Naruto: A Red Eye Hidden by Shadow

by Tatanka4Life

On the fateful night of the Uchiha Massacre, a girl of Uchiha and Nara blood is spared and left with no memories of her past. Now she must walk on the path left by her family to help her build a new future for herself. Her path will be hard, full of struggles and pain, but as long as she has her friends and family at her side she will keep forging ahead, even if it was a drag.

172. Chapter 171: No Place Like Home

Chapter 171

No Place Like Home: The Failed Assassination and a Joint-Operation!

Amari,

As always your kindness humbles me. Often, more often than not, truthfully, I am left searching for an appropriate response. In my heart I feel I know what it is I wish to say, yet the words stubbornly refuse to take shape. They hide themselves out of sight, behind a thick curtain I cannot draw back, so I must reach through, blindly, fumbling in my uncertainty, grasping for some manner of phrase capable of properly voicing how it is I feel.

It is as though the various expressions of our language suddenly lose their meaning or, more simply, vanish from thought when I try to draw them from behind this curtain, leaving me with but a handful of inadequate words to paint the vague silhouette of a true feeling.

Yet I will still try. I will make do with what few words I can think of—inadequate though they may be.

I am grateful to have met you on that bridge.

The world, as you wrote, can be cruel and cold, it offers little remorse to the poor, the homeless, the orphaned, and the disabled. At times it can feel as if the world itself detests their mere existence. It's cruelty stymies their opportunities, it's coldness strips them bare of hope, leaving behind a desolate place, fraught with darkness and absent of love.

Yet even within the darkest, most desolate of places, something will flourish. It may be a field of poppies, colorful in spite of the scorched and churned soil they bloomed from. It may be a poisonous mold, suffocating and slowly killing them with every breath.

It is difficult to say which will grow. Nor is it any surprise why, when faced with the cruelty and coldness of this world of ours, many succumb to the darkness. It is no surprise, truly, some actively pursue it, for those who live in the light have and will reject those they deem less fortunate. Society has taught them to do that.

Yet darkness rejects no one. It is always welcoming. It does not judge. It's entire existence is dedicated to increasing its ranks, where those in the light have placed barriers and obstacles to stand with them. Thus the fall of those spurned and abandoned by this society of ours is made all the easier.

However, those who tread through the darkness, like I once did, know where our path will inevitably lead; we will walk across desolate wastelands, we will bloody our hands, we will lurk within the isolated shadows for as long as we can survive, and in darkness and solitude we will inevitably fall.

It was our meeting that altered my path. You say it was Zabuza and I who woke you, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura up. You say we catalyzed the change within your team, that we forced you to see yourselves and the shinobi world with clear eyes.

However, I feel the same is true for Zabuza and I. As you said, it was while the mist was thickest on an unfinished bridge where I believe we all began to see where our paths were leading us.

Had another squad been sent, or had the Leaf never sent a squad to aid the Land of Waves, I do not know if Zabuza and I would be in the Mist now. I do not know if I would be the admirable person you see.

Although I did not wish to hurt others, without interference I would have continue to do so for Zabuza. Indeed, I would have stayed by his side until I became a broken tool to be discarded. I can see my future, in such a circumstance, laid out before me, just as you can see your future had the Leaf shinobi never rescued you.

I fear I would have followed my path through the darkness to that inevitable conclusion I mentioned before. Yes, I would've followed it to the very end. Until my final breath was drawn.

It is troubling to ponder. These thoughts bring to mind dark possibilities that lay within me. Or perhaps they are possibilities for the person I was before our battle.

Although these thoughts can be troubling, they also reveal to me the importance of our meeting. Many who tread through darkness never live long enough to see the light again.

For Zabuza and I, you were the light that broke through to us. You were the guiding star that allowed us to realign our path, you helped us step out of the darkness.

I do not feel it is bold to say that it is your influence which allowed us to regain our humanity. It is your influence that stopped me from becoming a shinobi—a cold, calculating tool rendered barren of emotions. I was able to hold onto my heart and soul at the end, and seek a dream of my own after our battle, because of you.

I have tried for sometime now to consider an expression which would reflect my feelings, yet I'm afraid none encapsulate what I wish to say. Those I do find, I feel, imitate a sheet of music for a grand orchestra, yet I do not know the value of the notes or the sounds they will make when produced by their instruments.

I will always be grateful to you. These simple words cannot express all I feel. I am uncertain what words could, but I know they exist. In time I believe I will find them. Or, perhaps, in time I will feel brave enough to say them.

