Chapter 25: "Wait, what?"
Kazuya mumbled a groan as he unbuckled the straps of his armour to loosen up. With the tightness across his chest, ankles and wrists gone he made his way through the legion over to his friends. Fingers of blood trailed from a nasty cut on his cheek and his leg felt as though he'd twisted it during the mayhem, but for the most part the samurai had escaped the battle relatively unharmed.
Plotting his way through the Cloud army, Kazuya was as polite as ever. He gave nods, handshakes and slaps on the shoulder to his fellow ninja until he reached the leading troop. Shoryu still felt the adrenaline.
"And then I got him, bang! Right between the eyes with a shuriken – and then Kyoh finished the other," he was saying.
Ayako gave a laugh. "I'd say you need to be more careful, if I thought you'd ever listen to a word I say, that is."
"Oh I don't know, I'm sure there're some things you could persuade me to do," Shoryu said, grinning.
The girl gave him a playful shove as Kazuya fell into step beside them. Instantly Shoryu turned to his friend and clasped his forearm in greeting, still pleased about the outcome of the battle. And of course, he was as competitive as he'd ever been.
"Final score?" he asked.
Kazuya sighed. "I told you, I'm not playing this."
"Oh come on! Don't be like that! How many?"
Seeing that Shoryu wouldn't take no for an answer, Kazuya had no choice but to reply. "Forty nine."
The young commander hissed as though some painful would had stricken him. "Ooh, forty eight for me. You win this round I guess. I suppose that takes our overall score-"
"I'm not playing," affirmed Kazuya.
"-up to sixteen wins for me, fifteen for you."
"It's sixteen all!"
"Aha! So you are keeping track!"
Kazuya cursed under his breath; how he'd so easily fallen for such an obvious ruse after four years of putting up with Shoryu was beyond him. As the commander proved, he was keeping score. In fact Kazuya took the rivalry just as seriously as Shoryu did, but pretending that he didn't allowed him to keep that cool, focused façade that he'd tried so hard to maintain. He'd be Taisho in less than a year – he told himself over and over that he had to snap out of these childish games, yet despite his best efforts he never could.
After slipping his chubby body through the waves of friendly ninja Jinga suddenly arrived. As he joined them he carried a clipboard, panting after his jog to keep up with the fast-paced walking of the team.
"Total success Shoryu," he said. "Our smaller units are weeding out the stragglers now – only one or two dozen of them escaped."
"The clones kill themselves the moment we capture them. We can't get any intel on them but at least it stops them reporting on us," said Ayako.
As he undid the straps of his own armour Shoryu replied, "How many casualties?"
"Seventy three, and another ten unaccounted for," read Jinga.
Shoryu bowed his head and shook it in disappointment. After being alongside him for so long Kazuya had quickly realised that the boy's biggest annoyance was losing men. When they were under his command Shoryu took full responsibility for the lives of the Cloud's ninja, and hearing the sheer amount of fallen never failed to induce guilt on his part.
"Not good enough," he said. "We need to redouble our efforts."
"Come on Shoryu, we were outnumbered and we lost less than a tenth of our force! That's incredible no matter how you look at it!" offered Yuudai. Kazuya silently agreed that the man had a point; people died in war, and Shoryu had to learn to accept that no battle would be without losses. Then again, the samurai had been trained in the art of war since the age of five, and he also knew that simply observing and actually commanding were two different things. Were he in Shoryu's position, he wasn't sure he'd handle it any differently.
"I suppose you're right," Shoryu finally managed. "In the meantime, Hoshi, could you send for reinforcements from the village? I don't like having an incomplete division. The Mist is planning something big, I just know it."
"I know what you mean, I'll get right on it," replied the girl. With a respectful nod she broke off from the line and headed back through the crowd.
