AN: Half-strength chapter today, but I didn't want to wait another month to finish ten thousand words. Having a bit of a hectic time lately, what with school starting back up.

Whatever, real life stuff is boring. Hope you guys and gals enjoy.

Oh, and one thing I forgot: all credit for developments involving Neji go to Thyreus over on Spacebattles. That man's a font of good ideas.

Not Sick Chapter 29

Spider's Web

How do you accept the reality of your own death?

Shikamaru stared at the back of his hand, flexing his fingers and watching the play of tightening tendons and stretching skin. His lungs sounded like gargantuan bellows, echoing through his mind. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. The sound of his own breathing seemed deafening to him; a cacophony of gushing blood and rushing air. He almost couldn't understand how people endured it.

But he could understand. He'd barely noticed it a week ago. What had changed?

Oh. Right.

He blinked, the sensation of his eyes moistening almost disgusting. Muscles, dancing beneath the skin, brought the lids down and then pulled them back up, yanking his eyelids open like curtains. The subtle change in light as his pupils dilated for the briefest of moments before resettling seemed to him a strobe. He took another breath, his chest expanding, his ribs pushing out. He was sure they would creak.

"Shikamaru?"

His mother's voice was just as deafening as his own breathing. He could imagine the way the sound resonated in his ears, carried by the tiny movement of infinitesimal hair-like cells down the nerves leading to his brain. The notion made him nauseous. Even a shinobi like him, someone who could go head to head with a stone wall and come out the winner, was so fragile when it came down to it.

Pain had torn his body apart like wet paper with that suicidal detonation. The distant fire of all but one of his limbs being ripped away by an unbearable pressure and heat sent Shikamaru shivering. His other hand, resting behind his head, began digging into the skin of his neck, sending more impulses raising down his spine and up to his knuckles.

His door opened; it didn't squeak. His mother peaked her head through, her brow drawn into an unidentifiable emotion.

"Shikamaru?" She was quieter than she usually was, her dark eyes piercing his. "Do you want lunch?"

He blinked, the slide of flesh over the semi-solid surface of his eye distracting him once more, and considered. Was he hungry? Yes; the vague grumbling in his stomach told him so.

Could he stomach eating?

Probably not.

"I'm good." He put his hand down, laying it by his side on the bed. His room was dark, and as his mother opened the door a bit wider, more light poured into it, pushing the shadows back.

They were such fragile things.

Yoshino took a step into the room, and then another. She clearly didn't know what to say. Shikamaru could sympathise; she clearly thought her ordinary domineering nature wouldn't cut it here. He wasn't sure if she was right or not.

"Is there anything you do need?" she asked. She drew closer, and Shikamaru considered that question too.

"I don't think so," he decided in a rather monotone voice. His mother sat down on his bed, and Shikamaru turned his head towards her. She was looking right at him with a laser-like gaze. He unconsciously recoiled just the slightest bit, and her lip twisted.

"We both know that's a lie," she said.

Shikamaru snorted. "Is this the part where you analyze my delicate psyche?"

His mother didn't snap at him, which he'd been expecting. Maybe wanting a little, too. Instead, there was just a heavy silence. Finally, she sighed.

"You went and got yourself killed," she grimaced. "I always worried about you doing nothing with your life, and then you go kill and get killed by an S-Rank missing-nin." She snorted, her shoulders shaking, and one of her hands came up to her eye. "W-what a mess."

Shikamaru frowned. "I thought you'd be mad."

"Not now." His mother wiped away a tear. Shikamaru watched it run down her finger, leaving a trail of dampness. "How could I be mad now?"

"I got myself killed." Shikamaru's frown intensified. "I should be mad."

"But you're not?"

Shikamaru shook just a little. It might have been a laugh on another day. Now, it was more of a hollow rattle in his throat. "There it is."

His mother made a similar noise. "We don't have to do this today," she said, teeth shining as another tear slipped down her cheek. "Your father should probably be there for it, too."

Shikamaru shrugged, and Yoshino rose from the side of his bed.

"You know…" Shikamaru's voice stopped his mother, but she didn't turn around. "He blew me up."

The phrasing was almost childish, but the way Yoshino's spine straightened out wasn't. His mother let out a ragged breath, her whole body shaking. Shikamaru continued.