Additionally, I believe you underestimate your own strength. You say you do not believe you could endure as I did without losing yourself entirely, that if you had tread through darkness you would lack the strength to change your path, as I fear you wouldn't even seek to.

You are stronger than you believe. You have endured hardships already. It's true you had others support you, but so did I. Zabuza was my sole pillar of support. He was the only precious person I had, and though I was but a tool to him, for a time, he wasn't without kindness and support, in his own way.

I truly believe had the Leaf never rescued you, you would still have possessed the strength to change your path. I believe given the opportunity you would have sought it. Accepted it. Because at your core, in your heart of hearts, you would still be you.

And had our positions been flipped that day, I would have done everything I could to save you, just as you saved me.

You are strong, Amari. One of the strongest I've ever met. And you will only get stronger, I can feel it.

Seated alone on the couch in her home, Amari felt heat flush over her face through the cold sting of an icepack, which she pressed against her swollen and bruised right cheek.

Talk about heartwarming words. For all his struggling to express his feelings—in truth, his adorable awkwardness was so tangible she could almost see him at a writing desk, lips pursed, trying ever so hard to find the right words and expressions—his sincerity conducted his metaphorical orchestra masterfully.

She would've smiled wider if her face didn't hurt so much.

Of all the days Kakashi-sensei had to work Mimi to exhaustion, why did it have to be today? Ugh, she winced. I feel like Guy-sensei broke my face with that Leaf Hurricane.

Better that her guard was broken instead of her face. It seemed to have softened the blow. Although soften was a liberal use of the word, considering the bruising and swelling beneath the icepack.

I'll never let him hit me again, Amari promised herself.

Like identical promises before it, she would ultimately fail and fall prey to Might Guy's fist and feet of fury again and again. Hopefully Mimi wouldn't be too exhausted next time.

Hunching forward to brace her right elbow on her thigh, Amari prepared to read while she had a private moment; Karin was upstairs taking a nap, Fū was performing D-rank errands around the Leaf, which were, in her words, totally boring, but also fun because she was meeting all sorts of people; some, she determined, would totally be friends eventually.

She read on.

Although I remain uncertain of possessing admirable and inspirational qualities, I will do as you ask and defer to your judgement from now on. If only not to be troublesome.

Amari puffed with a short, abrupt laugh. Troublesome boy. Now he was teasing her.

Also, have no fear, I have refrained from warning Zabuza of the potential return and sudden disappearance of his eyebrows, via your method of slapping them onto and off his face. You maintain the element of surprise.

The grin hurt. It truly did. Yet Haku's tangible smile within his words was too infectious not to grin.

Strangely, it felt good, even with a bruised and swelled face.

I am pleased I wasn't too forward in my previous letter. You are right, though. It is not merely the life of a shinobi which is fragile, but all life. It is why, as you say, we must always tell those we cherish how precious they truly are to us while we can.

We must, as you say, hug them while the chance is there. Because nothing is guaranteed. Not peace, not life, not tomorrow or today. It is a pain you and I became intimately familiar with at a young age, as have many others in this harsh world of ours.

In recent months I have thought of my mother more than I have in many years.

Tragically, there are too few memories I have left of our time together. My memory of life before Zabuza is obscured in a thick mist, a haze which I fear may never fully lift and, in fact, will only grow thicker with time. It is why I try to recall what memories I can, while I can.

Of all my memories of her, I try to crystallize those where I can see her smiling in joy, hear her gentle laugh, and feel her embrace. I think back on the smallest moments, those which I took for granted as a child, for I did not know—could not know—how precious they were.

Had I only known how limited our time together would be, I would have held on a little longer when I hugged her last. I would have told my mother I loved her dearly.

It wouldn't be enough to soothe the persistent ache in my heart, I know. No matter how long I held her for, I would still yearn to hug her again. I would still yearn for her to be alive, as I do now. As all those who lose their precious people do. That yearning will follow us until our final days.

Yet, in truth, I believe this is a fair price for us to pay. For those small moments we sometimes take for granted, for the joys we share in together, the laughter, the triumphs, and even the tragedies—yes, the tragedies, too, they make love and life worth it.

True love—whether the love of a family member, the love of a cherished friend, the love of a significant other—is inexplicable, isn't it? We rely on metaphors and expressions to describe it, for the feeling of unconditional love is unlike any other, an intangible force which does not strike us, but flows through our whole beings like a calm and soothing river.

I wish all people could feel it. Perhaps someday we—people, I mean—will learn to share these feelings more openly with each other, as you and I share ours.

You do not need to thank me for being so candid with my feelings. After all, it is you who taught me how. You opened your heart and your arms to me, you have shown me mercy, empathy, and compassion, as a kindred spirit, as a friend, and now as someone precious to you.

