Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

/

The majestic beauty of Alaska was left behind the next morning. The CH-47D Chinook passenger helicopter left the hospital helipad just as the sun peaked over the mountains on the horizon, snow and sea glistening gold against a backdrop of gray clouds. Below them droves of people were beginning to flood the tent cities all at once, eager to take advantage of Anchorage's scarce Autumn daylight. The helicopter gained altitude until the tents blended in with the surrounding snow, the Chinook then lurching towards the west along Alaska's rocky coast. Soon the mountains faded away and nothing was left but the ocean.

Usagi, strapped in tightly by her shoulders, did her best to take in a deep breath and not look out one of the portholes. She hated flying over the ocean. Every flight she ever took ended up with her either switching seats with someone on the aisle, or in the bathroom up-chucking the in-flight peanuts. The Chinook had only one aisle down it's entire length that sat fifteen people and no restroom to speak of. Whenever a rough bout of turbulence hit the helicopter Usagi held a hand to her mouth to prevent the worst. 'Think of something else,' she thought, 'anything else!"

The conversation with Naruto the night before! A smile found its way past her hand covering. Her twin seemed to be doing so well: he was happy and healthy and - for the moment - safe. Now there could possibly be tanks roaming the streets where her brother lived! Usagi almost threw up again. There had always been tanks nearby since Konoha was right by a military base, but were only brought off fort for parades or when the 2011 tsunami hit Japan. Bringing tanks into public traffic happened in the United States right before identification papers were increasingly required for everyday purchases. This... nightmare didn't happen all at once. There had been a domino effect of events with plenty of warning, but unfortunately not enough people had been willing to look at the signs, labelling them as "crazy conspiracy theories". They had put too much faith in their failing republic.

Nagato had been listening carefully to their televideo conversation in case Usagi leaked vital information or the line tapped. The call itself had went smoothly, but afterward Usagi looked Nagato directly in his ringed-eyes and demanded, "Teach me how to fuck up tanks." He looked apprehensive, but nodded in reluctant agreement. "If we expect you to help us someday then we might as well give you some skills to use." The two spent the entire night in one of the park's large tents that turned out to be a makeshift repair shop, Nagato using a nearly irreparable M2 Bradley to demonstrate basic techniques used to destroy and drive a tank. By the time Usagi met Jiraiya for breakfast that morning she felt completely confident in her new ability thanks to Nagato's rigorous but effective instruction.

Something else bothered Usagi about the aforementioned long-distance call. Usagi had been told that Sasuke had lost his entire family at a young age, but now he supposedly had an older brother? She could only assume he was never mentioned because the brothers were on poor terms. That much had been evident. What was his name, again...? Anyway... What's-his-face was ridiculously attractive, speaking objectively, of course. He had also been overly polite, charming, and courteous for Usagi's tastes, but she hadn't sensed any ulterior motive or malintent. Maybe she just was looking for anyone to trust in these hard times but... when he had said the word "contract" with so much meaning... it was so familiar that she felt she could trust this older brother.

For some reason thinking of Sasuke's brother reminded her of Alec, even though the two men were completely different in every way other than perhaps age. Usagi had not been in love with Alec, but he was a cherished friend. Now she was sure he had been detained or worse... and it hurt more than she would have thought.

Usagi leaned the back of her head against the vibrating metal frame of the helicopter and released a long, silent sigh, willing herself not to cry.

The trip across the North Pacific had been entirely uneventful. They made it to the Kamchatka peninsula in only a few hours, but for some unknown reason circled it another hour before landing. The arms man flying the Chinook communicated with someone in Russian over the radio, but no one onboard knew what about until he shouted over the sound of the blades. "THE STRONGHOLD IS UNDER ATTACK. WE HAVE ONLY FIFTEEN MINUTES TO REFUEL AND PICK UP THE OTHER TWO PASSENGERS. ANYONE ARMED SHOULD SURROUND THE HELICOPTER AND WAIT FOR MY SIGNAL TO REBOARD. IF YOU SEE TWO MEN WITH BLUE HEADBANDS, DON'T SHOOT! LET THEM IN!" He began to descend the craft then and the sound of shells exploding began to rise over that of the blades.

