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CHAPTER 8
"Find that GODDAMN idiot and bring him back." Hiashi snarled, rearing up to Tsunade's face and jabbing a harsh finger into her face. The Sannin didn't move and her marginally irritated expression didn't shift at the Hokage's provocation, chewing on her tongue at the urge to lash back at him. She only kept her muscular arms crossed and looked straight into the Hyuuga's pale eyes. "You, Shikaku, and that bastard Jiraiya are lucky the Lightning Daimyo only wants Junior's head. But sooner or later, when he can't get that brat, he'll come for Konoha, and I'll throw Jiraiya to the wolves. I do not care."
"Pray tell, Lord Hokage," Tsunade said in a grating tone, "how do you expect me to find a spy?"
"Figure it out!" Hiashi exploded, his byakugan blazing as it inadvertently activated. "I. Do. Not. Care."
Tsunade snorted with an amused smirk, obviously unintimidated. She held back the urge to laugh by raising an eyebrow, pursing her lips and absentmindedly nodding. "Got it; I'll use some of my Sannin magic."
Hiashi's wife leapt between Hiashi and Tsunade, shooting in from the window and holding her husband back with both hands before he could further lose his composure. Her byakugan frothed powerfully, bringing her husband's face down to look at hers, forcing his doujutsu to look at hers.
"You should go," she said over her shoulder, regarding Tsunade with an annoyed yet dismissive sweep of her eyes. "However you do it, get it done."
Tsunade blinked twice, refocusing her eyes on Gai as he snapped his fingers in her face.
"I increased your weights." He stroked his chin and looked at the weighted necklace around her neck, and the seal glimmered, dimming and disappearing from view. Her necklace weighed one hundred pounds, her ankle and wrist bands weighed one hundred pounds each, and her packed rucksack weighed something around five hundred pounds; still, the woman stood upright and tall against the crushing weights. Tsunade wanted as much weight resistance during this journey to at least hold her back a little. Gai released a sharp breath from his nose, speaking frankly, "They shouldn't be anything to you."
"Can barely tell the difference," Tsunade remarked, rolling her shoulders and turning around. She pulled her sports bra off and tossed it into a laundry hamper in the corner of the private gym, not at all minding the careful way Gai studied her chiselled back, bare of clothes beside her black tights. The healthy shade of bronze from all her toning exercises did her years of dedication justice. She raised her arms, and bent her elbows, flexing powerfully.
Gai's lips screwed down and he crossed his arms. "Looks good." His eyes traced the muscles of her shoulders, taut and tight, asking her, "How are you feeling?"
"My shoulders feel a bit stiff. Could use a massage later," she answered with a plain tone. She dropped her arms and relaxed as best as she could, but she didn't turn around.
Gai waved that off. "You'll get one when you come back. Stretch and drink some water, you'll be fine for now." His eyes narrowed somewhat and he asked her frankly, "I mean, this is your first mission out of the village in seven years. Are you anxious?"
The woman didn't answer, peering over her shoulder with a pursed lip and a thoughtful look in her eyes. Gai quietly moved to a bar and picked up a different sports bra, this one was white, tossing that alongside a white tank top to his training partner. She turned, her breasts in full display for the man to look at, but Gai's inquisitive look didn't linger on them longer than a second, blinking back up to watch the woman as she mutely wore the new clothes she had been provided. Aside from a curt cough, Gai didn't react much to Tsunade being so comfortable around him; they hadn't even done a training session that day, rather this was Gai's final check on Tsunade's fitness before she went out into the field.
The Sannin had insisted on this, defying the Hokage's order for her to leave immediately by a day until Gai returned from a quick mission to the Fire Capital.
She didn't answer his previous question, and Gai didn't say anything.
Until she finished wearing the tank top, she said, "Would you blame me if I said I wasn't?" she tucked her hands behind her back and idly raised her right leg, balancing on her feet for a moment, then alternating to her other leg, stretching flexibly. "I feel stronger. Faster."
"And?" Gai raised an eyebrow.
"And I don't know if I'll be able to stop myself from dropping these weights if I see my godson." She said this with a stone-cold expression, blank of emotion and blinking once to her training partner.
Gai beamed proudly. "Such glorious youth."
