(2023/08/09) Author's Note: Hey everyone!
I was originally planning on taking more time away from this, but the writer in me wants this fic to get finished as soon as I am willing. I've been dealing with lots of anxiety and loneliness as of late, but therapy has been proven helpful! Writing this fic is one of my (many) coping mechanisms, so pushing through these writer's blocks has given me some momentum I hope to maintain as I get around to eventually finishing this story.
This chapter is so far my longest ever written. It acts as a story-teller to explain the complicated history of the Yamamori clan and how Nomasaki's mother and father met. It's a heavy read and I originally wanted to include this stuff in Sand and Snow, but as I got writing this fic, I feel it fits Desert Flowers best. Next chapter will probably be a heavy read, too. Hopefully that chapter will be released by the end of August, but only time will tell!
As always, thank you for reading and your comments/kudos xx
Chapter 31
The Woman of the Mountains
The winds raged as Nomasaki ascended the peak alone.
Forest lay around her, eclipsing the path behind her as the snow stormed violently at her back. The matriarch's cabin was still far away, but Nomasaki did not let the distance hinder her efforts. She clung to her fur cloak tightly, pushing her weakened legs through the snow that now passed her knees. Warmth flowed from her thighs, and she bit her lip to avoid the thought. She must get to the cabin – she must. The red bark of the winter trees flanked her hasty path up the mountain, reminding her that she was within her clan's forest. It was a sacred place for the Yamamori – for the wolves. She felt safer knowing her ancestors were watching – waiting. She pushed on, forcing her way through the storm as the winds violently howled.
And her fate lay beyond trees.
Decades earlier…
It was a different time when the Yamamori reigned in the mountains…
The Second Shinobi War was merciless to all nations – even to the Land of Mountains, a neutral haven of tundra and ice. Losses piled up amongst the five great shinobi villages, but Yamagakure, despite their reluctance to choose a side in the long-winded conflict, was at the mercy of Iwagakure. Those who left the village met only death – while those who stayed within its walls lived in fear of when they would be dragged from their homes to be made spoils of war or killed by their imminent invaders.
As such, their neutrality came with a dire cost.
It was a dark age.
Tōga was made clan patriarch of the Yamamori at twenty-one when his father was killed in the First Shinobi War. The famed Yamamori warrior, Keijirō, was led under the false flag of a peace banner by Ishigakure and the Kumatsume clan – only to be ambushed and killed along with his few men-at-arms who accompanied him. Tōga was his last surviving son and the only heir to the clan's head household. And the moment he was sworn in as patriarch, he vowed vengeance upon those who murdered his esteemed father. Thus, the decision for Yamagakure to remain perpetually neutral enraged the young wolf to no end.
And his people were at the mercy of the village.
The Yamamori clan and the wolves had watched over the mountain hamlet for thousands of years. Some say they were the protectors, even chosen by the old mountain gods themselves. But the end of the Warring States Era changed everything. To the east, the rival Kumatsume clan was exiled from their native forest of the Land of Wind and were hired by the lords of the Land of Claws to kill all Yamamori clansmen on sight. In the west, Iwagakure annexed its southern neighbour, the Land of Fangs, and burned its shinobi village to the ground. To the south, the Land of Wind was strengthening the power of the desert clans with their leader Retō and wiping out all who opposed his rule. And to the north, the Land of Earth eyed Yama and the Land of Mountains like a prize to be won.
Yama and the Land of Mountains were surrounded by enemies.
The Yamamori clan fought all those who dared to venture into the frozen lands, but the recent heavy losses and tariffs of the First Shinobi War had left the villagers of Yama to no longer worship the wolf-people of the mountains. They were scorned, feared, ignored, and even believed to be cursed. And the growing hostilities between the clansmen and the villagers came to a head when the chieftain of Yama ordered the wolves to remain in their compound outside the village borders. Bounties by daimyo and lords of rival lands soon swarmed the shinobi nations, promising glory and fortune to those who could slay a Yamamori – and lordship to those who brought back a pelt. Eventually, it was decided that the clan should go into hiding and leave their ancestral home. Tōga argued against it, stating it was their sacred duty by the mountain gods to protect the mountain. But most of his people relented, and by dawn, the only Yamamori who remained in Yama were Tōga and the main household.
And thus, the great decline of the Yamamori had begun.
Tōga wed his cousin, the young and fair Izayoi, on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. She was chosen as his betrothed by his late father, and her golden hair was the most vibrant sheen he had ever seen. But she had a wispy, boyish frame and was known to be frail – which the handmaidens warned was not suitable for providing sons. Still, the match went ahead. The patriarch was thirty-two, and his dark raven hair was already greying, aged by the anger that festered deep within his heart. He only married at the urgings of his inner council, who told him if he did not, the line of Yamamori might be lost forever.
And so they wed at the clan's sacred shrine under the moonlight.
Defying the handmaiden's warnings, two dark-haired sons were born in succession – Ashitaka, a strong and brawny child – and Temujin, tall and lean. Both had grown into seasoned Yamamori warriors by the time they came to twelve years of age and earned names for themselves across nearby lands. Hoping for a third son, Tōga was distraught when his wife gave birth to a daughter. The labour nearly killed Izayoi, who was only saved by the diligent midwives who stayed by her side for days as she fought fever and delusions as she nearly bled to death. Angered by the birth of a daughter who was forbidden from carrying on the clan's ninjutsu, Tōga wished to cast the child away to the tundra – or send her off to be raised at a temple in the capital to become a priestess. And for the first time, his wife became a monstrous wolf and stared him down with fangs barred, meeting his rage in earnest. Tōga eventually relented, and Izayoi named the child Mikomi – for the hope she had that the ways of the clan would change for the better.
And Izayoi refused to endure all prospects of childbirth in the future.
Mikomi was twelve years younger than her brothers – and was rarely allowed to leave the manse.
Ashitaka was cruel, calculating, and vengeful, whereas Temujin was kind, gentle, and wise. When the brothers would spar in the courtyard, Mikomi would often watch beside her parents. The fighting was vicious, the two great white beasts snapping and clawing at one another. It initially frightened Mikomi, but her mother assured her that it was part of who they were – what she was destined to be once she came of age. Ashitaka held no regard for his younger sister, but Temujin doted on her. In secret, he would often sneak Mikomi treats from the kitchens, take her to the village markets – forbidden by the laws of their father, show her the clan's sacred forest and shrine, and had even shown her some wind-release ninjutsu. He was found out by their father one day when he was teaching her the Summoning Jutsu, for which Mikomi was forced to watch her beloved older brother be lashed three times. Ashitaka observed with a sneering grin while Izayoi remained silent – knowing her place.
And then… war once again came to the mountains.
The hearth sparked dimly as night poured through the curtained windows. Izayoi wept over her sons, where they were laid upon a stone altar, clothed in their plated Yamamori armour with katanas held to their chests. The priestess and her disciples did an excellent job preparing them for the Pure Land, as one could not tell where the arrows impaled their flesh. Iwagakure claimed responsibility for their deaths, ambushing the young men while they hunted on the tundra near the disputed borders. And in a single day, Tōga's two hopes for the clan's survival died. Neither of his sons had married or sired children, and knowing Izayoi would not survive another birth, the Yamamori clan was in its final days. He watched bitterly as the flames consumed his sons on their funeral pyres, their ashes rising aimlessly into the night sky above.
That night, Tōga had a dream.
A field of white against the howling mountain winds lay before him, and he saw a single blossom swaying amongst the silver grasses of the meadow. He heard a wolf's howl break the mountain air, and the shrine of the Yamamori clan called to him. A winding road formed his path, and he saw the vines of age slowly recede as snow lilies grew in their place. He woke feverishly and demanded to see the village priestess. The priestess offered no explanation, so he travelled alone to the shrine in the Yamamori Forest. It was as he last saw it – cracked with age, overgrown by moss and lichen, and forgotten by most of his remaining people. But the vision he had haunted him, making him desperate to decode what his old mountain gods wanted him to see. When he turned and saw his young child hiding behind a red-barked tree, he knew.
It was of his daughter – Mikomi.
The last hope.