Usagi pulled her assault rifle closer and slammed her eyes shut, wishing she could be one of those without a weapon. Jiraiya, who had been sitting directly across the aisle from her the entire flight, undid his belts and leaned towards her. Usagi couldn't hear what he was telling her, but she could read his lips well enough. "Give me your gun." Oh, how she longed to throw it at him! Let it be someone else's problem! Usagi thought of the conversation with Jiraiya's former students; how disappointed Nagato had looked when she wanted out. Would she duck away if one of those tanks pointed its barrell at her brother? Usagi looked blankly at Jiraiya as she undid her belts, looking as if she was going to hand the AR-15 over, when everyone could feel the helicopter touchdown on a flat surface... She bolted out the hatch opening in the back with the other armed people, joint warcry loud and determined.

Usagi refused to be a coward anymore. She would live up to the memory of Minato and Kushina, sacrifice just as much and be just as brave. She would not cry, she would not hide. She was Usagi Namikaze, and it was about damn time she began behaving that way.

/

Saturday's rain had turned into morning flurries on Sunday. The snow was not yet sticking on the hills of Konoha, but the air was densely filled with the fog made of pedestrians' breathing and car exhaust. The streets were less crowded in Konoha on Sunday mornings, as many of the foreign-born residents attended Christian church services, but there were still enough people out and about that shops and businesses stayed open.

There was a small kendo dojo Itachi had attended ever since he was a small child, when his father was still alive and had insisted that the Uchiha family maintain a traditional community image. Although Itachi had despised the harsh discipline as a child, he stuck with the dojo even after his parents' passing and participated in workouts every Sunday morning. It was the only form of relaxation and normality he could afford in his mostly secret life. Especially after yesterday's catastrophe...

This Sunday morning the group had agreed to work on cardio and were jogging through the less crowded streets in their uniform black tracksuits and white sneakers. Passers-by thought the group odd, but the dojo master insisted on conformity at all times. For Itachi who was raised in a traditionally conservative Japanese household, it was a rather familiar but - in recent days - increasingly bothersome virtue .

Itachi, doing his best to mind his own business and enjoy his workout regardless, was highly annoyed when someone to his left matched his pace. Immediate without looking he knew who the person was and tried his best to politely ignore them but to no avail. He should have taken Izumo's challenge to race earlier...

"Itachi~! Sweetie, your face looks so icky! If you don't smile more often your face will wrinkle, you know!" That had to be the whiniest, most infuriating voice in existence. Itachi tried to shut it out but to his misfortune it continued, "Hey, I know what you should do. GROUP DATE~! Eight of us are going to a concert and then out to eat! Izumo agreed -"

Subtly, Itachi increased his pace, hoping to outrun the banshee. "Somehow that makes this less appealing, which I didn't think was possible."

"Oh, c'mon my weasle-goose!" They increased in pace easily to keep up, damn them. Couldn't they take a hint? Or flat-out rejection for that matter? "You should get out and live a little. Forget all those worries."

Hisame Mizukawa was an extremely persistent, annoying, and brainless woman. Every week was the same: she would ask him out, he would reject her. It started when he was sixteen, she being two years his senior. Now Itachi was twenty-one and still not interested. She wasn't unattractive. An ethnic born Japanese woman with short brunette hair and flawless body, Hisame would be an A-class catch for most men, but she possessed nothing substantial for Itachi. Hisame thought deeply about nothing and her solution to every problem was to drown it out with a good time. Itachi had not been interested in romance in a long time, but he thought his ideal partner would be... how to describe someone that probably didn't exist...?

Someone who was able to discuss the newspaper with him in the mornings and not agree with everything he thought. Someone who looked in a mirror so little that they were surprised by their own reflection. Someone who would cry and scream during a horror movie but couldn't stop watching until the ending credits. A passionate, brave, ambitious, free-thinking soul who was determined to face their demons and win! Someone... that could give him the courage to do the same.

Hisame Mizukawa was definitely not that someone.

Itachi was preparing to reject Hisame's offer again when the phone in his pocket began vibrating. What excellent timing! Anyone would be better to speak to right now than Hisame! Itachi opened his phone quickly and answered a smooth but loud, "Uchiha Itachi. Speak."

"Hello, nephew. Might you have time for a chat?"

