Note : (I posted two chapters at once, read the previous one before.) The first scene of this part, which is the direct continuation of the previous one, can be shocking.
Chapter size : 12000 words
The Hovel that touched the Stars
Part 3
Mia
December 31 1020, 10 :39 pm
Land of Fire, Natoma
"Break down the door!"
A slight shake caused the whisky to clink on the glass counter as she suddenly regained her senses. Without losing her focus on the door, her eyes scanned the room, searching every nook and cranny for an azure color.
What the hell?
Taking a step beyond the sliding door, she stepped onto the heated floor of the bedroom.
Was he a hallucination... another one?
The third blow let a stream of light into the room, illuminating her confused face.
Yet she had not taken any illegal substances. Not this time.
The fourth blow pulverized half of the hinges that had been thrown into the four corners of the room, forcing her to reflexively put her arms in front of her face, but the jacket blocked them halfway.
Her lucidity returned as she lowered her gaze to the fabric restricting her movement.
The jacket.
She could not have imagined this. How could she have acquired it if it was not him who had given it to her? But then, how had he disappeared? It wasn't making any s...
Her mouth half open and her breath short, she understood. At least she hoped so, because now that she thought about it, it seemed so obvious. Everything she had seen him do suddenly came back to her, making the scenes less surreal, though they remained so.
She knew their history only vaguely from the few movies she had seen in her youth. Very briefly, their exploits through the dozen or so newspapers she had been able to read at the end of the war. Almost nothing about what they could do, only that one of them could end a peninsular war.
Was this the logic-defying ability of these human weapons, these bloodthirsty assassins? Could they really teleport, read minds?
The door shattered and smashed against the load-bearing wall to which it was attached by its last hinge, blinding her so violently that she lost her train of thought, her sense of reality.
A reality that engulfed in number until she found herself with eight pairs of opaque glasses to less than three meters of her being nailed to the floor. Nine. She hadn't seen the little guy in the white suit hiding behind the muscle cabinets.
Cautiously, as if the devil himself might be hiding in the shadows, four of the guards moved through each room of the suite, from the closet to the bathroom behind her back. Soon every light bulb was on, forcing her to squint to keep her eyes from shutting completely.
Exchanging several nods, the one at the head of the unit pressed the button on the earpiece he was wearing.
"The target is not visible, Ms. Okada has been found, the situation is under control, continue the search."
No sooner had he finished his instructions than he turned to the man surrounded by the last of the black suits waiting in the hallway.
"You can come in, sir, there is no risk."
Following his words, the guard stepped aside and let the small man pass, who almost immediately looked at her without paying attention to the decor surrounding him.
"You..." he grunted, stopping halfway across the carpet. "Tell me where he is."
She looked past his puffy face without blinking, despite the intimidating tone he liked to address her with. The same face turned red before the urge to answer even crossed her mind. "Answer me, you little bitch, or I swear you'll wish you'd never been born."
She wanted to laugh at the irony of the threat but managed not to give in to it. She didn't necessarily feel like getting hit in the process.
"He left."
The gray eyebrows frowned. He believed her, but he did not like her answer.
Just as he was about to express his anger again, his scorned pride, he lowered his gaze to her attire before looking at the dress and the heels on the stool. A breath of disbelief came as his attention returned to her wet hair.
"I see you didn't waste your time."
The four guards who had searched the suite crowded into a two-meter perimeter around her, adding further discomfort to the atmosphere. "Let me guess, you got fucked and he took off? Don't you have any self-respect?"
Holding back hilarity was easy. Holding back anger, however, was another matter.
The sly smile he gave made her saliva inevitably spill out.
"Shut the fuck up."
Using her gums, she pursed her lips, too late. She could only admit that she already regretted saying those four words, but strangely enough, it had felt good. More than any drug.
A long silence followed, during which she could swear she heard one of the guards swallow. Or was it her?
"Can you repeat that?"
His ear tipped in her direction in a cartoonish manner, she did nothing but stare at him and, as she had so kindly requested, shut her mouth.
"Can't you even take responsibility for what you say? I wonder what you're good for. Maybe I should sew up your beautiful lips so I don't have to listen to you anymore.
Clenching her fists in the black cotton with all her might, she lowered her face and clenched her jaw. The situation was about to degenerate, she knew it. But that wasn't her main concern. All she could think about was one single thing.
Was he watching her right now?
Even now she didn't believe it, it was impossible and only seen in movies. But the little voice in her head disagreed.
Help me, please, help me.
A second passed. Then another. Absolutely nothing changed. He was no longer there.
"What is this expression? I've never seen it before. Is it disappointment?"
A second mocking laugh added a morbid layer to the scene for the many onlookers. "Do you not understand that it was your ass he was interested in, you ungrateful little bitch. Did you really think that your personality caused him to humiliate my men?"
She said nothing, did nothing, and just contemplated the beige carpet.
Sometimes words hurt more than fists. He hadn't even started, and she was already broken.
"Since you let him go, you will remember this night."
Hiding her terror behind an impassive expression, she mentally prepared herself for the pain that would soon hit her.
"If you ever touch my face again, I won't wear makeup anymore."
Her threat was not as effective as the one that preceded it. In fact, she was only the instigator of his pernicious smile.
"Don't worry, this time it won't be visible."
Without knowing why, that simple sentence made her shiver. Maybe because of the vicious and immoral look he gave her, maybe because of his depraved tone. She did not know, but the smile he continued to give her only made her want to vomit the excess alcohol she had ingested.
"Tie her to the bed."
It took her more than a second to understand the meaning of the request. And another second to realize that it was not a bad joke.
If she had to approximate the last time she had felt visceral fear, the kind that paralyzed her to the spot, she would have said it was when she was fifteen. The first time he had raised his hand to her face. A vague memory, diluted by the hundreds that followed and to which she had finally grown accustomed. A dozen bruises every fifteenth of the month and life went on.
Today, the thirty-first of December, less than an hour away from a new year, the clock had just reset.
She was afraid, more than ever.
"Y-You wh-what?"
She didn't know why, but she always knew this day would come.
His pernicious looks that made her want to vomit, his unhealthy innuendos that only increased the hatred she felt for him, his unbearable caresses and sweet pleas like those you would make to a puppy, even as she lay bloody on the floor. She had always known. And the timing couldn't have been worse.