In the great hall of the manse, Mikomi sat before her parents by the roaring hearth in the presence of the remaining clansmen. Purple eyes observed the seven-year-old carefully, unsure what to make of such an event – for none have witnessed such in their clan's ancient history. Wearing the clan's embroidered regalia, Tōga stood before his young daughter as the clan looked on.
"From this day onward, you're the heiress to our ancient clan." He began. "Do you understand what that means?"
Mikomi nodded. "It means I must train,"
"You must train in our ancient arts – to become a beast," Tōga spoke aloud, meeting the pairs of purple eyes that observed. "For that is our true nature… we are of the wolf-blood, touched by the mountain gods themselves." He looked down at his daughter, his violet eyes stern and rife with hidden desperation. "And you are the last heir of our main household. In the memory of your older brothers, you must carry the mantle of being clan-head someday. This is the way."
The clansmen bowed their heads. "This is the way."
"This is the way," Izayoi nodded, tears streaming down her slate, porcelain face.
Mikomi remembered the mantra. "This is the way…"
"And you must keep your blood secret to all outsiders, for they fear what is unknown. And you must never leave the village, for our enemies stalk the forests at our mountain's base." Tōga met his child's innocent face, sensing her fear. The fate of the Yamamori rested in the hands of a child – a child who was not destined to be the heiress. Guilt. "Can you promise me this?"
Timidly, Mikomi nodded. "Yes, Father."
And she understood her fate.
By the time Mikomi came of age, she had learned the ancient ways of her clan.
Tōga and his right hand personally instructed the young girl, teaching her the clan's exceptional wind-release and secret techniques. Remembering what her late older brother taught her, Mikomi formed the hand-signs for the Summoning Jutsu and beckoned Hanone the White Wolf from the clan's scroll. She wrote her name with blood pricked by one of her fanged teeth, becoming the wolf's first summoner in nearly a century. She eyed the beast unflinching and asked to be his student. And for that, Hanone was impressed. Hanone taught her all she knew – how to hunt, howl, and survive in the lands of a never-ending winter. The great wolf hardly ever left her side. While the few remaining Yamamori clansmen were slow to warm up to a female heiress, they soon praised her upon seeing her innate talent.
On the eve of her twelfth birthday, a ceremony occurred at the Yamamori shrine.
Clothed in a red kimono and white haori, Mikomi knelt before the mountain priestess. A disciple arrived with a bowl of red sap from the winter trees, and the priestess dipped her fingers and began to recite the clan rites. She ran the red sap down Mikomi's forehead from her closed eyes down to her chin, bestowing the 'mark of the gods' upon her.
The priestess raised her arms to the moonlit sky, her wide white sleeves falling to her elbows. "All rise – for Mikomi of the Yamamori! First of her name, heir of Tōga-sama and Izayoi-sama! Long may she live!"
The clan chanted in chorus. "Long may she live!"
And when Mikomi rose to her feet, she saw her people watching her.
She was the heiress – the one chosen to carry the clan's name.
It was her destiny, as Tōga saw in his vision.
But as Mikomi would later realize, the faces of men and women looking up at her stance on the shrine's dais would soon disappear. The advent of the approaching sickness was ravaging the settlements and capital of the Land of Mountains, and it was only a matter of time before it reached Yamagakure and the Yamamori clan.
She would never see another pair of purple eyes for years after – until her daughter was born.
Four years passed…
The Third Shinobi War was brewing, with the borders of the neighbouring nations rife to burst with violence. Mikomi listened with a heavy heart as the guards relayed message after message with her father, each growing more dire than the last. She was sixteen, and her wolf-form was growing larger – stronger. It was only a matter of time before she would have to choose to hunt those who dared to approach the mountain. And to make matters worse, a plague had broken out in Yamagakure. It was a fever sickness that parched the breath from one's lungs, turned hair brittle, and those infected either survived unscathed or died soon after contracting the illness. The village priestess believed it was the mountain gods cursing Yama for betraying the trust of the Yamamori clan – while some of her own disciples went as far as to say it was out of rage for the villagers discarding their beliefs. But the reality was that if Yamagakure were to be attacked by either Iwa or Ishi, the village had no chance of defending itself unless the Yamamori clan were poised to fight on their behalf – like in the days of the Warring States Era.
And so, Tōga took it upon himself to request an audience with the village chieftain.
Sitting before the chieftain's seat, Mikomi was beside her father as he made his case. The village chieftain was elected before Mikomi was born. He was a middle-aged man approaching the twilight of his life. His hair was grey and brittle, his dark eyes had crow's feet, and his spine was curved slightly from an old injury. Mikomi was told it was from the First Shinobi War. The cause for Tōga's plea was simple – if the Yamamori were given leave to guard the perimeter of Yamagakure, there was a chance the village might survive. Tōga spoke loud and firm, and the chieftain seemed wholly convinced.
But after the convening of his advisors, the chieftain sighed and abstained.
Tōga slammed his fist onto the tatami floor, the force thundering the very room. "Must you fear our ancient ways, still? War approaches! Allow the wolves of this mountain to protect your people – our village! That is our purpose as given to us by our old gods. If you don't give leave to our clan to fight, then Yamagakure will fall!"
"War, yes… a troublesome thing. We cannot avoid it, seldom defend ourselves." The chieftain sighed, lowering his gaze. "I admire your courage, Tōga-sama… but the few Yamamori remaining could not stop the threats from Iwagakure and Ishigakure. They will flank us… and destroy everything. Wolves need not sacrifice what few men they have… save your strength."
It was then that an advisor proposed that the village lobby the daimyo to request foreign aid from Sunagakure of the Land of Wind. Listening carefully and weighing the options, the chieftain agreed to send an owl to the capital – and then south to the lands of the desert wastes.
Reluctantly, Tōga bowed his head.
And accepted their fate.
It was only months later that the fever swept through the Yamamori clan compound.
What was once the grand main hall and hearth became an infirmary full of the sick and dying. Handmaidens and healers bearing the clan's insignia raced across the wooden floor, bringing herbs, ointments, water, and towels to the afflicted. A haunting chorus of coughing echoed over the dimming hearth, and pleas for help croaked from chapped lips.
Mikomi swore she heard some even beg for death.
Her mother, Izayoi, was among the first to die. Weakened by her traumatic childbirths and fragility, the wife of the clan's patriarch died after battling the illness for merely two days. Her body could not handle anything more, so she willingly gave herself to the god of death. Holding her mother's limp hand, Mikomi shuddered as tears ran down her hot cheeks, hoping her mother would reawaken. She cried out upon learning that her mother had died, and the handmaidens had to tear her away from her bedside to console her. That night, Mikomi stood sobbing in her white funeral garbs during the rites as the priestess and her disciples lit the pyre. Her mother lay in eternal sleep amongst a bed of fur and snow lilies, as peaceful as she ever was. Tōga stayed silent and did not speak a single word the entire day of her passing. But as the flames licked the night air, Mikomi saw the man weep for the first time. The crowd of Yamamori at their backs stood weakly, and already their numbers had started to dwindle.
By the time a month passed, only half remained.
A handmaiden entered Mikomi's room and was shocked to find her unresponsive in bed. Feverish, shaking, and gasping for breath, the clan's future lay on death's doorstep as Tōga watched helplessly at his daughter's bedside. Mikomi was only conscious for a few minutes each day, but fortunately, by the time a week passed, her fever had broken, and she soon had enough strength to leave her bed. Her life was spared, a blessing from the mountain gods.
The illness did not slow down, taking as many with it in a few short months. Healers could not cure it, the priestess could not exorcise it, and the hell it brought to the mountain village seemed like a never-ending nightmare. Those who were healthy enough to leave Yamagakure fled to the capital or immigrated to the Land of Wind, but most had no choice but to stay and care for their ailing loved ones. The Yamagakure Cemetery began running out of room for burials, and the priestess was performing funeral rites and preparing pyres every nightfall. It was a dark time to live in the mountains. And due to Yamagakure's neutrality agreement since the First Shinobi War, no aid came from the other villages – and thus, Yama had to deal with the crisis alone.
And the once revered and worshipped wolf-people of the north had dwindled.