"It hurt. A lot, actually." He looked away, back to the ceiling, now overcome with light from the hallway. "I didn't really have time to be surprised, or angry. Just… boom." His lip twisted. "But there was one thing that bothered me."

"I wondered if it was karma."

His mom didn't interrupt him. She must have known, just as well as he, that this was just something he had to say. Even if it didn't really make sense.

"That bastard who killed Asuma-Sensei. Hidan. I wrapped him up and blew him into a million pieces," Shikamaru said peacefully, and his mother nodded. She'd read the reports, though she'd never gotten the whole story from her husband. Just that their son had been instrumental in taking down the man who'd murdered his teacher.

"It was the right thing to do," Shikamaru continued. "I've got no doubt of that. He was a rabid dog, and someone needed to bury him; I was just put into the position to."

Finally, some doubt crept into his voice. "But I can't help but think… if it was the right thing to do, why did the exact same thing happen to me?"

His mother didn't turn around. She just kept staring towards the open door, and the light that crept in. After a moment or two, she started walking again, her shoulder's drawing up with every step. Her shadow flitted over her son, and Shikamaru wished for a second that he could hug it close.

"If you need anything, just call, okay?" Yoshino said. Her son nodded, and she made her way towards the door. But as she reached the threshold, she turned back.

"You did the right thing."

Shikamaru sighed shakily, and his mother smiled. "I love you," she said, and her voice was like a rock in a violent ocean.

Shikamaru wanted to grimace. He really did.

"I love you too, mom."

His mother smiled again, and left. Shikamaru kept staring at the ceiling as she closed the door, and shadows overtook the room again. He studied them, squinting, as if he could perceive the exact nature of the muted light.

Light poured around a shadow. If light met it, light overcame it. It was an effortless law of the world, as intrinsic as gravity.

He wondered if he and the shadows were the same.

You must always be possessed by a strange feeling that you're still dead.

"Six-hundred."

Tenten sat, not caring about the wet grass under her, and watched Lee execute his third set of push-ups. The sweating boy lowered himself down on a single trembling hand set under his solar plexus, his fingers twitching and driving divots into the soft ground. The training field was mostly silent but for the sound of distant birds and Lee's grunts. Her teammate breathed out harshly and pushed himself back up, his legs hanging taut above the ground. More sweat dripped into his eyebrows and disappeared, absorbed by the thick hair.

"Six-hundred and one," Lee panted, and switched hands. He pushed upwards, going airborne for a moment, and his left hand came out under him. He landed on it with a pained growl and then froze for a moment, settling himself and ensuring his balance. Then, he started again.

Tenten's fingers curled around the hilt of the axe buried in the ground beside her, and tapped a rhythm there as she watched Lee work. Watching the play of muscles was almost hypnotic. It was impossible to think that they'd been dead, worked to disintegration, so recently.

Along with her.

The axe's handle creaked slightly, and she released it, bringing her hand back to her lip. The sun seemed almost oppressive: Tenten was still getting used to the idea that it was there.

She'd been sure she'd never see it again.

"So!"

Gai-Sensei's voice was like a crack of thunder in the relative tranquility of the sunny day. Tenten's head snapped towards it, the axe she'd let go of already in her hands and raised to a defensive position. The voice had come from above; how was that-?

Gai hit the ground like a small green meteor, throwing up a wave of sundered dirt and grass. Lee didn't waver in his exercise, while Tenten jumped to her feet in surprise. Her sensei reared up, his teeth shining in the mid-day sun, as the earth settled around him. Where had he come from?

"Ah-!" he paused for a second, and Tenten tilted her head as she realized that for one of the first times she could remember, her teacher was at a loss for words.

Gai's whole body relaxed: his arms hung at his side, and his head dropped. "My dear students," he started anew. "I have just returned from my two-hundredth A-Rank mission!" His expression shifted, something dark passing over his face. Lee finally looked up from his push-ups, his exhausted face registering his sensei's presence. He slowly lowered himself down, preparing to get to his feet.

"I reported to the Hokage when I returned, of course." Gai sniffed. "She gave me the most disturbing news." Lee finally made it to his feet, and as he did, Gai spread his arms. "My youthful students…"

There was a blur of movement, and Tenten found herself wrapped in Might Gai's arms. Lee was there too, just as confused as her if a great deal sweatier. Her teacher let out a mighty sob and pulled them both closer.