Why did she come to the surface? She should have swallowed a whole liter of water.
Despite the order, the four men surrounding her, not looking at the entrance, did not move. Instead, they exchanged uncertain glances, as petrified as she was.
It seemed more ethical to hold her down while she was being beaten than to participate in her rape.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
These simple words, implying what would happen if they disobeyed, were enough to start the movement of the one on her left, who, without meaning to, switched off the consciousness of the other three.
She was going to wake up. It was just a morbid nightmare, nothing more.
Indeed, the hand that suddenly grabbed her shoulder woke her up.
"Don't touch me!"
Her voice was so high and full of terror that it echoed down the hall. She didn't have time to hear it spread to the surrounding floors that the tearing of her clothes on her bed immediately made her lose all hope.
She knew now what they were going to use to bind her, which made the scene even more inevitable, and the very thought brought a feeling to her that she had never expressed to him before.
As quickly as her pleading, frightened expression allowed, she turned her gaze back to the hideous figure.
"Don't-don't do that, please, anything, but not that."
Pathetic and humiliated had been her plea, amused and satisfied was the look on his face.
"You're being very nice all of a sudden. Don't worry, I'm sure you'll appreciate it."
He unzipped the white jacket he was wearing and the sadistic smile on his malevolent face instantly rekindled her rage.
In a sudden movement, she threw herself backwards to free her shoulder, but the grip that grabbed her neck brutally ended her retreat. Grimacing, she raised her face to the height of the room to dull the pain, before sending her elbow randomly into her back.
Once again, the jacket prevented her from completing her movement. Which only increased her frustration tenfold.
"I said don't touch me!"
Her legs, not used to struggling in this way, gave way after an umpteenth desperate attempt to free herself, causing her to lose her balance. Her naked buttocks on the floor, a howl of rage and impotence came from the deepest part of her being as she continued to struggle. But even after being filled with adrenaline, her strength remained laughable.
While one of them was still shaping the rope and the other two were holding her upper body, the last and fourth one grabbed her ankles and the next moment she was being carried like a piece of garbage.
In her tumult, her snarls and her insults, her exorbitant gaze crossed the one of the man at the head of the group of close guards. The one who, not having left the asshole who had just taken off his jacket, turned his impassive air away from her fights.
"At least have the decency to watch!"
Straight as a post and looking at the bay window without flinching, the man lowered his clenched jaw in her direction. "You're going to let him do this? Have you no pride after all my mother has done for you? How can you look at yourself in a gl...!"
Her field of vision went from motionless to indiscernible. The next second, her back collided heavily with the mattress, causing her to exhale sharply.
She had no time to realize what had just happened as soft, silky fabrics attached to the feet of the bed wrapped around her ankles before brutally spreading her legs.
Hatefully, she tried to kick at the filth that opened the buttons of the black jacket she was wearing, but the slightly elastic dress attached to her foot only allowed her to lift her leg about ten centimeters before it tightened further.
Leaving her no chance to fight back, they grabbed her forearms through the black silk before opening it to expose her chest. Strangely, she felt nothing. In fact, all she wanted to do at that moment was to watch all the trash in the room slowly die.
To see them suffer, to see them agonize, to see them cry until they beg her to stop.
Yet, it was from her mouth that a lament came.
Her wrists spread and bound, she struggled one last time to confirm her fears. She could not move. A small squeak of injustice and disgust escaped between her lips. It was over.
Feeling the jacket being pulled to make her marry the mattress, she saw it waltzing across the room towards the bar.
With a watery growl, she scanned the white ceiling and clenched her jaw until her teeth broke.
"He... he'll kill you. I... if you do, you're a dead man."
Under her last, desperate attempt, she didn't dare to look at him. If she ever did, she was sure she wouldn't be able to hold back her tears.
She had to at least not give him that satisfaction.
"Your imagination is really running wild. After all this time, you still haven't figured out that he doesn't care about you. Why would he care about a bastard like you? How long has it been since you've seen him? Four years? Five years?"
His words hurt her more than the last time, because in a way they reflected the sad reality for which she had found an infinite number of excuses over the years.
She closed her wet eyes and let herself go on the bed with only one desire.
Get it over with, quickly.
"If you want to blame someone for what's happening to you, blame your whore of a mother."
Her arms and legs pulled brutally on her bindings, which cracked but did not give way. In her hateful movements, she raised her face, causing her tears to inevitably fall.
"I forbid you to talk about her, you dirty opportunistic shit!"
Standing in front of the bed, he gestured to the men scattered around the room who, without a word, made their way to the exit.
"Do you really think you are in a position to forbid me anything?"
For what seemed like an eternity of apprehension, he slowly loosened his pants and looked at her in all her forms. "Like mother, like daughter."
"Fuck you, you pig."
He only smiled wider.
"I advise you to keep your strength up, it's going to be a long night."
Pulling on his belt as the last of his guards was about to leave, he did not take his eyes off her, as if to make her understand that, tonight, she belonged to him.
"No one enters, is that clear?"
Standing back from her, motionless in front of the entrance so as not to meet her frightened expression, the man at the head of the unit did not turn in her direction.
"I beg you..."
She was sure he had heard her pleading whisper, yet the door closed loosely.
"I hope, for your sake, you have prepared yourself."
Resigned, she relaxed the muscles of her neck, which hit the mattress again. What had she done to deserve this?
"Not a sound will come out of my mouth. You can hurt me as much as you want, you'll have to fuck yourself to get that pleasure from me."
She could no longer see his disgusted face. Still, she could easily guess the impatient smile he had to put on, and she could hear it in his voice.
"Oh, believe me, you're going to scream."
His prediction could have frightened her more than it already did, but she couldn't focus on it enough to make it work. The silent flash that briefly illuminated the white ceiling took much of her concentration.
She might not have noticed it, she might have thought it was a fireworks display celebrating the beginning of a new year, but the exact color of the burst of light made her heartbeat faster. Then, hesitantly, she glanced at the bar and blinked several times to wipe away her tears.
Hope didn't just revive in her, she drowned in it, and this time she didn't come to the surface.
Sakura
January 2 1021, 7 :15am
Land of Fire, Konoha
"You have to see how much he has grown. A real chubby one. I'll ask Hana if I can bring him next time, I have to make it up to him, I promised to take him for a walk, but as usual I couldn't keep my word."
