Note : Hi, this is the second part of Two Oceans. Thanks for your reviews, I replied by private message. I understand that the story is progressing slowly, but that's what I intended when I started it. It will be over a million words, no doubt, maybe two.
Sorry if my translation lacks quality in some parts. Still, I hope you will enjoy this chapter. See you next week for part 1 of the next chapter, and thanks again for the reviews, it encourages me to translate quicker.
Reviews Guest :
(Will there be any parings for Naruto like Sakura or ino possibly)
Hmmm... you know what, I was going to tell you that I can't answer, that I wrote in the notes of chapter 1 that I didn't want to answer that kind of question, but well, at least it won't be asked again : Yes, the answer is yes. But to know who, when, how, why, oh my god, I didn't expect it, is it serious? oh no not her, ah i prefer her better, I hope they get married and have a child, I hope she dies... you'll have to read, sorry.
Chapter size : 14000 words
Two Oceans
part 2
Sakura
December 9, 1020, 7 :52am
Land of Fire, Konoha
The head of the unit invited her with a hand movement to sit on the only chair in the middle of the kitchen next to the table
Passing between the group of men waiting for a word to begin, she leaned her body, covered with a simple napkin, against the chair and threw the small red parchment that rolled across the table until it reached the coffee cup.
She took one last look at her apartment before sighing discreetly. It had taken her a long time to put up this insipid decoration. What a shame.
"Go ahead."
As soon as the Uchiha in front of her spoke, the green and black uniforms scattered through the rooms of her apartment, leaving no one out.
One went to the bathroom, two others to the living room and her bedroom. The last, who passed behind her, began to search through the many pieces of furniture and drawers in the kitchen.
The commotion began with a plate breaking in the sink behind her back, and spread through the collapsing cupboard in her bedroom before reaching the mirror in her bathroom.
As she watched from the corner of her eye, the man in her living room who took a malicious pleasure in disemboweling the leather of her sofa, she crossed her legs before doing the same with her arms under her chest.
The man in front of her pulled out a second chair from the table and placed it less than a meter away. Sitting on it, he observed her without worrying about what was happening around them. Then, seizing the cup on the table, he swallowed the totality of the coffee before putting it back on the wood.
"You will excuse us for the disorder caused." he declared with a light smile.
A smile that she managed to reproduce with even more irony.
Her TV collided ruthlessly on the floor of her living room and redoubled the sarcasm under her candy pink hair.
"It's okay, I was going to redecorate anyway."
The man at the head of the unit grabbed a small notebook from one of the many pockets on his green vest before reaching into it again and retrieving a pen.
"I am going to ask you a series of questions, please try to answer them truthfully."
She waited for the end of his sentence, the end of his threat, but it did not show up.
Knowing that the man sitting in front of her felt that he had every right to threaten her, thanks to the fan on his shoulder and the piece of paper on the table beside him, she said nothing and let the utopian threat pass.
"Where were you yesterday morning at 8:40?"
She thought for a short moment under the shattering bounce of the ceramic in the bathroom, and recalled the day before, before answering as truthfully as she could.
"I was on my way to the hospital, I got there at 9:08. You just have to read the register at the front desk, it's all written there."
The man quickly scribbled something on his notebook and opened his mouth again as the glass table in her living room shattered into a thousand pieces on the tiled floor.
"So, you deny that you assaulted Mizuki Matsuo in the south courtyard of the academy at 8:42 a.m. that same day?"
A second amused grin appeared beneath her emerald irises. She was beginning to understand where this was all leading. How it would end.
Shrinking her smile under the impassive gaze of her interlocutor, she rested her left arm on the table, keeping the right on her lower abdomen, and answered, a second time, as truthfully as possible.
"Don't put words in my mouth. One of my clones did push Mizuki Matsuo into the south courtyard of the academy at 8:42. I am not denying anything at all."
The sound of her fridge being opened caught her attention for a moment before the Uchiha's voice brought her back to her improvised parlor.
"You used the word push. Yet the report clearly states that Mr. Matsuo was found with several broken ribs, including one that punctured his left lung. Perhaps your clone's memories are not exactly what happened?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief.
What was he talking about? Nothing he said made any sense. Not one bit.
Clone memories could not be faked, and he knew that, if, of course, he had spent at least two months at the academy. Which she doubted.
They were bound to the user's chakra at creation. There was no way to corrupt them. And even if there was, even if it was possible, she would never have done that. She had simply pushed him to the ground. There was no way, no matter how hard she tried, that this report was true. The whole thing was a load of crap.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Like I said, I only pushed him to the ground. He must have gotten off with a bruise on his buttocks, at most." she replied, looking at the indifference in the man's eyes. "Besides, if this story were true, he would have been sent to the nearest hospital, which is where I work. And I haven't heard of Mizuki Matsuo. Perhaps your report is just a vulgar hoax?"
Her most provocative question was followed by a monumental silence, inevitably reaching the exploratory movements in her apartment, which stopped.
After a few seconds of silence and a slight laugh at her reply, the man leaned on his elbows and bent towards her under the resumption of the crash of a piece of furniture in the bathroom.
"I have to say, you've got some game." he admitted, smiling at the sound of his first threatening tone. "But let me explain what we're doing here."
He immediately pointed his index finger at the white ceiling.
"One, I ask the questions."
His middle finger reached the heights of the room.
"Two, you answer the questions."
Making his smile fade, he brought back his impassive look and raised his ring finger, coming to the end of his explanation.
"Three, if you're not going to answer a question I ask, you shut the fuck up."
Her candy-pink locks tickled her contracted jaw a little while her left fist clenched firmly above the table. An irrepressible urge to commit a murder rose in the apartment, under the sniggering of almost all the people present.
"Well, shall we proceed?"
He began to reread his notebook in a nonchalant way under her emerald irises that were close to imploding.
"What were you doing at 1:00 a.m. today?"
Breathing at a standstill in fear of letting out what she was feeling, she didn't respond, letting the commotion hang over her. It was only when the electric blinds on her empty terrace opened, letting in the sunlight, that she managed to channel her emotions.
"I was in my office, finishing some paperwork."
The man tapped the tip of his pen on the paper of the notebook several times and began to reread what he had written on it. A form of disappointment was heard in the sigh that followed.
She saw it before he even thought about it.
The muscles of his right forearm stiffening, as well as the fingers, the abrupt, linear movement of the back of his hand until then hung in the void between his legs covered with black pants…
She could have dodged it a dozen times before he realized his mistake, crushed the bastard's head in her back before exploding the shin of the one who was opening the double doors of her terrace. But she did not move an inch. To do even a quarter of what she had had time to think before her cheek was struck was tantamount to a death sentence, for her as well as for her relatives.
The puppy master in the red palace wouldn't forgive it. Not this time.
The slap slammed into the apartment, abruptly taking her eyes off her attacker and turning them to the Uchiha leaning against the fridge, who was watching her with a satisfied look and was enjoying the salad she hadn't eaten.
"It seemed to me that I had asked you to tell me the truth."
Grabbing the notebook with his right hand as she returned her gaze to him as if nothing had happened, he dangled the back of his left hand between his legs, ready for another of her lies.
"You wrote in the reception log that you finished your shift at 6:00 p.m. You lied?"
With her legs still crossed and swallowing the blood that was coming out of the inside of her bruised cheek, she just stared at him without blinking, without saying anything.
"What are you doing? Why are you vandalizing this poor girl's apartment?"
Her emerald pupils moved to the bay window before widening for the second time, but this time with fright. She observed the old man about fifteen meters away on his terrace in the neighboring building, giving an open view on her apartment, and inevitably crossed his disillusioned expression.