It is because of your patience and your kindness that I possess the courage to share my feelings. Thank you. For your kindness, your patience, and your friendship.

I cannot say I intentionally seek to make you blush, but I appreciate knowing I can. Perhaps I will try to hone this ability, though it may make me more troublesome.

Amari couldn't fight the smile. She couldn't stop the heat from rushing across her face. Troublesome boy. Teasing her again.

You are more wonderful than my fumbling words can describe. You never need to doubt that. So I humbly ask you to defer to my judgement, as I have deferred to yours, if only so you aren't too troublesome.

I will always cherish you and our friendship.

Amari hid her burning face in the ice pack as best she could, grateful no one could see how flushed she'd become. She was going to melt the ice too quickly if he kept at this, the troublesome boy.

Although I struggled to share the existence of the Crimson Flowers—I found and find no pleasure in speaking or writing of their vileness, least of all in these private and warm moments we share—I feel reassured knowing you, your superiors, and your comrades are preparing for them, even if it may inevitably prove unnecessary.

In my heart, though, I wish I never had to share such wretchedness with you. Rather, I wish such a vile and cruel organization never existed in the first place. I hope beyond hope you and your comrades will never witness the profound horrors which the Crimson Flowers inflicted upon the people of our Land. It is a burden I do not wish for you.

Yet you are right. Ignorance requires a steep price. We, as shinobi, cannot afford the luxury of feigning ignorance in the face of such evil. We must combat their vileness and cruelty wherever they nest. We must save those we are capable of saving.

We will remove organizations like the Crimson Flowers. We will hunt them to their dark corners, their hidden caverns and basements, and we will drag them into the light to face justice.

I remain hopeful they were unable to sow their seeds into your Nation as well. Should you face them, I know you and your superiors will do everything within your power to root them out wherever they may hide and aid those they've harmed.

You will embody the light of the human heart—such a thing is as natural as breathing to you, my friend. Your Will, your spirit, is always reaching out to those in need. It reached me once again in your last letter.

Your resolve and determination to pull others in from the darkness and into the light has changed the worlds of many already. Never doubt your power, Amari. Never. Already you defy the status quo, and already it cracks and shatters like ice when faced by the warmth of your heart.

I believe we will shatter it together. All of us. We will show those who seek to maintain the status quo, who seek to turn us into cold tools and machines, the power of the human heart. In time.

Amari straightened her back, stretching it out for a moment. Then she leaned back into the couch. The letter continued.

If only more people thought like this Miss Nemuri. The world would be a kinder, more generous place.

"Hero World" is admittedly a strange title. Although I feel I should be concerned with how you confirmed the theory of the multiverse through it, have no fear, I do not think you are crazy.

Troublesome, certainly. But that appears to be genetic, from what you've told me.

She stifled a giggle. She couldn't argue with that. Definitely not after experiencing The Beyond.

Being troublesome was woven into the fabric of her being, no matter the world.

Naruto, from our limited time together, is the kind of person who speaks from his heart, even to strangers. He does not hide his feelings or thoughts, at least not all of them, and he can come off as brash as a result. Yet I find his sincerity refreshing. Even if it comes at a time where it can be slightly embarrassing.

It pleases me to hear he admitted his happiness to know you and how much you changed his life. These are joyful revelations. They are loving admissions we, as people, shouldn't shy away from so often.

I believe you are right. I believe we will change this world together. It is a path I will walk beside you on, no matter how difficult it becomes. That I promise you.

Those words, like Sasuke's assertion of having her back, comforted Amari. And warmed her heart.

I believe Mika, Chinami, Meer, Yumi, and all those we rescued will find their way forward in time. I do not know if they will ever fully recover; I do not know if it is possible to fully recover from the trauma they endured. However, you are right. They are all very strong. They will endure this, they will survive, and they will become even stronger for it. And should they need aid, we will do all we can for them.

I appreciate your willingness to help. I am certain they would, too. The needs they have, however, are needs our Village and our Nation must provide for. They are grand in scope, requiring funds and equipment you personally do not possess, nor can I ask you to suggest an immense charity from the Hokage.

Although it should not be the case, although I would prefer our Nations to work cooperatively instead of competitively, at this present moment, upon the political scene we inhabit, our Villages must possess the strength to stand on their own, even as allies, to avoid the appearance of weakness.

The Mist must be considered an equal to the Leaf, otherwise our alliance will eventually crumble. We will repeat the same mistakes that led to the Sand's Invasion. And peace will slip through the fingers of the coming generations for an unforeseen time.