She gently wiped the warm pebble between her clammy fingers one last time and placed it next to the ones on the gravestone and the bouquet.
Crouching, her emerald irises lost themselves in the thousands of graves that surrounded the paved path where, beyond the sidewalk that separated the march of the living from the resting place of the damned, the faded petals glistened in the sun and the dew.
"I forgot to bring you flowers today, I hope you don't mind. You don't like them anyway, it's a girl thing, right?"
She returned her sullen look to the name she had come to discuss, and a sad yet playful chuckle distorted her features.
"I'm sorry I don't come around more often. I'll explain when it's all over."
She stood up under the continuity of her smile.
"You must be tired of hearing me apologize, so I'll leave you alone. I'll see you soon, I'm sure. In the meantime, say hello to them for me."
The warm mist that rose from her half-open lips obscured her view of the gravestone and gave her the opportunity to look away. With her hands deep in the pockets of her black cloak, a chill wind forced her to tuck her chin into the white scarf she was wearing, as she slowly walked along the cobbled path.
Accompanied by her pink ears, which her equally colorful hair struggled to protect, she passed under one of the many bald trees before looking at the stelae, which all looked more or less the same and shared the same date, the same end. Her sad expression became even more affected when she realized the average age.
Whether it was the cemetery on the other side of town where her grandparents were buried, or this one, she rarely lingered when she entered. Although she knew that emotional endurance had its limits, hers seemed to be in no hurry to end. Every time she left this place, her thoughts were of a sadness and pessimism she had never experienced before. And obviously, over time, she had become a master of the latter.
About twenty meters from her position on the gravel path, her gaze fell on the second reason she had come out of her apartment on this day off: a huge dark green stele that bordered the Yasou Forest, the largest the Leaf had within its borders.
Crossing the distance that separated her from the imposing rectangular stone, one meter high, for about thirty lengths, she gently placed the tip of her fingers on the pores and other scars that covered the stone. The forgotten ones. Those whose bodies were never found. Those who had left only a name engraved on the stone, which their loved ones read to remember them.
Columned and alphabetized, the thousands of names scrolled beneath her emerald irises, reminding her that the one she sought was one of the last. Skirting the stele and dodging a green book ornament with silver reflections at the U, she stopped before the Y. Then she looked at the three letters that followed the name, representing a life, a friend, a family, and tucked her frozen left hand into her coat pocket.
Everything had happened so abruptly in the last two weeks that she was still unable to separate the truth from the lies, but Itachi was not the kind of person to lie. And there was one point that supported the Uchiha's claim.
Although the cataclysm that had struck Doroppu had made the task difficult and some of the bodies were buried more than ten meters deep, all the corpses, in one piece or several, of the medical unit to which she and Ino had belonged had been found. All except the body of the Yamanaka. She had foolishly believed that she had been buried deeper or simply crushed by a rock of several tons. But it seemed that once again, she was wrong. Ino was alive, somewhere. Deep down, she had always known it, hoped it, but never said it. Could she now?
She had not told the Nara about this story and had decided not to. It was certain that as soon as he would find out that she had hidden it from him, she would be able to put an end to the bond between them, but on the other hand, if everything was true, even hinting at it would put him and his loved ones in danger. And between not being able to talk to him and not being able to see him, her choice had been easy to predict.
"How are you?"
Motionless in front of the stele, she did not bother to turn around to face the man to her left. The one who, it seemed, had already heard the rumors about her: The Konoha police had visited Haruno Sakura. Why? The gossips did not know that.
"News travels fast."
At that moment, she doubted.
Was it two years earlier, during their last mission together in the Land of Frost? The one that completed her disgust with her work, with this system. Or was it during the last meeting of the Anbu Section the following week? The one where she had decided to end her career as a Kunoichi? She couldn't remember.
She couldn't remember the last time she had spoken to Kakashi Hatake.
"Shino came by yesterday morning."
She turned her attention to the copycat ninja who, far too busy with the book he held between his fingers, was not watching her at all.
She knew now how he had found out about her recent misadventures. Still, coming from the Aburame, it surprised her. He, who usually never spoke, had come to discuss her with the Hatake, the representative of the Jōnins Faction.
The place Shikamaru's father had occupied before he was declared dead had been empty for more than a decade... actually, if she remembered correctly, until the end of the war. Fourteen years. Then, at the end of the war, the Jōnins had voted without even asking for their Hokage's consent.
She had received ten percent of the votes, even though the whole village was talking about her exploits. And she knew that if she had been present in the village on the day of the vote instead of conducting research in the Shikkotsu Forest, and if she had not been seventeen at the time, she would have received many more. But no matter how much, it would have made no difference.
The man reading an erotic book to her left had scored over eighty percent and she had to admit, with what she had heard about what the unit under his command had done at the Battle of Yamakaji, the one that had pitted Konoha and Shimo against Kumo in the Land of Frost, she wondered how he had not won unanimously.
Her unit of eighteen ninjas, including three Uchiha she knew, had literally turned the tide of battle.
"He also came to read this name."
She couldn't help but smile at Kakashi's insight. It was true that she had told Shino everything. He must have come here to think as well.
Unlike the Nara, Shino was an inveterate loner and didn't share his life with anyone except his clan, which was far too independent and numerous to be threatened. As an only son, his father had died three years after the beginning of the war when he was only seven years old. And like Shikamaru's, Ino's and Choji's fathers, Shibi Aburame's body was never found.
"Sacred coincidence," she murmured against Hatake's insinuation, turning her attention back to the stele.
Shino's mother had died of an infectious disease when he was an infant. According to him, her immune system had rejected a new species of poisonous insects from the far reaches of Demon Land. He had never met her.
It had taken her more than ten years and thousands of conversations to learn this information. When she said that her former teammate was a reclusive and lonely person, it was an understatement. She was certain that she was his only friend. That's why she was surprised to find out that he was talking to Kakashi.
From the corner of her eye, she observed the black mask.
Thinking about it, these two were very similar, so it was not surprising after all.
"Yes, indeed."
It was clear that he suspected something. Shino rarely came here, and the last time she had been here was last month. The coincidence was not easy to digest.
A page of the book turned and she remained curled up in her silence and scarf, waiting for the Jōnin to speak.
"He told me he was going to Water, that the unit sent there needed a tracker."
While she was still watching him, her eyes widened.