Her emerald pupils moved along the bay window before widening for a second time, but this time with fear. She watched the old man about fifteen meters away on his terrace in the neighboring building, which overlooked her apartment, and inevitably crossed his disillusioned expression.
"Are you all right, miss? Do you want me to call for help?"
She watched the old man with sadness, spectator of a scene beyond the comprehension of his ninety years, as the voice of one of the Leaf police echoed through her apartment.
"Go back inside, old man, if you don't want any trouble."
Letting a smile appear under her candy pink hair, she directed it to the old man through the window.
"Don't worry, everything is fi..."
The second slap, on the other hand… she had not seen it coming.
It was much harder than the previous one and caused her to lose touch with reality for a moment.
The echo of the slap resounded in the upstairs corridor, resulting in the old man's hasty return to his home.
"It seemed to be that I had asked you to open your mouth only to answer my questions."
A trickle of blood leaked from her lips which curved a few moments later in an umpteenth amused smile. The light laugh that she exteriorized the second that followed gave rise to an expression both surprised and annoyed on the man's face.
"You seem to enjoy it."
Cocking his hand for the third time, he swung it with all his might towards her face, which received it harshly, instilling in her the notion of reality.
This was what Konohagakure no Satō had become.
This was what had become of the village she had dedicated her life to, pledged her allegiance to, and for which most of her friends had died. A village corrupted by one man who allowed the worst scum and their vices to flourish as long as they were on his side.
"What were you doing, at 1 a.m., today?" he repeated in a much more authoritative voice.
Not having left the position she had taken since the beginning of her interview, she brought back the emerald of her eyes to the man, and wiped, with the palm of her right hand, the blood on her lips.
"I..."
She took a deep breath and lowered her arm from the table to her leg, then spat the blood that had collected between her teeth onto the floor.
"Was shopping."
This time, without her being able to control her movements, she caught the hand in a thud.
She wanted to stop while she still could, but she was no longer able to bend her spines, to bend to their demand without saying anything. On the other hand, she managed with ease to bend her wrist, which tore a grin of pain from her tormentor.
Her survival instinct had taken over and had just sealed her future.
Uncrossing her legs, she raised her hand over her bruised cheeks while the Uchiha to her left, who had been enjoying the scene and her salad so far, hurriedly took off from the fridge and released the bowl to jump on her.
The member of the Konoha police force didn't need to grab her fist that formed above her candy pink hair and actually stopped in his tracks when she gently brought it down.
It was after the glass bowl exploded on the tiled floor that she watched the smile on the face of the man who had slapped her three times.
Despite the pressure she put on his wrist, she understood, when he raised his only free hand in the direction of his sidekick in order to stop him, that she had made a much more serious mistake than rebelling. Than accepting to risk her life.
"Tell me, what's the name of the little cancer girl again?" he asked her, letting his narcissistic smile stretch. "You know, the one on the fourteenth floor."
Her fist continued its slow descent as her pupils went dry the moment she released the Uchiha's wrist. A familiar bald face appeared in her mind, drained of all instinct, and took away any desire for rebellion.
"Oh yes, I remember now, Miko, right? How long do you think she has left?"
She... she didn't understand... she couldn't understand... anymore...
How?
The lewd hand of the man settled on the inside of her thigh, in the edge of her crimson stained towel, without her making the least movement, as if she was petrified.
What kind of life could a conscience endure to the point of producing such perfidious, sadistic creatures?
The worst thing was certainly the fact that she probably saved hundreds of those filthy brains. She was indirectly linked to the dictatorship that had befallen the village, she was indirectly linked to what was happening to her…
Was she?
"You see that you can be obedient when you want to be."
The horrible feeling of weakness she felt made her hate these bastards even more, free to do whatever they wanted without any consequences.
This strange feeling that was tearing her inside apart, screaming at her to do something, to rip them to shreds, was the worst feeling of helplessness she had felt in a long time.
She could exterminate them before they could even react, that was a fact. They were nothing but pieces of shit that she would have no trouble trampling on. But she knew that even if she satisfied her murderous urges, if she listened to the little voice in her head screaming at her to rip their heads off, she would be condemning her entire family and everyone she cared about.
It was the worst feeling ever, far worse than any physical pain, any torment.
"Now, answer my questions if you don't want the next part to drag on."
Patting the skin of her right thigh, he withdrew his hand without her feeling any relief.
With a glassy look, she let herself go against the wood under the soothing of her lungs.
"What were you doing at one o'clock in the morning?"
She settled her sullen expression on the Uchiha clan member sitting before her, ready to become as docile and transparent as possible, but to her dismay as she half-opened her mouth, the words remained stuck in her throat.
She couldn't do it.
She couldn't accept it.
An innocent little girl was being threatened, but even so, she couldn't accept the idea of submitting.
She couldn't help it.
She closed her lips for a moment, wondering what was wrong with her brain. Why was she wondering if the few remaining months of a four-year-old girl were worth as much as hers, her parents', her relatives', or an eighty-year-old woman's.
She continued to observe the ink-black irises of the man who was staring at her silence as well as the incessant comings and goings all around her.
What did they know exactly?
It was clear that they were asking specific questions that only she knew the answers to. But how far had their research taken them? They had searched the hospital registry and were certainly aware of the encounter she had had with the Utatane.
But in that case, why would they want to know, weren't they on her side?
She didn't know the answer to her last question, but one thing was certain, the men who were ransacking her apartment didn't know anything, only that the septuagenarian had come into the hospital at one in the morning while she was present. If they had heard any of her words, if they had broken into her office without her feeling them, he would have told her.
This could only mean one thing. One of the leading figures of the village had decided to stop following the orders of its Hokage.
"I was talking with Utatane Koharu who was waiting for me in my office."
And that she was going to have to take an even riskier path than raising her hand on the authority the man represented.
"What did you talk about?"
Writing a few words in his notebook, the man waved his hand and asked her to continue.
She was going to have to trust this woman about whom she knew almost nothing except perhaps one thing.
"About her metastatic lung tumor."
The member of the police force overcame her impassive gaze and rosy cheekbones for several seconds before writing in his notebook once again.
"And then?"
She continued to overcome the glance that came back to her.
"She left."
As still as her lie would allow, she waited for him to finish his writing, patiently awaiting the verdict.
Whatever he was about to say, whatever he was about to do, she knew how it would end. She knew what the next hour would be like. What the next Genjutsu that would force her movements would look like. She had received enough of their supposed victims in the hospital to know their ways. Especially when it came to women. But she also knew one thing.
They hadn't seen everything that night.
"Then a man visited me."
Her voice, much calmer than it had been since the beginning of this forced interrogation, immediately brought to the attention of the scumbag who had hit her, definitely taking his eyes off his notebook.
She quickly lifted one of her bare feet and placed it between the executioner's thighs and the wood of the chair, near where all the man's neurons were, taking away the idea of slapping her for opening her mouth without his permission.
"And he fucked me in the elevator."
For the second time since it had started, the racket of her apartment suddenly went silent, as if the hypocritical search that had ruined all her furniture and belongings had heard something more fun to do.
One of their favorite pastimes.
The bastard in front of her, putting away the now derisory notebook and pen in the pocket of his green vest, grabbed her calf with his hands.
"I can see that the saintly image you're trying to portray is completely unfounded." he said as he ran his fingers up her leg to reach her inner thigh once more. "You're really nothing but a slut."
She could not hold back a slight smile since what he had just said was so ironic. After all, she did not know who was closer to the slut between her behavior which repulsed her, and these men, orchestrating the slightest orders of the man in his palace.
"Don't you want to know who he was? Maybe it would benefit your report."