Another thing Kazuya detected about his partner was that Shoryu always preferred the same company. Despite leading the whole of Division Two and having at least eight Jonin under his influence, Shoryu always stuck to keeping the old Squads Five and Thirteen around as his consultants. They were the only ones who managed to be informal with him – the only ninja in Division Two who addressed him by his name instead of 'sir' or 'commander'.
Of course, that didn't stop the five of them from treating him as such, but his personal attachment to them allowed them to speak freely. They followed orders, though if Shoryu made a bad call they'd tell him about it instead of skirting around the issue.
"Anything else you need?" asked Jinga, easily the most formal.
"How many have we got wounded?" said Shoryu.
"Mmm." The man made a face in calculation. "I'd say about a hundred."
"Then do what you can for them. Don't push it too hard though, you're low on chakra as it is."
"Sure thing."
As Jinga fell out of line another ninja rushed to fill his place. This one was masked, though clearly a young man based on what features they could make out. Kazuya had seen him around regularly; he couldn't place a name to the face, but he knew the man was responsible for communications and relaying messages amongst Division Two. The samurai had never had the opportunity to speak to him until today, because instead of addressing the commander, this time the ninja wanted him.
"Sir? Mr. Takashi?" he asked.
"It's just Kazuya."
"Right. Well Kazuya, the ambassadors you requested just arrived. They're waiting for you at the eastern outpost."
At the startling news the samurai stopped in his tracks. He'd been waiting over a month. So long had passed since he wrote that letter that he was beginning to wonder if he'd hear any response at all. He figured they'd contact him back, but to just show up so suddenly? Samurai certainly did have strange methods.
"It's about time," he grumbled eventually. Kazuya cut ahead of the group and began towards the outpost until Shoryu's call made him turn back.
"Hey." The commander grinned. "Good luck bro."
The samurai nodded in reply and continued on ahead. Before him stretched out hundreds of tents, all of them different sizes and varying shades of tan to blend in with their surroundings. Three outposts were visible already, with another one far to the north and a fifth as a scouting unit to the south.
The main camp however, sat in the crook of a high-backed, three hundred foot tall cliff whose instability and sharp edges made it nigh-impossible to scale. There was only one way through it, a hidden passage tight enough for only a single man to squeeze through whenever they needed to relay commands to the northern sentries.
Aside from this minor detail Division Two's base of operations was almost impregnable. Guards were stationed constantly at the southern entrance, and the protective embrace of the cliffs prevented attacks from every other compass direction. It reminded Kazuya of his home – back in the Glacier where a similar rock formation kept them safe. As he was about to be reminded though, many samurai relied too heavily on these defences of the Glacial Drop.
He threw back the tarp of the eastern outpost and entered. The outposts were generally the largest tents in the entire divisions, normally encompassing spaces bigger than houses even without the awnings that sprouted from every side.
He smelt the pig before he noticed it, spinning in cook on a spit-roast at the centre of the opening. With every rotation shadows quilted the warm orange glow that bathed the depths of the outpost. Ninja sat back and enjoyed the spoils upon the benches. Some were blood-soaked Genin celebrating their first victory over alcohol, whilst a few others were Jonin who clearly hadn't even taken part in the fight.
A Genin called out Kazuya's name and ushered him towards one of the awnings, where only two men of broad shoulder and confident stature awaited him. The Genin left, though Kazuya would've preferred to have him present. He was left alone with the pair of much older, more experienced veterans with little cheer and even less of a sense of humour.
They were muscle-bound, clad in vivid red armour comprised of thick plates of steel. Katana hung from their belts, silver and sparkling in the dull candles the room had to spare. Though their facial structure and physique showed they were clearly related, one of the men was white haired like Kazuya, the other being jet black, both tied into top-knots.
Kazuya's attitude hardened immediately. He was cool and callous with his friends, but addressing these men called for a whole new level of total authority. They were samurai of his village, serving as ambassadors that he'd requested. Kazuya paced around the room and thrust out his chest, like an impatient parent giving a lecture. These weren't ninja – if he slacked off even momentarily around them he could lose their respect forever.