Of course politics and optics should not hold such a sway over our decisions. We should merely seek to help each other and those within our Nations, for no other reason than because we are all human beings. We should merely act with our hearts, aiding those such as the victims of the Crimson Flowers for strictly humanitarian purposes.

Yet our Villages do not occupy a position to act for humanitarian reasons alone. Perhaps someday they will.

I would like to see a world where charity and acts of humanity for people of other Nations is commonplace, no longer viewed under the lens of politics and national interests. It is a vision Lady Mei in her heart of hearts shares, but it is not one she or I can act upon.

The world is not there yet. It must undergo the fundamental and societal changes we all seek, which will take years—decades or even centuries—before our hearts truest wishes for situations like these can come true.

Forgive me. I do not mean to dishearten you or to turn away your kindness. Please believe that. I know in your heart you only wish to help. You seek nothing in return. You do not seek to gain leverage over the Mist, I do not believe in the Fifth Hokage's heart of hearts that she seeks such leverage either. This is merely the position and status quo she and Lady Mei find themselves caught within, it ensnares us all within its ancient, tangled web.

Were our circumstances switched, I would feel the same as you. I wish more than anything that we could aid one another without such political schemes. But I do not wish to put Lady Mei in an inconvenient position with the Leaf, nor do I wish to ask more of you than you have already given me and the Mist.

I do not wish to abuse your kindness. You are precious to me.

Amari pursed her lips. She hated that she couldn't do anything to help. She wanted to help the victims of the Crimson Flowers, even if it meant looting the Uchiha Treasury to do it.

Unfortunately, she understood Haku's position completely.

Right and wrong, she thought, charity and humanitarianism, these things are not considered by national interests or politicians. It is all about strength, it's about protecting the interests of the Village. It's about possessing that edge over the competition, and if you can get your hands on a carrot to dangle over an ally, an edge to put them in your debt, all the better.

Lady Tsunade and Lady Mei didn't want to dance to that tune. She believed in their heart of hearts, in Haku's words, they would prefer to act on purely humanitarian instincts. Lady Tsunade being a medic-nin all but guaranteed where the Hokage's heart rested on the matter.

Yet the Mizukage and Hokage had no other choice but to follow the beat in their present circumstances. They had to dance this endless waltz until someone managed to stop the music.

I'm not naïve enough to believe the Leaf isn't already utilizing its superior position to gain an edge in this alliance with the Mist, either, she thought, pursing her lips. No, we're already dancing to this ancient tune. Pieces are already in motion to guarantee our national interests, and if the Mist can't stand on even ground with us, as equals, this dance will end with the tragic finale of all the others.

Before the Akatsuki Incident and the Land of Snow I would've made naïve assumptions that we were such a noble Village. I'd believe we'd act out of humanitarian interests for nothing in return.

You were right, Atsuko. How easy it is for us to paint ourselves as heroes and those outside our walls as enemies.

She didn't believe they were so noble anymore. Now Amari had seen the face of her enemy—Danzō Shimura. Now she knew what he was capable of, and the lengths he would go to "protect the Leaf."

Exhaling a soft breath, she continued to read.

Fuugetsu remains one of the strangest people I've ever met. His "surprises" are varied, but usually involve creative attempts at ambushing me.

Thus far he has not gotten the best of me, although he has accidentally ambushed others in his quest to surprise me. Natsumi in particular was not amused.

She has voiced that she wishes I had killed him, or that we hadn't saved his life. Usually while grumbling.

I cannot deny my skills have sharpened considerably in dealing with him. It is an unconventional means of training, or that is how I've come to view it. If only to stay my blade.

"Heh!" Amari exhaled an abrupt chuckle, then winced at a sudden stitch of pain.

Ow, ow, ow, ow. Ughhh, Guy-sensei, you'll pay for this!

Perhaps soon he would learn of his failure as a rival to stand shoulder to shoulder with the likes of Eraserhead and Present Mic, thus completing her vengeance upon him and Kakashi in one fell swoop. Perhaps.

She read on.

I cannot deny I am curious to hear what you experienced in the "Hero World," as you call it, and how it ties into the theory of the multiverse; that it resulted from a faulty Seal is intriguing.

I sense you are nearly bursting at the seams to explain it all in detail, which will doubtlessly require significant amounts of paper, if my intuition is correct. You say a lot occurred. I hope it was a predominantly positive experience.

For now, I am content to wait. This tale and those of your cousin Shisui are better suited for personal discussions, where we may see each other and speak without interruptions.

With luck we will see each other soon. That is my hope, at least.