"I have never been more proud of you!" Gai bawled.

Tenten stiffened. That hadn't been what she was expecting. Lee still hadn't said a word, but Tenten felt him shake just a bit at their teacher's words. Gai pushed them out to arm length and beamed at them.

"You protected your comrades!" Gai grinned. "Followed them into the arms of death itself, and fought your way back out! You two-!" He looked around, his exuberance not fading. "And Neji! Your youthful fire burned so brightly in the Village Hidden in the Rain you warded off death itself!"

"You already said that," Tenten pointed out, grinning for a reason she really couldn't understand. Her teacher was being ridiculous. Even more so than usual.

Gai nodded. Enthusiastically. "I did! It is something that bears repeating!" His eyes crinkled. "How do you feel, Tenten?"

She looked down at herself. At her hands, trembling just slightly, her mud soaked pant-legs. She tried to look at more than just herself, but all she could find inside was the whistling of the wind and the chirping of birds. The kunoichi Tenten had disarmed a god and returned from death, and she wasn't quite sure what to do with that information.

"Tired," she eventually decided, truthfully. Her sensei nodded, an incredibly serious look falling over his face. His hand came up, cupping his chin.

"Yes," he said, still serious. "I can imagine that resurrection is a tiring experience." His eyes narrowed. "I would not know, since it has never happened to me."

Tenten resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn't decide if her teacher was being stupid, or if this conversation was actually helping her.

Konoha's Green Beast turned to Lee, and his smaller lookalike gazed at him with dark eyes. Teacher and student met each others gazes for a moment, and as always, Tenten knew that she was missing some sort of invisible communication between them. After what seemed like several seconds, Gai spoke.

"And you, Lee?" His tone was infinitely more sober.

Lee considered. Tenten could see he already had the answer to the question in mind; he was searching for the words to voice it.

"I am training," he finally said. Tenten blinked at the flatness of the phrase. Lee's usual enthusiasm was subdued. Their sensei noticed it too, his feet shifting slightly in the damp grass.

"I am glad your youthful fire hasn't been dimmed by your death," he said, the ridiculous sentence granted a frightening solidity by the man's solemn voice. Lee nodded, and Gai cocked cocked his head. "Why are you training?"

Lee blinked. "Gai-sensei?"

Gai crossed his arms. "Why are you training?"

The question sounded like a challenge, and Lee didn't back down. His body tensed, still shaking slightly with exertion and dripping with sweat. "Because I failed. Next time I will not."

Tenten finally spoke up. "That's not true." Lee glanced at her, and she shook her head. "Lee, you can't believe-"

"I did not defeat Pain." Lee's voice was just as precise as his kicks. "I was unable to handle the strain of the Seventh Gate, and died for it." At the mention of the Gates, Gai gave a near imperceptible twitch, the beginnings of a frown stealing over his face. "I failed you, and Neji, Naruto… everyone." Lee grimaced, the look unusual and unbecoming. "And I will not again. That is why I am training. The next time I am faced with an undefeatable opponent… I refuse to use my life as payment."

Gai allowed the sober silence that Lee had created to last about five seconds.

"It is good," he finally said, "that you recognize your error." Tenten turned to him in surprise as her sensei continued. "That goes for the both of you. You did a very brave thing, but it was also exceptionally foolish. It is only by pure chance that you two, and Neji, remain as my youthful students. I would not have liked to bury you."

Gai grinned. "But if you truly are my students, than you will not let this reminder of your mortality dull your mind or slow your actions." He pounded his fists together, and some of Lee's fire returned to him. Tenten found herself smiling once more. "You have been given a second chance, and I have no doubt, no doubt, that you all will use it well!"

He held out a hand to Tenten, and one to Lee. There was a tear glistening in the corner of one of his eyes, and Gai let out a mighty sniff. "Now, what say you, my youthful protege. Shall we track down that sour teammate of yours, and with him at our side, run one hundred laps around the village?"

Tenten stared at Gai's hand, callused and slightly bruised, the hand of a man who had spent every day of his life breaking the unbreakable. Then, she turned to Lee.

"If we do not bring him with us," she said, a smile breaking out, "then we shall run two hundred laps."

For a moment, Lee just stared back at her, his dark eyes searching. Then, he grinned, and took their teacher's hand.

"Splendid!" Gai bawled, trying to pull both of his students in for a hug. Tenten resisted for just a moment, before allowing herself to be drawn in.