Shino was one of the best trackers in the village, if not the best. His bugs could find tracks that were more than a month old, but he was not the only one. Although not as good, many Aburame were capable of such a feat as long as they had the right insects. So why? Why him? Was he a volunteer like Sasuke? What was going on in this country that made everyone decide to go there?
It was after all this inner questioning that she realized.
The journey to Mizu required two weeks, including three days by boat, and Sasuke had been gone for two weeks. Therefore, he had encountered a problem when he arrived there.
"He didn't tell y..."
"He asked me a rather strange favor just before he left." her masked interlocutor interrupted her before turning another page. "He wanted a certain Jōnin to accompany him. A certain Sadao Uchiha. You may know him, he is the head of a Konoha police unit."
She... couldn't think straight. What he had just told her replayed in her mind and even though the answer jumped out at her, she refused to believe it. This man, this Sadao Uchiha... was he the one who had been the leader of the men who had entered her apartment?
Unable to utter a single word, she turned her attention back to the thousands engraved on the stele. Could anything be more stupid than the state of mind she was in right now?
How... how had she not understood it before?
That explained how he knew that Itachi had come to see her and why she had finally told him what the Uchiha had said. Shino had tracked and found absolutely every scent in her apartment without asking her permission.
She returned her gaze to the representative of the Jōnin forces with at least one certainty: he was clearly aware of what the Aburame was about to do and had in no way been able to agree to his request: the repercussions would be far too great.
"By now, the two must have already reached the village of Geshasuru."
The hands in the pockets of her black cloak, her disbelief manifested itself in a breath and a scattered white mist. She wanted to shout her rage, but the respectful silence of the surroundings dissuaded her. Instead, she buried her nose in her scarf for a second time, bitterly.
Shino continued to overprotect her in a sick way, even if it meant putting his life in danger.
It had started with the death of Kiba six years ago. It was very strange to say, but she didn't know the circumstances of the Inuzuka's death. Shino, who had shared the same mission with him at that time, had refused to tell her and had even made her swear not to seek information. Not because he had done anything wrong or because he wanted her to respect their former teammate so that he could rest in peace. Down to earth, the Aburame did not believe in such things. If he did not want her to investigate, it was because he wanted to protect her, and she had understood that from the tone of his voice when he had asked her. He didn't want her to even imagine what he had seen.
Eight months and a week earlier, she had claimed loud and clear that as a war doctor she had seen it all and nothing could shock her anymore. But on the evening of the first of May last year, a simple thought with a morbid imagination had traumatized her, and since that day she had stopped drinking.
When Hana, between her twenty-third and twenty-fourth drink, had told her what the doctor who had examined her little brother's body, or what was left of it, had told her, she had first vomited the liter of alcohol she had ingested before crying.
She had forgotten until that day how much the Doton techniques of the Iwa ninjas could shred skin, flesh and crush bones.
Shino had seen the scene. Shino had carried his disarticulated body for three days. Shino had heard Akamaru's sobs until he returned.
Even today, although she had only heard them for ten minutes in the hospital before Hana retrieved him, she still remembered Akamaru's cries. They were embedded in her mind, indelible, and made her relive the heartbreak of a dog who had just lost his master, his reason to live, every time she thought about it. For the first and last time, she had wiped the tears of the Aburame on his hospital bed.
A whisper came from between her clenched teeth.
"How could you agree to help him?"
The Jōnin representative said nothing, which had no effect other than to raise her voice to a normal tone.
"I am not five years old. I don't need your help to solve my problems. I can handle the situation."
Another page was turned, and this time her tone reflected her slight loss of composure.
"Do you even realize that by accepting his request, you have condemned him to death? Do you really think that will go unnoticed? He was my teammate, even a child will make the connection."
Silence. That was all Hatake offered her.
"Answer me, you owe me at least that."
He owed her much more than that.
The book closed and the only visible eye of the enigmatic Copycat Ninja crossed hers. An inky-black pupil that spoke volumes about his thoughts: the conversation had gone exactly where he wanted it to.
"You ask questions that you know the answers to, Sakura. If I helped him, it was because it was the most effective solution. When the opportunity arises, you don't try to reason with these kinds of people, you don't try to negotiate with these kinds of people. You eliminate those people. That's the first thing you learned in Special Forces, have you forgotten that?"
Once again, she wanted to interrupt him with the sharp tone that had just emerged at the corner of her lips, but she held herself back.
"I don't doubt your ability to defend yourself. And that's why Shino acted before you did. He was afraid you would defend yourself. Don't you see the paradox? If you don't defend yourself, they will destroy you from within and turn you into a puppet, an empty shell. And we both know that you're not the kind of person who bows down. On the other hand, if you fight back, you will have your revenge for an hour, maybe two. Then you will bitterly regret your actions."
Although the Hatake only repeated what she already knew, hearing it orally was something else. It brought back the feeling of helplessness she had been trying to bury.
"You think you have a choice, but you don't. In either case, the result is the same: you cease to exist. The only difference is whether you want to take your loved ones with you. So in order to calm yourself down, you repeat the same lie over and over again. I don't need help. But deep down you know you need help more than ever."
So that's what he was getting at all along.
Unfortunately, her pride was far too great to accept such a lecture, and so was her ironic tone.
"Thanks for the moral lesson, Senpai, but tell me, what are you going to do once the news has reached Danzō's ears?"
The book opened again and she lost contact with the Hatake's gaze.
"Don't worry about it. He will soon have more important things to deal with than such trifles."
... Trifles? What could make betrayal and murder look like trifles?
"What are you talking a..."
In an instant, all questions vanished and her voice stopped. A shadow she had been waiting for landed on the branch about thirty meters into the forest.
The day after the Uchiha had visited her apartment, similar shadows had watched her every move, even worrying about her sleep. But for the past two days, the Anbu had disappeared, as if some external event had destabilized them. And now one of them had returned. Whether it belonged to her Hokage or the Hatake, she could not say, but one thing was certain.
"It was nice to see you again, Sakura."
The conversation had just come to an end.
She took one last look at the name engraved on the stele before turning back to the path and sighing.
"I wish I could say the same thing to you."
Leaving the Jōnin to return to his strange reading, she surveyed the reverse path that had brought her here, and to confirm to her whom it was obeying, the maskless shadow landed at the Hatake's side as she left the cemetery.