"So you're finally here," he began, trying his best to appear unimpressed. "I was beginning to wonder if you even received my message."
"Apologies young master. There were matters back home that called for our immediate attention," said the black haired veteran.
"This should've been more immediate; no excuses Abo," replied Kazuya.
The man recoiled, impressed that the future Taisho remembered his name. In truth Kazuya had made it one of his top priorities to remember the names of every man, woman and child in the village, along with their roles and specialities. He figured that his followers connecting with their leader on a personal level would make them trust him more.
"Yes my lord, apologies again," stammered Abo, placing his fist in his hand and bowing. The formalities were just a courtesy. Kazuya wasn't in charge just yet, meaning they could address him however they chose. For now they chose to be polite, though Kazuya doubted they'd stay that way for long.
"Forget it. I trust my appeal reached the Taisho. Has Bishamon reconsidered his decision?"
This time the snowy haired samurai took his turn to speak. Kazuya knew his name was Dogen, one of his father in-law's most trusted councillors. The look on his face was grave, and before he even opened his mouth the young lord knew that this news wasn't what he'd hoped for.
"He hasn't I'm afraid. I'm sorry Kazuya, but there's just no way the samurai can get involved in this war."
"Idiot!" Kazuya shouted. The two men recoiled when he pounded a fist upon the wooden unit, causing sparks to fly from the candles resting atop it. Somehow he knew it would come to this; the samurai of the Glacier would never team up with the Cloud's shinobi. Any form of alliance was beyond them. Even if it was the most logical, rational decision to make they still wouldn't budge. "How is that his decision?" he demanded.
"Young master, we've only just got the village stable again. We can't risk it," said Abo.
Kazuya became livid. "Risk what exactly? We're out here fighting for our lives and our possession of the Land of Hot Water weakens by the day. Between Water, Earth and these damn clones we'll lose it by the end of the month, and then we'll lose the Land of Snow before long. Then they'll be right on your doorstep – the moment they enter our own country you'll be the first clan they come across. And then what? You expect the ninja to come to your aid after you refuse to help us?"
"Bishamon believes that the Glacial Drop will keep us safe and hidden," revealed Dogen. "And even if they do make it down, we'll crush them within our own walls."
Kazuya snorted a laugh. He understood that the Taisho was simply doing what he thought was best for his people, but what he thought was wrong. If the Glacier didn't contribute warriors to the war then they'd be wiped out in a heartbeat when a Stone, Mist or clone army crossed the borders. It was only a matter of time. With a force so massive they'd be hard pressed to miss a village of the Glacier's size. They might lose a few hundred on the Glacial Drop, of that he was certain, but such numbers were paltry to their kind of military power.
"They'll find the village, make no mistake of that," Kazuya said.
"Then we shall overpower them."
"With what? The Village Hidden in the Glacier has scarcely fifty warriors. You're comparing that to a force of fifty thousand ninja? Those will be the numbers facing you. You won't make even a dent; your lives will mean nothing. I won't stand by whilst my home gets burned, or whilst the supposed 'warriors' of the Takashi clan dodge out of a war just because of some conflicting ideologies with ninja. If you don't want to fight with them, so be it – fight with me in Division Two."
Abo cleared his throat, obviously irked by the jape Kazuya made at their expense. "The Taisho has made his decision clear. The ninja got themselves into this war. They can get themselves out."
"How can you say that? After everything I've done for the village?" Kazuya had to fight his instincts to stop himself from drawing his sword in anger. "If I hadn't joined the ninja then the clan would be on the brink of extinction right now. Their funds paid for our prosperity."
"Perhaps, but it would be foolish to exchange a few years of good fortune for centuries of discrepancies with the shinobi. Bishamon has great faith in you Kazuya, but personally I must ask: are you a samurai first, or a ninja?"
"A samurai of course," replied Kazuya. It wasn't even a question – he said it without thinking.