'Just this once,' she decided. There was a tear in her eye as well, and she didn't know why it was there.

That you shouldn't be here.

Two day since her rebirth.

Hinata Hyuuga sat very still, looking out over her family's compound. It was beset by cruelly cold wind, whistling through the narrow rice walls and echoing off the concrete ones. Most of her clansmen had retreated inside, away from the chill. The sun was somewhere above her, high in the sky, but its light had been masked by soggy clouds, turning the world a sepia grey. She stared down at the pale grass around her bare feet, reveling in the feeling of mud against her toes, of blood rushing to her chilled extremities.

It had been a little more than thirty-four hours since her death in Amegakure; she'd slept for five of those, in the stark, confusing time after she'd returned from the dead and to Konoha, but before the sun had risen. Hinata was surprised she'd managed that. Her mind had been whirling, an internal invisible monsoon that had made Amegakure's rain seem a drizzle by comparison, but as soon as she'd rested for a moment the world had vanished, and she'd found herself waking up in her own bed.

Now, she sat on the wooden steps leading to her room. The robe she was wearing was just as grey as the sky, but it kept her warm against the wind.

'Should I go to him?'

That was the wind's accompaniment. If the cutting air was the orchestra, Hinata's mind was the chorus.

'Should I go to him?'

They weren't producing an especially complex repetition, but it was a new one all the same. It seemed almost funny, and even a little abominable to Hinata, that that was the thought matching the wind whisper for whisper.

She'd died.

She'd felt Pain's weapon burst through her heart. If she closed her eyes, she felt the agony all over again, the cold metal scraping past her ribs and taking her life with it. The sudden impact, the way her body had slammed down on top of Naruto's, the spike impaling her digging into him as well, their blood mingling for a moment before the rain washed it away. Coldness spreading across her body as her brain struggled to catch up to the fact that it was already dead.

Hinata twitched.

'I'm sorry.'

She had been sorry. Sorry that she'd died after he'd asked her to not. It felt sick. What kind of person apologized for her own death? She wasn't that pathetic, was she?

Hinata didn't know. In fact, "Hinata didn't know" seemed to be a bit of a running theme for her at the moment.

She didn't know how to feel about her own death. She didn't know how to feel about the fact that she'd come back. She didn't know if she were pathetic or kind or both for apologizing for it. And she didn't know if she should, or could, go see Naruto now.

At least, she affirmed to herself, she knew she'd made the right decision.

"Sister?"

Hinata turned her head, the motion barely begun before her Byakugan silently activated; the doujutsu shrunk away in the same second. Her little sister was standing behind her, the leather jacket she'd adopted after her graduation limp around her shoulders. Hanabi looked just as uncertain as Hinata felt, her smaller, thinner features virtually a copy of Hinata's own.

The tiny Hyuuga spoke. "Can I sit down?"

Hinata blinked. "Of course."

Usually, Hanabi didn't ask.

Her sister approached like someone walking down death row, or towards the bed of a terminally ill parent, and plopped down next to her. There was a moment of silence as they both stared out over the wind-swept compound, trying to figure out what the other was thinking.

Hanabi was, in many ways, a mystery to Hinata, and she knew she was the same to her sister. While they got along, it would never be a completely natural connection. Hanabi was loud where Hinata was quiet, confident where she was frightened, skillful where she struggled. They were, in almost all aspects, opposites.

But they were still sisters.

"Did it hurt?"

Hanabi's tone was as impossible to reconcile with reality as the rest of the situation: quiet, and almost fearful.

Hinata considered the question. There was only one thing her sister could be asking about.

"Yes," she finally decided. Hanabi let out a muffled "Oh" and continued to stare at the compound, her hand coming up and twisting her hair. Hinata turned towards her just slightly, and after another silent moment amended a question.

"Who told you?"

The details of what had happened in Amegakure weren't common knowledge; Hinata doubted they ever would be. For Hanabi to know, she must have been told by–

"Father." The ghost of a familiar smirk flitted across her sister's face, before suffering an abrupt exorcism. "He told me not to bother you, but he thought I should know."

Hinata nodded, not especially surprised by the answer. "It did hurt," she said.

"But I don't regret it."

She paused, her mouth twisting, as her sister's head swiveled towards her. Why had she said that?