I am pleased you are well enough to write, despite your brush with death at the hands of Orochimaru's lieutenants. I admit, although I know you are well, I still feel a terrible knot in my chest knowing you died.

Please, express my gratitude to Sasuke, your uncle and aunt, Atsuko, and Lady Hokage for their quick action. I know I have said it before, but the world would be far dimmer without you.

Please take care of yourself. I know you were exhausted when they ambushed you, otherwise I am certain they would have never had the chance to crush the life out of you, as you say. I believe you and Sasuke would have held them back until reinforcements arrived; you two are both very capable and powerful.

All the same, I…cannot help but worry for you. Forgive me. In writing this I feel as though I am calling into question your competence as a shinobi, when I do not seek to do so whatsoever. I am… I suppose I am being selfish. There is much more I wish to say. I do not wish to lose this connection of ours, and the thought I may have causes this knot to tighten in my chest.

I hope that is not strange. Please forgive me if I have overstepped or offended you.

Amari wanted to roll her eyes. Instead she could only smile softly. Awkward Haku was quite adorable. Yep, her stupid mouth was right—he was cute, in more ways than she realized back then.

She would've teased him for it were he here now. Hell, she was going to tease him when she eventually wrote a reply. But it would've split her sides with giggles to do it in person.

Try to use this skill of resurrection sparingly, the letter continued. I am certain Shikamaru would appreciate it.

It was quite the bold move they made, attacking you within the Leaf. The mission Sasuke undertook, as well as the rescue operation all of you partook in, was equally bold.

I am relieved to know Sasuke was not taken as well, and that all of you, including the elite Jōnin, managed to pull through successfully in spite of the serious injuries you all incurred.

You each did well. You and your fellow Chūnin especially. It can't have been easy for any of you, but do not lose sight of your success. You were facing Orochimaru's lieutenants—shinobi capable of defeating your elite Jōnin. You each fought hard, and although your comrades came close to death, you all made it home safely. Stronger for the experience.

Additionally, you learned to utilize the space-time ninjutsu created by the Second Hokage and mastered by the Fourth Hokage—the Yellow Flash of the Leaf, Zabuza called him. He was impressed, sincerely. He also said,

"She may not be a full-fledged upstart any longer, but she isn't in my bingo book yet, so tell the little girl not to get a big head. Just because she knows a technique used by the past Hokage doesn't mean she's in their league. If she was, she wouldn't get herself killed by some nameless punks."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You jerk of an old man," she muttered, turning on the couch and lying down.

She lifted the letter above her head, grumbled when she realized she couldn't read the words any longer, then sat up and braced her right arm on the back of the couch, smushing her face with the icepack.

Don't take his criticism personally, the letter continued. He means to encourage you. In his own way.

Tayuya lived a tragic life. Unlike my own circumstance, she hated her Master. She was forced to serve him, bound by the Curse Mark Orochimaru planted upon her, where the only freedom available to her was being his puppet. His pawn. His source of entertainment and, eventually, a lieutenant.

It is a cruel fate. Tragic. I pity her. My heart aches to know she suffered a great deal while serving Orochimaru. However, please, do not blame yourself. Do not believe yourself to be a soft-hearted fool capable of manipulation.

What you sensed from Tayuya, the pain she felt inside, the person she used to be who desired help, to be saved—freed—they were real. I know that knowledge may not ease your heartache. But your heart and your eyes would have seen through her had the feelings you sensed been feigned.

You are not a soft-hearted fool, you did not fall for any manipulations, nor should you hold yourself accountable for her death.

The life she lived was tragic. That she could not be saved is regrettable. However, you cannot blame yourself. You reached your hand out to Tayuya. I know you, Amari. I know your spirit. Your Will. Your heart. Had it been possible, she would have taken your hand. Just as I did. Just as so many of us have.

The corruption of the Curse Mark had spread too far. Furthermore, the choice she gave you was an impossibility, nor would it have freed her. You would have become the next source of her hatred, for she would still be bound to someone. She would still be in chains.

Is that the kind of existence you would have wanted for her? To live as a slave to yours and Orochimaru's Will? Is that the kind of life you would have wanted for yourself? To enslave another to your Will?

No. Not even a little. She wouldn't want that for Tayuya at all. She wouldn't want her to feel enslaved to her Will.

She wanted Tayuya to be free. She wanted to be a hero, capable of sweeping in and saving her soul from the corruption of the Curse Mark, but reality…it didn't work that way.