"Then you will respect your lord's decision, at least until you are in the position to make the orders."
Kazuya muttered, swearing. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered it; in half a year he'd be eighteen and would take over as Taisho, and with that title he'd have the power to command the samurai. They'd follow him into war without question when that time arrived, but there were two problems with that plan. First of all he wasn't even sure that they had six months left – they could be totally overrun by that time.
The second one bothered him more though: they'd do as he commanded, but if he forced them to go to war when they didn't want to then his integrity would be in question. The samurai wouldn't respect him at all. Leading an army whose soldiers held nothing but disdain for him was the worst idea he could think of. More important than anything, he had to make them see why going to war was necessary. Only then could he order them to do so.
The argument between the three samurai continued. Kazuya even continued to protest once he realised that his words made little difference and that these individuals had no control over the Glacier's forces. He pointed out that the samurai of the Iron had already joined forces with the Leaf, to which Abo and Dogen replied by saying that one clan's actions do not sway another's.
Kazuya continued venting his frustrations at them for a full two hours; by the time he'd finished hot wax flooded the plates of the slow-burning candles. There was nothing he could do, but that didn't calm his anger. Worse still was the fact that he knew deep down, if he hadn't joined the ninja his attitudes would be the same as theirs. He'd be just as blind as the rest of them. Samurai saw things in black and white, offering little logic or rationale when it came to their honour.
As much as he swore to be a samurai first Kazuya suddenly began to doubt his own words.
When every valid, sensible point he could think of was countered with honour the future Taisho gave up. Bitterly he thanked his two councillors for their presence and wished them a safe journey home. He made his way back through the tent – past the table of drunken ninja – and back out into the open air.
The Land of Hot Water was nice this time of year. A warm breeze caressed the grass and gently stroked the samurai's face as he composed himself outside. In just a few seconds he'd slowed his breathing and centred his mind, unclenching his fists for the first time in an hour and watching the waning sun fade to orange. Only then did an unseen pair of hands slap over his eyes.
"Surprise!"
Agile as a cat Kazuya tore away the hands, whirled around and drew his hand back to his weapon. He hated people invading his personal space – even Shoryu could only get away with so much, but there was one person with whom he became totally unguarded. And here she stood, a black satin dress to match her hair, smiling sweetly as though she'd done no wrong.
"Fujiko! What're you doing he-"
But the young lord's demands were cut short as his wife strode forward and pulled him into a deep kiss. Whatever anger he felt suddenly vanished along with all the stress of the day's battle. As their lips finally parted he released a long, drawn-out exhale, like he'd been holding his breath for months on end. Their eyes met, and with one look she forced a smile out of him.
"Fujiko. . ." he said again, his voice softer this time. "You know you're not supposed to be here. If Bishamon knew I'd brought you into a warzone he'd kill me."
She remained in his embrace, fluttering her eyelids. "Come on, my father thinks of you as a son, you couldn't do any wrong as far as he's concerned."
"Maybe, but still. . ."
Again Kazuya was silenced by Fujiko giving him a light peck. He smiled and held her close; he couldn't stay mad at her for long, but she couldn't stay here - it was too dangerous. Through the opening in the tent the troop of Genin released wolf-whistles, and once the other ninja walking about the camp caught on they too began to stop, hollering and clapping.
"Go on lad!" cheered an especially loud one.
"Come on Fujiko," Kazuya laughed, "you're embarrassing me."
"Oh alright." Finally the young woman released him, taking his hand as they strolled about the camp.
They talked for a while, Fujiko sympathising with his ploy to the clan as she asked him how the war fared. She worried for his safety just as any partner should, especially when he told her they were steadily losing ground, but asking him to pull out of the war was strictly forbidden by samurai code. Instead she could only ask him to be careful and keep his friends close.