'Because it's true.'

"You don't regret it?" Hanabi asked incredulously. "Dying?"

The word finally emerged, only slightly strained. The wind picked up, rattling the door behind them, and Hinata drew her legs in towards her body, away from the mud.

"No," she said, half to herself and half to her little sister. "I don't think I do."

Hanabi's face twisted. "But you said it hurt." She was struggling to understand what her sister was saying.

"It did," Hinata affirmed. "It hurt more than anything else I can think of. But just because something hurts, it doesn't mean it's bad."

Hanabi was watching her cockeyed. "You sure you didn't get stabbed in the brain or something?" she asked, before stiffening as she heard her own words. Hinata's eyes went wide, and then after a frozen second she burst out laughing. Hanabi rocked back, expecting something else, but eventually a sly grin stole her lips.

Hinata shook her head, trying to regain her decorum. "I'm not saying dying was good," she giggled, the surrealism of the conversation desperately trying to lock her mouth. "Just that it was the right decision."

"Why?"

"Dying to save another." Neji made himself known, startling both the sisters. He stood in the faint shadow of the overhead awning, leaning against a support beam, his eyes closed and his arms crossed. "It is rarely the wrong decision."

Hanabi turned back to her sister, her eyes narrowed. "Who'd you save?"

The question went unanswered, but at Hinata's slight blush Hanabi rolled her eyes. The answer was already obvious.

"You don't blame him?" Neji's voice wasn't cold, just curious. Hinata frowned.

"Of course not," she mumbled.

She could sense Neji's nod, the bare movement in her peripheral vision. "Nor I," he said slowly. Then he turned, and strode back inside the compound, leaving Hinata with her sister. She looked to Hanabi once more, and the smaller girl gave her a smile that was both scared and coy.

"I'm glad you're not dead," Hanabi murmured, scooting a bit closer. Her smile grew a tad more mischievous. "So… are you going to go see him?"

Hinata's brow creased. "I…"

"Oh c'mon!" Hanabi frowned. "After what you did, talking to you would be the least he could do."

Hinata looked back to the courtyard, away from her fuming sister. She should go see him, yes. It would probably do good for both of them, however much she feared it. But Hinata was afraid. It wasn't the familiar fear of stepping into the sun, either. Not the fear of judgement or misunderstanding. This was a subtler, cloying fear.

This was a fear that the Naruto she would meet if she went today wouldn't be the one she'd died for.

That the one who died and the one who returned are not one and the same.

Neji moved back inside the compound, leaving Hinata and her sister on the porch. He let out a silent breath, moving silently over the panelled wood. The wind whispered outside, and his forehead itched under his hitai-ate.

Unconsciously, his hand came up towards it, before dropping limply. He looked around, a languid movement of the neck, before letting out another slow breath.

He spun, suddenly moving with new purpose. His Byakugan shone, invisible gears viciously rotating behind it. Neji's pace grew longer and longer, his steps more confident. The air was practically bristling with intent; it wasn't violent, simply focused. He moved through a dividing door, opening and closing it with a sharp snap, and came to a second, closed one.

This one, he opened more slowly.

Behind it, Hiashi Hyuuga sat, his legs tucked under him and his hands set in his lap. His eyes were closed, and his brow furrowed. He looked to be concentrating fiercely.

This was the dojo; the room was plain, without ornamentation but for some pads in the corner. Neji didn't know why, but he knew Hiashi retreated here sometimes when he wished to be alone. He'd seen it with his dojutsu: the Hyuuga clan head sitting silently, his eyes closed, his body unnaturally still. Neji normally didn't concern himself with the affairs of others, but if he had to guess, he supposed this place was the man's sanctuary from the voices of the clan: the room where he could hear his own thoughts the clearest. The impression was reinforced by the silent, reflective nature of the room; the floor was so clean Neji could swear he could see his reflection in it.

"Uncle," he said, the short word almost startling in its bluntness. Hiashi turned his head towards him, his eyes opening. Blank pale eyes met, and Hiashi regarded his nephew with a muted curiosity.

"Neji?" Hiashi's voice was still as strong as iron, even if his eyes weren't.

"We have a problem."

His uncle blinked. "Is it Hinata?"

Neji shook his head. "No." He hesitated, his sense of purpose not fading, but tempered for a moment by cold caution. "Do you know if anyone is nearby? Or coming to meet you?"