It is regrettable, Haku wrote. It is tragic. It is okay to feel heartache. It's natural. However, you made the right call, Amari. Had you encountered her earlier, before the corruption took hold, then I have no doubt you could have saved her. But you didn't meet under such favorable circumstances. Moreover, you had to protect those precious to you. You had to protect those you could still save.

I know that won't alleviate your heartache, but it is the truth. Please, do not torture yourself. She is free now. At peace. I truly believe that.

Amari nodded to herself, hopeful he was right. Hopeful Tayuya had crossed through The Beyond and into The Pure Lands.

Hopeful Haya was there to take her hand and show her the way. To do what she could not…

From what you say of him, Haku wrote, it seems unfathomable Kasai would be loyal to Orochimaru. I suspect he intends to use him, likely as a means to an end. What that end is remains unclear.

Could it be he seeks to attain all the knowledge and power Orochimaru can provide before abandoning him in search for more, reflecting his temporary Master's behavior? Could he have another motive? Another master we do not know of, such as this Masked Man portraying himself as Madara?

I cannot bring myself to believe he told Kasai the truth all those years ago and then has taken nothing to do with him since. Whether he is Madara Uchiha or someone else, he moves methodically in the shadows, seeking to twist those he can with his honeyed words.

No, I do not believe he and Kasai are not somehow still connected. I do not believe he sought to bring you and Kasai together, either. I do not know how they remain connected. I do not know what role he has given Kasai, but this Masked Man would not discard a useful pawn to his plans, especially if he is Madara Uchiha.

I feel he is the mastermind behind this "gift" of inheritance Kasai has spoken of. This resumption of the war between the Uchiha and the Senju, between you and Kasai, the ancestors of your Village's Founders.

He is likely responsible for why you no longer recognize Kasai. Why he no longer resembles the boy you called brother. The Masked Man has twisted him. He likely shattered Kasai's foundations, as yours were, then laid a new foundation in its place, pouring his dark honey into the open vessel that was Kasai's soul.

Why else would he be so unrecognizable? To be so obsessed with freedom while chaining himself to hatreds of old, it sounds exactly like what the Masked Man sought to ensnare you with.

Do not let them drag you off your path, Amari. Do not let them bind you in their rusted and rotted chains. I understand you must face Kasai, I understand why you feel personally responsible for him. I understand the Masked Man is an enemy we must all prepare for; it is clear he intends to alter this world, and not at all for the better.

However, do not allow their words or their actions to bind you with this Curse. You are not bound by the hatred or the darkness your ancestors left behind. You are not bound to their cycle or their war.

You may be the Great-Great Granddaughter of Madara Uchiha, but you are not him. You are your own person. This is your life, not his. It is in your power to choose what fights you will fight. You and you alone decide your fate and why it is you fight. No one else has that power. No one.

You are not bound by the blood or reputations of long dead shinobi. Your battle with Kasai is not the result of the Senju and Uchiha conflict, it is the result of his selfish and singleminded hatred. It is because he betrayed his precious people—nothing more.

Stand against Kasai because he threatens the world, not because of a twisted inheritance dictated by this Masked Man. You are not bound to your ancestors fate, nor by their bonds.

Let the bonds you have personally formed be your strength. Calm your heart and let its true feelings guide you towards the future. That is how you will change the world—it is how you changed so many of our worlds already.

This battle with Kasai is merely one more on the path towards the future you seek. Don't lose sight of that.

Your soul is already free. It always will be. I believe Shisui would feel the same as I do, so please, don't let Kasai's hatred consume you.

Amari shut her eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply to stave off the tears.

She needed to hear that. She really did. With everything that had happened on the last mission, her encounter with the Stone shinobi, the reminders of Kasai and their quarrel, she needed to be reminded of something Shisui had told her not so long ago.

"You're not bound to the Curse of Hatred. You are not bound to our Clan's downfall."

No. She wasn't bound to either. She wasn't enslaved to it like Kasai was. All she had to do was…

"Follow your nindo and your dreams. Live, all right? Find love, start a family, find your peace."

"May you all live long, happy lives. That is my final wish for you," she recalled the other Haya's words.

Live. Live her life. Follow her dreams and her nindo, that was all she had to do to be free.

"No matter what struggles await you, never give up. Never stop fighting for a better world. Never let hope fade away."

"Walk your path with the courage I know you have. Trust in your heart and your eyes; they'll lead you through the darkness. You can do it, I believe in you."

For the briefest moment she felt Shisui's hand behind her head and his forehead press against hers.

"You will always mean everything to me, Haya. Never forget that."

I won't. I'll never forget. Amari inhaled a quick but deep breath, then exhaled.