Through their conversation Kazuya learned that the six months they'd spent apart had been decidedly less exciting for Fujiko. She'd spent most of it harvesting crops, making clothes and weaving baskets with her sisters. The only thing of any special interest came when she revealed that preparations for his promotion to Taisho had just about gotten underway. It would be a spectacular event, hosting thousands of people from all over the land.
Again Fujiko asked him about their progress into determining the cause of and how to stop the Fifth Shinobi World War, to which he lamented that they hadn't. He'd confided in her long ago the three final words spoken by the Tenth Raikage that Reizo had told Squad Thirteen. 'Senmatsu' was Kazuya's family name, the 'Jikogan' was his Dojutsu, and whatever the 'Alpha Gene' was, it remained a mystery.
How these terms linked to the clones and their masters they still had no idea, but Kazuya knew that he didn't like the implications. It seemed more and more likely that his father had been a part of whatever group controlled them, and there still existed many samurai who believe a man inherits the shame of the sins of his parents.
They'd kept the knowledge that Kira Asakura had been the mole in the five Kage to themselves. Telling other countries would be a naïve mistake. They could use it to try and stop the war, claiming that outside forces had been influencing the old Raikage, but what good would that do? They had little proof, and it was plausible that whoever cast the Genjutsu upon him was also from the Land of Lightning himself.
Informing other countries of Kira's actions would only put the Cloud in the sights of every other Kage. They might stop a war, but they'd induce a massacre. The Village Hidden in the Cloud and all its inhabitants would be destroyed before the year's end. As such, Reizo judged that it was better to disperse the pain equally amongst the five nations; at least then they had some hope of finding those truly responsible and stopping the war before any lasting damage was done to the world.
As the sun began to set Fujiko began to ask Kazuya about his friends and how they had been getting on. At this the young samurai became suspicious; never once had she appeared interested in them, in fact something about this whole encounter just didn't add up. Why visit him here and now? If she had survived six months without him surely she could last another half-year for his ceremony, couldn't she?
When they were alone Kazuya rounded on his wife and placed his hands on her shoulders, eyes narrowing. "What's this all about anyway?" he asked her directly. "There's something you're not telling me."
Fujiko gave a bashful look at the ground and shuffled her feet awkwardly. Kazuya lifted her chin to meet his gaze, earning a twitch of a smile and a wink from her. After a few moments she leaned forward, giggling, and whispered something in his ear.
Kazuya's eyes suddenly widened, stricken with a dumb, perplexed expression of paramount confusion. "Wait, what?"
Shoryu and Ayako were already three drinks in when Kazuya came strolling into the young commander's tent. He was significantly paler than usual, as rigid as a board with eyes like a startled hare. He seized the plain looking bottle of sake and poured himself a cup before downing it in one giant gulp. Only then did he take a seat.
"Whoa, Kazuya drinking? I thought you were the law-upholding type?" said Ayako, lounged back on a purple cushion.
The night was young and both Shoryu and Ayako knew all too well of their responsibilities; the alcohol was simply a celebratory tradition to take the edge off after a battle – no one had too much. It simply lifted their spirits and made them merry.
Lain out before Shoryu was a precise three-dimensional map of their surrounding landscapes, complete with white blocks that signified their own units and reds for the enemy. The map was for creating formations and tactics, though Shoryu prodded absently at it with the fancy stick that came with it, swinging it around like a sword.
"It's legal with an adult, and I know you got this from Watari or whatever his name is." said Kazuya.
"But he's not here now," said Shoryu.
"I'm still older than you."
"By like two weeks!"
"Still counts." Kazuya poured himself another and went slower this time. He eased comfortably into a seat and tried desperately to steady his breathing. Despite any meditative training, this time it wouldn't stop. His heart pounded like a drum in his chest, loud enough that he could hear it without stopping to listen. Ayako topped him up once he'd finished, speaking over the pouring of the rice-wine.
"You going to tell us what happened or do we have to guess?" she said.
Kazuya shook his head, bracing himself to relay the news. "I just spoke with Fujiko."
