Kakashi hopped from branch to branch at full speed. Tenzo's words bouncing around in his brain.

A report came that said Nishira defected back to the Land of Birds. That she killed the Feudal Lord's wife as a form of coup. Iwagakure is accusing the Hidden Leaf of espionage when we sent her to the chunin exams and killing one their shinobi unprompted in Gokayama. They've put out a hit on her. But on good faith, Danzo ordered us to take care of it so the Tsuchikage doesn't have a reason to declare war. Kakashi, I have to carry out my mission, but I don't believe it. From what you've told me, I don't believe this is Nishira. You have to get there before me, you have to save her. Or figure out what happened. Kakashi, are you listening to me? The Hokage doesn't know, but you don't have time and my orders have forbidden me from doing so.

He had taken off right from there, pausing only to tell Gai as he'd passed him on the way out of the village, with strict orders to go straight to the Hokage. Nishira what have you done? He wondered. Not seeing the passing trees as he bolted as fast as he could, desperate to beat any of the opposing forces. Iwagakure had an advantage. They were closer. It would take them two days running to get there, it would take him three. If he pushed farther, he might be able to cut half a day off. But at what cost, he wouldn't do much good if he arrived exhausted. But it felt as though shadows were chomping at his ankles as he kept leaping. The voice in his mind told him to keep running, and never stop and so he pushed further and further. The desperation beginning to strangle him, urging him on faster.

As Masazo and Nishira arrived at a building on the edge of the south side. Masazo looked up to see a boarded-up building. Scuttling inside were whispers of inhabitants that lived there, some peering through the board pieces that had rotted to a grey black colour, mold speckled on it. Masazo could see a corner at the roof was deteriorating, pieces crumbling whenever the wind blew past. At the base of the building, a group of shady men stood, with tattered clothes and unkempt hair. They eyed the older man before Nishira came and snagged his arm, dragging him away. Nishira entered the alley beside it, scanning the walls for something. Masazo looked around to make sure nobody was interested in their presence. He looked back as Nishira pushed open one of the slats on the side the building, revealing a latch. She pulled it and then pushed on the siding. It gave way to the pressure, revealing a dark set of stairs descending into the ground. Nishira motioned for Masazo to go first, and she pulled the slab back over the light, plunging them into complete darkness. After a second of fumbling, two beams of light came from each of their flashlights, and they silently descended the steep stairs.

The ground was a cold dirt stamped down by years of boots. There was the coldest shiver of cold that rippled through the space where the sun couldn't reach to warm up. The exposed rock echoed their steps as they delved deeper into the cavern. As they reached the bottom, Masazo spotted wooden crates littered everywhere.
"Where's the door out of here? We need to leave soon, someone's been here recently."
"This is one of the smuggling hoards around here. Hold on, I think the door is over here somewhere."
"You think?"
"Relax! It's been over half a decade since I used it, and I was in a panic last time, so I can't remember exactly where it is."
Masazo held up his free hand in defeat. He swung the light beam around and landed on a crate with a familiar symbol. He heard Nishira curse and scuffle around and her foot painfully colliding something, before taking a steady breath and continuing. He turned back to the crate with the village symbol on it, their village symbol. A leaf with the swirl in the middle, printed on the side of the box. He pushed the lid off, his light bouncing off the black gleam of metal. Ninja weapons, loads of them and scrolls, a bundle of them with rope tied around them. He picked up the scroll and unfolded it. It was a schematic to the Hokage's building. The next one was a schematic of the academy.

He continued to open and discard the scrolls and stopped when he saw a stack of file folders at the bottom, hidden among the shredded papers cushioning the rest of the contents. He picked it up and flipped it open, he was surprised to see his own face. The top of the page had the genuine ANBU stamp. He flipped and saw the history of his missions, his rank, his abilities. a full dossier on him. He picked up the large stack of over thirty files. He flipped them open to see names he was familiar with. Some members of ANBU, some jonin in the pile. He saw files on their most prominent shinobi and some that were labelled as promising. On the dossier of a chunin, he saw big black markings that read 'potential recruit?'. The bottom one showed Nishira. Her genin profile. The file was relatively thin compared to the others. As he scanned the page, a loose paper fell out of the file. Masazo bent to pick it up and flipped it over to read.

I saw this candidate at the chunin exams. She has valuable skills that could be beneficial to any one she serves. Rakumo says he personally knows her and confirms she would be worth pursuing. Apparently, there is some truth to the Gokayama Shrike myths.