Of course, she couldn't escape the Senju and Uchiha conflict, their war, it wouldn't go away no matter how kind Haku's words were. As long as the Foundation leader, Kasai, the Masked Man, and the Village System as it currently stood surrounded her, she would be caught within its grasps.

But my soul is not chained by them, she thought. I am not Madara. I am not the Uchiha Clan of old. I am Amaririsu Yūhi and Haya Uchiha, I am the new Head of the Uchiha Clan. I am free to walk whatever path I wish, and those who try to obstruct it, who seek to drag me into darkness, they're just one more challenge I have to overcome to reach my goal.

Thank you for reminding me of that, Haku, she thought, opening her eyes again.

I have passed on your Intel of the Masked Man to Lady Mei, Zabuza, and Natsumi, the letter continued. These techniques of intangibility and teleportation, and the Forbidden Jutsu that allows him to cheat death, will be challenging to overcome. But not impossible, thanks to your Intel.

I have also warned Lady Mei and Zabuza of the Stone Village's intentions to build an Empire. It is a troubling development, I admit. Scary, as you say. Although I have taken part in many battles, I have never fought in a true war. And such a war will be prolonged and full of loss.

We will do what we can to begin preparing now. Although I hope beyond hope the Stone will come to their senses before it is too late. For the sake of all those who will be lost in such a pointless conflict.

I hope yours and Sasuke's recovery has continued to progress well. I cannot imagine how restless you two have become after three weeks of recovery, at the time of your writing.

Congratulations on becoming the Head of the Uchiha Clan. I can think of no one better, truly, to rebuild and reform your Clan. Although I suspect it will be some time before you begin making leaps, when the time comes I am certain the Uchiha Clan will once again stand among the strongest of the Leaf.

Hm. The path ahead of you and Team Seven is a difficult one. It will not be easy for any of you to go your separate ways, no matter how temporary it is. However, take heart. You will reunite again in the future, stronger and matured by your personal journeys, prepared to combat the threats ahead and complete your dreams.

You and Sasuke will find your paths soon enough, I'm sure. Your heart will lead you down the right path.

I am sure Kaito is only being a little stubborn. Also, I think he is entertaining himself with you. He will forgive you in time.

Thank you for your kindness. I will always appreciate these little moments we share. I, too, hope we can see one another again in the near future.

Be careful, Amari. Do not be too troublesome.

Your friend,

Haku

Turning over the letter, she began to read the additional post-scripts written on the back.

P.S.

After an invasion of foreigners breached our shores, I witnessed an aurora unlike any other today. It is beyond my vocabulary to describe its beauty, but I feel in my heart I needn't bother, for I sensed your warm presence within it.

Thank you. I feel a sense of peace unlike any other presently.

P.P.S.

Temujin tells me you have quite the story to tell. I look forward to hearing of your recent mission, my friend.

Amari set the letter down on the floor beside her and stretched out on the couch, shutting her eyes as she exhaled a long breath. Her face thrummed with pain, the ice stung, but she felt relaxed.

There's a lot to catch you up on, Haku.

For now, she would just savor the feeling of peace his letter gave her, recalling the lights of the aurora she hoped to one day embody.

It was the first moment of true rest she'd had in days.

---

Their mission began upon the sun's full, unconditional surrender of the sky to the glimmering stars and waning half-moon. It began in unfathomable stillness, haunted by the steady gusts of wind ghoulishly wailing through dark alleys and empty streets, bawling over flat and domed rooftops, whistling across the mesas and dunes far beyond earshot.

Amidst the cold, windswept deserts of the Land of Wind where those of the Sand Village lived within clay or stucco homes, some as old as the Village itself, members of the Anbu Black Ops supportive of and supported by certain Council Factions emerged like phantoms from the still shadows to attack their target.

Ōkami, the Captain of the unit, silently equipped his kunais; Paper Bombs dangled from the wires attached to their pommel rings.

He eyed his comrades amidst the shadows cast by the pale light of the waning half-moon, spread out across many rooftops, surrounding their shared enemy, ensuring there would be no escape. Then he drew his gaze to the apartment in the center of their formation, where, atop its roof, their target stood attired in a dark cloak, gazing at the night sky. He narrowed his eyes.

Pakura of Scorch Style, their orders declared, could not be allowed to become Kazekage. She was a non-traditionalist—a radical who would cause the Sand to forsake its core identity.

She would besmirch the title of Kazekage, taint the position with weakness at a critical point in their history, where the tempered guidance of the Council was necessary to maintain stability as they groomed a future Kazekage. Preferably a man of better stock. Someone the Village could look towards for a symbol of strength and leadership, as they had with the previous Kazekage's.