The blurred movements around her clumped into the kitchen, leaving the bathroom as well as her bedroom and terrace in a mess.
"'Who?"
The two hands settling on her shoulders caused her thoughts to flinch slightly as she focused on not breaking character.
Not yet.
"The one that got ahead of what you have in mind, obviously. "
She threw her glance at the man in her back who began to raise her hair before firmly raising them and clutching them at the level of the back of her head. In a reflex that she knew revealing, her jaw contracted in order to allow her not to yield.
To her delight, the eager eyes in the kitchen were more concerned with the shape of her pelvis than her face.
She shifted her attention to the man leaning against the table who had just left her bedroom and who, with a smile on his face and one of her underwear in his hands, seemed to be already picturing the many scenes that was about to happen on the stale mattress of her room.
As the silence became heavy, she threw a glance at the two men posted behind the one who had led her interrogation which, on his side, continued to spread a little more on her thigh in the direction of her crotch.
"I'm listening."
In a disinterested voice obsessed with the softness of her skin, he granted her what she was hoping to be the only way out of this situation without having to rip their heads off and have the death of all her loved ones on her conscience, before, of course, they ripped her head off too.
Under the deafening drumming on her temples, she realized that the next few seconds would either end in the fear of a name or in a bloodbath. It would all depend on how apprehensive they were. It would depend on whether or not they knew about his mission in the Land of Water.
"Uchiha Sasuke. He returned yesterday, did you not cross him?" she asked in an innocent tone.
The fingers caressing her inner thigh, only a few centimeters from their goal, stopped in their exploration before abruptly turning back. The hand which maintained her hair withdrew in its turn, while her red lace panties fell on the ground. All the smiles of the room faded in an instant.
"Do you really think we'll believe what you say?"
She did not pay attention to the blurred figure that had just spoken behind the back of the man she was trying to stare at. There was only one person she had to convince, and from the look he gave her and the fact that he didn't slap her, she knew that what she had just said hadn't fallen into a deaf ear.
An annoyed grin materialized on the features of the man at the head of the unit.
"We leave."
The chair in front of her moved suddenly, letting her leg fall back on the stained kitchen tile, as she continued to overcome the gaze of the man who was now standing.
Several whispers of which she did not recognize the least syllable spread in the apartment, making the tension of her jaw last.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor of her apartment, walking on broken glass, allowed her to relax a little, but left no rest to her emerald irises settled on the black ones having not moved a millimeter yet.
The door of her apartment opened, generating a draught with the one of her half-opened terrace which slammed in an austere noise and made twirl her candy pink hair a short moment.
"I'll see you again, be sure."
The threat echoed through her shattered apartment as the Uchiha finally stopped staring at her. Though her flight could be heard in the hallway and then in the corridor, she remained in the exact spot where the black gaze had stood and continued to stare at the white wall without blinking.
It was only when she could no longer hear them, and the lift doors closed, that her lungs began to do their one and only job. Her chest rose several times in a hectic manner and her eyes swept over the wreckage of her apartment, trying to get her thoughts back into action.
Her helpless thoughts.
The slight movement of the half-open door across the bathroom caught her eye for a moment, but not enough to force her to focus her attention in that direction.
Light footsteps, reflecting the fact that they were naked, settled a second later on the wooden floor leading to the bathroom, before pausing hesitantly in front of the broken mirror shards in the hallway.
"Are you... are you okay?"
She did not answer the effeminate voice that manifested itself in the corner of her vision. The one that had rightly closed her door as quietly as possible to the scene that had taken place in the corridor.
Another, much smaller figure appeared in the oak doorway.
"Mom?"
"What are you doing here?! Go home right now!"
The angry whispers sent the little shadow fleeing in a hurry as the clank of the door handle was heard.
"I... I'll get help, don't move."
The angry whispers sent the small shadow scurrying away as the clank of the door handle was heard.
"I... I'll get help, stay here."
Her hand, which had been resting on the kitchen table, suddenly rose towards the woman, who couldn't have been more than thirty years old, and stopped her.
Her candy pink hair then shifted slightly from left to right, allowing her eyes to continue to stare at the white wall of her kitchen.
"No. Thank you. I'll be fine."
The woman, dressed in light gray pajamas, tucked her long brown hair behind her ears, believing it had obscured what she had just heard. She then looked at the trickle of blood coming from her open lips and the scarlet stains on her white towel.
"Are you sure?"
She put her hand back on the table and let a smile brighten her bruised cheeks before finally turning her attention to the woman's face at the edge of the debris on the tiles of her bathroom and hallway.
"Close the door behind you, please."
Unable to prevent a surprised look from distorting her features, the woman tilted her head, letting her hair fall back in relief at what she had heard, what she had seen.
The door closed one last time in coordination with her eyelids, allowing the thirty-year-old woman to return into her apartment, into her comfort.
Her right hand, resting on her abdomen and the fabric covering her body, gripped the towel tightly until it reached a bright red and trembling complexion. Her eyes reopened, releasing the visceral hatred anchored in her irises, which descended to her dirty, stained thighs as a feeling of disgust slipped into the back of her throat. Her left hand, back on the kitchen table, firmly clutched the varnished edges of the wood, to the point of bleeding.
The furniture creaked and began to collapse a few inches before breaking in two with a thud that echoed through the upstairs hallway, causing frantic, indiscreet running and slamming of the doors next to her apartment.
It was accompanied by the sound of the coffee cup shattering on the floor that her left arm fell back along the chair she was sitting on and she looked at the one right in front of her, in the middle of the kitchen.
She slowly rose to her feet, relaxing her fists, and gently settled her bleached fingers on the wooden file. A jerky breath relaxed her emotions for a second. The next moment, she sent the chair flying into the heights of her living room, which hit the false ceiling before crashing against the bay window of her terrace, which exploded.
She watched the pieces of glass spill into her living room, joining those on the coffee table, or at least what was left of it.
She leaned her tired eyes back and allowed her lungs to take in a deep breath, then, gently curling her lips, she released her emotions a second time in a long, soothing breath. Then she turned her attention to the corridor to her left and walked down it without a thought. Under the shards of broken mirror that crackled beneath her bare feet, she crossed the bathroom in a scarlet trail.
Untying the knot of the bloodstained towel at her chest, she stepped over the broken ceramic of the sink and let the fabric fall to the opaque glass pieces before stepping through the shower frame. Stepping on the reddish crystals that adorned the marble at her feet, she leaned her forehead against the wall below the shower head and let herself go against the tiles as the icy water made contact with her hair and her arched back.
Several minutes passed without her making the slightest movement, without her managing to free herself from her unpleasant thoughts, before she finally placed the palm of her hand on the inside of her right thigh and began to rub, again and again and again, faster and faster, harder and harder.
She did not know how long she stayed there, how long she did this movement without getting tired. Maybe a minute? Ten minutes? A hundred minutes?
But one thing was certain: her attention, far too busy watching the blood trickle down her irritated thigh, failed to notice the black-clad figure in the embrace of the corridor.
This one ventured inside the bathroom and stopped in front of the shower cubicle while she continued to rub tirelessly her mutilated leg.
An inaudible hum reached her and she didn't try to understand it.
It was only when an authoritative grip seized her forearm and stopped her movement that she suddenly turned her hatred in his direction. Her emerald glance scanned his, black, hidden behind opaque glasses, before observing his square and contracted jaw.
The ebony hair lowered for a split second on her leg before falling back on her tired face.
"Describe them."
The dry tone of the voice created a heavy silence that she tried to keep in order to not give in. Not answering. Slightly wrinkling her eyelids and letting a smile distort her features, she reopened her thoughts to put a name on the man standing in her bathroom.