None could flee to other lands out of fear they may be hunted by the many bounty hunters who waited at the borders or that their mountain gods may punish them for their defiance. Many clansmen had perished from the sickness, and soon the great hall was once again empty. The futons and straw beds strewn around the hearth were vacant, and no handmaidens or guards remained to tend to the manse's chambers. In only three months, the Yamamori clan of the northern mountains was reduced to Tōga and his daughter. The ancient manse was built a thousand years ago after the arrival of the Sage of Six Paths and was said to have hosted a grand feast to which the sage was invited, but now it stood as a tomb for ghosts.
It was that October that Tōga, son of Keijirō of the Yamamori, succumbed to the illness.
At her dying father's bedside, Mikomi sat solemnly as she held his hand.
"Mikomi," Tōga croaked. "My daughter… my last born,"
"Father,"
He forced himself to speak, fighting the intense fever that burned in his blood. "As of today… you are the last Yamamori of our ancient lands. You must carry the mantle… as heiress… and teach your children -," A violent cough erupted, and crimson ran from his chapped lips. "Teach them – the ways of our old and ancient people… teach them all that you have learned from me, and all that was passed down through our blood…" Despite his trembling, he managed a weak smile. He met her wet purple eyes, guilt gushing from his worn throat. His eyes shut tight as he shook, regret and anger swirling inside his ailing body. Choking back tears, Tōga kept a firm glance. "You've made me prouder than any father could ever have imagined… your brothers… and your mother, Izayoi, too… I must – I must join her… in the afterlife… The god of death waits for me at his table…"
Tears streamed from Mikomi's eyes as she blinked. "…and we all will join him as an old friend."
"Mikomi, it's… up to you… to continue the clan's legacy," Tōga coughed, his breath growing frail. His grip on her hand squeezed, evoking his desperation. "And whatever you do, you must not leave this mountain… The shinobi world does not want our people to exist… The old gods of this mountain will keep you safe, and Hanone – listen to him…"
Mikomi nodded, keeping strong. "I will,"
Another violent cough passed his lips, parching his starved lungs.
"Father!"
"Mikomi…" His grasp on her hand weakened. "I… leave the rest… to you…"
And he was gone.
His funeral pyre was attended solely by Mikomi and the priestess. Two of the original eight disciples remained, and they took it upon themselves to prepare the patriarch's send-off to the next world. His pyre was adorned in prized animal pelts and furs, snow lilies, and a katana was held in his hands while he lay flanked by two iron war axes. It was truly a funeral for a warrior such as himself. Mikomi did not weep. She only stood in silence as she heard the priestess' fell words.
"Tōga-sama," The priestess began. "Fifth of his name, heir to the Yamamori clan, and patriarch of its proud people… We are gathered here to remember him on this night,"
A disciple ignited the pyre, allowing the flames to caress his mortal body.
"Husband to Izayoi-sama, now passed… Father to Ashitaka, now passed… Father to Temujin, now passed… Father to Mikomi," The priestess continued. "By our lord's request, the Yamamori clan is bequeathed by lands and titles to his surviving daughter – Mikomi of the Yamamori." The priestess bowed to her, performing the rite. "This is the way,"
Mikomi nodded, accepting her fate with a heavy heart. "This is the way,"
A tear ran down her cheek as she watched the ashes of the last Yamamori warrior ascend.
And she was the last one.
When spring arrived, the plague had died with the passing winter.
The sickness claimed every Yamamori save for Mikomi, and by the end of the season, the priestess had succumbed as well. Out of pity, Mikomi helped the final two disciples with the pyre and stayed with them as the last priestess of the mountain joined their old gods in the afterlife. And the following day, the disciples left the mountain lands behind. The aging chieftain survived the illness unscathed and proclaimed the plague over as scarcely only one hundred villagers watched the announcement. Yamagakure survived with great struggle, but those who lived resigned themselves to their village gates out of fear that another disaster was waiting in the tundra.
The ancient manse of the Yamamori clan sat empty save for Mikomi, who brought it upon herself to tend to the structure. She cleaned the floors, rejuvenated the herb garden, and breathed as much life as she could into the courtyard. The hearth roared every night, and with it, she swore she heard the bellows and laughter of her clansmen. But they were all ghosts to her – memories. And so Mikomi secluded herself to her clan's ancient seat and was left to hunt into the forest beyond.
She was alone.
Hanone provided company, for which she was eternally grateful.
Sometimes she was spurred to venture into the village below the hill. Once a month, she would enter Yamagakure to deliver her herbs and handcrafted medicinal ointments. The villagers eyed her with fear, but nonetheless, they accepted. But when they shoved forth coin, she politely declined. One day, as she returned home from delivering freshly picked herbs, she overheard a conversation between three women near the market.
"Does anyone live in that manse on the hill?"
"I heard a ghost does,"
"I heard it's the ghost of a young woman, sent by the old gods."
One snorted. "Surely you don't believe in those folktales…?"
"My husband swore he saw a giant wolf in the forest while hunting last!"
"You know the Yamamori are extinct! There's no wolves on this mountain, not anymore."
A scoff. "Good thing… All they brought was misery."
Emptiness.
Retracting her gaze, Mikomi lowered her straw hat over her brow and continued solemnly up the snowy steps to her home. The three women inclined their heads to watch, observing the strange young woman with suspicion and fear.
And it was then they realized she was the last wolf.
Two years passed…
The Third Shinobi War had ignited across the shinobi lands and nations, touching everything in its wake. Although started by Konohagakure and Iwagakure battling over Kusagakure territory, Sunagakure was thrust into the conflict against Iwa due to an old treaty signed more than fifty years prior. And thus, any able-bodied shinobi were conscripted into the conflict – young, old, Genin, Chunin, and Jonin alike.
Kyō was nearing a Jonin promotion when news of war arrived in the village.
He was a swordsman and possessed a rare talent for the blade. He had perfected the ancient art of the Wind Blade at only sixteen, and thus he was named 'Kyō of the Wind Blade'. And at twenty-six years of age, he was a known master. Only one other Suna-nin – Baki - dared to learn the ways of the Wind Blade after him, so Kyō took him on as a student. Baki was ten years Kyō's junior, but that did not hinder the training one bit. The young Genin absorbed everything thrown at him as if a sponge – and by the time war was called, he managed to strike blades with Kyō himself. Kyō felt confident that Baki no longer needed a teacher when he was summoned to the battlefields in the northwestern reaches of the desert.
Kyō fought in bloody skirmishes against Iwa for a year with the Suna troops he commanded. The desert where they clashed was a place no soul dared to venture. Not even the infamous Demon Desert came close in comparison. Old, twisted ruins of long-forgotten kingdoms sprouted from the sands, venomous snakes slithered under every poisonous cactus, and the desert was said to have monstrous scorpions of incomprehensible size. And the sun – nowhere else on Earth did it shine so hot, and shinobi injured on the battlefield cooked in their own armour if they wore steel. It was a brutal land with no food or water, where only the mad could survive. Kyō pushed on, leading his troops to victory against Iwa. They broke their fast on rations stockpiled in an old castle ruin they used as an outpost and played the strategic role of hiding within its collapsed walls to sleep during the day – only to emerge at night and attack Iwa once the desert sand cooled.
The Third Kazekage was impressed.
When Kyō returned, he was promptly promoted to Jonin. His closest friend, Rasa of the powerful Kazekage clan – known as 'of the Gold Dust', treated him to dinner at the local barbeque and sake bar. Their comrades from their past Genin team from their youth were in attendance, Rasa's wife Karura and her brother Yashamaru. Laughs were had, stories were told, and sake was drunk. By the night's end, Rasa pushed Kyō to ask one of his comrades out on a date. But Kyō was too shy and terribly drunk. For as much as a kind-natured man he was, Kyō had a track record of being terrible with women. He either talked too much or talked too little. He did not pick up on social cues, so he was neither suave nor alluring, and he was far too absorbed in his shinobi duties to have time to date or settle down. At twenty-seven, Kyō had stopped caring. In his mind, all the love he had died the moment his parents were taken away from him ten years ago. He existed to be a shinobi and only a shinobi. Never to have a peaceful enough life – for the life of a shinobi was short and perilous. He was at least thankful that he could drink enough to forget.
Rasa and Yashamaru had to carry him home that night.
And Kyō collapsed head-first into his futon – his apartment silent and alone.