...except Madara Uchiha. Itachi would much rather endure the annoying lovesick woman over the evil, murderous old man. Unfortunately, there was no way Itachi could get out of any conversation with his uncle, so he closed his eyes and took a deep, silent breath before answering, "Uncle! Of course. Might I call you back after Kendo? I would be happy to speak to you then." Lies, obviously, but it was best to stay on Madara's good side.

"No, actually, I was hoping you would grace me with your presence. Meet me in your office."

"When?"

"Now."

/

"NOW!"

Gunshots were immediately heard over the still spinning blades of the helicopter, currently parked on an unknown building's helipad. Burning buildings surrounded them on all sides, the black smoke making visibility up-wind nearly impossible. A white man in a tattered Russian rebel uniform rushed past Usagi and began hooking a hose to the inside of a panel she had just helped pull off the side of the helicopter. A Japanese man in front of her dropped to his knees from being shot. She went to help him up but he yelled at her to fire back before she herself was shot, and so she obeyed, lining up her iron sights on the smokey figure of a Russian soldier on the top of the adjacent building. Usagi took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

Usagi missed the soldier, but just barely, managing to get him to duck in shock. "MAN DOWN," she shouted, and Jiraiya and another man poked out long enough to pull the shot Japanese man into the Chinook. Thankfully, there was a medic on board. Then the youngest at arms sprinted to a row of barrels for cover when suddenly the building began to shake violently beneath them and the building she had just shot at moments before literally collapsed to the ground, exploding floor by floor from the top, down. The blast flung Usagi back against the stairwell entrance; her head was spinning and her ears ringing.

Before a coherent thought could even be made to get up and start running back to the Chinook, Usagi felt herself being flung over something solid. The motion was further disorientating, if that were possible. Slowly, after loud laughter and rough bouncing, Usagi's ears stopped ringing and she was able to make out English words in Russian accent, "-lut's gonna fuckin' get us killed, kid!"

"Stop worrying so much, yeah! This party is pretty much over anyway." Scandinavian? Dutch? The accent was too subtle to tell.

Eventually Usagi could bear to open her eyes without feeling dizzy, finding that she was thrown over someone's shoulder back inside the helicopter. Another pair of hands were grabbing her waist and hoisting her down onto a seat. Usagi found Jiraiya looming over her, with two men in blue headbands strapping into seats behind him. So they had managed to pick up their passenger's after all? A plus. The two were both caucasian; the feminine one with a metal eye-scope and blonde hair longer than her own saw her staring and winked at her. Probably a man, after all, around her own tender age. The other was shirtless - definitely a man - and covered in blood everywhere, but he did not appear to be wounded at all. Snow-white hair poked through patches of blood, but he barely looked to be in his early thirties. The man appeared busy praying, not paying her any attention at all. When Jiraiya began tapping Usagi's face she turned her own attention back to him.

"Usagi! You with us? You need medical attention, girl?"

"No," she croaked. Her head throbbed and body ached horribly but otherwise nothing felt out of place. Leave the only available medic for those who actually needed it. "How're the others, Pervert?" Usagi could feel the Chinook lifting off the building top then and noticed all the empty seats that had been filled before they refueled. It was a question she now regretted asking.

Solemnly, Jiraiya buckled her shoulder belts together for her, then sat to her right and did the same for himself. He waited another few moments for the helicopter to begin drifting in a forward direction before answering, "You were lucky, Usagi. There were a lot of people blown off the roof in that explosion."

Across the aisle the white-haired man barked, "Be grateful you whore. If this prick here, Deidara, had not picked your lazy ass up on the way we would have left without you. Like we fuckin' should have." It was the Russian voice from before. Roughly, he elbowed the girly boy beside him in the head who glared back. Deidara must have been the north European voice she couldn't distinguish. It was still difficult. "She survived my masterpiece, Hidan! I say that's a pretty good reason to keep her alive, yeah."

"Jashin says otherwise. Weaklings gotta go."

"No one takes your god seriously, you schizo!"

"Godless HEATHEN!"

"QUIET THE HELL DOWN BACK THERE. PEOPLE ARE GRIEVING AND I AM TRYING NOT TO BE SHOT AT."