In another room of the mansion, Shizune frantically folded clothes into a backpack, arranging inside kunai, shuriken, ninja wire, smoke bombs, and spare storage seals of medical supplies and first-aid, rolling down a mental list of the bare basics ninjas need before heading into the field.
She attached a kunai, shuriken, and senbon pouch around her waist, turning it so that it was settled on the small of her back. She checked herself in the standing mirror of her mistress's room. She decided to wear something practicable and simple; a blue shirt with extra-long sleeves that hid her hands, blue shinobi pants, black sandals with bandages wrapped around her shins and ankles, and her forest green chunin vest neatly secured on her torso. She would have preferred to wear her regular clothes, but this was a mission.
Shizune's backpack was much smaller and not very heavy, but Tsunade's was massive; inside weren't just clothes, underwear, ninja equipment, and medical tools, but also cooking pots, a solar-powered camping stove, condiments, packs of dried meat, several scrolls of fresh meat and vegetables, entire packs of water, rations of the popular and healthy Ninja-Bar snacks, and an assortment of weights packed at the very bottom of the backpack. It was a mountain of rucksacks that weighed five hundred pounds, as much as a fully stocked refrigerator.
Tsunade packed all of this herself the other night.
Tonton oinked on Tsunade's bed, and Shizune agreed. "How am I going to carry this?"
Unlike her mistress, Shizune focused more on developing her medical ninjutsu, while Tsunade prioritized her physicality, chakra training, and medical ninjutsu. Shizune just wasn't built like her mistress.
Her eyes slid down to her chest and her straight figure; she had been like this since she was thirteen. She was sixteen now, and it upset her, especially when she caught Tsunade walking out of the bathroom without a top and with a small towel wrapped around her waist. Muscles and tone aside, Tsunade's figure was enviable.
The girl slowly lifted her hands and softly, quietly, palmed her small chest. She frowned and chewed on her tongue at the bare nothings she felt. Her hands steadily slipped down from her breasts to her stomach, running her palms down her sides and letting her arms flop heavily, slumping her shoulders and getting sullener.
What does Mina see in me? She cocked her head to the side, her black eyes batting, unimpressed.
Shizune shook her head vigorously, discarding the train of thought she was about to fall into.
She brought her hands up again, this time letting her sleeves fall back a little to reveal her hands, touching her pointer fingers to each side of her lips and forcing herself to smile. Though her eyes were still dark with her insecurities. He says I'm precious. I'm his little star.
She shut her eyes and released a quiet exhale, letting her hands gently cup her cheeks and recalling a memory of Junior holding her in his arms. He would make up stories about his strange puppets, using his vast imagination to create entire worlds and timelines, and at other times he would also patiently allow her to pick his brain for Suna medical arts, and his creative poison mixing.
Mina wants me in Lightning, she reminded herself, her thoughts brimming with hope and a real smile emerging on her face, illuminating her dark eyes. She didn't even care how she was going to find him; the same way he found her and sent her a message was going to be the same way he would guide her back into his arms. All the horrible things they said he did didn't matter to her, not as much as she made it seem to others. She sighed forlornly, blushing and breathing out loud. Soon.
Tsunade being ordered to find Jiraiya was pleasantly unplanned, but her teacher's delay by a day was inconvenient.
Shizune was going to be patient, though.
"Shizune!" Tsunade yelled from down the hall. "Ya ready?"
"Yes, shisho!"
Tsunade stomped into the room, not bothering with smothering her footfalls, and entered the bedroom in a smooth flurry; her green robe rippled as she gripped a strap of her backpack and hefted it up, grunting a little and sliding her arm through the other strap, taking a few seconds to adjust herself to the outlandish weight she had imposed on herself. Shizune stepped away to Tsunade's bed, picking up her backpack and slinging it on as her mistress looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting her two pigtails and her lipstick.
"How do I look?" Tsunade offhandedly asked, still applying a little lipstick to her pouted lips, screwing the lid on and tucking away any errant strand of hair behind her ear.
Shizune smiled thinly and honestly answered, "You look amazing, shisho."
"Look at you," Tsunade smirked, eying her student and wolf-whistling. "You're smoking hot."
