"Glassy sky above,
As long as I'm alive, you will be part of me,
Glassy sky
The cold, broken pieces of me."
-Glassy Sky, AmaLee
Everything Nagato ever did was to keep his sister safe.
It was his only thought when that stray paper bomb landed in front of her.
He'd thrown himself on top of her with only the thought of, I promised to protect her.
It was why, when Chibi took the handle in his mouth (sensing the danger, sensing Oka was too hurt to protect herself, or both) and ran, he only ducked his head and held on tight to Oka, grief in his heart.
It was what he thought when he saw his bloodied, beaten little sister dangling from Usagi's grip.
You promised.
It was what he thought when he made the decision to leave her behind.
溺れる
(Before)
Konan knelt and opened a storage scroll, spreading it flat on the ground. It didn't smear in the rain, nor did the paper dampen. She traced a finger over the seal in the middle, the word for 'store' on the left, 'release' on the right.
She'd never thought of it as fuinjutsu before, at least not before Minato.
An elderly civilian dragged himself up, venturing out from under a ripped tarp to come closer. He was panting after a few steps.
She made herself smile, pretending not to see the blue tint to his skin, the four fingers missing on his right hand. They would fix this.
They would make Hanzo see the value in the people here.
Kota stood beside her, eyeing a sister-brother pair as they held hands, the older sister pushing her brother behind her as she approached.
She looped a finger around her twine necklace.
"Looking for your secret admirer?" Konan teased.
Kota shook her head furiously. "I just haven't seen him or his brother in a while, is all," she said.
Konan sat back on her heels. "I think my crush on Yahiko started when I was around your age—"
Kota took a step away from her, lip curling in disgust. "I don't have a crush on him. He's younger than me."
Konan considered telling her that crushes were uncontrollable and sometimes mortifying, especially when you were attracted to someone you didn't want to be, but Kota was red enough already.
She decided to be the adult and let it go. She mentally patted herself on the back.
"Lady Konan," the elderly man greeted, trembling, licking his chapped lips.
Konan didn't know his name, but she didn't need to. He was a civilian and he was starving. That was all she needed.
She pressed her thumb to the middle of the seal, using enough to chakra to trigger the 'release', but not too much to release everything store inside.
A fish the size and width of her hand appeared in the center when she pulled her hand back, boiled the night before (because Nagato and his weird preferences), and somehow, still warm.
She really needed to learn to do that.
Well, not the making things appear out of the void part, but maybe she could insulate her paper to keep things warm. Maybe.
She pressed it into his cupped, waiting hands, and her heart broke a little when he stared at it like it was made of gold.
"Thank you," he murmured, inclining his head as he turned away.
She wished she could've given him a bigger one.
Unfortunately, the fish in the lake still hadn't completely repopulated after Yahiko drove them to near extinction to trade for their cloaks, so they could only catch small ones.
Konan handed a fish to anyone who approached her, and even sent a paper clone to those too shy or distrustful of her.
By the time the crowd dispersed, the storage seal was empty.
"Lady Konan, Lady Kota," a woman said, bowing, clutching the meager fish to her chest. "Without you I don't know what would've happened to me. T-Thank you."
"Why won't they just call me by my name?" Kota grumbled after the woman left, kicking mud. "'Lady' is so awkward."
"It's because they respect you. Calling you by your name would be rude, especially when they see you as someone of higher standing than them," Konan explained patiently. She shot Kota a teasing smile. "When we're helping to make decisions around the village, they might even call you princess."
Kota rubbed her arms like the thought was physically revolting and muttered under her breath.
Konan stifled a laugh and summoned another fish. "Here, take this over to—"
She sensed four chakra signatures, a second before they landed around them. Three mid-level (chunin, she heard Mamoru-sensei's exasperated voice remind her) and one jonin. Two with water natured chakra, two with wind.
They formed a square around her and Kota.
Civilians yelled, screamed, and fled.
Shinobi vests, not the black cloaks of Root.
Kota tensed and Konan made the rat seal within the folds of her sleeve.
"Come quietly and don't resist. Both of you," the jonin ordered.
The jonin might've posed a threat had he attacked her first.