As she stepped out onto the crowded main street of the Leaf's eastern neighborhoods, a glance crossed her face, then a second. In a reflex, she swung her right hand to the back of her neck, but met no hood.
"Damn it."
Even though everyone knew her under normal circumstances, the rumors about her that the whole village was talking about had only increased the morbid curiosity about her pink hair. The rumors that made it clear that no one was safe from the Shimura, not even Haruno Sakura.
What could she have done to get the police to visit her? Surely they didn't dare touch her?
She hid half of her face behind her scarf to hide her hair and quickened her pace.
The sounds were getting louder and louder with each passing second. The last one she had heard today made her a spy for Tsuchi. That explained her absence for several months before and after the end of the war. She had been turned.
The influence of her Hokage was something that could not be duplicated. One visit and half the village would invent a life for her. With the extent of it, she wouldn't even be surprised if tomorrow the rumors were that she was a transdimensional traveler from the moon.
She couldn't hold back a mocking chuckle that got caught in the silk of the scarf. There she went again, laughing at her own jokes. She really was beyond redemption.
She left the dirt road and took the concrete one. As she passed under the numerous wrought-iron arches, what she had thought earlier came back to her.
Why had the shadows that had followed her so far had disappeared for the past two days?
Climbing the three steps that led to the lobby of the building that housed her apartment, she pushed open the door that closed behind her into the freezing cold.
What could have happened to make her behavior no longer a priority? Something must have happened in the country on New Year's Day, two days before. There was no other explanation.
She pushed the button for the elevator.
Was it related to what Kakashi had told her about the important thing that Danzō would have trouble handling?
The doors opened almost immediately and with a beep, she stepped into the cage.
What was Hatake up to? Was he the one who had asked Sasuke and then Shino to go to the Land of Water?
Carefully, she pulled at her scarf to reduce the heat on her neck.
No. Sasuke had gone there with the special forces. Even Kakashi had no influence on them. But why did Shino join him? It didn't make any sense.
The doors reopened and she quickly exited the elevator, following the filaments of light filtered by the stained glass windows at the end of the hallway. After about ten meters, she stopped in front of the door of her apartment and opened it. The freshness of the air made her regret the gesture she had made on her scarf a few moments before.
There was no point in locking her apartment anymore.
She closed the door and her emerald irises settled like a ritual on the broken glass on the floor and the two overturned chairs in the kitchen that she could distinguish.
What was the point? If someone came to steal from her, she would have less to clean.
Two weeks had passed, and she still hadn't cleaned up. It wasn't to leave evidence or anything, after all, who would care? The police?
If she had not touched anything, it was simply because she did not feel like it. It seemed that Shikamaru's visit the day after her meeting with the Uchiha had infected her with a certain laziness. Maybe she should have accepted his invitation to stay at his place. That way, she would have avoided the backache caused by the leaky mattress in her room.
A sneeze surprised her as she reached the kitchen, dimly lit by the half-open shutters. To her left, she observed her living room and the closed blind on a bay window, without glass, which served as the only protection against the winter outside.
And to have to sleep in two degrees all night.
She walked mechanically over the drawer of rags on the floor to reach the counter, or more precisely, to reach the coffee pot. But the overturned coffee pot and the cut wire reminded her that she had no right to be happy.
With a sigh, she took off her coat and placed it on the marble. She then straightened her light green wool sweater and her black jeans, took the rubber band from her right wrist and tied her hair.
Not that she felt like it, but she literally had nothing else to do for the next hour.
In no time, every light in the apartment was on.
For the first ten minutes, she lifted the only piece of furniture in her room, which had miraculously been one of the few pieces of equipment to come out of the encounter unscathed, and rearranged her clothes inside it. She then retrieved the broom from the room's inlaid cabinet and began sweeping the debris of wood, glass, and plastic.
After half an hour, she was done with her bedroom and living room, or at least she had saved what she could, which was absolutely nothing. Even the flat-screen TV, which was usually fixed to the wall, was hanging from it, held in place only by its power cord.
Once in the kitchen, motionless and with both hands resting on the top of the broom, she sighed as she observed the table broken in half and the shattered glass in front of the bathroom entrance.
She could still eat outside and bathe in the hospital, right? She'd clean up the rest next year. A second sigh came from her lazy self. She really had to stop being around the Nara, he influenced her too much.
Something she had been looking for this morning without finding caught her eye. Dropping the broom against the couch, she turned and walked into the kitchen to grab the beige jacket hidden under the counter.
"How did you get here?"
With a sharp movement, she shook the cloth to make the shards of glass that covered it fall, but strangely, a sound other than broken glass was heard. Curious, she watched the strange object that finished its last bounce on the tiled floor at her feet.
A plastic shuriken. The same one the child had given her in the elevator and she had put in her jacket pocket two weeks ago. She had literally forgotten it existed.
Crouching down, she picked it up and without really knowing why, Koharu Utatane's last tirade in her office came back to her. That famous sentence, the meaning of which she still did not understand.
Sometimes the answer can be found inside something you didn't expect.
A shiver ran through her, and it had nothing to do with the cold coming through the closed blinds.
Was it possible that...?
Gently, she shook the toy and instantly the emerald of her eyes widened.
It couldn't be.
Placing the shuriken between her ten fingers, she broke it in two with ease. The rolled paper inside slipped over her hand and she unrolled it without hesitation. Her eyebrows furrowed and her previously exhausted expression closed to reveal nothing but deep dismay.
The message was simple and perfectly understandable. Yet she froze in place with bated breath, as if she could not decipher it.
Beware of red eyes.
That message... had been in his pocket hours before she met the two brothers. Were they the ones intended? How had the Utatane known she would meet them, and why such a warning?
Two taps on the blind in her living room made her instinctively close her fist on the piece of paper. An orange glow illuminated the darkness of the kitchen and living room as short flames escaped between her fingers. Reopening her fingers, she let the ash fall to the floor and watched the shadow at the bottom of the metal curtain, stoic as she was.
She focused on the presence standing on her balcony and the heartbeat that came from it surprised her a little, it had been a long time since she had heard it. What was he doing here? He wasn't the type to care about her.
"I know you're in there, Sakura."
The tone of voice that echoed through her living room inevitably started her progress towards the curtain switch. Of course, he knew. He must have seen her before he even entered the building. Before he even entered the neighborhood.