The girl bowed appreciatively, her thin smile broadening and less subdued at her teacher's praise. "You saw, didn't you?"
Tsunade had seen Shizune in her moment of insecurity and announced her appearance with noisy footfalls. The lady clicked her tongue and pocketed her makeup, admitting with a sheepish nod and saying, "You really are beautiful, Shizune. I should have been telling you that more often." The woman scratched her cheek and shrugged. "I've been preoccupied."
Instead of answering her mistress, Shizune faced the woman properly, ensuring to hide her face and expression from their pet pig. "What about Tonton?"
The woman crossed her arms, perching her chin between her left pointer and middle finger, contemplating aloud and not so discreetly as her assistant. "The nature of this mission might be too dangerous for her." she looked at the pig with an odd look that resembled sadness. "I don't want to burden you with guarding our rear and watching Tonton."
Shizune blinked, surprised. "You think we'll get attacked?"
"It's possible."
They were going behind metaphorical enemy lines to find a ninja that was missing in action.
"We might also be doing the attacking." Tsunade shrugged laxly. "It's best if we have our hands free."
"Then…" Shizune motioned to Tonton. Tsunade opened her mouth and Shizune sternly perched her fists on her hips, narrowing her eyes at her mistress. "And no, we're not leaving her with Gai. I'd rather drink paint." The Sannin wilted and groaned. "We'll just leave her with Kurenai. She won't mind."
"Alright. Fine." Tsunade grumbled with finality, and Shizune promptly sped to the bed, picking up their pet pig in her arms and hugging Tonton to her chest. The Sannin began pacing to the bedroom door. "Let's start going. We've wasted enough time."
"You've wasted enough time," Shizune muttered under her breath, and Tsunade whirled around to her.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Shizune quickly answered, shutting her mouth and hurrying past her teacher, leaving the house.
"Mouthy brat," Tsunade mumbled irritably, walking with a long stride to the door. She passed the gym and saw that her training partner was neatly arranging the weights, placing them in their respective racks according to how heavy they were and running a quick rag over the grips when the weights were set on the racks. He turned his head to her and she said, "Lock up after yourself."
"Safe journey." He went back to what he was doing, absentmindedly saying, "Don't do anything unyouthful, Tsunade."
"Tch." She clicked her tongue, smirking teasingly. "Don't jerk off in my shower, then."
Gai bellowed out a merry laugh, wiping a tear and grinning cheekily at his training partner. "I suppose neither of us is willing to compromise our youthfulness."
"Nope," she replied with finality, waving goodbye to him. "See you later, Gai."
"Give my regards to Jiraiya."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A red and brown blimp crawled sluggishly across Konoha's featureless afternoon sky. The large screen on one side of the blimp was playing a coloured slideshow of the Hokage, wearing a hardhat and pointing in the general direction of a building under construction, busily discussing with an architect. Another slide was of him forcing a smile as he sat behind a tailor's sewing machine, working on a robe as the tailor jovially pointed to a crank on the electric sewing machine. The third slide was of the Hokage walking with his wife, Narumi, through a neat row of crops; corn, yams, beans, onions, potatoes, and other crops. This slide was immediately followed by the Hokage and his wife carefully treading into an apple orchard, with the Hokage's wife bashfully laughing behind her dainty hands, casting an adoring look to her husband. The fifth slide was of the Hokage, out of his ceremonial robes, training alongside an older class of Branch Hyuuga clan children, standing at the very front of the assembly and coordinating the class through the Gentle Fist stances.
The final slide flashed the words in front of a backdrop of the Hidden Leaf's symbol: Let us all work together to keep the Will of Fire burning.
Hiashi did a lot of PR to improve his image, and Tsunade had to admit that the village was rightly roused.
As traitorous as this sounded, Junior's atrocious crimes had revamped and revitalised Konoha's spirit.
From the Senju clan's entrance gate, she could see the towering skyscrapers, made from glass and steel. They cast long shadows down on the black tarred streets and delved alleyways into blackness, though there were constant eyes on every corner of the village, whether shinobi eyes or cameras. At night, no single area of the village wouldn't be illuminated by streetlights, and this constant vigilance had reduced the crime rate to a measly ten percent.
Shizune wasn't anywhere in sight, so she assumed the girl was leaving Tonton with Kurenai.