"You're back."
The force on her wrist tightened at her derisive tirade.
"Did they touch you?"
This time, and to her surprise, his question was soft and devoid of any anger, as if he was waiting for her answer to trigger his next emotions, his next actions.
She gave him the same smile again, the same facade. A deceptive grin that offered her a way out of what she was trying to forget.
"How were the landscapes of the Wind?"
Observing with skepticism and during long seconds her joyful expression, he finally sighed by understanding that she would not give him what he was looking for and released the grip on her arm.
The red marks on her skin didn't have the time to disappear that he stooped to catch the towel on the floor. Shaking it carelessly, he let the pieces of broken glass fall from it before stopping the flow of water and covering her naked upper body with the thick white cloth.
"Desert."
Placing one foot in the shower under the shattered remains of the glass, he slid his arms under her knees and back before lifting her with ease. Several small pieces of scarlet glass fell from her bare feet as he carried her out of the room. She didn't have time to protest as he set her down on the kitchen counter.
Sitting on the marble beneath the half-empty cupboards and broken plates, she watched as he walked back to the bathroom.
Plonk.
Tightening her armpits a little more on the thick fabric that covered her body to keep it in place, a shiver took her by surprise as she crossed her hands on her legs and lowered her gaze on the scarlet drops dripping from her feet on the tile floor.
Plonk.
"Weren't you supposed to stay there for two months?"
Plonk.
The footsteps on the bathroom glass faded and, expecting him to give her an answer, he just rummaged through the debris.
Plonk.
After a long moment of calm that was summed up by the appearance of two small crimson puddles below her perch, he reappeared in the hallway armed with compresses and distilled water.
Plonk.
Grabbing the back of the chair she had used a few minutes, hours? earlier, he placed it in front of her in order to sit and, sighing a second time while she stared at him, he took hold of her right foot hanging in the air.
Plonk.
"If I answer your question, will you answer mine?" he asked, turning his eyes from the deep cuts on the sole of her foot.
"Why did they come here?"
Plonk.
Her eyelids inevitably closed as she could not hold back a tired sigh. Everything seemed to be repeating itself.
Again, and again, and again.
Plank.
Switching off the light flow from the sink faucet, she turned back to the man sitting in her kitchen, her right hand still gripping the white mask on the table.
Three years. It had been almost three years since the war ended. Years that he could have told her about it. So why?
"Why did you come here? Why today?"
Faced with the silence that followed her question, she repeated it, but this time in a surlier tone.
"Why are you telling me all this, Itachi?"
Overcoming his emerald gaze that flickered with the changing lights of the television in the living room, the Uchiha brought his hand back to his leg.
"If you let me finish, I will answer your questions."
Crossing her arms over the towel on her chest, she leaned back against the counter and waited. Waiting for him to pick up where he left off.
"As I said, Shisui found himself unable to make any progress, so he did what he had never done before. He sought help. He sought someone who could help him without being detected, someone he could trust completely, someone connected to this story. And he found her. She was one of the last representatives of her family and her father had been one of the first to disappear."
Her annoyed and tired face suddenly faded at the description the Uchiha had just given her. A look of disbelief ventured to the corners of her lips, but it vanished immediately. Replaced by a feeling of unease. Of dismay.
Despite knowing only a tiny fraction of the village's inhabitants, she managed to come up with a name in a fraction of a second.
A name that crushed her mood.
She tried to think of all the times she could have seen a clue, a hint, but nothing came to her mind.
How had she never known?
"Ino?"
The tone of her voice reflected a kind of incomprehension that mixed skepticism as well as hope.
The hope of being wrong.
He didn't answer her, and his silence made her understand that she had seen right. That she had been blind all this time.
Had she really never known the Yamanaka?
"In just a few months she had managed to gather more evidence than he had in several years. Answers beyond what he had hoped for. For even though it was obvious, he had been right, Danzō was connected to these disappearances, but that wasn't all. They also were directly connected to the Kage of the Land of Sound. That was what united Konoha and Oto. Danzō offered the secret techniques and the bodies of the village clan members to Oto, who, knowing their exact locations, began to eliminate them. He made his enemies disappear and strengthened his position as leader of Konoha while forging an alliance with the Land of Sound and Wind, who were allies at the time. Ironically, it was the killing of hundreds of Leaf Shinobi that led to Fire's victory in the Fourth Great War. The death of these men and women is what created the Alliance."
Her body stiffened against the marble on her back. In an uncontrollable reflex, she glanced down to the hallway and then to the blinds of the living room window, expecting to see a whole unit eager to know the color of her blood. But as the calm expression on Itachi's face indicated, no one but her seemed to hear what he was saying.
"When they learned this information, the war was not yet over, and if what they had learned had ever spread through the ranks of the Alliance, the consequences could have been catastrophic, including the defeat of Konoha. So they kept quiet and lay low for several months. Waiting for the war to end."
Hanging on his lips, she watched as he paused to inhale.
A second that seemed like an eternity.
"Shisui couldn't explain how, but he assumed that some strange behavior from the people whose memories had been erased had inevitably attracted the attention of the Root. Which led them directly to suspect Ino, one of the last users of her family's techniques, a few weeks before the battle of Doroppu."
Her pupils dilated as the figure of the Uchiha facing her blurred.
Doroppu. That village that haunted her night and day. That place that had taken the lives of most of her friends.
She had fought, made war, killed, in the name of an ideal, of a village. And today she was told that all this was based on a betrayal. Because if she understood what he was saying, where he was going with his words, then he could only come to one conclusion.
A conclusion that made an intense heat at the bottom of her spine. An immeasurable rage.
"It is very likely that the unit that attacked you that day was not from Iwa, but certainly from the Root or from Oto, maybe both."
A monumental blank followed the information the Uchiha revealed. But she refused to think about it. If she thought about it even for a moment, all she had sacrificed would have been for nothing.
Yet, despite the fact that this was the last thing she wanted to do, countless memories mingled in her thoughts.
That endless drizzle, those green, brown vests in the middle of the street. The words they had used against the Fire and the village as she slaughtered them one after another.
Was it possible that time had altered her memories?
Why would the Root, that little-known branch of most Leaf shinobi, would ha...
Danzō Shimura.
Her Hokage.
She had almost forgotten the involvement of this son of a bitch.
This section, buried in the depths of the Leaf, belonged to him.
As its name suggested, it was a self-managed, contagious organization that lived in the shadows of the village, out of sight, and fed on the worst misdeeds that the village could not make public. Among other things, it was in charge of doing the dirty work.
It was an essential part of the survival of the village, but especially of the dictatorship that his Hokage had put in place.
That bastard.
Turning around, she opened the cabinet hanging above the counter and, grabbing a glass, she hurriedly filled it in the sink to take several sips.
Throwing away the remaining water, she filled it again and, taking a few steps towards the Uchiha, placed it on the table next to his mask.
"After Ino's assassination and the end of the war, Shisui found himself alone again, without allies and with information that could lead to a civil war within Konoha itself. But he knew that the rebellion his information would cause would not only have little chance of success, but would also be quickly crushed. Danzō had emerged from the war as a hero of the village, of the nation. He had become untouchable, even more than he already was. The best the Shimura secrets could do was to start a new war. One that would result in even more innocent deaths, if not more. And that was not what he was looking for."
She knew very little about Shisui, having only met him on rare occasions. But she knew that his heart, just like the one of the man before her, was driven by only one thing.
The peace and prosperity of the villagers of Konoha and Fire.
"During their year of gathering information, Ino had discovered information perhaps even more important. Something that had changed his plans and led him to a very specific date. October tenth. The night of Kyūbi's attack on the village."