"Fujiko?" Shoryu narrowed his eyes. "She's here? I haven't seen her in years, what did she need?"
"Well," said Kazuya, "It turns out she's. . . She's um." He faltered, lingering over the reality of his own words. "She's. . ."
"Oh! I love this game!" mocked Shoryu, launching his hand to the air. "She's insane! No, no, that's stupid. She's leaving you! No, she's contracted a dangerous infect-"
"She's pregnant."
"Pregnant! Yeah! That was my next guess!" Shoryu chuckled to himself until the gravity of what Kazuya revealed suddenly hit him. "Wait, what?"
"Was my exact reaction," said the samurai.
"Pregnant?" asked Ayako, dumbstruck. "How the hell did that happen?"
"I can show you if you'd like."
"Not what I meant Shoryu!"
Kazuya twiddled his thumbs and looked at the floor. "Well, we are a married couple. I'd assume it happened at our wedding six months ago."
"And?" His face sobering, Shoryu poured another two cups and handed one to Kazuya. Even as he drank his frown hardened. "What do you think of it?"
At this the samurai gave one great exhale. "Honestly I'm not too sure. Truth be told I didn't even entertain the possibility of having children at least until this war is over, but it's not a bad thing as long as they stay safe, in fact I might even be excited. No, no," he corrected, "I am excited – this is good news. . . Just a lot to take in."
"And the Taisho? Surely Bishamon Takashi won't be thrilled that you knocked up his daughter at seventeen?" said Ayako.
But Kazuya shook his head. "He'll be over the moon actually. Taisho are encouraged to have children as quickly as possible to increase the probability of siring a male heir. Bishamon had five in his prime and ended up with all girls, that's the only reason I was chosen as his successor."
"Well, now that that's settled. . ." Shoryu pointed his cup to the ceiling, flickers of the orange torches playing over the liquid. He prompted the remaining two members of the old Squad Thirteen to do the same, and when they clashed he resumed with, "To Kazuya's unborn child! May he grow up in a world very different to this hellhole."
Once they'd drained their fill – hungrily downing the plentiful sake – the samurai began again. "There was one more thing I wanted to ask you two about, whilst we're on the subject."
Shoryu and Ayako traded odd looks, but said nothing and allowed their friend to continue.
"Fujiko has few friends of real connection back in the village, and I don't think she's ever been on great terms with her sisters. I asked her about this and she said it would be okay, but it's really your choice. I won't force you into anything; I'm just throwing it out there."
The two rocked forward in their seats, interested.
"How would you like to be godparents?"
Shoryu almost fell from his chair when that last word rang true. Ayako sat and gasped; clearly Kazuya had put much thought into this – he wouldn't have proposed it unless he was sure. Unfortunately the samurai had always kept the two of them – even Shoryu – at arm's length. They'd never been able to confirm just how much they meant to him until he spelled it out officially.
This wasn't a decision one took lightly. If they accepted, and if, god forbid, anything happened to Kazuya and Fujiko, protection of the child would fall to Shoryu and Ayako. They weren't even a couple. One was still a big kid and the other dreamed for the highest, busiest position the world had to offer, so what did they know of raising an infant? Yet in spite of that Kazuya still seemed to think it was a good idea. It was an honour to be asked such a question, and both had every confidence that the young samurai wasn't about to die any time soon.
"Are you serious?" said Shoryu.
"Yes."
"Hmm." The young commander scratched his stubbly chin. "Can I sleep on it? – OW!"
Ayako cut him off with a smack to the back of his head, sending his empty cup clattering to his little strategic map. He laughed and retrieved it before settling back into the chair.
"He's being an idiot," said the girl. "Of course we will."
"Thank you."
Another half an hour passed with refreshments and merriments in celebration of a new upcoming member to their odd little makeshift family. More food and drink was consumed by the minute, and before long the tent was alive with several more candles coupled with the sound of music. Getting Kazuya to sing was always a rare occurrence so uncommon that it had become virtually mythical, but it didn't sound half bad when coupled with Shoryu's flute - it too was from the Village Hidden in the Glacier after all.