The Sannin gradually ventured away from her clan, leaving its old, decrepit walls behind; clans were given semi-independence over clan matters and clan properties, and this also included raising funds for internal projects and sending some of these internally raised funds to the village's treasury. The higher the contribution to the village's vast coffers, the more support Konoha's illustrious Hokage would provide those clans when they called for it. Clans like the Akimichi, Nara, Aburame, and Inuzuka got their money from trading of some sort; Akimichi with cooked food, Nara with deer, Aburame with their beehives and pest control services, and Inuzuka with their dogs and animal control.
Clans like the Hyuuga and Uchiha were deeply into real estate, owning plenty of properties across the continent, either in plain view or under aliases.
The Senju clan, though, was dying. Tsunade was the only one left.
The village honoured the First and Second Hokage, but that reverence was in name only.
The Hokage was steadily encroaching on protected Senju land, and that could be seen from the industrial blacksmith company complex established a stone's throw down the road from the Senju clan, standing smackdab before the clan and blocking the village's view of the dead clan. It was a huge compound with five separate buildings inside, all serving their purpose and connected to the guarded entrance by gravel roads. A fence wound around the complex and guards at the entrance diligently checked the identities of the petrol-powered carriages that chugged noisily into the compound, ready to carry loads of metalworks out to Konoha's storage or trade them for a profit from allied buyers.
The vehicles didn't help with the smoke pollution.
Thick, heavy smoke billowed from massive chimneys, and constant fires burned inside two exposed brick buildings as heavyset men gripped tongs that held red hot metal with thick gloves, heaving the slabs of metal out of the fire and slamming them onto anvils, smashing hammers down on the sizzling metal and shaping it slowly. The walls were blackened from months of constant contact with heat and smoke, and the work aprons the blacksmiths wore were charred from catching the heated sparks flying from hammering the metal.
From weapons like various kinds of high-quality swords, kunai, shuriken, ninja wires, and war hammers, to household items like kitchen knives, spoons, metal sinks, and security doors, this particular blacksmithing company specialised in a dizzying array of metalworks.
Hiashi had smartly made it more profitable for blacksmiths to work in the company than to be independent and personally sell their few metalworks in the market.
That didn't mean working in the company was better.
Just the other day, news had come out that a worker had accidentally fallen inside a furnace. He was dead before anyone could take notice, over the noisy din of hammering metal and yelled orders. Arms and feet were being injured daily, burns were being sustained, and bodies were being brutally scarred.
Still, production continued.
Konoha alone, in a year, had been able to stock up its reserves of weapons and household metalworks to the extent that there was a steady surplus that allied nations were constantly demanding. Kiri and their independent blacksmiths were the only competitors, though the volume Konoha produced outpaced the quality Kiri provided, and Konoha's quality was quickly catching up.
Tsunade didn't know when she had stopped to forgetfully watch large vehicles rumble out of the complex, laden with weapons. Smoke poured from the vehicle's exhaust, and the dull-eyed driver sent the Sannin a flimsy bow.
That was another thing.
The relevance of the Sannin was fading.
As much as Tsunade poured her heart and soul into her medical arts, working long and sleepless nights in the hospital, and being the medical first responder to most industrial accidents, the people of Konoha didn't feel the need to call on her unless she came on her own. Jiraiya being absent from the village wasn't helping, and the Hokage and his Council empowering the ANBU and Police didn't help matters.
Their fall in relevance could easily be traced back to one of the reasons Hiruzen had been deposed; they had been close to the Namikaze family.
Tsunade clenched her fists and forced herself to keep walking.
If I'd mercy-killed Naruto sooner, maybe things would have been different, she thought damnably.
She hated Junior for everything he had done.
For robbing those orphans of their lives.
For murdering those homeless people.
For snatching Kushina away. Tsunade had to stop, inhaling a long breath and exhaling a slow, steady breath from her nose, fighting back the tears that glazed over her eyes. Is she even still alive?
Kushina's radiant smile echoed in her mind, and a single tear crept down Tsunade's right eye.
A memory of Junior as an infant floated to the surface of her mind, of him peacefully cooing in his crib while Kushina and Minato quietly argued that that wasn't their child.