Her candy pink eyebrows furrowed as she glared at the Uchiha, who was looking back at her with a look as calm as ever.
How did everything he had just been told have anything to do with that morbid night? The one that cost the lives of hundreds of brave ninjas and thousands of civilians, including his grandparents.
"At that time, the whole village knew about the pregnancy of Kushina Uzumaki, the wife of the Fourth Hokage. And everyone rightly thought that her child died with her in the sacrifice that ended the attack. However, what few people didn't know was that Kushina Uzumaki was at that time the Jinchūriki of the fox demon. And that this night of the tenth of October was the night of her childbirth."
Crouching down against the cabinet below the counter and unable to hold back a nervous smile, she let herself fall against the icy tile floor
"The fourth Hokage had a son. A child unknown to all. A newborn in whom the fox demon was sealed."
All this was beginning to be far, far too much information. It seemed as if she was just beginning to understand the history of the village she was born in, the one she had defended since her first heartbeat, and for which she had risked her life so many times that she had lost count.
All her landmarks were disappearing.
She was beginning to lose her balance.
Three days after the attack, and hours before Danzō took power, one of the underground bunkers beneath the mountain exploded, killing an entire Anbu unit. The bunker in which the child of the fourth and his wife was located.
The first thought that managed to work its way through the filter her mind had built was to connect Danzō's disputed enthronement with the disappearance of the Fourth Lord's child.
The second was easier to conceive, but still found no answer.
Who could have defeated an entire Special Forces unit and escaped unscathed?
"Have you ever wondered why Jiraiya, one of the three legendary Sannin of Konoha, who worked for the greatness of Fire, who dedicated his life to his homeland, was suddenly declared a deserter and a traitor to the village?"
She leaned her head against the drawers in her back and this time it was a nervous laugh she could not hold back.
She had just gotten the answer to one of the questions the whole peninsula was asking.
The great Jiraiya no Sennin, former disciple of Hiruzen Sarutobi, had betrayed his Nindō to save the son of his pupil, the Yondaime. He had rescued him from the clutches of the Shimura, who would never have allowed a child with such a name to live. He had sacrificed his honor so that the child would not be killed.
"During the three years between the end of the war and his disappearance, Shisui searched for this child, or rather this young man, but every time he managed to get enough information about his position and his last actions, the Yondaime child mysteriously disappeared without leaving a trace."
For the first time since he had appeared in her kitchen, she saw something other than impassivity on the Uchiha's face. Raising his eyebrows, he sighed slightly.
"He told me this story a few days before he disappeared to the Land of Grass, still looking for this man. He told me then that he was on his way to the Land of the Earth, that something was going to happen."
Her emerald irises widened in surprise.
So, this was the premise of Shisui Uchiha's disappearance on the borders of Kusa and Tsuchi in the course of a supposedly ordinary mission.
"More than three weeks ago now, I heard rumors of a person who had managed to enter the Yariba prison facility in the land of Earth and get out with a prisoner."
Yariba... she had heard that name somewhere before, but where?
Thinking for a moment while the Uchiha reached for the glass of water she had put down earlier, she remembered the conversation she had had with Shikamaru the day before as well as the diary he had brought back from the Land of Grass.
She was sure she had read about a mountain collapse, not an attack. So Tsuchi had lied to keep the humiliation of what had happened a secret?
Surely the only rational thought she had had for several minutes.
Putting the glass down where he had found it, he returned his attention to hers, still sitting on the floor.
"At first, I thought it was Shisui, but even though he is one of the most fearsome shinobi I have ever met, he could never have made it out alive. In fact, no one could have come out of there without losing their life. Except maybe one person, but he's been dead for over twenty years. So, I went to the borders of Iwa to find out if this story was true. Several of my crows scattered across the land, and after days of searching, I saw her not far from a town north of Tsuchi, sitting alone under a tree, waiting for someone to come and get her.
The back of her head lifted from the wooden drawers to approach the Uchiha.
Before she could even think about it, the answer was given to her with the first syllable he uttered.
"Ino."
Ino
December 10, 1020, 11 :34am
Land of Waterfalls
Sitting on the white leather stool, she reached for the rubber band on the dresser where a mirror, hanging above the wooden furniture, reflected her ocean eyes.
With a sigh, she lowered her face so that she would no longer have to look at the reflection that brought her nothing but pity, and tied her blond hair into a ponytail. Then, out of the corner of her eye, taking care to bring down the rebellious wicks that fell on her forehead, she observed the reflection of the headband on the nightstand behind her.
This one, black, just like the t-shirt and the pants she was wearing, was covered with a thin film of dust that the sun's rays, venturing through the bedroom's windows, were having fun warming up.
A blinding light, abrupt and ephemeral, swept across the dusty decoration, preventing her from contemplating further the relic of her past life.
Strangely and without herself knowing why, she did not formalize on this strange luminous phenomenon and began once again to stare, this time with contempt, the face that the mirror showed her.
A cowardly expression that only brought her shame. The shame of her silence, of having said nothing, of having done nothing.
Leaving her sitting position, unable to overcome the stare, she stopped at the doorway of the room as a second halo of light spread through the room, illuminating it once again.
The door, held by her hand, tested her memories one last time, making her observe the teenage scenery it imprisoned, before approaching her mourning face which showed a form of appeasement.
Remaining motionless for a moment as the click of the handle echoed down the hallway, she finally walked down the spiral staircase and grabbed a pair of shoes at the bottom as she sat down on the last step.
"Already?"
She finished pulling on her shoes, which were open at the toes, and turned her attention to the surprised and sad expression that had just stopped by the bay window leading into the kitchen. "I just made dinner, don't you want to eat it before you go?"
Just as she was about to answer, just as she was about to tell the woman and the mealy apron she was wearing that nothing could please her more, a ray of light swept down the hallway through the bay window and ended its path in her irises, closing them inescapably and making her forget what she was about to say.
Reminding her of what had really happened.
Taking off her shameless being from the stairs, she crossed the living room and grabbed the satchel hanging on the wall near the entrance before opening it, letting in the summer heat.
"Wait!"
Moving her leg back into the house that haunted her, she cast her ocean eyes on the dismayed voice.
"When I talk to you, you could at least have the decency to answer me, young lady."
Silent on the outside, but broken on the inside, she said nothing, simply overcoming the brown eyes that were far more frightened than hers.
"Were you really going to leave without saying anything?"
Pausing for a moment in front of the unfriendly expression, the woman who expressed it let out a jerky breath, unable to hide the sadness that materialized on her features under a blinding stream of light that was just passing by.
"She told me you'll be in the same unit, but she didn't say where you were going. I guess she didn't want me to worry. But I need to know... are you going to the front?
The silence that followed left little room for an answer, leaving behind the woman's confused, worried look.
A hand still clutching the door handle of her memory, she took her eyes off the woman with the light brown eyes to focus on the teenager in front of her, believing for a moment that the mirror had come down.
Blond, ocean-eyed, neatly coifed and no older than seventeen, she didn't have time to stare at her for more than a second that, brushing past her, her young copy rushed into the crowd strolling down the withered leaf-strewn street.
She turned her attention back to the sad face in the middle of her former home and silently watched the tear that lingered on the curved lips of the effeminate face.
Wiping her cheeks of a backhand, the woman let her auburn eyes venture around the bay window to look for her young copy in the street, in vain.
"Why didn't you stay that day?" she asked in a broken voice without taking her eyes off the crowded aisle.
In turn and as the girl she hated for her behavior, she did not answer, preferring, in this moment of lucidity that would awaken her, to immortalize the features of the woman.
"Sorry, Mom."