"Kyō! Kyō!"
He awoke that morning with his upper body sprawled on the floor. A loud banging sounded from the door, urging him to force himself up. His back ached, his stomach churned, and his head throbbed. Clearly, the amount of sake he drank last night did not agree with him in the slightest. "Mm? What time is it…?" An ice pick lodged its way in his forehead, prompting him to rub at his messy orange hair. "Ow, my head… I can't even remember how much I drank…" And my stomach hurts… They better not need me for a mission this early in the morning… "I'll be right there! Just hold on a second, alright?"
"There's no time!" It was one of his comrades. "You must come to the Kazekage estate! Quickly!"
It took immense effort to get dressed without puking. But what struck him as odd was the Suna-nin who greeted him at his door. They escorted him promptly to the Kazekage estate, entering through the tremendous barred gates and courtyard. Weaving through the long corridors and ascending the stairs to the council chambers, Kyō came upon his friend Rasa, Karura, Yashamaru, and a few high-ranking Suna councilmen.
Their faces were dire.
Blank.
And so was Kyō's once he was told of the news.
"…Dead?" He repeated, shocked. "The Third Kazekage is… dead?"
"We don't know," Rasa shook his head, leaning against the wall. "We… have yet to recover his body."
Kyō could not believe it. It was inconceivable that the Third Kazekage could be killed. He was the most powerful shinobi Sunagakure had ever seen in its history – and was feared in lands even beyond the desert. War may have broken out, but the Third remained the ultimate untouchable shinobi. The village was in utter disbelief. And the Third was once a sensei to Kyō and Rasa when they were Genin.
"Who… could've even done this?" He stammered, frantically scanning the room. "The Third was the most powerful shinobi of our village! He had the Iron Sand!"
Karura lowered her head somberly. "Great power draws great enemies,"
Rasa agreed. "Or jealousy," He inclined his gaze to the councilmen. "Did you have the Intelligence Division determine if any of our own are unaccounted for?"
"You think they fled?" Yashamaru entered cautiously. "Do you think… he could still be alive?"
Rasa met Kyō's bewilderment and turned back to the councillors. "Only one way to find out…" He sighed, leaning off the wall and straightening his stance. "Prepare a search party, a small one of our fastest and most skilled. We must find the Third Kazekage before the other shinobi nations sense our turmoil."
The councillors nodded. "Yes, Rasa-sama."
Once the councillors departed, Kyō could not help but snicker at the title. "So, you'll be acting as Kazekage?"
"For the time being, yes," Rasa averted his gaze to the window, looking out at the rising yellow sun over the desert sands. Grief marked his eyes. "I'll be honest… I didn't expect this to happen so soon. I always figured I'd have more time before taking over from Sensei…"
Kyō's heart grew heavy, sharing his sorrow.
Sensei… I haven't called the Third that in years.
And the war continued…
Months passed, and the Third Kazekage was never found.
In a surprising discovery, the Suna Intelligence Division and ANBU determined that only one of their shinobi was not present or accounted for following the Third's sudden disappearance. Sasori of the Red Sands, a young prodigy of puppet ninjutsu and the grandson of Chiyo – the village's celebrated puppeteer and medic-nin – and distant cousin to Rasa and the Kazekage line. It shocked the elders, but due to Sasori's blood ties to the village rule, they kept it under wraps from the search parties. A terrible decision, as fate would have it, as word of the Third Kazekage's disappearance spread like wildfire amongst their enemies. And soon, Iwa and Konoha had them flanked.
It was a dire mistake.
On the eve of Rasa's return to Suna from the battlefield, the Suna Council summoned him to their meeting chambers and proclaimed him the Fourth Kazekage. Never a fan of display or grandeur, Rasa's inauguration ceremony was simple and brief. The Sand Priests came and performed a special prayer while hundreds of onlookers witnessed another Kazekage come into power. Kyō vouched for him in all their years as Genin and Chunin and supported his dream to become Kazekage as they approached adulthood. Proudly, Kyō watched his closest friend don the hat bearing the symbol for wind as a chorus of cheers rang high.
It was not long after that when Rasa and Karura were married. Sand priests tied a red thread over their joined hands as incense and silence sang, allowing them to share their vows intimately. Kyō, Yashamaru, and a select few elders were at the wedding. It was held in the Sand Temple, one of the village's oldest structures – and said to be crafted by the desert gods themselves. As Kyō clapped while the couple shared their first wedded kiss, he glanced over to see Chiyo, now retired and scarce, sitting beside her elder brother, Ebizo. Her presence made him feel empathy, despite never speaking to the woman. But it was another guest at the wedding who drew Kyō's suspicions. It was a councillor, rather, an advisor. He introduced himself as Kenzō, claiming to have been in an advisory position on the Suna Council for a mere five years. His dark eyes watched Kyō's every move, and the advisor pressed for more despite Kyō not saying anything of merit. Luckily, Yashamaru came and saved him from further awkwardness – but the advisor and his chakra were most unsettling.
Two years had passed since then.
War still raged in the north and east of Suna, and more nations joined the fighting. There was a disaster near Kusagakure on Kanabi Bridge, where tales of a sole Konoha shinobi taking down hundreds of men at once were told. And soon, the name 'the Yellow Flash' spread to every crevice of the shinobi world. Even in Suna, some guards and lower shinobi shivered at the mere mention of the name. But that did not turn the tide in Suna's favour in the slightest.
Pressure was coming from all sides of their troops to deploy the Kazekage to battle, but bringing Rasa to that point was a difficult task. He spoke of seeing the worth in things and instead chose to patiently await their enemies' next moves before countering. And Rasa recently became a father. A daughter was born nine months after the wedding – Temari, followed by a son a year later – Kankuro. But the worst happened when the elders of the Suna Council pressed him to summon Shukaku from his tea-kettle prison in the Sand Temple and destroy their enemies once and for all. For their plan to work, they needed a jinchuriki – a human host for the demon to live. They advised him to consider using his own children, as vessels for tailed-beasts were best controlled if they were connected to the ruling Kage. He dismissed them immediately, taken aback by the suggestion and angered.
But he knew sacrifices must be made…
A hawk circled above as Kyō walked the streets near his home.
The guards allowed him inside the estate without clearance, recognizing him as he approached. When he stepped inside the Kazekage's office, he had to admit it was still surreal seeing his friend sitting at the Third's desk. Rasa smiled subtly, but it soon faded into tiredness and stress. He wore an expression of stone – worn by the duties of bearing the title of Kage.
Kyō stood before the desk, sensing the tension. "You… summoned me?"
"Yes," Rasa nodded, snapping out of his daze. "I have a special assignment for you…"
Kyō raised a brow. "Special, huh?"
Rasa flitted through the paperwork that littered his desk, searching for the proper documents. "It's a rare opportunity, but the situation is dire that we must act. So, I'm trusting you with this in my stead." He handed Kyō the papers, eyeing him warily. "It's an S-rank mission to hold the northern border of the Land of Mountains against Iwagakure should they cross in an attempt to strike our lands."
"The Land of Mountains?"
"The Land of Mountains is a tiny nation to the far north of our borders, just beyond what remains of the Land of Wind's forest. It's a cold land… cursed with an eternal winter. The village there – Yamagakure – it has been neutral since the aftermath of the First Shinobi War." Rasa sighed. "However, Iwagakure wants to cross their borders to attack us where we are our weakest… at the north. Yama barely has any shinobi to defend its gates, let alone a border. They pleaded their case to our daimyo, and our daimyo permitted us to accept Yama's patronage." He looked up, meeting Kyō with a stern expression. "Your assignment is simple. You are to command a legion of our shinobi and station them against Mountain's border with Earth to prevent an invasion. It will benefit not just Yama, but Suna – and prevent the war from escalating further."
Kyō almost did not want to ask. "How long will it take?"
Rasa sighed tiredly. "However long the war lasts, unfortunately. Could be days, months… years, even. With the way things are going, it looks like it might be a long deployment." He glanced back to his friend. "Can I trust you with this?"
"Of course," Kyō nodded, smiling lightly. "I'll start with the preparations."
As he started for the door, Rasa found his heart growing heavy in his chest. "Kyō,"
Kyō paused, turning. "Hm?"