The two Europeans continued to yell at each other regardless, but Usagi had stopped listening to the argument long ago. She watched the other refugees one by one. Some were in prayer, others openly weeping. Suddenly she felt too lucky. Jiraiya was still with her, and she could go home to her brother without reporting any unnecessary loss. These people were not so fortunate. Selfishly, however, Usagi could not convince herself to feel regret for not having to share in their suffering. She reached over and grabbed her foster-father's large hand in a rare gesture, giving him a watery smile.

Now they were two hours away from landing in Japan, and on the inside Usagi could hardly be happier that this madness was almost behind them.

/

Madara Uchiha was a very tall Japanese man who had never cut his shaggy black hair in all the years he had lived, but still managed to appear dignified. The hair concealed his aging, certainly. He was never seen wearing anything other than the finest casual suits and his posture was flawless. No matter his expression, his eyes were always piercing and seemingly all-seeing. Overall the eldest living Uchiha was an intimidating figure. One that even the dumbest of men knew to avoid because it could mean their life.

Madara had already been waiting when Itachi arrived at his office, sitting on his desk, one leg hanging down and the other crossed over lazily. To anyone else it would appear for all the world that this office actually belonged to the aging man instead of the younger one; in a sick way they would probably be correct. Madara stood up purposefully from the desk upon Itachi's entrance, opening his arms wide like a politician might at a state address. Like a cobra opening its hood to intimidate its prey. A snake.

"Itachi! You came so quickly I nearly forgot that I called you!" Sickeningly fake pleasantries. Itachi hated them.

"It sounded urgent, uncle. I came to see what you needed of me." Translation: What part of my humanity will I have to sacrifice this time?

"You've always been such an obedient boy..." Madara glided to the left couch and perched daintily upon it - crossing his legs again - before gesturing toward the right couch, "I will not waste anymore of your precious time, so please... take a seat." The sooner Itachi got this unwanted meeting concluded, the better, so he took a ginger seat on the couch arm. "I want to reward you for your wonderful work in handling that awful business yesterday with the school. The press has already seemed to forgotten it's happened!"

"You give yourself too little credit, uncle." You own the news networks. You did that.

"Hmmm... perhaps you're right, but I'll reward you anyway." Madara looked off at the ceiling as he spoke, spinning his carefully worded lies, "Did you know that the United States is experiencing a massive terrorist revolt right now? I'm sure the President mentioned it during your visit. It is quite unfortunate for someone so benevolent as he, but he does seem to be handling the situation well, does he not?"

"Goodwin is very confident in his country's ability to overcome such an obstacle, yes." Goodwin isn't worried about a revolt because there never was one. Itachi remembered how Goodwin had completely disregarded Minato's book as trash. He was confident that he wouldn't receive a backlash from Minato's followers because of their very nature - they weren't violent aggressors at all. Underestimating them would be the President's greatest blunder if Itachi could help it. The faux-CEO just did not yet know what he could do...

"Turns out he is not the only leader dealing with this... particular terrorist sect. Tell me, have you ever heard of an intellectual piece called The Will of Fire, Itachi?"

Itachi's heart skipped a beat but he forced his face to stay completely emotionless. The inside pocket of the peacoat Itachi wore over his tracksuit gained that now familiar weighted feeling. Things were approaching dangerous waters very quickly. "I believe I have heard of it in passing. It is very popular among my age group these days." I'm lying like a dog and I pray to whatever god is listening that you don't notice. Itachi's prayers seemed to work as Madara gave no indication that he disbelieved Itachi's answer.

"It is, indeed! So much, in fact, that it's teachings have inspired organized terrorist attacks in several other countries, as well. Fortunately, most of them like the United Kingdom and South Africa have managed to... eliminate the issue. Unfortunately, there are more that need our... assistance in solving this grave matter than those that do not."

"What can we do to help, Uncle?" What the hell are you going to make me do to these poor people, now?

Madara uncrossed his legs and recrossed them in the opposite fashion, sitting his laced fingers atop his knee. Itachi knew this gesture. This was the gesture that was made when Madara would tell Itachi what the conversation was really about. "A certain family in Europe has made a generous personal 'donation' us, if you will, in exchange that we help them with their problem. You see... the man that wrote The Will of Fire - I think you remember him, actually, your father's... acquaintance - he personally founded nine of the biggest terrorist organizations in the world. Our kind donors are concerned that these organizations might actually have the means to undo our progress. Mr. Namikaze was no fool man, though. Even in death he has managed to hide any vital information from the public's eyes."