The light swept through the room, ineluctably closing her eyelids and warming her body slightly as she shivered. A cold, damp, wintry air crept into her lungs while a cool wind penetrated her silk protections and completed the fall of the tear on her cheek, which erased the memories of her home.
Opening her sleepy eyes, she observed the huge block of rock which obstructed her sight, before this one, moving away from the path she seemed to take, let pass the rays of the sun which burned her retina one more time.
Closing her eyelids from the blinding light of the star, she placed the silk covering her over her nostrils, leaving only the upper part of her face visible.
Her mother's silhouette materialized in the orange grooves of her closed eyelids as, this time, what she had just dreamed remained embedded in her thoughts.
But those same thoughts were forced to stop watching the familiar face when the light, once again hidden behind the vegetation of the path she was crossing, stopped sweeping her field of vision and plunged it into complete darkness.
She opened her eyes, using this moment of calm to observe the reality she was trying to avoid.
Forming an arch about ten meters above her head, the foliage of the forest that encircled her filtered the presence of the sun in the sky, letting through only on rare occasions the rays that ended their trajectory on the surrounding slight mist, moistening the plants that dotted the ground.
She took a deep breath and let the smell of early winter fill her lungs.
This was not the first time she had woken up in a similar forest, in fact, she had barely seen anything other than conifers.
In the ten days following the hotel explosion, she had done nothing but walk through forests and along paths bordering steep mountains. But despite all the roads she had taken, she had not come across a single living being, as if he was avoiding them.
Shifting her curiosity, her admiration, she stared at the man who was the author of the footsteps muffled by the humus of the forest.
If the color of her hair, when it wasn't lousy and covered with dust, tended towards the blond, at the limit of the white, hers, short and in battle, were of a disconcerting gilt. His beard, also golden and about ten days old, contrasted perfectly with his azure eyes staring at the horizon as well as the clear complexion of his skin having adapted to the cold and dry climate of the north of the peninsula.
Whereas she continued during long seconds to be obnubilated by the square jaw which overhung her, the grips at the level of her back and her knees tightened slightly, putting definitively an end to her thoughts by reminding her with fright the faculty that he had.
As she had feared, he lowered his attention and inevitably crossed her irises, which had not stopped staring at him, while she inwardly thanked the cloak that covered her body and part of her face before realizing that he had surely heard that as well.
He stared at her with a worried look.
"Are you cold? "
Her blond eyebrows rose above the silk.
Yet another question to add to the list.
Are you hungry? No.
Thirsty? No.
Tired? No.
Are you cold?
"No."
That's what the lies of the last ten days were all about.
He fed her, watered her, and carried her since she first woken up in his presence, a little over three weeks ago, and asked absolutely nothing in return.
It was a position that made her more than uncomfortable and vulnerable: she had become completely dependent on his presence.
All it took was for him to be out of her sight for more than a minute for her to panic and start searching frantically.
He was what tied her to this world that she had forgotten existed until recently. Without him, she was lost, disoriented, and she certainly wouldn't survive more than a few hours.
A few minutes.
So she tried not to be noticed, in his arms, of course, but she tried. Although she had accepted the idea that it was not an illusion that she was in the real world and that he had taken her out of her hell, that he had saved her, she had also accepted the fact that she did not know him at all.
She had been around men enough in the past three years to know their bipolar temperaments and their mood swings, which usually hit her in the face if she didn't comply with their demands.
What proved to her that he was different?
Everything.
Absolutely everything.
In spite of this, in spite of the fact that his behavior and the tenderness he offered her proved that he was not dishonest, that he was not like the others, she asked for nothing, said nothing, hoped for nothing.
She had learned not to expect anything.
But like a talkative traitor who could not be silenced, her body begged for it. A gurgle, a yawn, a shiver, and he worked to satisfy her needs.
The forearms under the silk that held her gained in warmth, relaxing her thoughts and making her realize that, once again, he had not believed her lie.
Closing her exhausted eyelids and letting herself be lulled by the sound of his footsteps and the warmth of his chakra, she let herself go against the gray jacket and the drumming of his heartbeat, taking her further away from reality with each pulse.
When she regained consciousness, the first thing she noticed was that the cool, sporadic wind of her last awakening was gone, replaced by an icy, continuous breeze, just like the intense heat of her body.
Droplets of water tickled her cheeks and dipped themselves between her thin and half-opened lips. Settling on her white teeth that she hastened to lick, it revealed the saltiness that it sheltered.
Closing her dry mouth over her pasty tongue as she swallowed, she opened her eyes to the heat that warmed her cheekbones and watched out of the corner of her eye the sun at its peak in the clear blue sky.
Her attention was lost for a few moments on the surrounding landscape, and she was surprised to find that there was no forest for miles around. Instead, there was a flat, featureless horizon where only rocks and plants, scattered across a dull and cold plateau, dared to reach for the sky.
How long had she slept exactly?
Her inner question did not find an answer, or rather, it did not allow her to explore it at all. Because the sound that reached her ears obscured her ability to think.
A sound she never thought she would hear again.
Forcing on what was left of her abdominal muscles, she left her lying position and lifted her hair from the gray jacket that served her as a pillow.
A sound she never thought she would hear again.
Forcing what was left of her abdominal muscles, she rose from her prone position and lifted her hair from the gray jacket that served as a pillow.
Her eyes widened as she moved it to her left side while her fingers clutched the silk blanket mechanically.
She contemplated his golden hair, his athletic back revealed by his black t-shirt, his being seated and silent, as well as his legs hanging in the emptiness of the ocean.
A tear of joy slipped along her bruised cheek, continuing to erase the vices she had suffered, and mixed with the umpteenth salvo of fine salty droplets that crashed on her stunned features.
He had kept his word.
Removing the thick cloth on her bandaged legs, she helped herself with her hands and knees to drag her way over the pebbles and stopped beside him between two huge wet rocks.
He turned his face in her direction in order to offer a smile at her astonished expression.
Sitting more than thirty meters high, she contemplated, from the top of the cliff on which they were, the waves of the ocean that were brazing against the coral and reefs below her.
For the first time, a genuine smile came over her face as she inhaled the refreshing smell of the sea water.
He had kept his word. Her first conversation.
"It's your choice."
Sitting on the ground under the coniferous trees and observing the hand stretched out in her direction, she immediately blocked her breath.
He was giving her the choice of the next destination. She... she couldn't believe it.
And yet, the smile on his face and the tone of his voice tried to tell her that he was telling the truth.
Swallowing, she imagined all the possibilities, then, eliminating the utopian and the absurd, her answer came naturally without her needing to think any further.
"The ocean. I want... to see the ocean again."
The smile on his face redoubled as she placed her hand on his and offered him a piece of her trust.
"Then we'll go see the ocean, I promise."
He had kept his word.
Moving her smile in his direction, she examined with joy the azure of his glance which returned her happiness. Once again, he stretched out a hand in her direction which she grabbed, this time, without the slightest hesitation.
Still dressed in a simple black sweater that was far too large, she took her place at his side and let her bare legs fall into the void, causing her to feel a forgotten, unexplained shiver.
Bringing the hand locked in hers to the top of her thighs, she closed her eyelids surrounded by dark circles and, stiffening her back against the sea breeze that made her blond hair twirl, she cleared her mind.
She emptied her thoughts, her worries, her torment, leaving only a strange feeling.
A feeling she had felt in a past life, buried, put aside. A state of mind that she had believed in, that she no longer believed in, and that she had sealed.
A crimson eye that had changed her life.
"Sometimes life is full of surprises. A single encounter can change your life, your daily routine. In an instant, something happens that you didn't expect, that you didn't want, and that happens unexpectedly. You take a direction you did not foresee and find yourself in a place you could never have imagined. A future you could never have hoped for."