"Go," Konan told Kota, and they locked eyes.
Alert everyone else.
Kota's eyes narrowed. Konan smiled, telling her it was okay, and though Kota didn't look happy, she darted for the empty space between them.
"Capture her!" the jonin barked.
A chunin grabbed at the back of Kota's cloak and she erupted into paper butterflies. He jerked back with a startled shout, and Kota escaped the opposite way.
Konan kept her smile, hiding her frustration.
This wasn't a random attack. It wasn't coincidence. It was Hanzo, proving Yahiko wrong.
We want the same thing you stubborn old man.
The jonin made the hare sign. Rain pooled in front of him, formless at first, then twisted into the head of a dragon. It lunged at her, but 'Konan' didn't move.
If she was being attacked here, what was happening to Nagato and Yahiko?
The jaws of the dragon clamped down around her middle and threw her down, pinning her in place.
Konan watched her paper clone wilt and fall apart, sitting on the old man's tarp, legs crossed. The dragon hit the ground beneath the clone and splashed back into water. The jonin's chakra spiked in agitation, the others confused as her clone reformed and calmly brushed itself off.
Was it even possible to reason with Hanzo now?
Even now, even knowing that the meeting was a trap from the start, could they afford not to try?
Konan's smile faded.
How many people would get caught in the middle if they went to war with Hanzo? How many innocent people would he use as hostages until they gave up?
The jonin noticed something was off first. He pulsed his chakra, breaking the first layer of her genjutsu.
It was called Double False Surroundings jutsu for a reason.
He didn't think to break the second layer, unaware there was one, and went to help his squad.
What if Nagato and Yahiko were in trouble?
Konan bit her lip. She created a second paper clone, left it in her place, and cloaked herself in a concealment jutsu. If anyone looked, their eyes would slide right off her.
She had maybe half her chakra left.
She let the genjutsu break, watched them split up, the jonin taking on what he thought was the real her, while one chunin battered her clone with water and two others ripped up the paper remains with wind.
With any luck, they'd take her straight to Yahiko and Nagato.
.
.
.
Amegakure would never know peace under Hanzo the Salamnder.
Konan forced herself to stay calm as the kunai landed at Nagato's feet, tightly holding the genjutsu around herself. Hanzo had his back to her. No one in his army looked her way.
He only sent shinobi after her because—
Because he wanted a hostage.
She'd made excuses as she trailed her captors about information gathering and infiltration, but the simple truth was that she still thought, after everything, that Yahiko would do the impossible like he always did.
She thought that when she came, she'd find that Yahiko had already made an ally out of Hanzo and he'd grin and wave at her like her kidnapping was all part of his plan.
Her stupid heart still held out hope that it would work out because it was Yahiko.
Nagato picked up the kunai.
Yahiko, you know that isn't really me, right?
Konan glanced at Hanzo. His attention was on Nagato and Yahiko. His back was open.
Hanzo will never let go of Amegakure until he chokes the life out of it.
She had no doubt Hanzo was stronger than her. His chakra was tightly controlled, but he felt like the ocean, and she was only a fish in it.
All she needed to do was take him by surprise, hit him somewhere that would weaken him enough to make an opening, and turn into paper.
She had to try, at least. She couldn't stand back and watch as he tried to kill her friends.
A paper spear formed under her sleeve, the length of her arm. She approached him slowly, quietly, burning chakra to make the concealment as strong as she could.
Nagato wouldn't be able to tell the difference between her and her clone because every slip of paper had her chakra in it. It was her. But Yahiko knew her better than anyone else. He already had a counter plan. She was sure of it.
She focused on Hanzo.
You're in the way of our dream.
Her hand shook. Konan inched behind him, as close as she dared and thrust the spear forward at his back. Hanzo caught it around the shaft.
Konan's eyes widened in alarm. How long had he known? When did he—
A panicked burst of chakra made the left side of her body peel apart, the feeling rippling across her body—
Hanzo's fingers closed around her right arm, faster than she could finish turning herself into paper. He savagely twisted it and she gasped as her shoulder popped out of place, the sudden pain making her lose focus.