By the time fatigue began to replace the elation Squad Thirteen were already feeling the effects of mild intoxication. Seeing how close they were, Kazuya decided to bid Shoryu and Ayako goodnight, not wanting to intrude. He needed to get back to his tent anyway, where Fujiko waited for him to return with the good news.
He'd already lifted up the flap of Shoryu's tent and cast a swift wave in their direction when a noise pierced the silence. At close to midnight the camp was quiet, with nine out of ten ninja retiring early after the hard day. The eerie still of the night made the ear-splitting scream all the more noticeable: the howling wail of a man's final noise echoed loudly through the entire camp.
Another one cried out, and then another, but by then Shoryu had already snatched up his swords and dashed out with Ayako into the open. One by one the torches of small tents lit up like fireflies to see the commotion, only to realise that the screams came from the western side of the Cloud's army. Atop the outpost Kazuya looked for the claxon call of the ninja on guard duty, but none came.
They understood why immediately, as even from afar the samurai could make out the blood-smeared opening of the straw door hanging limply from its hinges. They'd been infiltrated – precisely struck in the dead of night. No one had noticed until it was too late. On the other side of the Division the eastern watchtower boomed out its claxon, but by then the whole camp was already aware of the intrusion.
"Look!"
Following Ayako's finger Kazuya's gaze wandered over the western side of the camp, to where the source of commotion came from. Above the clearing of a hundred tents hovered two dozen or so identical summons.
They were falcons, or at least, gargantuan versions of falcons. Each as big and muscular as Kyoh, they treaded the air ominously over the western clearing. If he squinted carefully Kazuya could see rappel lines hanging from their bladed talons and the ninja that hung from them. At first he thought his eyes were deceiving him, but at after a second look he confirmed it: ninja were heading back up the lines, and clutched tightly in their arms were the struggling or unconscious forms of familiar Cloud ninja.
The familiar poof of an explosion told him that this was the work of clones, but why? They appeared to be kidnapping people; they'd never done so before, what did they hope to achieve from it? He wondered this as he strung together obtuse hand signs and prepared his eyes for the strain of his fastest run.
As Cloud ninja it was their duty to go over there and repel the invaders, but a much greater duty hung over Kazuya. The sight of more than twenty of those creatures soaring over the western clearing frightened him, for it was within the western side of the camp that his own tent lay, along with Fujiko – his wife and the mother of his unborn child.
"Jikogan!"
He set off at a run, leaving Shoryu and Ayako in the dust as he swept across the land like a current of lightning. Dodging and hopping between confused ranks of ninja he picked a course through the menagerie of tents that stood between him and his wife. He heard the distinct, slowed down calls of Shoryu and Ayako behind him, though he paid them little attention. Shoryu might've been his commander, but there wasn't a position in the world that could order him away from this course.
In less than a minute of real-time he'd passed the western outpost. Above him the slow, heavy flaps of the summoned falcons beat down upon his cropped white hair. He darted away from the flying beak of one before continuing forward. The slurred voices and smoky explosions of ninja enclosed him; the camp was in chaos.
How the clones had planned and executed such a flawless attack was beyond him. The precision of such a strike had caught the entirety of Division Two off guard – they'd breached the western flank with a massive force of at least fifty ninja, and before the alarms were raised they'd begun to abduct people one by one. They never struck with such accuracy. Clone armies were normally poor in formation and order - a tactless force that threw its soldiers into battle as though they were disposable. Then again, Kazuya figured clones were disposable.
As he leapt over the dying remnants of a fire his landing was met by a ninja in front of him being swept up by a dive-bombing falcon. When his own attack missed the samurai ignored the event and pushed forward, eventually coming to his own tent.