"Please," Rasa said, concern evident in his narrowed glance. "Don't die."
Kyō chuckled. "I don't plan to! Same to you, Rasa."
After exchanging a nod, Kyō left the office and started on his way home to gather his things and summon his troops for the journey. It would be a long and treacherous journey north, but if it meant saving Sunagakure, Kyō would risk everything. Even his own life.
And that was the last time Kyō would see his friend alive.
During the Third Shinobi War…
The Suna-nin deployed to the north barely passed the tundra unscathed. It was a land unlike their homeland – a freezing cold wasteland of only frost and death. Tundra was everywhere they looked, and they were amongst a blizzard while en route to Yamagakure. Some of the newer recruits near froze to death by falling through a thin patch of ice as they crossed a lake, and it took ten shinobi to pull them from the frigid waters. Fortunately, they did not catch hypothermia. The journey took days to reach the border where they were to be stationed. But upon reaching the village, Kyō realized how desolate things were for the tiny, forgotten shinobi village of Yamagakure. Half of the townhouses sat empty, only a few shops remained on the single snowy street, and the power line reached only the first few buildings and did not reach the rest. No stray dogs lingered in the streets, and no children were playing – it was a village of ghosts.
The fire of the chieftain's manse in the heart of the tiny settlement was a welcome warmth to the Suna troops who travelled far to the snowy lands. Hot food was served as the elderly leader updated them on the growing tensions with Iwagakure along the northwestern border. Things were worse than Kyō thought – than Suna was told. In his shameful defence, the chieftain admitted that if they told Suna the truth that Iwa was preparing a full-scale invasion of the border, Suna would not have cared enough to answer their plea for help. While some men chattered amongst themselves on whether they should return to Suna, Kyō insisted that they stay and honour the mission. They had Rasa to answer, and he did not want to back on his word to his friend, the Kazekage. Overwhelmed with gratitude, the chieftain bowed his grey head to the foreign guests, and as Kyō watched, he saw the man shudder with held-back sobs. Letting his heart guide him, Kyō said they would depart for their stations at the border at sunrise.
When they departed that next morning, Kyō saw the waking sun beam through the silver trees upon the hill. But as he stared, he saw the outline of a grand manse – a palace, almost. It stood as if a thousand years and was built by some forgotten lord or prince. Its roof was beginning to lose shingles, the stone walls were cracked, and the crest above its doorway was faded by age. It was a triangle over a field of white. He wondered if it was a clan crest of some sort, but when he asked the chieftain, he only sighed and said it was where a powerful family once lived – but only ghosts roamed its halls now.
They continued on.
Border patrol was agonizingly dull. Kyō decided it was best to be on the defensive rather than to land the first strike. If Iwa dared climb the peak, then they had the means to push them down the slopes back to where they charged. But no move came yet from Iwa. As an act of compassion, the chieftain of Yama gave the Suna troops fur-lined boots and cloaks. Although the men were warm, the cold soon got to them. Teeth chattering filled the air where they sat on guard, and when they would rotate, it was a race to get a spot closest to the fire pit at their camp. It had been only a few weeks, and already the men were ready to go home. It would seem that the mountain was not suited for those of the desert.
"They say to not go into these woods," A Suna-nin groaned. "The folks we evacuated to that village said there's a monster in that roams the forest, devouring anything in its path!"
"A monster?" Kyō huffed, unamused. "Do you really believe that?"
The Suna-nin nodded. "Just yesterday, I saw a glimpse of a giant white animal watching me through the thicket! It had eerie purple eyes, and its fur was as white as the snow on this mountain. Its teeth were huge! But before I could say anything, it disappeared!" He snorted. "I wished I was joking! Scariest moment of my life…"
The Suna-nin using the scope snickered. "Kyō, you should be the one to track that thing down! Get it before it gets us."
Kyō stood, stretching his sore back. "Come on, it's just a story the villagers tell to scare us sand-brains."
"Hmph! If you saw it, you'd have the life scared from you, too!" Another flinched. "There's a reason these people stay in this frigid place… it's crawling with monsters like that!"
While the other men seemed to agree, Kyō was not convinced.
At the campfire that night, Kyō decided to write to Rasa.
"Rasa, the mission is going… slow. The men I'm commanding are convinced there's a monster in these mountains. Might as well be. This place is as desolate as the desert, just more trees and snow rather than sand. I hope yours are hanging on… I heard Konoha has this shinobi called the Yellow Flash. Who is faster do you think? His flash, or my Wind Blade? I hope things pick up here… it's getting cold."
Weeks passed…
His troops were not wrong to fear the forest at their backs. It was a land of mystery and of ancients. They seldom spoke with the villagers, but the few Suna-nin who did learn all about their old mountain gods and the spirits and demons who lurked within the white thicket that flanked their stations. Some were convinced giant creatures were watching in the wood, stalking them as if prey. Kyō thought their stories were foolish – until one day, he sensed someone staring. But when he turned around to the frosted trees, there was nothing but shadow in the silver wood. Sighing, he returned to his post in boredom, clutching his cloak for warmth.
And the wolf who saw him kept hidden, observing him with watchful purple eyes.
"Your turn for scout duty, Kyō! Try not to freeze your ass off, will ya?"
"Very funny," Kyō stretched his back and reached for his katana, strapping it to his back. "Original, if I don't say so myself." A sudden feel of the winds alarmed him. This chakra, he realized. He reached for his katana's hilt, his muscles tensing. They're here! The blade sang on the rising mountain winds. "Men! On your guard!"
In only moments, Iwa-nin camouflaged by branches and furs leapt from the nearby slopes and engaged with the Suna defence. Kyō managed to cut down a slew of them, but with his troops being so low in number, there was no way Iwa could be defeated. As his chakra ran low, a distant howl echoed against the lashing winds.
And then – thunder rumbled on the very earth at their feet.
A giant wolf with fur as white as snow ripped through the thicket and easily knocked away the charging Iwa-nin down the mountain. Only their screams sounded but soon quieted as they reached the bottom. As quickly as the wolf appeared, the beast vanished into the silver forest after ridding the land of foreign invaders. Surprisingly, to the frightened men, it spared those of Suna.
Kyō could only stand in silence, stunned by the creature.
His grip on his katana tightened, and a strange fear filled his heart. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before – anything he could have fathomed. The land truly was that of gods and demons, he realized. And the wolf that emerged from the forest was one of them.
Fortunately, no lives were lost.
One of the Suna-nin closest to him shuddered, his wide eyes locked towards the forest's edge. "I-It w-was it! T-The monster!"
Kyō's fear slowly dissipated, replaced by disbelief. "It… saved us."
"Are you nuts?!" A subordinate stammered. "That thing almost killed us!"
One of the medic-nin began wrapping bandages around the mangled limbs of the injured. Sternly, they eyed their commander. "Kyō, you'll have to be the one to track it down." They sneered, the cold biting the tip of their nose. "Bring back a nice warm pelt for us, eh?"
Those who were not unconscious or terrified laughed.
And begrudgingly, Kyō agreed.
He followed its large tracks in the snow for about an hour, marvelling at the mere size of its paws. It had to be as long as his blade in width. He gulped, reminding himself it was a beast – not a god or a demon. But beasts were unknown in the Land of Wind, and he was in its ancient territory. He kept his katana in hand, nervously grasping it as he snuck through the frosted thicket. The snow grew deeper as he ascended the many hills and slopes of the winding forest, and the cold started to bite at his cheeks which were hot and flushed. The blood from the wound on his jaw froze to his skin, stinging any time the wind blew past.
And finally – he found it.
It was by a lake surrounded by tall cedars and pines, and the water was only partially frozen. He knelt, hoping the beast could not see him in the shadows. His katana grew heavy in his hand, the weight bearing down on him that he had to charge and strike rather than loose an arrow. He cursed himself for not bringing a bow. But then, the beast let out a howl. A flurry of snowy winds surrounded it, and to Kyō's shock, a young woman stood in its place. She was slender, fair, and wore a kimono of deep red. Her hair was a golden shade, reminiscent of the desert sun. And her eyes, even at a distance, were a vibrant violet. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. His katana's tip fell to the snow by his feet, and bewilderment swam through his emotions. He could not bring himself to kill a woman – whether she was a beast or not.