She opened her eyes again and cast them into the ocean foam beneath her feet.
Was she ready to dive again?
An umpteenth wave struck the rocks below their perch with a harsh sound, soaking the deep silence in which they were submerged.
She tightened his hand against her chest, forcing him to turn his azure irises on her wavering expression, her frightened complexion.
The ocean of her eyes closed, locking in her tears wishing to externalize her thought.
Wishing to express the question that tormented her.
After all she had been through, all that had shaped her, did she have the desire, the right, to place her full trust in an ideal, in a person?
In a man?
The physical bond connecting them, which she held with all her strength between her hands and her heartbeat, in turn gripped her fingers, her fears.
"They won't hurt you anymore."
"A single encounter, a single person, can change your life forever, Yamanaka Ino."
"I promise you."
Gamayata
March 8, 1004, 7 :10am
Mount Myōboku
A light breeze filled the humidity-laden atmosphere of the huge room.
From a height of thirty centimeters, the young amphibian raised her gaze and stopped from sweeping the floor to observe the large toad sleeping peacefully on the other side of the room.
This one, old, tired, and about ten meters tall, was wearing over his light brown skin a black hat as headgear. As the only other distinction and in the form of a pictogram, the word "oil" was inscribed on a huge bead that formed a necklace made of wood and strings around his neck.
A snore flooded the room, stretching the young and yellow skin of the young batrachian in a smile at this most usual spectacle.
A little more and she was going to end up believing that he had turned into a cat, since his sleep cycle was so sparse.
Going back to cleaning the room, sighing her quietude at this thought, she did not forget any corner. The shelves and books that made up the contours of the room were the first to receive her passage, the concrete pillars that supported the huge roof made of burgundy wood were the next. She then set about dusting the huge scrolls, sometimes reaching seven meters in length, and, hastening to her task, she cleaned the two small seats that surrounded the large one where the venerable toad rested.
As she was about to splash water on the floor to finish what she had started, the bucket slipped out of her hand and, like a moment in slow motion where the memories of a lifetime passed by, it bounced several times in the silent room with a deafening noise, putting an end to the snoring in a surprised hiccup, which paralyzed her on the spot.
A mop in the grip of her reluctant fingers and after several seconds of hesitation, she turned her fear towards the huge scrolls to stare at the two wrinkled and bulging eyes, which had just woken up.
Leaving his dreams hanging in the emptiness of the room for long seconds, the immense toad finally and with fascination put down his attention on her little person at about ten meters from his sudden awakening.
Without waiting she literally fell to the ground and released the broom, which in turn bounced on the soggy floor.
"Forgive me for interrupting one of your dreams, Venerable Great Sage, it was not my intention, I..."
A light laugh was heard, cutting short her apology as well as her apprehension.
"It's okay... it... happens..."
Raising her astonished little head to the breathless voice, she saw with great relief that he had already closed his eyes and, believing that he had gone back to sleep as quickly as he had woken up, as only he had the secret, she got up in perfect silence to take the bucket and clean up what she had caused.
It was at this very moment that the weary voice of the toad rose again.
"Could you... do me a favor... my child?"
Turning back to the Venerable Great Sage for the third time, she observed his closed expression for a fraction of a second before nodding without hesitation.
"Of course."
A big smile distorted the elder's features.
"Could you... bring me the little Minato?"
The question echoed through the room and, swallowing painfully at the request, she tilted her doubting face slightly to glare at the toad.
"Did you mean Naruto, Great Sage?
"That is... what I just said... yes."
Letting out a sigh that she immediately blocked with her paw as she realized the disrespect she had just shown, the young batrachian shook her head in a sign of comprehension.
"I... I'll tell Master Shima and Fukasaku then, they must know where he is."
As she prepared to leave, placing the mop in the bucket without the slightest protest being heard to let her know that she was free to proceed, she turned to the venerable toad one last time.
"What should I tell them? Why do you want him to come?"
"What should I tell them? Why do you want to see the little human?"
Her request was followed by a long silence and, believing that the huge toad had really fallen asleep, she could not hold back a slight startle when he opened his omniscient eyes to answer her question.
"He appeared to me... in my dream."
Naruto
March 8, 1004, 3 :20pm
Mount Myōboku
On the floor, with a book covering his face and his leg passing through the only window of the wooden hut, an unexpected shake brought him out of his dream.
Stretching his drowsy being and lifting his head under the fall of the book placed on it, the young boy, who couldn't be more than five years old, ruffled his golden hair and opened his azure eyes on the landscape.
With a repetitive yawn, he contemplated the horizon through the window. His attention drifted without much conviction to the gigantic green, yellow and orange plants, which challenged the mushrooms reaching dizzying heights, that waterfalls and translucent streams were watering.
A second shaking, causing the hut to creak, forced him to sit down. His half-asleep eyes then wandered to random points inside his makeshift shelter before settling on the largest of the openings to his right.
"Oi..." he articulated with difficulty before being interrupted by yet another of his yawns.
A third shaking was felt, much stronger, allowing him to come out of his torpor and make the connection with his sudden awakening
crawling with the help of his numb legs up to the wide open entrance of the hut, he observed below from his perch and with his arms swinging in the void the mammal that was abusing the tree on which the hut was built.
Crawling with the help of his numb legs up to the wide open entrance of the hut, he watched below from his perch, with his arms swinging in the void, the mammal that was abusing the tree upon which the hut was built.
"Oi..." he repeated in a hoarse voice, without managing to make himself be heard.
Armed with his fist, the animal struck the trunk with a sharp blow, causing the famous shake.
As the animal was about to repeat its gesture, he took a deep breath, preparing to ask, in the most courteous way he knew, the creature to stop.
"Will you fucking stop?!"
As soon as the first word of his scream was uttered, the two-meter-tall toad raised an evil look in his direction.
Rubbing his eyes under the threatening expression of batrachian, he could not hold back another yawn.
"Why... are you waking me up... so early?"
His sleepy voice reached the green face at the feet of the tree that instantly turned red.
"So early?! It's three in the afternoon, you cheeky boy! When did you go to bed? Did you sleep only one hour?! the animal shouted, giving the tree an umpteenth blow with his paws, which created a fifth shake. "How dare you leave without warning them? Do you know how long they searched for you? Come down quickly if you don't want me to cut this tree in two." he threatened him, placing his right paw on the handle of the huge weapon in his back.
Covering his ears with his hands, he sighed again, but this time with weariness.
"Okay, okay, I'm coming, no need to scream."
Before he had to hear the incessant croaking again, he dropped onto the leaf ten times his size a few meters from his hut and, repeating his gesture about ten times, he landed at the side of the batrachian, which was ten times his weight.
With a big innocent smile and raising a hand in greeting, he let out a slight laugh at the imposing toad. This one, green with black spots dotting his body, wore a purple kimono as well as a five-foot-long tantō that he carried on his back.
The golden handle reflected in the azure of his gaze, before he decided to overcome the one of the animals, less delighted.
"Hi Gamashare, how you doing?
A feeling half annoyed, half outraged, materialized on the face of the batrachian, but, remembering the reason of his presence, he took a deep breath in order to appease it.
"You're lucky, kid, today I don't have time to teach you the meaning of discipline, you have more important things to do."
His smile dissipated in a frown.
"More important? What's more important than your training?" he asked sarcastically, mocking what the toad liked to call "The learning cycle of any good warrior."
In the space of six months, which was the time he had spent under the training and punishment of the so-called Gamashare, from hunting reptiles in the steep mountains, to sharpening blunt weapons, the latter had never spared him when he had been disobedient. In other words, this was the first time that one of his affronts was condoned, so he really wondered what was going on.