She flipped the switch and the curtain rose slowly. Under the slight hum of the electric motor, she watched the pair of black shoes, then the pants of the same color, before the white tunic appeared. Back in the middle of her living room, she crossed her forearms under her chest and studied the man with long black hair and opaline gaze that, in turn, examined her from foot to head as if to assure her good health.
"May I come in?"
Pursing her lips with her teeth to prevent herself from saying he was already inside, she simply invited his incongruous visitor with a simple horizontal sweep of her hand. Unlike some people, he at least had the decency to ask. On the other hand, she really wondered how he knew she lived here. Although they had seen each other many times eight months before, and not often sober, she had never invited him into her apartment... if she remembered correctly.
She continued to stare at him while he, as if to put the rumors he had heard into perspective, began to observe the kitchen behind her as well as the pile of debris she had just gathered in the corner of the living room.
"Do you need help?"
A smile grew under her pink hair. She would never get used to the Hyūga's politeness.
"Why don't you tell me what you're doing here, Neji?"
As soon as his question was asked, blue veins appeared around the young man's opaline eyes, and despite the danger that look could represent, she remained calm.
She still remembered the fear she had felt the first time she had seen that look that seemed to read the soul. But now, after seeing it in action more than a hundred times, the Byakugan no longer frightened her.
Several seconds passed without her interlocutor making the slightest movement, muscular or ocular. But she knew exactly what he was doing.
"Do you know that there are three inactive seals in your apartment?
Yes, she knew, they were the seals Itachi had put on to silence the place."
"Yes, I know that."
Her answer was short and made it clear to the Hyūga that he could now answer her question. Which he did after a short pause.
"I came to warn you that we are leaving on a mission tomorrow morning."
She stared at him. He watched her without blinking. She wrinkled her eyelids. He remained impassive. She smiled a little. He made her silence last.
"Is this a joke?"
Without understanding why, instead of repeating what he had just told her so she could laugh openly, he walked over to her stale couch and grabbed the remote. Her pink eyebrows furrowed relentlessly as she turned her attention to the flat screen TV as it turned on.
Hanging at an angle that forced her to crane her neck to read what was written on it, the television gradually increased in volume until it flooded the room. The tension on her face eased as the images on the news channel made her instantly understand why she was no longer under close surveillance.
On the screen, a reporter, microphone in hand, was facing the camera. Behind her, a pile of rubble rose more than forty meters high.
"Two days later, we still do not know how this tragedy could have happened. The pride of the Fire Nation, the Buranketto Tower in Natoma, collapsed on itself during the night of December 31st to January 1st. Hundreds of explosions were heard in the building before a fire ravaged the sixtieth floor and precipitated its collapse. According to the information we gathered, twelve hundred people were in the iron tower when the fire broke out. Fortunately, half an hour passed between the first detonation and the catastrophe, which allowed a large part of the people inside to evacuate the building in the grip of the flames. But, unfortunately and for the time being, one hundred and eighty deaths have been reported and more than two hundred are still missing".
The TV went silent again, and it resumed its program as the Hyūga resumed his original position in front of her. She turned her wide-eyed gaze to him as a shiver ran down her spine.
How could she not know? How could she have missed that information?
She now understood what had caused many of the Special Forces to leave the village and stop following her wherever she went. But what she understood most of all was that such an event was more than an excuse to take up arms. It was a trigger for war.
That thought alone frightened her more than the sword of Damocles hanging over her head. She hoped in her heart of hearts that it was not the Earth or the Lightning. She hoped it was an isolated incident, because she did not want to see a fifth war.
"In less than two hours, at the next council meeting, you will volunteer for the fourth proposal that will be presented, which is to send medical assistance to the site. Tomorrow morning we will leave for Natoma."
Her blurred vision came into clarity and she replayed what she had just heard in her mind.
The Council. She had forgotten. Since she hadn't shown up for the last two, today's had completely slipped her mind. Still, she wasn't upset enough not to realize that what Neji had just told her made absolutely no sense.
"It's already been two days, and by the time we get there, it will be three. For the seriously injured, it will be too late. For the others, I don't see how I can be anymore useful than an ordinary doctor. If not for that, why exactly would they need my help there?"
Again, he showed nothing but calm, letting her know that she was right, but he did not answer.
"Who gave you the mission?"
She suspected who it might be, but preferred to wait for confirmation before stepping forward.
Motionless in the middle of her living room, the Hyūga remained silent, and she understood that the answer would never come. Her annoyed tone echoed again throughout the living room.
"All right, then. You will tell this person that I refuse. I don't do missions for this village anymore and I have responsibilities at the hospital. I can't leave as I please."
"This is not an official mission and there will be several doctors at the hospital to replace you."
Neji's immediate response, which seemed to only answer when it suited him, only confirmed her thoughts. She didn't know many people who could organize an unofficial mission and change the hospital's schedule to make up for her absence. In fact, she knew of only six. And one of them had shown some interest in the last two weeks.
"Then tell Koharu Utatane that I refuse and want nothing to do with her."
Her emerald irises settled on Neji's hand as he slipped it into his tunic. The next second, he took out a white paper and handed it to her.
She did not move an inch, just staring at her guest. What was the Utatane up to? And how did she get the Hyūga to side with her?
She had only met Neji when she was fifteen, on a routine scouting mission in the Swamps, a few months before she was promoted Jōnin. And, to put it mildly, she would know absolutely nothing about his life if her teammate, with whom she had sympathized since that day, had not been there to tell her stories about the Hyūga. Even drunk and with his seductive behavior, he would not reveal anything.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, she wasn't sure, every time she talked to Tenten, the subject of Neji came up. The young woman was very interested in her friend's mental health, and knowing that she was a doctor, she didn't hesitate to ask for her advice.
She had not yet told her that she was not very good at social behavior. Not at all.
The reason Neji was so cold, so distant with people, was because of what he had experienced during his childhood, one event in particular: the kidnapping of the Hyūga heiress.
Although he was only five years old at the time of the tragedy, he deeply resented it. Since he was supposed to protect her, as his clan's morality had taught him, he had felt that it was his own fault and blamed himself ever since.