That wasn't even human.
Tsunade didn't see what they saw, but Junior's parents saw it clearly in their infant son's crystal-clear blue eyes, and his restless fidgeting in his sleep.
That wasn't even human.
Tsunade made the mistake of loving that boy, even when Minato sent the boy to Suna.
I should have killed you too, Tsunade simmered mentally, her eyes darkening and marching heavily to the gate. Save us all of this…heartache.
She hated that boy and everything he had done.
She hated that boy for proving his parents right.
"Let's go," she said in a gravelly voice, walking past Shizune and leaving Konoha without so much as regarding the gatekeepers with a passing glance. The girl, lugging her much smaller bag, jogged after her mistress. The hundreds of pounds of weight pressing down on Tsunade hardly slowed her steps or burdened her resolute walking posture.
I'm killing that boy, one way or another, she swore in the privacy of her frothing thoughts.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Uchiha Clan Head's House
The door handle of the front door jostled for a moment, then keys jingled before the lock clicked back, letting the handle turn down and slowly ease open.
A pair of coal-black eyes peered into the quiet house, standing there for a second before they gently opened the door a bit wider to accommodate him and his red schoolbag, doing his best to shut the door without eliciting too much noise.
Sasuke winced a bit when the handle of the door snapped the door's lock shut automatically, squinting one eye and pausing to see if there was any uproar.
His ears pricked for a reaction, but all he heard was a door upstairs slamming shut. Sasuke released the breath he didn't know he was holding, letting his shoulders sag for him to pull off his schoolbag and hold it in his right hand, messily using his feet to slip off his blue shinobi sandals.
"Mom, I'm home!" he called, no longer reluctant to keep his presence down. Itachi was in his room.
He absentmindedly tucked his house keys into his white shorts pocket and tugged at the end of his blue shirt, trooping further into the house and turning to his right, poking his head into the parlour, where the television was turned off, the couch and chairs were untouched, and yet the windows were thankfully thrown open to let the evening sun pour into the sullen house. The pleasant pictures hanging on the walls didn't warm the house very much; the spartan aesthetic wasn't to blame.
Sasuke hummed, casually tossing his schoolbag onto the couch and taking off his elbow pads, throwing that as well to the couch, dipping out of the parlour, marching across the living room to the kitchen and peering inside.
"Mom?"
The kitchen was vacant, and Sasuke wandered into it.
The cool yellow tiles of the floor were rigorously clean, glinting a little sunlight. The tiles on the island counter were wiped down of dust as well, and the metal sink shone nicely. The air smelt of pleasantly thin lemon-lime. The glossy wood cupboards and cabinets were all shut, and the stove was cold, Sasuke observed, flicking his black stare as he slowly entered the kitchen. All the pots and pans were put away, the dishwasher was empty, and there was a small plate of food wrapped with saran wrap inside the microwave.
The seven-year-old then turned his eyes to the fridge, and his spirit wilted at the note he saw attached to the fridge by a yellow, smiley face magnet.
The boy tried not to frown, standing still and looking at the note. He could already predict his mother's apologies.
Forcing his legs to move, the boy marched stiffly to the fridge and pulled the note off, reading it with a fleeting sweep of his eyes.
Same line as always.
Sasuke, I'm so sorry. I had to leave for a meeting with the clan elders. I might be back late. Dinner is in the microwave. It's your favourite!
Sasuke couldn't hold back his frown this time; yam porridge hadn't been his favourite since he was five.
He squeezed the letter and tossed it aside; it effortlessly swished into the trashcan as the boy made his way to the microwave. He used his right foot to pull a short stool and stood on it, peering at the microwave. He opened it and, true to his prediction, it was yam porridge. He inhaled a long breath, shutting his eyes and shaking his head slowly, closing the microwave and exiting the kitchen to go upstairs.
He stopped at his older brother's closed door.
Sasuke pursed his lips and stealthily neared the door, sidling up to it and carefully pressing his ear against the door. He held his breath, setting his hands on the door to keep himself still, and scrunched up his face to listen to whatever was happening on the other side. He paused and waited, concentrating as hard as he could on the low, subtle raspy breathing inside Itachi's room.
The boy didn't dare knock.
He didn't dare speak.