Hiashi echoed Neji's shake of the head, his Byakugan flaring on and off for just a moment. For half a second, a flash of surprise leapt across his face at something only he could see, before vanishing. "No one is coming. And my daughters are the only ones nearby." His expression hardened. "Now tell me. Why have you come here?"

With steady, careful hands, Neji reached up for his headband. In two quick motions, he undid the knot behind his head that was keeping it in place. The hitai-ate dropped with a thunk, rolling for a moment on the spotless dojo floor before going still. For that time, it was the only thing in the room that was moving; both Neji and his uncle were frozen.

"Ah," Hiashi eventually said. It was a tiny sound, quickly swallowed by the emptiness of the room. "Of course."

"You didn't know," Neji confirmed. His uncle's lips pursed.

"I was too caught up with my daughter's fate, yes," he admitted, his expression shifting into a bitter sort of curiosity. "I should have realized this would have happened."

Neji smiled grimly. "Has it ever occurred before?"

This time, Hiashi snorted. "No. There are no protocols to deal with this."

The younger Hyuuga silently nodded. He'd expected so.

"What do we do, then?"

Hiashi narrowed his eyes, staring at Neji's forehead.

There was nothing there but pale skin, whiter than the area around it for lack of sunlight.

The Caged Bird Seal was gone.

"I suppose you wouldn't allow me to reapply it."

Neji was the one to snort this time. "No."

Hiashi smiled faintly. "I had imagined. But Neji, you must recognize the impasse we are presented here." He stepped forward, his white robe whispering over the dojo floor. "You are branch house. It is completely unprecedented for a member of it to escape or undo the Juinjutsu; you doing so represents something the more traditional members of the clan cannot and will not allow."

"And just the same," Neji said, crossing his arms, "I cannot and will not allow myself to be placed back in a cage."

Hiashi frowned, pausing. He and Neji were now less than five feet from each other. The older Hyuuga's eyes kept wandering back to the others unmarked forehead.

"You were right, then," he said. "We do have a problem. This will cause… trouble. Both in the clan, maybe in Konoha itself. Our politics are the villages' politics, sooner or later."

"Good."

Hiashi arched an eyebrow at Neji's declaration. "Bold."

Neji smiled back. He may have been attempting to be bland, but he couldn't keep a bit of viciousness, and real joy, from sneaking into his features.

"If Hinata-sama really does want to change the Hyuuga," he said, "or if Naruto wishes to live up to that promise he made, all those years ago…" Hiashi had tensed just slightly at Naruto's name, but Neji ignored it. "Then causing trouble will be our best chance. We will shatter this clan's tradition."

"We,'" Hiashi said softly, his eyes gaining back some of their frightening focus. "You really are committed."

Neji's silence was all the answer he needed. After a moment, the Hyuuga patriarch nodded.

"We will see how this goes, then," he said, and Neji unconsciously showed some teeth. "But." Hiashi held up his hand. "For now, this must remain a secret. If you are going to capitalize on this opportunity, you must ensure you do so correctly. You'll only have one chance." His brow furrowed. "Tell my daughter. No one else." Then, after a pause. "And leave… please. You've given me even more to think about."

Neji bowed, turned, and retreated from the room.

He didn't leave because he had to.

Behind him, Hiashi sank back to his knees, and closed his eyes.

"Oh," the older Hyuuga said. "And prepare yourself. We have a peculiar visitor."

Neji looked back at him, but Hiashi didn't elaborate. The older man had said no one was coming earlier. Slightly confused, the newly freed Jonin moved back to the porch he'd left his cousin on.

When he arrived, he suddenly realized what his uncle had meant. Hinata was still sitting there, but she was silent now, a mix of shock and uncertainty. Hanabi was next to her, watching with hard eyes and tensed hands. Neji's own eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't ready his body; whatever reason he was here for, fighting was doubtlessly not one of them.

"Hello," Sasuke Uchiha said.

But that's not true.

"You don't seem any different."

Shino looked at his father, and then back to his hive. The kikaichu there writhed, moving with little purpose; most of the hive still couldn't understand the notion of being returned to life, and were sluggish and unresponsive for it. It had barely been two days, after all.

