, she lifted her arm, hand outstretched toward the disappearing force in a desperate fashion, but it left before she can grab it. A small tingle ran from each of her toes up to her fingertips, slowly warming her up; nimble, talented fingers pressed against her solar plexus, under her eyes, on her pulse, on her heart, on the small of her back, and one by one, thousands of sparks seem to wake up from their slumber. A last simple, cooling touch on her eyelids, and suddenly, the white faded. And again Tsume can see.

"Inukami?"

Gentle, deft fingers ran through her messy hair, massaging her scalp. Tsume, startled, snarled at the person and tried to push him away and the person's grip loosened with a surprised gasp. Tsume felt herself falling, but she had put the last of her strength into that last push and she had no force left to even attempt to cushion the fall. Strong arms caught her just as she was about to meet the ground; panic flooded her mind again, and a scream was about to emerge when a gloved hand suddenly covered her mouth, muffling her cry.

"Shhhhh, it's okay... I'm here, so it's okay... "

Minato. It was Minato's voice.

She was hallucinating. She was sure. Because he cannot be here, it's impossible. This is only an image created by her broken mind to torture her. Because the sight represented her wish to return to be home, and she knew that it will not happen, not now, not again. It was not real, he was not real. But no matter what she thought, she still felt the soothing touch, still felt the brush of calloused fingers on her chin.

Insane laughter escaped her again, why is Minato here?

"Inukami!" the apparition called out worriedly, palm coated with green healing chakra reaching out. Why was she dreaming about being healed?

Her eyes widened as the same icy feeling from before returned, less prominent but it was still there. "...Minato?" It can't be. He cannot be here, can he?

Mad giggles bubbled up again, and she lifted a bloody hand toward he captain's concerned face to brush aside a wild strand of blond hair. She stopped herself just before her fingers would brush against his pale skin, a small portion of her mind telling her to not stain the angelic features.

"Minato... where is home? I want to be home." She smiled to herself. "Why am I talking to an apparition? Minato... will you bring me home?"

Then, a sudden thought popped up, and she grinned widely. "Minato? Will you help me deliver Soramaru's pup? That little red ball's going to be real trouble."

Minato looked into her wild brown eyes with confusion, a hint of sorrow in his azure eyes, but nodded slowly. "Inukami, are you okay?"

"Okay? No, I am not, Minato. Far from it. You have seen my mindscape, didn't you? It had stopped deteriorating, but it isn't getting better. Minato... what shall I do? I doubt I'll be able to continue working in this team. The sky had shattered and the grass is long since burnt. Minato... what shall I do?" She laughed even as a silent tear ran down her cheek and she tilted he head backward, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Inukami... It'll be alright. We'll help you. We'll fix you, and everything is going to be alright. Don't you see?" Minato said, grasping tightly the hand that reached out to him. Inukami tried to jerk away, but Minato didn't loosen the grip.

"No! You can't. The blood and the... the- just don't touch!" she panicked, but Minato only held her tighter. "I don't mind. I won't let you go. I'll bring you home."

Home.

Safety.

She was safe.

A gentle finger wiped away her tears, and Inukami leaned into the touch.

"And Taka?" She asked, her voice heavily laced with exhaustion.

"Safe."

And as a last tear of relief ran down Inukami's chin, everything faded away.

A dark figure stepped out of the shadows and tilted his head in a questioning gesture, and Minato, after tying the fine threads of red strings behind his teammate's head, stood up with a masked Inukami in his arms. The figure was holding a limp form in his arms, and with a simgle nod, they both disappeared silently.

Seconds after their departure, the entire building went up in blue and black flames.