Even after everyone had given up hope, he had continued to search for her in the territory of the Lightning during the Great War. He had taken every opportunity to question the prisoners, to search the entire prison complex in the south that the Leaf had annexed. But even though he had trained his Byakugan to see farther than any member of his clan, he had not found her. And when Konoha asked for the body of the heiress at the end of the war, Kumo confirmed that she had indeed died in captivity and that the body had been burned. Of course, no one believed it. But after fourteen years of war, the disaster of Doroppu and the threat of an agreement between the Lightning and the Earth, the Land of Fire had agreed to sign the peace treaty.
"I had to give you this paper after you refused."
A look of surprise spread across her pink hair. So, her reaction had been predictable. What could this message be that would make her change her mind?
Curious, she uncrossed her arms to catch the folded paper and opened it without stopping to stare at the opal pupils. The smooth and inner texture made her understand immediately that it was a picture.
What did Koharu think she could do with a photo? Nothing would make her change her mi...
As she focused on the paper, she gradually lost control of her breathing, her heart, her thoughts, and most of all, her certainty.
"This photo has been taken on the hundredth floor of the Buranketto, an hour and a half before the tower collapsed".
Mechanically and despite the cold, she passed the Hyūga and, without listening to him, ventured out onto her balcony. The light of the sun allowed her to see more clearly. Or rather, to be even more shocked. The heat that took possession of her body simply prevented her from feeling the cold outside.
At first she thought she saw her own reflection, but when she looked closer at the young woman's pink hair, silver eyes, and outstretched arm holding a glass of champagne towards the photographer, she understood that it was nothing of the sort. Just a look-alike who bore a strong resemblance to her.
Then... then... she...
Ten more seconds.
She turned her attention back to the Hyūga, still standing in the middle of her living room, waiting for her reaction. And it didn't take long.
Seven seconds.
"We're not leaving tomorrow morning. We're leaving in two hours, the minute after the council."
Six.
- All right. I'll meet you at the northern exit.
Without waiting, he joined her on the balcony and climbed over the edge, grazing her back.
Three.
Crouching, he wanted to turn around to ask her a question. But he resigned himself to the idea. He was not fooled, he had seen the back of her impassive face. Leaving as soon as possible was the best solution.
Two.
He leaped into the void, leaving her alone with only the photograph on her stiff fingers.
One.
The friction of the air from the Hyūga's free fall reached her sensitive hearing as she pressed her only free hand to her mouth.
Still too close.
Her emerald irises moistened, and she blinked to keep a tear from escaping.
Zero.
In the silence of her apartment and balcony, a sob escaped her mouth, along with a deep, jerky breath. Unable to stand on her own two feet, she put her knees on the icy floor and brought the photo back into her field of vision. The heat reached her face and she thought she was burning from the inside out.
It was him. He didn't have the same hair color, which made her think it was the fourth face carved into the rock above her, but she was sure. It was him. His face, his gaze, his three characteristic whiskers on his cheeks. It was him. He was alive. After all this time, the most existential question of her life had been answered. The one that had made her wait in the forest for more than three months. The one that had been on her mind every day for the last three years. The one that ruined her mood every time she ate, thought, or slept.
Gently and with her index finger, she brushed the golden hair on the paper.
"Naruto...?"
Naruto
July 27 1013, 3 :52pm
Land of Lightning, Rumata
Noisy.
That was what characterized humans the most. He was beginning to miss the silence of the Mt. Myōboku.
"Naruto, right? How old are you? Thirteen years old?"
His young eyes wandered over the multitude of faces in the tavern, each one as surprising as the next, before settling on the face of the man sitting on the other side of the wooden table.
"How are things going with girls? I remember when I was your age, I had quite a few."
How did Jiraiya call the important informant I urgently need to see again? Oh, yes. Sakutoru. No, Sakutata... Sakutipo?
"Look, Sakusomething, we don't know each other, and you seem to be as perverted as my master, so just keep these kinds of questions for him."
With a bored look, he glanced at the tavern's bathroom on the other side of the room.
Urgent, huh.
It had been five minutes since the former Sannin had entered with the girl and his money. And it was becoming quite a long time, especially for him. A laugh from the other side of the table shook the shoulders of the one called Saku... something.
"Hahaha, I love you already, kid. We're going to be great friends, you and I, I'm sure."
After a disapproving murmur, he sighed heavily before getting up.
"Tell him I went for a walk."
He didn't have time to move towards the doors of the establishment when Sakutarō's voice called out to him from behind.
Ah yes, that was it, Sakutarō.
"Do you need money? If it's your first time, I'm ready to give you everything I have. It's the foundation that will make it impossible for you to live without it."
With a desperate gesture, he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyelids on his azure irises for a moment.
He did not really know the look he gave the informant when he turned around, but the swallowing of this one made him understand that he had to be anything but friendly. From the top of his meter fifty-five, he then made a hand sign to the waitress of the same size, who came back from the kitchens and immediately went to meet him.
"What can I do for you, young man?"
He didn't like to point, but this time he took great pleasure in pointing at the table he had just left, where a man, probably twenty-three or twenty-four years old, was looking at him, smiling. But that same smile faded as soon as he understood what he was about to do.
"It's been fifteen times that this pervert looks at your ass every time you pass his table."
Looking surprised, wide-eyed, the tavern-keeper, who must have been in her forties, turned abruptly towards Sakutarō, livid. Both hands raised, the latter sank into the hard, intangible back of his chair as he met the woman's gaze.
"C-Come on, you're not going to believe this kid, are you? I didn't even know him, he invited himself to my table."
Behind the tavern keeper's back, he met Sakutarō's gaze one last time and after a wink and a smile, he turned to leave. Halfway there, he glanced at the door to the bathroom and reflexively wanted to listen to the sounds coming from there, but at the last moment, he recoiled from the idea.
There was no one to catch up with.
The summer heat and scorching sun hit him as soon as he stepped onto the dry, packed dirt of the road.
According to the residents of the village he was in, whose name he did not know, it had been a long time since the Land of Lightning had experienced such a heat wave. And this was a bad omen for the lull of two months that the Great War was experiencing. An attack on Konoha could be expected in the coming days, that was for sure. The melting of the ice in Shimo, the land bordering Kumo, would allow the Leaf Ninjas to advance more quickly.
What amazed him even more than the fact that many ordinary villagers knew about military strategy was the blind faith they had in their country. Even though an attack was imminent, no one seemed to be afraid, or at least no one showed it. He now understood why Kumo was considered the greatest military power on the peninsula. If the ninjas there were just as determined, it went without saying that the Leaf would have had a hard time fighting without the Frost Nation as an ally.