"I am not," Shino said languidly. His insect's sluggishness was slightly transferred to him. Here in his clan's compound, surrounded by the buzzing of other insects and with his father at his side, the feeling was slightly reduced. They stood in one of the primary hives, where the Aburame's allies were born and implanted in the clan's young. It was a familiar, friendly place, overrun with greenery and towering structures of dirts, roots and melted fiber. "Why would I be?"

"You died," Shibi Aburame said rather calmly. "Being near to death changes people; I've never known someone to return from it." He shifted, raising his arm and welcoming back some of his insects. "I had feared you would change for the worst."

"I died on my own terms," Shino said. "Defending my team. I had no regrets."

His father mulled that one over, glancing at him through shaded lens. "And yet," he eventually said, "you're speaking much more directly than usual."

Shino didn't respond to that immediately. Instead, he looked around, breathing deeply and slowly as he considered his father's words. "Yes," he decided after several seconds.

"Why?" Shibi asked.

"I am worried for them."

Who 'they' were was obvious; Shibi didn't interject as his son slowly continued.

"Kiba is guilty. He will be so for a long time. He believes he failed us." Shino frowned. "And Hinata… I did not see what happened to her, but she has been acting unusual." The frown intensified, an unusual show of obvious emotion from the young Aburame. "For what little time I've seen her."

"That was unavoidable," his father finally said. 'The Hokage…"

"Of course," Shino agreed calmly. "But I…" For the first time, his words failed him, and his fists clenched. His insects buzzed for a moment with renewed life.

"I do not know," he decided. "I just wish things were different." He shook his head. "Pointless."

"It's not," Shibi said, laying his hand on his son's shoulder. Shino stiffened at the uncommon contact. "If we did not wish for things to be different, things would never change."

"But what I wish to change has already happened," Shino dully pointed out.

"Then you must shape the future instead." His father squeezed his shoulder, and then let go. "I must go. Tend to your allies; they'll need you more than ever now."

Shibi turned and walked away, exiting the hive, and Shino looked down at his squirming Kikaichu. Something in his gut rolled.

"Allies," he murmured, watching one insect in particular roll over on its back and flutter madly, its wings opening and closing rapidly. Shino could feel its distress.

"Hmm."

Because it's not dying that changes you.

Jiraiya didn't want to be here.

Myoboku always smelled sweet, almost to a sickening degree. The air was thick and humid, and the earth itself pulsed with bright chakra. It wasn't a place Jiraiya disliked by any means. Some of his fondest memories had been made here, working amongst and learning from the Toads. But the older he got, the more he found that spending long stretches of time at Mount Myoboku was exhausting. The place could be an assault on the senses, including some that only Jiraiya had.

And there was more than that, at least right now. The steadily growing headache just behind Jiraiya's left ear wasn't just the product of the stifling humidity or the heavy stench of rotting insects. There was a rabid guilt gnawing at the Toad Sage's brain.

Jiraiya shouldn't have been here. He should have been back in Konoha, with Naruto. His student needed a guiding hand at the moment, more than he ever had before.

But when the Elder called, when the Sage of Sages requested (via involuntarily summoning) your presence, you couldn't exactly turn it down.

Jiraiya's mouth twitched slightly in annoyance as he mounted the great steps leading into the Elder's lair. And a lair it definitely was: filled with impenetrable shadows and mysterious incense, with the Elder himself seated in what looked like a rather comfortable throne. It was certainly impressive; Jiraiya had stolen its atmosphere for a book or two, so he knew better than anyone. But today, he could only regard it with a kind of bitter impatience.

He should be with Naruto, not receiving yet another amendment to an old, inscrutable prophecy.

The Elder Toad turned its massive, wrinkled head towards Jiraiya as he entered, foggy eyes narrowing. Gamabunta was standing behind him, a troubled look on his face. On the other side of the ancient toad, Fukasaku and his wife Shima stood with mirrored expressions. Jiraiya nodded to them and Gamabunta, and all three toads bent their heads back, looking grim. No one spoke, summon or shinobi; they were all waiting for the Elder.

The Sage of Sages kept Jiraiya's gaze for another couple seconds, his eyes unusually focused. His vision seemed to pierce right through the uncountable cataracts that marred his eyes. For the first time, Jiraiya felt like the Elder was looking at him. The timeless creature's grey skin was dry, and it opened its gargantuan mouth once, before closing it again, not breaking away from Jiraiya's eyes. Finally, it spoke.