His humble home's state of disorder was proof enough of an outside presence. The torches had been knocked from their sconces and a great slash cut through the opening; Kazuya knew what had happened before he even looked inside.
Sure enough, Fujiko was gone. His open sleeping bag was proof that she'd gone to bed, but there remained no sign of the young samurai's wife. Thankfully, save for the cut across the door, there were no signs of a struggle. There was no blood, kicked over ground or loose pegs; she'd been quickly knocked out and taken just like so many others.
In silent rage Kazuya left his tent and cast his eyes to the sky. The Jikogan scanned over falcon after falcon for any sign of the familiar black dress she'd worn earlier in the evening, but even slowed down the sheer amount of movement going on up there made it nearly impossible to pick out individuals. He spotted the courier who'd picked him up earlier and an older Jonin who'd been caught unawares in the clutches of the summons.
After just a few seconds of looking over the horde Kazuya's eyes locked with another. Riding atop the largest, most overgrown bird of the flock was a woman, blonde haired, tall and lean. She wore a dark jacket complete with countless tool holsters, and emblazoned across the left chest pocket was the familiar violet symbol that he saw daily on Shoryu's own.
However it wasn't the ever-mysterious clan insignia that he first noticed, nor indeed the dark shape of his own wife slung under her arm. What Kazuya saw first was something that made his blood curdle and his heart stop. It was something he'd only ever seen once outside a mirror – the spiral pattern of his eyes that had forever labelled him as unique. She looked his way and smiled that same suggestive sneer that he'd seen on his opponent at the third stage of his Chunin Exams, only this woman was older – at least in her thirties.
As Jikogan met Jikogan Kazuya realised that this woman – the captor of his wife – could only be one person. During their battle Suzume had mentioned that including themselves, the only other people remaining with the dojutsu were her mother and their grandfather. This must've been the former: Madoka Oyama, the sister of Kazuya's very own father. The samurai drew his sword.
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Author's Notes: Heyhey! Been a while right? To say I've had personal shit to deal with would be an understatement, and to be honest this chapter was a real bitch. So was the picture but eh, what can you do? Should be back on track now.
I think the problem was trying to convey how much the characters have matured without diverging too much that they become altogether different characters. I'm still not sure I did the best job on that, but rest assured there won't be a great many chapters where the trio just sit around and get pissed, especially with stuff like this going on.
And also I'd just like to take a moment to assure you all that this won't turn into some cheesy romance drama with the new pregnancy plot twist. Of course I'm going somewhere with it, but it's never going to take centre stage really. It was just something that's kinda necessary for me to continue. Makes it more dramatic you see.
Anyway despite my complaints I'm liking this new story arc. It's letting me get away from the template of the original Naruto and properly flesh things out. I mean if you think about it Volume One followed pretty much the same formula because as Naruto Part 1 I had to get all that initiation stuff out of the way. It went from graduation, then C-Rank missions, then Chunin exams, then a Kage-level fight.
In Naruto however, after that point the following arcs are about Sasuke's betrayal. Then during Shippuden/Part 2 it's all about the Jinchuriki. I don't plan on having Kazuya turn evil or anything, and there are no more Jinchuriki in Legacies, so naturally I've had to think up of new stuff to push everyone's limits and keep them motivated.
Oh yeah, Kazuya's picture got uploaded too. Looks pretty good if I do say so myself. Took me forever though, one look at it and you might understand why. Must've done three drafts just for the armour alone, and I couldn't just template stuff or get inspiration from other anime/manga because get this, hardly any samurai in anime wear armour! I never realised! Kenshin doesn't wear any, none of the characters in Samurai 7 or Samurai Champloo wear any, Afro doesn't wear any, WHY?
So yeah, Kazuya looks almost completely different to his Volume 1 drawing but that was kinda the point. Last chapter even said Ayako didn't even recognise him so I guess I covered my arse there. He's still got the same eyes, nose and distinct frown, but I guess it just goes to show how changing a hairstyle makes a difference. Ayako next time.