It had been three weeks since they had entered the borders of the Lightning Province. And it had been three weeks since Jiraiya had visited all the brothels in the south. Fortunately, not everyone was like him.
With a hint of annoyance on his face, and accompanied by a puff of smoke that materialized as soon as he touched his wrist, he reached for his frog purse. Empty, like his hopes for his master, it had experienced the recent passage of the Sannin not having enough money to pay for his playfulness.
If Shima found out how the money she sent him through Gamasashi, Jiraiya's personal messenger toad, was being spent, it was clear that both of them would have a hard time and he could say goodbye to his weekly income.
How was he supposed to live without ramen? All because of that pervert.
After leaving the small village, he walked along the dirt road until he arrived at a river of pebbles and rocks.
In the twenty meters of width, it went down to more than four meters of depth in places, and the current that animated it reminded him that it came directly from Akaishi, the largest mountain of the Lightning in its south, rising up to three thousand meters of height.
He stepped out onto the pebbles and, when he was less than a meter from the water, took off his open-toed shoes and white t-shirt. Wearing only a pair of red shorts, he stepped into the cold water, which seemed to be frozen due to the incredible heat. Crouching in the water, which made him shiver, he submerged himself completely before standing up.
Every winter was colder, every summer hotter. And even after eight years of trying to get used to it, he still couldn't. He missed the calm, temperate weather of the Mount a little more with each passing day.
With one foot clinging to a hundred-pound rock with his chakra, he let himself float to the surface of the water as it tried to pull him into its current.
It had already been a year since he hadn't been back there and he had to admit that he was looking forward to seeing Shima and Fuka again in order to tell them about his last peripheries, as he did every time they visited them.
With his arms outstretched like a starfish, he smiled.
This time he would tell them about the vast wild plains of the Land of Earth and the cultivated fields of the Land of Rice. Or rather, the Sound. He often forgot that it had changed its name almost nine months ago. He had never been there since, which was strange. He missed the villagers of Tsumago and their kindness. He also missed the family of the neighboring village, the Taketomi, as they liked to be called. And he had no doubt that the feeling was mutual. After all, the hundred or so clones he had materialized to help them with their harvest had been a great success.
Perhaps it was because he had been confined to a small space at a young age that he believed this, but life on the road was truly amazing. Yes, it was. If he had to put one word to describe this way of life, it would be this.
An incredible world. Incredible landscapes. Incredible people.
Now that he had tasted it, he was sure he would never give it up. The feeling of not knowing who he was going to be friends with tomorrow or next month was really what made him want to wake up in the morning. Although learning new skills was just as satisfying. The freedom to do what he wanted, when he wanted.
Moreover, this way of life offered him a priceless gift: he could taste all the ramen recipes of this peninsula. And only Kami knew how many there were. But the one from the Yoshinocho shop that Chef Takenaka had served him in the Land of Waterfalls was the best he had ever tasted. Whether Jiraiya liked it or not, he would return within a year, that was for sure. After all, not a month went by that they didn't move to another village or town and three months to another country. So, if he could suggest it, the Waterfalls would hopefully be the destination after they visited the Iron.
Yes, the Iron Nation was the next place they would go. He had managed to give the information to the Sannin while drunk, which happened about once a week.
In eight years, they had been to all but one of the northern nations, Iron. He couldn't wait to get there. He had read many books dealing with the customs of that land, and from what he understood, he was sure he would like it.
What he saw of his future could be summed up as a long journey of learning and meeting people, interspersed with ramen tasting and unruly training, which he hoped would never end. The exact opposite of the frazzled gait of the figure crossing the bridge a hundred meters away, whose journey seemed to have come to an end.
With his field of vision turned upside down, he stopped ejecting his chakra onto the sole of his right foot, and the current immediately swept him away. Concentrating his chakra, but this time in his hands, he grabbed the surface with his fingers and pulled himself up.
The figure continued to stagger.
"Oi."
With one hand pointing towards the burning star in the cloudless sky, the figure continued its suffocating journey. With each new step that brought it closer to the forest on the other side of the stone structure, a clumsy and unintentional step brought it just as close to the edge of the bridge.
"Oi!"
He took a step on the water, unsure of what he saw, what he felt. The figure took another step on the stone, and the inevitable happened just as he began a frantic race across the surface of the river.
"Damn it."
At eighty meters from the bridge, the figure passed over the ledge. At forty, the woman began her wobbly descent. At twenty, the young woman reached the halfway point of her fall. And at ten, the teenager reached the water's surface.
A grimace of concern creased his face at the sound of the collision, he didn't think for a second and plunged headlong into the river. A watery impulse torpedoed him in the direction of the lifeless body sinking slowly into the muddy depths. He grabbed the gray hoodie, pulled it towards him and immediately placed his forearms under the girl's armpits. In three movements of his legs, he was back on the surface in a puff of air.
Only his own.
Despite the turbulent current, he managed to keep her unconscious face out of the water, unlike his, which remained submerged, and almost drank the cup several times before finally regaining his footing. Only then did he infuse his chakra into his elbow joints and lift his legs out of the water. With a backward jump, he landed on the shore and immediately set her down on the soaked pebbles.
Crouching in front of the girl, he opened her mouth and moved his ear directly in front of it.
"Damn it."
Realizing that time was running out, he grabbed the gray sweater around the chest and ripped it off without warning. He then joined his two hands and placed them in the center of the abnormally still chest. With his arms outstretched, he began the first compression of the heart massage, then the second. Arriving at the thirtieth, he withdrew his hands and rushed to the obsidian-haired face. Pinching her nose and lifting her chin, he placed his mouth against hers and exhaled with force.
The chest he was trying to get going rose again, before settling down. He took a breath and repeated his gesture. The chest did the same.
On his third attempt, a flail and a rush of warm water against his lips made him recoil immediately as he fell backwards. He listened, both pleased and satisfied, as the girl choked and suddenly turned to spit out the water that was constricting her lungs. She crawled a few centimeters with the help of her forearms before he listened with relief to her deep inspiration. At the end of her strength, she let herself fall back onto her back and looked at him, frightened and lost at the same time.
As he sat, his elbows curled up on his knees, he smiled broadly at the opaline gaze.