"Genjutsu," Hanzo noted as her concealment fizzled. The shinobi closest to him stepped back in surprise, staring at her. His other hand found her throat. "You're his student, aren't you?"
There was a deafening boom beneath her, rocks and chunks of earth flying into the air. Out of the corner of Konan's eye she saw Oka standing on the other side of the valley, hand raised, and her eyes—
Hanzo's chakra distracted her, a sudden storm of betrayal, awful, blinding rage, and blame. He didn't look behind him. Konan twisted as she choked, trying desperately to free herself from his iron grip, suffocated both by the lack of air and the malevolence he felt for Mamoru-sensei.
Her right arm was useless. She made the rat seal with her left, wildly attacking his mind, shoving his own fears at him, visions of Yahiko stabbing him, Mamoru-sensei cutting off his arm, but nothing worked. Hanzo stared at her coldly. His fingers only tightened.
Konan kicked at him, clawing at his hand, but Hanzo had stopped seeing her as herself. She was a student of an enemy he hated. Rain dripped in her eyes.
Yahiko... don't be too upset with me—
燃焼
Obito sat on top of a crumbling wall.
It was covered in thick, leafy vines, a casualty of an old war. Pink flowers bloomed from the cracks.
Four stories below him, Oka crouched in the marsh.
It had been seven months since Lord Madara died and he took on his name, his reputation, his voice. Six months since he came to look for the rinnegan, to encourage its wielder onto a path that would help bring the Eye of the Moon plan to fruition.
He'd been surprised to find it still dormant. Lord Madara had been sure this war-torn village would have pushed it to activate, for her to draw on its power to survive.
She hadn't. It meant either she hadn't been pushed enough or she didn't need it.
And with the company she kept, well.
He kept his distance not by choice, but because she had not one, but two adept sensors in that group of hers.
It was impressive, really.
Lucky for him, Hanzo the Salamander turned out to be all too happy to do the heavy lifting for him on that front. While the Akatsuki paraded for peace, Hanzo pulled those he still trusted closer, shut everyone else out, and readied himself for war.
Obito only had to sit back and watch.
Oka didn't get up and he thought he'd finally lend her a hand.
"Zetsu," he called, and his plant-like companion's head poked out of the floor. "Our little friend is lost. Show her to the Valley and do it quickly."
"Ooh. That might be fun—"
"I'll go," the black half interrupted. "You stay and tell him what we found."
"You were there too. Why can't you stay?" his white half protested.
They separated with a wet, squelching noise, droopy white strands connecting them in the middle for a moment before they broke into deformed halves.
"I'll get her there," Black Zetsu promised and sank into the floor.
"I wonder if being serious all the time gets boring," White Zetsu mused.
Obtio turned fully to face him, silent, waiting.
"It's the blue-haired girl. She tricked the shinobi that were supposed to capture her and is now following them to the valley," he explained. "She might be able to help them escape, and then what'll you do about the rinnegan?"
What would he do, indeed?
"We'll intercept her," Obito decided. His mangekyou spun in his lone eye and he pulled on the doorway to the dimension locked behind his eyes. His body was pulled in and he disappeared.
.
.
.
She was good, he'd admit.
The blue-haired girl was an invisible guest behind the shinobi carrying her replica. She left no tracks, moved without sound, and left no sign she was there. But no amount of genjutsu could fool his eye.
Obito was a second from jumping down to land in front of her when he caught movement in the corner of his eye. A tiny figure flitting between trees, farther back, the opposite way. Thin trees with long, curling branches.
She wore the Akatsuki cloak, and she was fast.
He stared straight at her, pushing chakra to his eye, but he still couldn't sense her. A younger, naïve him might've taken her for a ghost.
She was a mouse, scurrying back to rally their comrades, and that wouldn't do.
Obito glanced at the blue-haired girl, but even she was less of a threat to his plans than the girl who couldn't be sensed by the sharingan.
He moved seamlessly between his dimension and the fake world, reappearing in front of the mouse.
She stopped, eyes wide, and leapt back, throwing shuriken.
Well trained, too.
The shuriken phased through him and confusion flashed across her face.
She'd already made the mistake of looking him in the eye.