"The Gokayama Shrike?"
"Huh?"
"What's the Gokayama Shrike?"
"Oh! Um, just some urban legend here in the Land of Birds. Some old ghost story to tell kids when they won't behave."
"Sounds hokey."
"Oh yeah it is, I mean who can actually skin a person from head to tow like some boogey monster. Somebody who would do that must be insane. And… There! I found it. Okay let's go."
Masazo followed her voice to a seamless stone door that opened wide enough to cart in the crates everywhere. A deep wind droned through the tunnel but there was a faint light far ahead, like a beacon out of the slimy darkness.

"You should tell him about the time you slaughtered a whole competing gang with only a pair of chopsticks."
Masazo and Nishira looked back to see Rakumo in the doorway.
"Going already, Nishira? But we were having such fun!"
Nishira felt anger squeeze her lungs.
"Come down here and fight me you bastard! You- you- I can't believe you! Why would you do that?" She roared in frustration. "I could strangle you!" She began to draw her ninjato, the bloodlust pouring from every pore, but Masazo put his hand on her arm and looked at the empty doorway.
"We should run. Let's go."
Nishira hesitated for only a second before nodding and following him through the opening. They only made it halfway before the opening was darkened by the burly figure who had went with her to the palace.
"You snake! Koragi, I'll kill you!"
"You can try, little shrike."

Masazo grabbed her arm again, she looked to him.
"Nishira, go! Don't fight, leave here and go back to the village. Tell them what happened. I will keep them off."
"No, no, I'm staying and fighting. We're both getting out of here."
He looked at her dead set eyes and knew there was no convincing her otherwise.
"Alright, but you follow my lead, you understand?"
"Yes sir."
A throaty laugh came from the cavern.
"I thought I would never hear the day you call someone 'sir'. I only wished it was me you were calling that."
"Just you wait, Rakumo, I'm about to smack off that infuriating grin of yours off."
"Oh, babe, I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Rakumo stood on the stairs surveying as the numbers he brought threatened to overwhelm the two shinobi. Nishira unsheathed her ninjato and engaged with a man before her wielding a butcher's knife.
"It's been a long time since I've fought gangsters." With an easy flick, forged in the hours and months of practice, she easily sidestepped his attack and slashed his exposed flank. Ducking a wild swing coming from her left, she raised a foot to strike the offender in the gut, before swinging around to move out of the path of another. It was a small space, but it worked to her advantage as she stood on a crate, using her booted foot to smash a man's nose. A delighted smile played on her face, and Rakumo savoured it as he stepped closer to her, a perfect killing machine, and he intended to own it, break it, and mold it for his use.

Nishira glanced over to her comrade, who roared out from the tunnel. Using the tight space, Masazo contained the fight to only two opponents, as they struggled with the bottleneck. A bright light filled the tunnel as the searing heat of a fire wall blocked out any attackers that remained outside the cave. He ran in to grab his student, seeing her smiling at him, when a shadow flicked from the crate behind her.

"Nishira, look out!"
She whipped around to see Rakumo with a metal pipe, swinging it and connected it with the side of her head. The world was closing in, her head pounded, her vision hazy. Ungracefully, she tumbled down the side of the crates, crumpling into the dusty ground. Rakumo hopping off to stand next to her. Snarling, Nishira used the last of her strength, fleeing under the whirling in her head, to try and grab Rakumo to take him down before the spinning stopped and she would be unconscious and helpless. As he squatted to look at her enraged and dirty face, she reached her trembling hand to grasp his lapel. He easily resisted her weak pulls with a soft smile, using his hand to tenderly brush the offending dirt off her face, and hair back to see her fully.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Nishi, you forced me to do this, and now I have to punish you. Remember? Just like the old days. And I'll tell you now, what I told you then. If I can't have you, no one can."
And the world went dark.