The fist clenched above the head as if the worst insult had just been addressed to him, Gamashare managed not to give in against his insolence and, blowing a second time his passing mood, he regained his composure.
"You have been requested by the Venerable Great Sage this morning, he is waiting for you to come."
Pointing his index finger at the tip of his nose, he glanced behind him before bringing his dumbfounded look back to the toad.
"Me?" he asked, not really believing it, trying to hide the fear that was spreading across his face. "Why?"
Was it possible that the old toad had seen him that night? How could that be since he had been very discreet?
An umpteenth smile appeared on his face at the nickname.
Since it was an abbreviation that literally meant "insolent little human." it was quite hilarious.
"Aren't you coming with me?"
His azure gaze fell on the black marks of the toad, who with a slow gesture withdrew the weapon strapped to his back before letting himself fall against the trunk he had mistreated.
"No, I'm going to take a nice nap instead." Replied Gamashare while dropping the weapon near his reflexes. "Now get out of here, you're ruining my view."
With an annoyed grin, he glanced at Lake Fuhen in his back, surrounded by the Myôboku mountain range, before turning back to the batrachian, which, with its head resting against the tree and its eyes closed, seemed to already ignoring him.
Sighing through his clenched teeth, he raised his face to the cloudy sky in a haughty manner and, with a confident step, began his ascent towards the palace.
"Stupid old toad."
One eye suddenly opened in his back as, feeling abrupt and austere movements, his slow gait turned into a frantic race fighting for his survival.
"Say again what you just said, you brat?!"
[…]
"I still think it's a bad idea." confessed a small toad, only about 20 centimeters tall, sitting on a stone chair to the right side of the Venerable Great Sage.
"I've already told you to stop talking about it!" yelled another toad in an effeminate voice to the left of the Great Gama.
Crossing his green paws under his doubtful expression, the one who started the conversation turned his face away from his wife.
"Even so, you can't take it out of my mind that it's a very bad idea."
The cold gaze of the elderly female batrachian immediately fell on her husband.
"Stop trying to argue, you old fart, Jiraiya himself knew that this day would come sooner or later."
"What did you just call me, you old skin?! he shouted, pointing to the other side of the room."
A breath both annoyed and tired came between the two hermits.
"That's enough... Fukasaku, Shima, I don't want... a domestic scene here, the patriarch articulated calmly but with difficulty." taking long breaths of air between each word. "He's here." he added before the door of the huge room opened with a creak, letting a young child through.
From the height of one meter and ten centimeters, the golden hair crossed the room without paying attention to the surrounding decor, as if he knew perfectly the place and, stopping in front of the three toads, he bowed, as it had been taught to him, in front of the oldest of them.
"Finally you show up, you shameless little brat." Fukasaku shouted, glaring at him. "You think it's wise to keep the Venerable Great Sage waiting?"
Scratching the back of his head where a bump was present and under the dismayed tone of the old toad, he let a smile answer before his excuse.
"Sorry, Ojiisan, I fell asleep."
Just as the toad was about to vent all his indignation, his wife's voice rose, preventing the sermon.
"It doesn't matter, the important is that you are there."
The smile on his face redoubled at the kindness of the old batrachian, who smiled back at him.
Remembering the reason for his entry into the palace, he turned his attention to the biggest of the three toads who, with closed eyes and an amused grimace, seemed to be listening to the scene with interest.
"Ōjiji-sama, you asked for me?"
As soon as the nickname spread through the room, Fukasaku's eyes, having regained his composure, widened in astonishment.
"What did you just say?!"
A light laugh flooded the palace, immediately putting an end to Fukasaku's outraged expression as he looked at the Venerable Great Sage with surprise.
"Yes... Yes… I'm glad you've come... Minato." the Great Gama replied with a smile.
"Naruto, his name is Naruto, it was you who asked for him to come, you could at least remember his name, old fool." Shima said with a scowl.
Once again and without waiting, the face of Fukasaku let appear a bewildered look by all this lack of humility.
"Please have a little more respect when addressing the Venerable Great Sage! That's how you show an example?! No wonder this child is so insolent!"
A long silence followed the angry tone of the little toad, during which the two hermits sharing the same house stared at each other without interruption, under the amused look of the young boy and the Great Sage, used to witness this kind of scene.
"As I was saying... you appeared last night..."
Suddenly livid as the old toad caught his breath, he looked out of the corner of his eye at the book-filled shelves to his left where, on the second row of the third bookcase, a book was missing. The memory of what he had borrowed last night came back to him as a robbery he had committed, before he remembered the book on the floor of the hut.
As he was about to explain himself before the imposing toad had time to accuse him, the latter resumed.
"In my dream."
The adrenalin that had just been released in him vanished in no time and was replaced by a feeling of incomprehension.
A... dream?
Why had he asked him to come for such a reason? He often dreamed of slugs, but he didn't call them to talk about it.
"Do you understand what this means?" Shima asked him in response to his expression.
Shaking his head from side to side in denial, he turned his face to Fukasaku as he spoke.
"The Venerable Great Sage had a vision. A prophecy about you."
His eyes widened in amazement.
"Do you want to hear... what I have to say...?" asked the great Gama under his tired smile.
Why... was he giving him a choice? What had he seen that would make him regret listening?
Observing successively the two hermits that he considered as father and mother figures, they returned to him only a neutral expression, offering him no answer to his inner questions.
This choice, he had to make it alone.
Finally, and with a small voice full of doubt, he got out of his silence.
"I... I want to hear it."
The two huge eyelids of the Great Gama opened in order to look at him.
"Very well."
Under his azure gaze, the Great Sage began what would be his greatest regret.
"Today as tomorrow… all your dreams you'll outdo… everything you've ever wanted, everything you've ever pursued… as you journey on… by his side you'll flourish and all doubts will be gone… his wisdom you'll embrace and make it your own… this is what I saw, a life fully grown."
With his mouth open, he watched the big toad, unable to find any words.
Was he really going to leave this place? Was he really going to travel this vast world and discover all that he had only read?
Where, when, how? With whom?
The thousands of questions in his mind distorted the features of his face, revealing a wide smile. He then observed Fukasaku to his left, who could not help but give a similar smile while trying to remain impassive, looking away curtly as soon as he crossed his gaze. He then watched Shima, who had a happy yet sad expression on her face, and who doubled her cheerful air as he sent her his own.
But before he could express his joy, and surprising the two hermits on either side of his sitting position, the Great Sage proceeded.
"You'll meet an immortal being, it seems, who'll shatter your dreams... and the least of your schemes."
A huge silence spread through the huge room as the two hermits looked at the Patriarch with wide eyes, who seemed not to want to stop.
"You'll become all you've always despised… roaming the world… uncharted lands you'll revise… blindly stumbling, never knowing your way… injustices you'll embrace... for your freedom's sway… until the end, you'll hold onto the pain… this is what my vision did contain."
This time no question interrupted the silence of his thoughts and, like the two little toads, he stared in amazement at the Venerable Great Sage.
"You will be reborn at the feet of a cherry tree... that will make you forget you all thoughts that caused you difficulties... and making you feel unexplained feelings that you will cherish for eternity... you will become again... for one summer... what you had forgotten."
He... he didn't understand anything.
He could have attributed this excuse to the fact that he was only five years old, but the expressions on the faces of Fukasaku and Shima, who were centuries old, were not much different from his own.
Like him, they did not understand much of what the old hermit was saying.
"When the flowers have fallen... when the winter has begun... you will gaze upon two oceans and... against all odds… you'll unite men… to confront the gods."