Obito projected a simple genjutsu onto her to make her lose consciousness, but she only stumbled back, kunai hitting the mud as her grip slipped, and shook her head hard.
It must've been the blue-haired one who trained her to resist genjutsu.
"What do you want?" she managed, fumbling for shuriken.
"We want to keep you here," White Zetsu answered, showing itself behind her.
The mouse turned, shaking her head again, and finally noticed she was pinned between him and Zetsu.
She pulled something round and black out of her pouch, threw it, and he watched it crack and burst, covering the area in thick black smoke.
She all but disappeared.
Obito tracked Zetsu's chakra, who followed her with ease. He stepped out of the smoke, watching her, up above him on a branch. She jumped, surprisingly agile for someone without chakra, and caught a long branch. She held on as it bent towards an adjacent tree and swung herself onto another branch.
Zetsu trailed her from the ground.
Given enough time to grow and hone her skills, her invisibility could pose a problem.
She had to be dealt with before that happened.
"Over here," Zetsu called, farther away.
The mouse grabbed a handful of shuriken and threw them all at him. "Just leave me alone!"
It was really too bad.
Obito dimension-hopped and appeared on the tree she was jumping to. Suspended in mid-air, she couldn't stop him from catching her cloak.
She gasped, kicking, twisting, prying at his fingers.
He saw her bravado, the fear lurking deep in her eyes.
She spit on his mask and he thought of what Zetsu asked him.
What'll you do about the rinnegan?
Obito recognized her, up close. She was close to Oka. An influence. A nuisance.
If Hanzo didn't push Oka enough, he'd just do it himself.
His artificial hand tore through her chest, blood soaking her cloak as he ripped through skin, muscle, and bone. She choked, eyes bulging, and coughed blood.
He turned her heart to pulp and his hand shot out of her back.
It reminded him of a memory he thought he buried, a team he thought he burned.
The sound of chirping birds as Kakashi put his hand through Rin's chest.
He saw brown hair instead of black.
Obito jerked, dropping the mouse like she was fire. His arm up to his elbow dripped red. He clenched his hand into a fist.
It doesn't matter. None of them are real.
"Zetsu," he began, somehow keeping his voice apathetic as Zetsu leaned over the corpse. "You remember where their hideout is, right?"
Zetsu smiled with too many teeth. "Why?"
"Find a shinobi. Disguise yourself as them. Eat them if you wish. Then pay the Akatsuki a visit."
Zetsu looked confused. "But you're always saying I'm not a front-line fighter."
"You're not," Obito agreed, violently ignoring the slick feeling of blood. "But they don't know how durable you are. Keep them distracted and don't let them leave."
"I see," Zetsu said. "Can I kill them?"
Obito hesitated and hated himself for it. "I don't care what you do as long as they don't come to the valley," he made himself say.
Nothing matters.
灰
There was a shinobi outside.
A man with short brown hair, a rebreather, and an Amegakure forehead protector. He wore a purple vest.
Maho saw him through the small hole in the wall they called a window from the second floor. He blinked, eyebrows furrowing, and shifted closer for a better look, a second before the man grinned and pulled two kunai from his pouch, paper bombs attached at the ends.
He jerked back, starting to shout a warning when the blast threw him to the floor. The bang deafened him. The whole warehouse shook. Stone and cement flew into the room as the wall burst inward, the couch thrown back into the wall with enough force to burst into pieces.
Maho threw his hands over his head until the ringing stopped. He looked down, covered in dust and plaster, and saw that the right side of the wall was almost completely gone.
He didn't see the others. Even though Osamu had been arguing with Mamoru about whether to go after Oka, even though Joji had been sitting against the wall, arms crossed.
Fires formed and were put out instantly as rain poured in.
The walkway he was on bent without the wall to stabilize it, metal supports on the other side groaning as the weight became too much, and Maho scrambled up. It dropped as he went to jump and he banged his knee on the rail, tumbling with a cry. He barely managed to land on his feet, pain shooting up his left ankle.
Everyone was outside.
He limped to the hole and watched Mamoru lower Etsudo to the ground at the corner of the wall. She clung to his arm.