The sound of hard flesh hitting flesh echoed wetly on the towering walls of a warehouse. Yasuhi coughed as his head tilted at an unnatural angle after each strike from the pummeling he was taking. The man delivering the punishment shook his hand out, his knuckles were reddening with flecks of blood that came for his victim's mouth.
"Not so tough now, are you? Punk ass bitch."
Yasuhi spit a glob of blood that had pooled in his mouth and gave sneering grin back up to the thug.
"My mom hits harder than you. It doesn't matter how much you beat the shit out of me, I'm not saying anything."
He laughed, one eye too swollen to see out of, the other glittering with an arrogance that stoked the fiery rage. The thug snarled in his face before snatching Yasuhi's shirt collar and began laying into his face.
"Enough!"
Begrudgingly the man stopped. Yasuhi chuckled, his face a mess of swollen flesh and blood.
"Oop, daddy's calling. Run along."
Yasuhi's assaulter grimaced before delivering one last punch, straight onto his face. Yasuhi saw stars, his eyes unwillingly tearing up from his smashed up nose, the crunch of the cartilage was audible as the chair tipped back. As it landed harshly on the hard ground, the air left his lungs and he coughed. A rough hand gripped him and the chair, propping him back up. Before him stood a man almost past his prime. His cold eyes dismissed the younger man with a hardness that spoke of years of patience and zero tolerance for any bullshit Yasuhi considered doing.
"Young man, I am very tired. So, I am going to ask you this one time and one time only."
Yasuhi scanned the man up and down, from his straight slacks and white muscle shirt that showed despite his age, his physique was in no way aging.
"Who are you working for?"
Yasuhi grinned but stayed quiet. The man peered into Yasuhi's face, seeing no fear there.
"Alright you've made your choice." He turned to walk away, waving a hand gesturing towards the prisoner. "Kill him."
As Yasuhi heard the metallic scraping of a knife being unsheathed, he called out.
"Wait, wait, wait. I'll tell you, but first I have a question. What gave me away?"
The older man turned back, a small smile on his sagging face, considering the question.
"Why does it matter since you are going to die today?"
Yasuhi tilted his head back, chuckling.
"I don't know, room for improvement for next time?"
This delighted the older man.
"Next time? My, such confidence. Such arrogance. Tell me how you think you will get out of this then. Just because you are able to wield chakra, does not mean I cannot break you."
"No offense, old man, but you haven't shown anything impressive yet."
"Techniques don't have to be impressive to be effective." He nodded at the man behind him who came forward with a tube with a funnel attached to one end. Even though Yasuhi tried to struggle against it, he was no match for the hands that wrenched his mouth open, shoving one end of the tube into his mouth. Yasuhi gagged on the cold plastic that ruthlessly pushed down his esophagus, the muscles tightening in protest, making pathetic suckling noises. What followed, Yasuhi would never know, but a fluid whizzed through the tube, it burned, robbing him of any breath he had in his body. He shook violently, as it felt his insides were being scalded, his stomach churning, threatening to choke him on his own vomit. And then, a moment later, the tube was pulled out. Yasuhi flung himself forward expelling the putrid liquid along with some contents of his stomach. The smell reeked of ethanol, forcing him to cough.
"Young man, you will only get a couple of these before you die from holes in your belly. So, I would advise you to answer my question and pray for a painless and merciful death."
Struggling to form the words through the rawness of his mouth and throat and gulping, he sneered.
"Get fucked!"
"Suit yourself."
Yasuhi tried to brace for it, to bite and fight off his torturers, but it was useless as the tube was rammed into his body, ready for the offensive substance. Yasuhi screamed around the tube, but it only came out as a gagging moan. He kicked his legs out and found purchase, pushing on it to tip the chair back. No one stopped it as it fell back again to the floor, the tube ripped out unceremoniously. Yasuhi spewed whatever her could to the side, sputtering and cursing. Beneath him, the wooden beam of the chair snapped. He began to push against it, pleading to whatever god that was listening that it would break.
"I warned you that my patience is thin. Answer the question or this will be the one that takes you."
With success and freedom of his hands behind his back, he looked at the old man.
"Rot in hell, fuck rag!"
Yasuhi jumped to his feet, ignoring all the scorching pain that wracked his body head to toe. Pulling his hands together in a sign, he weaved them in a blink of an eyes and from his mouth lava spewed forth.
Molten Armour
He formed the lave around his body, the heat emanating from him scorched the chair that went up in flames like kindling. As the lava hardened, Yasuhi was wrapped in a shell that protected his full body. The old man before him had fallen, looking frail like his age, as the young shinobi towered over him. Yasuhi paused trying to come up with a clever comeback, but his mind came up empty. The pause confused the old man who lowered his hands to look at the behemoth that loomed over him.
"Aw fuck it!"
Yasuhi lifted his foot and stomped on the mans face, crunching it flat as cartilage easily gave way and the small pop of his eyes succumbing to the force of it. Yasuhi heard yells as the goons around him rushed forth, but their knives and tools banged uselessly along him. He reached his coated hand out and snatched a man's arm, crushing it with no hesitation. The man yowled, but Yasuhi turned to see the hesitance on the others' faces, looking about to bolt. He wasn't about to let them do that.
Searing Lake of Fire
Yasuhi exhaled again and from his mouth a rush of red liquid come forth, spreading out in every direction. The smell of charred meat met his nose, as the molten lava snared the men bodies, trapping them as they helplessly fell into the searing substance. It hardened, leaving only Yasuhi standing to survey his handy work.
"I crushed it!"
He yelled it into the empty space for no one to hear, flexing his arm muscles in victory.