"May I chance that this information would help us in eliminating the... terrorists?" The word felt vile and wrong on Itachi's tongue. "How would we go about finding something so elusive?"

"You may chance and be correct, my boy! Our insider has long since been unable to retain contact with some of these dangerous peoples, but before he disbanded he gave us some valuable information. Mr. Namikaze had complete information on each organization stored away ingeniously..." Madara pulled his hands apart, reached into a pocket of his black slacks, then tossed a tiny glistening object on the table. Itachi leaned forward slightly to observe the object. It was an RFID chip no bigger than a grain of rice. Uchiha Corp. produced them in limited numbers. "... in these. There are nine total in the world - one for each terrorist organization founded by Mr. Namikaze - all stored inside key individuals."

"People?"

"Yes, and as you can see we have already located one. This chip was obtained from a woman named Ni'i Yugito, in Russia. With the information it provided the Prime Minister of Russia was able to launch an ambush against terrorists hiding on the Kamchatka peninsula. Actually... I believe that is occurring as we speak."

"How might I identify one of these vessels if I happen across them?" How do I find out who to protect from your disgusting reach?

"Such dedication! I'm proud of you, Itachi. It's extremely unlikely, as Mr. Namikaze was very careful not to place a chip near his home, but if you do happen to find a chip, the person can be identified by a particular style of tattoo. Our source said they vary, but they all involve fire and kanji in some way."

If Itachi had believed in any sort of god before, he certainly did not now. His stomach twisted at an impossible angle and he fought back a cry of anguish. The only people capable of reversing all this were now being hunted like foxes for their pelts... and Itachi would be forced to play an instrumental part in their demise. As he sat here in this very office a massacre was taking place right across the Japanese Sea and there was nothing he could do to help the unsuspecting victims. When Itachi did not answer Madara frowned pitifully.

"All of this good news must be very overwhelming for you, dear nephew."

"Yes," Itachi managed to push onward and find his voice, "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm overjoyed." I'm terrified.

"I knew you would be," the evil man was smiling sadistically now, "That's why I took the liberty of volunteering Uchiha Corp. to provide the tools for the job! The donation we received will cover the manufacturing costs and all overhead expenses, of coarse. The issue of taxes has also been eliminated across the board. All you have to worry about is keeping your employees motivated and Uchiha Corporation's reputation golden!" Madara rose from the couch in a lively manner then, replacing the RFID chip back into his pocket, and gliding effortlessly toward the elevator doors. When he reached them, he looked back at Itachi with a threatening glower yet purred, "Do tell Sasuke I said 'hello'. We don't get to see enough of one another, after all."

Translation: Continue doing as I tell you, Itachi, and I won't have to greet Sasuke personally.

With the concealed threat made, Madara stepped backwards into the elevator and when the doors sealed shut was out of sight.

This time, however, the threat felt empty in comparison to the nightmare emerging over the horizon. With the information Itachi had just been given he could no longer ignore his conscience. It was time that he did something about all this, no matter how small his contribution could be or how great the sacrifice, but he would try his damnedest to prevent his most precious loved one from being that sacrifice. Itachi had always been labelled a genius. Time to use it. As the pieces of this puzzle were revealed to him, he was simultaneously forming a plan. It was insane and far too risky, but he was sure it would work. For this plan to work, however, he knew he would need some very particular help, but that was coming.

All Itachi had to do was wait until they showed up by Friday.

/

Three reviews are wonderful! Although... I'm not quite sure what one of them is all about but I'll take it as a compliment.

This chapter was difficult to write partly due to personal life and partly due to the fighting scene. I wanted Hidan and Deidara's entrance to be so more dramatic, but the more I thought about it the more I realized I didn't put hardly anything into the other Akatsuki members, either. That, my dears, will come later.

Lots of plot twists ahead! Next chapter Jiraiya and Usagi make it home! What will be waiting for them? Also, Itachi and Usagi will have their first real conversation. Will Itachi's return of Usagi's book go smoothly?