Osamu stood a few feet in front of the shinobi, battered, but unhurt.
The shinobi took a step and Joji appeared behind him, reached up, and jerked his head to the side, the skin of the shinobi's neck twisting unnaturally.
Maho's stomach lurched. It reminded him of a Suna shinobi his old commander tortured, the way he twisted her neck until she felt her bones strain, the chill of death.
"Get rid of the body. You can do that much, can't you?"
His eyes were stuck on the shinobi, waiting for him to go limp, to fall.
He didn't. The shinobi's grin widened and just as Joji pulled his hands back, a wooden pike shot from its back and stabbed him through the middle.
Maho saw the tip poking out of his back.
Joji looked down in shock. It jerked out of him, absorbed back into the shinobi's body, and he fell.
Etsudo shoved both hands over her mouth to muffle a scream.
Maho tensed, unsure of what he should do, how he should help.
He was an ex-shinobi, a missing-nin, a rouge who abandoned his birthplace for the Akatsuki.
He was a coward.
He was still a shinobi of Iwa when Yahiko made him an impossible offer. He owed them everything.
"Dispose of the bodies and do it fast, useless runt."
He could distract the thing, make an opening.
"Go. Wash the blood off before it dries."
Mamoru appeared behind the creature, water splashing down as he switched places with the rain.
It wasn't human. It wasn't human. Itwasn'thuman.
Mamoru quickly pulled Joji's arm over his shoulder and vanished again.
Osamu was making the Tiger seal. He spat a fire dragon, so bright Maho turned away. It devoured the creature, engulfing it in flames.
It didn't scream or make a sound. It stumbled forward, hands reaching for them, and Maho took a terrified step back.
Mamoru laid Joji down, blood soaking his middle, and Osamu shot a second fire dragon at it. It collided into the first and turned bright blue.
The wave of heat made him sweat for the first time in months.
The thing dropped to its knees but still crawled forward, grasping at Osamu, close enough to touch his shoes. Mamoru made a quick hand-sign and the thing stiffened and finally stopped moving.
Etsudo pressed both hands over Joji's wound, shaking and begging him not to die.
Osamu slowly lowered his hands, breathing hard. Without chakra to fuel the fire the rain extinguished it, the body hissing and steaming. It was blackened, unrecognizable as a person.
Maho sagged in relief and felt like he was going to throw up.
Osamu looked down at the husk with a deep frown, chest heaving. Mamoru crouched over Joji and tore his sleeve off with his teeth, moving to wrap his wound.
"I've never seen anything like—" Osamu stopped, a kunai suddenly in his stomach. A paper bomb was wrapped around the point. His body jerked, eyes shooting wide, a hand darting down to it. And then it ignited.
The hand of the thing was raised, new skin beginning to heal over the burns. It grinned wide with unnatural teeth.
Maho couldn't look. He squeezed his eyes shut and white flashed behind his eyelids. The blast shoved him back and he dropped to his hands and knees, rooting himself to the floor with chakra. Heat whipped around him and he shuddered, ducking his head.
No one spoke for a few seconds. It was a shocked kind of silence that Maho hated felt familiar.
"Osamu!" Mamoru shouted raggedly.
Maho buried his head in his arms and cried.
"We did what we came here for. Let's go," a deep voice suddenly spoke.
Maho didn't want to, but he forced his eyes open, made himself look (past the gore, past the blood, past the pieces—) following the shinobi's gaze to an empty spot on the ground.
Half of its body was still heavily burned. "But I wanted to eat that," it complained.
Maho's stomach lurched and he vomited.
"Let's go," the disembodied voice insisted.
"Oh, alright," the shinobi said. He looked back at them, smiled like they were friends, and simply walked away.
Mamoru stared blankly, distantly, at the blood covering his hand. Etsudo tried to scrub it off herself, heaving the whole time.
The valley.
Maho made himself stand, wobbly, foot aching. He ran. He made the excuse that someone had to look for the others, warn them (like it wasn't already too late), or to help (like here?), but really, he couldn't stand to be there any longer.
Coward.
This...This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to the group that promised him peace.
A/N: 溺れる - Drown, 燃焼 - Burning, 灰 - Ash