And so, he turned to depart, but upon looking back, the girl was gone.
But when he returned to camp, he lied and said he saw nothing.
Kyō snuck back to the lake every week, wanting to glimpse the she-wolf. And one day, she arrived. Humming to herself, the solemn young woman picked many herbs and placed them carefully on top of one another in her woven basket. Feather columbine, peony, common celandine, chickweed, horse-chestnut, water hemlock, and burdock filled her harvest. She also picked a strange, beautiful flower Kyō had never seen in Suna. It looked like a lily and had blue and white pedals that glistened like ice in the sun. He often saw the flowers growing around their camp and wondered what medicinal properties they had. Perhaps his men should pick them, too.
As the young woman stood from her place on the snowy ground, she turned to the thicket.
"I can sense you staring. You were here for a while."
Taking a brave breath, Kyō stepped out from his hiding place and met her in the lakeside meadow. The young woman was shorter than he anticipated, but remembering the eight-foot wolf still left him feeling nervous. He gave a light smile, ignoring his beating heart. "I came to thank you, for saving our skins back there."
"You came for my skin," She quipped, picking up her basket. The woman narrowed her eyes at him, and for an instant, Kyō thought he saw a beast's eyes. "Isn't that what your men sent you to do? To kill the beast, hm?"
Kyō adverted his glance, stretching the collar of his shirt. He had to speak carefully. "Yes, but that's not why I'm here."
She raised a brow, questioning his motive.
"I… wanted to see what you were." He chuckled, putting his fear behind him. "They told me there was some sort of monster lurking in the forest, but all I see is a young girl." He glanced down at her bursting basket, admiring the plants. "Were you out picking herbs?"
"I was," She nodded, appearing calmer. "I make healing ointments for my villagers."
"So, you're a medic-nin?"
She shook her blonde head, her bun bouncing slightly. "Women in Yamagakure aren't allowed to become shinobi."
"Even with your powers?"
She sighed, moving a hand through her picked herbs. "Their laws are older than the village itself. Archaic, yes, but still laws." She glanced at him, her face as immaculate as freshly fallen snow. "Still, I like to help in any way I can. The villagers fear me for what I am, but I provide herbs and ointments for ailments and sickness should they need any." When she eyed the insignia on his headband, she flinched. "That emblem - you're a Suna-nin!"
"I am." He nodded pleasantly. "Kyō of the Wind Blade."
She almost smiled. "No surname?"
"Those from the desert have no need for a second name. It's our ways, I suppose." He gave a slight chuckle under his frosted breath. "My parents were lowly merchants, so even if I did, it wouldn't matter to my superiors."
She nodded, smiling softly. "My name is Mikomi, of the Yamamori clan."
"There's others like you?"
"…I'm the last one." Mikomi adverted her gaze towards the east, where the village lay. "My parents died a few years ago from a fever that swept through Yama. I survived, but they didn't recover."
Kyō lowered his head, sharing her grief. "I'm sorry…"
"It's alright." Her smile drew his gaze back, easing him of his intrusion. But as he watched her speak, he noticed her teeth were not only white and shining but fanged like a wolf. "Being the last wolf has a great responsibility, but life isn't too harsh. As long as I can fulfill my duties and keep the manse in order, my ancestors would be honoured." She clasped her basket firmly, turning herself towards the desired path at her back. "I must go. It was nice to… chat with you."
Kyō nodded. "Likewise."
"If you would like to chat again, I come here every so often to gather herbs." She said, smiling lightly. "If your men need ointments and a warm hearth, you can visit the manse. It's the large house on top of the hill in Yama."
He smiled back, bowing his head. "Thank you, my lady."
"'Mikomi' is fine." She snickered, humoured by his gesture. "Goodbye, Suna-nin."
With a brief wave, Mikomi descended the forested path back to her village. Kyō could do nothing but stop and stare as she left, mesmerized by the encounter. She was otherworldly, breathtakingly beautiful, and appeared kind in heart. In that brief encounter, Kyō was smitten.
He was awestruck.
Fluster propelled him to run to the mouth of the forested path. "It's 'Kyō'!"
She was already far away from the meadow, but he swore he heard her chuckle.
And that was the beginning of their courtship.
Iwagakure struck again weeks later.
Although they had victory in holding them off, many of Kyō's troops were injured in the skirmish. Red stained the snow surrounding their camp, appearing as if red roses in a field of white. Sending a hawk to Suna would have taken too long to beg for reinforcements, so he decided to take his men to the village. He wanted to take Mikomi's offer. For all he knew, she could heal them better than their sole medic-nin, who was injured himself.
The empty manse had a roaring hearth in its main hall, and surrounding it were the many straw beds and futons where the injured lay in a stupor. Mikomi put her herbs to work and concocted many ointments and elixirs at her alchemy lab for the injured shinobi. Two were in a critical state, but the rest were otherwise fine. The god of death would have to wait yet.
Kyō sat beside her, helping her distribute her cures to his men. At first, the Suna-nin were taken off guard by the young woman – most notably her eyes and strange chakra – but Kyō assured them she was an ally. He did not tell them of what he saw – that she was truly a wolf – and kept it a closely guarded secret. Mikomi breathed easy and accepted their hesitant thanks as she moved on to the next patient.
The hearth roared into the night.
"Their injuries aren't too serious," Mikomi spoke, putting the last of her ointments away in her basket. "All they need now is rest."
Kyō sighed, bowing his head to his lap. "Thank you," He smiled at her gratefully. "We're fortunate to have an ally here in Yama. It seems as though we're on our own out here, but it's been nice to have some hospitality."
Her glance at the crackling embers saddened. "It never used to be this way… This was once a warm, content village. Neighbours would be looking out for neighbours, everyone looking out for each other… The war made us isolated and cautious to trust others. Especially those not from Yama. We're a neutral land, so nearby nations see us merely as an obstacle they wish to overcome." Her violet eyes narrowed, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to comfort herself. "Yama even turned against its own people… even when a sickness ravaged the village. This place is like a prison to some…"
He turned to her, empathic. "Is it a prison to you?"
"…Yes, it is." She put a piece of wood onto the fire. "I'm the last one of my clan, and my village fears me. Of course, it's a prison."
The flames grew over the kindling, singing sweetly into the night.
Kyō could feel the emptiness she had in her heart. It reminded him of his own, of where his parents once occupied his thoughts. Their passing had left him a shell of a human. It had been nearly ten years since, but even the mere recollection was too painful to remember. He was only sixteen and last saw them when he departed for his first mission as a Chunin. They were both so proud of him. He waved to them that morning and promised to be back home in time for supper – only to be informed on his return by the Third Kazekage that his parents were killed by bandits who infiltrated the marketplace.
He wondered what her parents were like when they were alive.
Pushing aside the sorrow that hovered over their heads, he smiled. "When this war is over, you should come with me to Sunagakure!"
"Sunagakure?" She blinked. "I never left the mountain,"
He chuckled under his breath, watching the fire. "You should try to see the world at least once, I think. It couldn't hurt to leave just for a little while." A genuine smile curved on his lips as he remembered his home. "You should meet my friends. Rasa – he's the Kazekage now, and his wife, Karura. There's so much there for you to see… The temples, lots of shops, the plaza… and far south of the village is the ocean, the Silver Waters."
"I never saw an ocean before,"
"It's incredible! You have to see it, Mikomi. Even just once."
She chuckled, the sorrow in her eyes finally fading. "I'll… think about it," She paused, hesitantly deciding to press on. "What about you? You probably have family waiting for you back home in Sunagakure, right?"
A silence.
"Actually, you're wrong."
Stunned, she turned to him. "What… do you mean?"
"It's just me," Kyō confessed, his voice low and quiet. "My parents were killed a few years ago by bandits when they raided the village. It was… when I had my first mission as a Chunin." He cursed himself still for not staying behind. "They were honest folk… civilians, they were. They ran a shop in the village's marketplace, taking it over from my grandparents. We were poor, so I took it upon myself to enlist as a shinobi at a young age. I wanted to make them proud… and to support them in any way I could as their son." He lowered his head, his apricot hair masking his expression. "I failed them… I should've stayed behind. If I did, they wouldn't have been…-,"
"Kyō," She eased beside him, grief painting her violet eyes. "I'm… I'm so sorry."