"The prophecy is sundered," it croaked, like a cabinet depositing century's worth of dust on the floor.

Jiraiya blinked.

That hadn't been what he had been expecting to hear. Not at all. He stepped forward, his single hand coming up in a plaintive gesture.

"Eh?"

It wasn't the most articulate question, but it got his point across.

"It's gone, Jiraiya." Fukasaku didn't attach anything to the Sage's name. Jiraiya frowned. If his teacher really was that serious…

"How can it be gone? It's the future!" he asked. There was just a bit of accusation creeping into his tone. "You said, all those years ago…"

"You would be the one to train the shinobi who would bring great change!" the Elder suddenly cackled, and gleam in his eye, and Jiraiya had to resist the urge to jump back. He'd never seen the ancient toad so animated; it was like watching a trusted book spring to life.

"Were you lying?!" Jiraiya didn't know why he was shouting. There was something bitter and angry building up inside him, a wellspring of twenty-five years of disappointment and rage. Shima hung her head, while Fukasaku just watched, like a statue. Gamabunta shifted uncomfortably, his great bulk sliding across the floor.

"No," the Elder said, suddenly sober. "I cannot lie."

Jiraiya huffed, his nostrils flaring. His hair unconsciously spiked out just slightly, as if preparing to launch a barrage of needles. "I've trained seven students," he said. "I wanted to be a teacher, yes, but in the back of my head there was always that damn prophesy you gave me." His words became shorter, like cruelly barbed knives. "Three of them, I thought might be the one. But the first became a monster, the second died, and now the third…" He choked, his hair suddenly falling limp.

"No. That… that can't be..."

"Ah," Fukasaku said sadly. "Now you see it."

"He was the one?" Jiraiya demanded. "He was the one, and now that I've failed again the prophecy is gone?"

The Elder Toad nodded. "Sundered. I cannot see that path anymore."

Jiraiya stood there for a moment, completely still and utterly silent. Then, he grunted, and turned to go. His violent steps left cracks in the stone beneath his feet. He walked as if he were trying to shatter his legs.

"That's it?" he muttered, just loud enough for the rest to hear. "Not much of a story, was it?" His stride became longer, angrier. "What a pathetic waste."

"Jiraiya."

The Sage stopped at Gamabunta's rumbling voice, turning his head back towards the group. The Elder grinned at him, the toothless smile of a village idiot, and Jiraiya found himself grinding his teeth.

At least, until the Sage of Sages spoke.

"The future is not fixed," the Elder ground out, and suddenly Jiraiya was paying attention again. "There is no path for us to tread. There are whirlpools and cycles, echoes and currents, but it would be pure foolishness to presume things set in stone."

The Elder's grin grew wider, and cannier. Jiraiya's anger was beginning to withdraw, like a tide after the full moon. A cold clarity was unearthed in its passing.

'When something older than most of Konoha combined speaks, you listen.'

"The prophecy I gave you is dead and cold, drowned at the bottom of a rising tide. The Rinnegan severed it." The ancient toad rolled the word "Rinnegan" around like a stone on his tongue, as if tasting its power, before he continued. "Now, the Sons are uncertain; before, each knew the role the other would play, but now the stage is broken. One of them is circling, still confident; the other is unsure. I cannot see what will come."

'The Sons?'

That was a word that would be capitalized in one of his books, Jiraiya knew for sure. And one he'd never heard mentioned by the Elder before. A new variable. Where had it come from? The events in Amegakure, almost certainly. As Jiraiya's mind went into overdrive, the Elder gave him a sickly grin.

"Congratulations, Jiraiya. You live in interesting times."

The Toad Sage gave a passable grin back. "Lucky me," he murmured, before raising his voice. "Great Elder, what do you mean by the 'Sons'?"

The Elder Toad laughed. "Why, sensei's of course!" He gifted Jiraiya another toothless grin. "You best be on your way now, Sage of Konoha. Your student needs you. I suggest celebrating that he is alive, rather than lamenting the death he left behind."

Despite his initial instinct, Jiraiya bowed. "Thank you, Elder," he said. "I'll be on my way." He turned, giving the other toads a nod. As he strode towards the entrance, the place where his left arm should have been constantly burning with phantom pain, a thorny curiosity wormed into his brain. For just a moment, it supplanted his fear for his student.

'Sensei?'

It's what comes afterwards.