Itachi didn't like being bothered.
The boy stepped away from the door, fighting the disheartened frown from crossing his face; he had been so eager to come home to tell his mom about what happened to class, riding his bicycle as quickly as he could from the Academy, and it was still the same story as before.
Sasuke was alone.
Why do I bother? Sasuke thought scathingly, turning to his room and entering.
The boy wanted so much to understand why his retired mother was always busy, but he couldn't wrap his mind around why she couldn't spare thirty minutes for him to show her the elementary jutsu he was trying to learn.
Mikoto Uchiha had been declared by the clan elders to be the Clan Head's Representative due to the disappearance of the Clan Head, Fugaku Uchiha, Mikoto's husband. Even as she was no longer a ninja, she was the Acting Chief of Police, she was still the one that mediated between the clan and the village, smoothing over quarrels, and bolstering confidence in the Uchiha clan.
The lady was busy unifying the clan in Fugaku's absence.
Sasuke flopped onto his bed and covered his eyes in the crook of his right elbow.
It was an open secret in the Uchiha clan that Mikoto had killed her husband after one of their marital squabbles. She discarded his body and concocted a rumour that Fugaku had eloped with a lover.
Sasuke heard the whispers.
Sasuke also watched his father coughing out blood after eating one of his wife's custard pies.
Flashback
Fugaku froze, and his jaw stopped moving.
His stomach gurgled and his body began to heat up.
He heavily swallowed the pie stuck in his throat, slowly looking up at his wife with a wide-eyed stare. The woman was sitting upright, looking back at him with cold eyes, narrowing them and activating her sharingan, evolving them as they sluggishly began to spiral in her eye sockets.
"Y-You bitch," he stuttered. His hands clutched his chest and he dry heaved. Then one of his hands swiped at the glass of water, just about out of reach and knocking it over, spilling the water.
"Dad!" Sasuke, alarmed, made to help his father with water, but his mother shot to her feet. Her face was twisted with regret as she looked at him, though her sharingan glowed ominously. She helped her son off his seat, pulling the boy out of reach of her haggardly choking husband. "Mom, what's happening to dad?!"
"You shouldn't have to see him like this, honey." Mikoto smiled down at the boy as she hurried out of the dining room, a painful expression on her face that didn't calm the boy down. They got to the foot of the stairs and Sasuke's mom fell to her knees, stiffly dressing her son's hair and forcing a nicer smile on her face. "He's just sick."
"Mikodo," Fugaku choked, his weeping tone echoing from the other room and chasing Sasuke as Mikoto urged him to go to his room. "You fackin' bitch!"
There was a mighty crash after that futile call.
Mikoto smiled when Sasuke stopped at the top of the stairs, looking back at his red-eyed mother. This expression was gentler and more sincere.
"We're going to be ok," she said soothingly.
Flashback End
It was weeks after the Uzumaki brothers fled the village, during a time when things were heating up in the village. Itachi and his ANBU teammates had left for Suna to follow up on a lead concerning Junior Uzumaki. When Itachi had been brought back, hardly alive and broken beyond imagination both physically and mentally, their family's situation worsened as the former prodigy of the Uchiha clan stepped into crippling reclusion.
Mikoto had sworn the boy to secrecy over what he saw, but Sasuke was already resolved to never tell a soul.
The reason his mom wasn't being dragged out and hung, either by the clan or by Konoha's authorities, was that Mikoto Uchiha was the strongest Uchiha in modern history, and her leadership so far was exemplary, especially compared to the erratic behaviour of her husband. Even when Fugaku had been clan head, Mikoto was a breath of fresh air.
Sasuke didn't particularly miss his father.
He missed his mother, though.
He missed his brother.
The boy sagged into his bed, weighed down by loneliness.
Authors note
Sasuke in this story might come off as OOC cuz, in this timeline, the clan massacre never happened, Itachi is a shut-in, Mikoto is trying (and failing) to be a mother, and the only loss Sasuke knows is his father being poisoned (but he doesn't sit on that for long). Because of all of that, he's going to be a little bit different.
Just a little ;)
My next upload will be Red Demon on Sunday, to make up for missing last Friday's upload.
Stay safe.
I'll see you when I see you.
Foy.