He sighed, raising his gaze to the fire. "It's alright. Time heals all wounds, supposedly. I'll never forgive the bastards who murdered them… but revenge is a fate worse than death. But… being out here in the middle of nowhere helps us forget the mortal coil we're subjected to as shinobi." He almost smiled but breathed out the chuckle that passed his lips. He turned to her, looking into her nightshade eyes. "Sorry, you're just… very easy to talk to."
Mikomi felt her lips curve. "You as well."
And they watched the fire together as the snow fell outside.
When Mikomi went to bed, and Kyō and his troops returned to camp, he wrote again to Rasa.
"Rasa, we were attacked by Iwagakure in an ambush… but thankfully, we were able to push them back. Any chance of sending reinforcements? We might need them. This land is strange… it snows every day with not a hint of spring in sight. We were recently taken in by a villager who healed our wounded. I'm grateful for her help. Have you… heard of the Yamamori clan? Anyways, you can disregard my request to withdraw early… I think I'm going to stay here for another while. My men need me… and part of me doesn't want to leave yet."
Time seemed to pass all but too fast.
Iwagakure kept pushing their limits at the border, but thankfully, they were defeated in each attempt to scale the treacherous mountain. The Third Shinobi War was nearing its conclusion, with Sunagakure crushing Iwagakure on all fronts – most notably by Rasa near the lands of Kusagakure. Soon enough, Kyō and the Suna-nin under his command would be given leave to return home. However, Kyō found himself losing the desire to return. The life of a shinobi was to be a tool for their Kage – their daimyo. The daimyo of the Land of Wind could care less about the lives of shinobi, much so less the shinobi who died. Kyō was a celebrated Jonin of Suna. He was a sensei to one student, he was the trusted confidante of the reigning Fourth Kazekage, and he was selected as commander of the northern troops. But the desire for comradery died when he opened his eyes to the world beyond his nation's borders. The smaller nations suffered in war – and Suna and the Land of Wind did not care in the slightest.
And it was then that Kyō decided to leave his shinobi way of life behind.
He and Mikomi's love blossomed during this time.
She showed him her village, taking him to her clan's forest and showing him the ancient shrine. She told him stories of her people and the legends of the mountain gods, and even allowed him to meet her summon. Hanone was less than pleased and was more than relieved to return to his scroll and leave the stench of human behind. Kyō did not know what to make of the beast, only that he was all Mikomi had left. In return, Kyō told her about Sunagakure, his old life there, and what his parents were like. He even told her of all his shenanigans in his youth – and she shared in his laughter. On one midday stroll through the meadow of snow lilies, they met each other's eyes and could not pull their glances away.
They shared their first kiss under a gentle flurry of snow.
When night approached, Mikomi asked him to close his eyes. He did so. When he opened, he fell on his rear in shock as he witnessed his love transform into a giant white wolf. Her form was unfathomable in the flesh, standing eight feet at the shoulder with piercing violet eyes and glistening white fangs and razor-sharp claws. He did not waver. Forcing himself to his feet, he pledged his love for her and proclaimed whether beast or woman – he loved her. Transforming back into human form, Mikomi wept tears of joy and held him close.
That night, he took to her bed…
One month later…
To the chagrin and shock of his troops, Kyō deserted. He was accused of vile things when he told his men his decision to leave. Beast-lover, blood-tainter, but most disgracefully – Kyō the Deserter. He did not let the names get to him and wished his men the best. And it was not long after that the Third Shinobi War had finally ended. He moved into the ancient manse with Mikomi and took to her customs and culture. He learned the ways of her people, the old mountain gods, and the mountain way of life. He helped repair the roof of the manse, paint the walls, and sew the worn and moth-eaten tapestries. He even learned how to hunt with Mikomi, and she taught him how to properly use a long bow. The mountain was unforgivable, but their life was content.
When he wrote his letter, his heart was close to bursting.
"Rasa, you are going to kill me for saying this, but… I'm in love. The war may be over, but I don't think I'll be returning to Sunagakure anytime soon. Mikomi of the Yamamori clan is going to be my wife. We're to be married at her clan's shrine tonight under the full moon. I wish you could be here as my best man… but life often takes us by surprise. I will remain here in Yamagakure with Mikomi as her husband, and I would like to formally request an honourable discharge from the Suna troops. My shinobi days are now behind me… This is where fate has called me. I wish you all the best as you take over as Fourth Kazekage. Send my regards to Karura and Yashamaru. I promise we will visit once the fighting is over."
They were wed under the full moon before the Yamamori clan's ancient shrine.
Nine months passed.
On a beautiful day in early spring, Mikomi gave birth to their daughter on a bed of furs and snow lilies. The child was healthy and strong and had her mother's gold hair and violet eyes. Kyō wept at the sight of her and could not fathom becoming a father. They both chose to name her Nomasaki after the lone blossoms of snow lilies that were in the fields of white outside their window. And they had become a family.
But the peace soon ended.
Word spread of his desertion, and Rasa had no choice but to demand Kyō return to Sunagakure. The Suna Council demanded his head, but Rasa defeated their motion by requesting a fair trial at the Suna Court. Kyō had hoped for a full pardon for his request, but Rasa said he could not grant such mercy. Times were hard in Suna, despite their victories in the war. Heavy economic losses loomed, and their land's daimyo had spent frivolously and irresponsibly. And the very existence of Suna was at risk. A civil war may ignite by the year's end if things did not change. So, Rasa was tasked with the difficult decision to seal the one-tailed Shukaku into his unborn son, who was still growing in Karura's womb. In the brief correspondence, Rasa revealed his grief – and regret. Karura did not survive the birth.
And Rasa not only lost his wife, but he may also lose his only friend.
Kyō wrote in appeal, wishing the Kazekage could smite the council and all they stood for.
"Rasa… Is there truly no other way? I have carried out my duties for Sunagakure without question my whole life. I served under the Third and Fourth Kazekages, I led the Suna troops to victory against Iwa along the Mountain border, and I bequeathed the Wind Blade to my student Baki. I have committed no treason, and you can tell the council that yourself, as they appear to not care what I have to say. I have only asked that I be given permission to leave Suna as my wife and I have started a family in Yamagakure. My daughter was born a few days ago… we named her Nomasaki. She has my face, but she has my wife's striking purple eyes and gold hair. Hopefully, this dilemma can be solved… I don't want to put my family in danger. If the council relents and even proposes to ward my daughter, I will accept – as long as my family isn't harmed (and at least with her as a ward, she would be around your children, who will keep her company). I would sacrifice anything to keep her safe. I'm sure you understand, Rasa. I'm sorry your hands are tied in this mess… What good is a friend if they push the council to enact warrants, hm? The desert gods only wish to torment us, it seems.
PS: I'm truly sorry about what happened to your wife, Karura-sama… you have my condolences."
He sent the owl south to Suna, but no hawk returned.
Two weeks passed…
When Mikomi was gathering water from their well, she sensed the chakra of two foreigners approaching the manse. It was two masked-nin from the Sunagakure Tracking Unit. They greeted her at the door and asked to see Kyō. He emerged from the bed chambers with his katana strapped to his back, knowing why they came. Civilly, they met in the main hall before the hearth and told them why they came – that they were sent by Rasa's advisor, Kenzō. It was a warning. They knew where he lived, who he married, and that he had a child. His heart sank to the depths of his stomach when he asked what they wanted. The two masked-nin were silent at first but then admitted there was a bounty being prepared if he did not arrive in Suna to face charges within three days' time.
Death or imprisonment.
Kyō was distraught.
Once they were gone, he took to the bed chambers and wrote Rasa his final letter.
"Rasa… your advisor sent two masked Suna-nin to our home. I will depart for Sunagakure tonight. By the time you get this letter, I will likely be awaiting judgment at the Suna Court for my supposed crimes. As a former Suna-nin, I ask that you spare my wife and child. As your friend… I ask that you look after Mikomi and Nomasaki while I'm gone. I hope to return alive, but in case I don't… please protect them. They are all I have. I ask you to do this for me as your friend… as someone who has defended your title and supported you as Kazekage. If I am to be executed as the masked-nin said, then I will see you in the Pure Land. "
Mikomi wept as she held Nomasaki in her arms by the doorway.
Putting on his best smile, Kyō assured his wife he would sort things out in Suna and would return home soon. That was his promise. "Wait for me," was what he said, and Mikomi knew he meant it. Nomasaki babbled, grabbing his finger with her tiny hand. Moved to tears, Kyō soothed her gold tuft of hair and told her to be strong. The night grew shorter. Reluctantly, Kyō walked out into the snowy night.
Mikomi never saw him again.
A trail of blood followed behind Nomasaki's path in the snow.
The winds rose, and the storm grew violent. Frost bit her cheeks, cold slammed her weakened frame, and her fingertips had gone numb. She had forgotten a warmer cloak in her haste, but the warmth that leaked down her legs made her ignore all other sensations. Instinct was her driving force, leading her to the cabin on the mountaintop.
Finally, she saw it.
Nestled amongst pines frosted in silver, the cabin stood unwavering against the harsh and bitter winds that threatened to blow the house off the mountain. A Yamamori clansman in wolf-form was standing guard outside, and when Nomasaki passed, they made a whimper. She blocked out the sound, instead focusing all her energy on getting inside. The doors did not open easily, and she felt her vision darken from the effort. Nomasaki stumbled onto the worn red carpet and saw the dying matriarch lying on a futon beside the fireplace, which crackled its embers furiously. Two guards flanked the doorway, observing what was transpiring in silence.
I made it, Nomasaki thought, There's still time. "Chizue-sama,"
She knelt at the matriarch's side and saw the old woman blink her greyed eyes. Chizue appeared sick with fever, delusions and hallucinations plaguing her final moments. Her wrinkled mouth went agape, and she breathed laborious, frail breaths. Tears swam down her sunken cheeks, and she shuddered under the layers of furs that made her dying bed.
"You came to… see me…" She breathed easily, relieved. "My, the gods have truly blessed me… on this day…"
Nomasaki held her wrinkled hand in hers, hoping some of her warmth would travel. "Chizue-sama! I'm here… as you requested,"
Chizue placed her remaining hand over Nomasaki's. She shuddered with choked sobs. "Oh, Kaede… I'm so sorry…"
"Kaede…?" Nomasaki was confused. She had not heard the name Kaede spoken by anyone in the village – not even by her own clan. She smiled lightly, pushing back the weakness that dared to rear its head. "Chizue-sama, it's me – Nomasaki,"
The fire crackled, and Chizue moaned in anguish. "Kaede… Forgive me… I was too young to convince Father to not let you go… He shouldn't have made you marry… that Hatake man… You had your whole life ahead of you… I failed as your little sister…"
Her sister, Nomasaki realized, She's having delusions… as the caretaker said. "Chizue-sama,"
"Who's there…?" The blind matriarch stiffened, frightened for all but a moment. Nomasaki smoothed her thumb over Chizue's frail hand, and it seemed to calm her fears. Chizue blinked again, her white eyes widening. "This chakra…!" She turned to Nomasaki, tears flowing down her cheeks. "It's you… the half-blood… My kin, my blood… the granddaughter of Tōga of the Yamamori…" She shut her wrinkled eyes tightly, and her sobs of joy choked her words. "These old gods have listened… after all these years… Nomasaki, it is by clan law that you succeed me as matriarch… You are of my blood… my grandniece… of my sister Kikyō's line…"
Nomasaki sat in shock.
Kaede… Kikyō.
She suddenly recognized the names as if a forgotten memory. Her grandfather died long before her time when her mother, Mikomi, was still a girl. Tōga was his name, she remembered. And he was born to a Yamamori woman named KiKyō.
She felt her heart drop.
Chizue was a sister of Kaede and Kikyō.
Bewilderment painted her face, and tears glistened in her wide violet eyes. "All this time… You were of my family… -!?"
Chizue gave a weak nod. "Only now, at the end, had I the strength to tell you… It was you he dreamt of… Tōga…" She clasped Nomasaki's hand proudly. "You are the blossom in the field… the one said to unite the Yamamori and restore order amongst our clan… You have proven yourself greatly, my child… It soothes my old bones to know I will die, knowing our clan will see a different future than the one I had endured…"
Nomasaki shuddered, on the verge of tears herself.
"Nomasaki of the Yamamori clan…" Chizue breathed, her words falling from her pale lips. "From this day forth, you are the clan matriarch… This is the way…"
Nomasaki nodded, keeping the sobs at bay. "This is the way…"
With a parched breath, Chizue allowed her head to rest on the pillow as she lay on her back under the warm furs. The fireplace crackled softly in the background, and for the first time in months, she felt truly content. She was ready to die on her terms. She closed her blind and grey eyes, deciding it was best to rest for a while. As her old mountain gods had foRetōld, she needed to prepare for her imminent journey. And she was peaceful, taking in the scent of pine and mountain air. The god of death was in that room, watching over her bedside, the opposite of the young woman who could not see them or sense their power.
But Nomasaki knew the end was near for the matriarch. She saw Chizue's chest rise and fall, each time getting slower and slower than the last. She saw the elder breath erratically, drawing her concern. Nomasaki pressed, despite knowing death was arriving. "Chi… Chizue-sama?"
Blinking her white eyes slowly, Chizue sighed. Her words were so soft they were nearly a whisper. "Kae… de… I had a dream… I was… old… so old…"
Chizue once more closed her eyes to rest, but her chest did not rise.
A final breath left her lungs, and she welcomed death as an old friend.
Nomasaki sat clutching her limp hands in disbelief, aware of what just happened but also distraught in her grief. She called her name, but no answer came from the deceased elder. The two guards flanking the door bowed their heads in solemn silence, paying their respects to their late matriarch.
Rising to her uneasy feet, Nomasaki slowly left the scarce warmth of the cabin.
She stumbled outside, barely maneuvering herself through the knee-deep snow. Her vision blurred from the tears that flowed from her purple eyes, struck by the realization that all had come to pass. Her fate had arrived – she was the matriarch of the Yamamori clan.
Their leader.
"Nomasaki!"
Weakly, she looked ahead and saw a silhouette of a figure with red hair. She sensed his chakra, knowing it was Gaara who called out to her. She wanted to open her mouth to speak – to say anything. But the sobs choked back any words she tried to push past her lips. Shutting her eyes tightly, she gnashed her fanged teeth as tears flowed down her cheeks. She cried out, collapsing into his chest as he caught her in his arms. Her touch was weak, even with her fingers sharpened like claws. She had lost a great deal of blood.
"Gaara, it happened…" She wept silently. "It happened…"
Holding her close, Gaara smoothed her back as she sobbed into his jacket.
And it came to pass.
Notes: The names of Nomasaki's ancestors (Tōga, Izayoi, Kaede, KiKyō) are based on character's from Rumiko Takahashi's Inuyasha series.
Tōga (闘牙), Nomasaki's grandfather, name means "fighting fang". Izayoi (十六夜), Nomasaki's grandmother and Tōga's wife, name means "the sixteenth night". KiKyō (桔梗), Nomasaki's great-grandmother and Tōga's mother, name means "Chinese bellflower". And finally, Kaede (楓), Kikyō's sister, Tōga's great-aunt and Nomasaki's grandaunt, name means "maple".
Keijirō, Tōga's father and Nomasaki's great-grandfather, was named after Maeda Toshimaru, who was a samurai warrior of the Sengoku Period in Japan, and lived between 1543 and died in 1612. His name (慶次郎) holds multiple meanings. In Japanese, 佳 (kei) meaning "beautiful, good", 次 (ji) meaning "next, secondary" combined with 郎 (rou) meaning "son".
This chapter was also inspired by George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series, mainly the elements of telling the clan history (I loved reading Fire & Blood), and the death scene of Chizue in Nomasaki's presence. Her last words "Kae...de... I had a dream I was old... So old..." were a homage to the death of Maester Aemon in A Feast for Crows, the fourth book in the ASOIAF series. When Aemon dies, he says "Egg... I dreamt I was old..." as Sam is there. Both Aemon and Chizue are delirious as they die and both think their beloved siblings are with them at their deathbeds.