Pakura of Scorch Style is already dead, Ōkami thought. Indeed, she died in a tragic, yet heroic final stand as the reports stated. That is how it should be.

She should've died in the Mist. She should have died for the sake of the Sand, it would have been a heroic end, a meaningful purpose for an otherwise tasteless existence.

Instead, she had spurned her purpose. She lived. She hid within the shadows, waiting until the Sand was weak to return. Now she even sought to challenge the authority of the Council. The gall. It was a vulgar attempt to claim power. Shameless in every way.

We will correct this mistake. You seek to become Kazekage—a role you were not chosen for. Someone—something like you, he gripped his kunais tighter, is not suited to be Kazekage.

Her popularity among the people was unfathomable. It was clearly the result of a desperate people, desperation which blinded them to truth and prevented them from seeing the folly Pakura would lead them towards.

She had to be stopped. Now. They would not allow her to utilize the desperation of their people to seize the title of Kazekage.

Ōkami gave the silent signal.

From silent, cold shadows they attacked. The whistles of their blades, the flickering of Paper Bombs was lost among the howling wind and rushing gales of Wind Nature ninjutsu.

From unfathomable stillness, chaos was birthed beneath pale moonlight. Lights flashed, repeated eruptions roared, drowning out the wails, waking the Villagers from their peaceful dreams with a terrible fright.

For a whole minute the shockwave explosions and ninjutsu pounded through the Village like the cannons of the foreign invaders who breached their shores; their long-range, sudden and relentless ambush was necessary to circumvent the acute peril of the kunoichi's menacing Scorch Style kekkei genkai.

Then all fell silent and still once more, save the howl of the wind and the cry of newborn babes wailing somewhere off in the distance.

Ōkami waited restlessly. He was certain they had caught her unawares. They had tracked her movements, monitored her habits, and she had shown no inkling of awareness to their presence.

Now it was here, atop the rooftop of the apartment complex she called home, which they heard beginning to crack, on the verge of crumbling beneath the thick veil of black smoke now drifting off on the wind, where her life would end; the innocent parties who shared the complex with the kunoichi were unfortunate but necessary casualties.

With intense gazes, the Captain and his comrades watched the smoke drift on the wind, every inch of their faces, all save their eyes, concealed by the turban-like cloth masks they wore, the hem undulating slightly in the breeze.

At that moment the sound of hissing sand reached the Captain's ears. Like geysers, rapid and vast streams of sand rendered pale in the moonlight suddenly began to rise around the apartment veiled in smoke.

The streams snaked through the apartments windows, through the cracks forming in the rooftops and walls, until the sand stopped moving altogether, solidifying into something which resembled a tree's thick, tangled root system. A support structure which, to Ōkami's eyes, was keeping the apartment from falling apart entirely.

Suddenly the Captain felt a intangible cold pierce his gut. He felt the hairs on his body rise and an awful, primitive tingle build at the base of his neck.

Amid the veil of smoke, slowly thinning in the wind, three orbs of light resembling the sun flared into existence. Then a harsh gale tore back the veil of smoke to reveal the unfathomable.

"This has gone just as I expected."

Standing upon the rooftop, surrounded by streams of black sand flowing into the darkness of the night, was Pakura of the Scorch Style—unharmed!—illuminated in reddish-orange hues by three radiant and baleful suns swirling and rotating behind her back.

"Many of you will not survive this night," she declared, calm and confident. "I have no tolerance for shinobi who would so readily kill their own people. We all make our beds," she added as she raised her hands in front of her chest. "It's time for you to lie in yours—forevermore."

Then she spread her arms out. The orbs leapt through the sky into the shadows.

And screams shattered the silence.

Once more from the stillness chaos was born. Sun-like orbs flew through the air like shooting stars with flickering tails of reddish-orange, but there were no craters or eruptions when they impacted upon a surface. Only gruesome screams, and then a silence as cold as the bitter wind.

At the same time, pellets and needles of sand, pale and black as iron, respectively, rained upon Ōkami and his allies, inducing curses and cries of agony from his comrades, who were left wounded but alive by the attacks.

They attempted to scatter and flee, yet it was to no avail. The pellets and needles struck those who fled quickest, streams of sand restrained those who attempted to take their own lives rather than be taken alive, although some would be successful, blowing themselves up while within coffins of sand.

Those who successfully erased themselves only intensified the vigor and haste with which their enemy attacked them.

Eventually, finally, the night was rendered still and silent once more.

The Captain counted himself among the living; his Paper Bombs were removed deftly by grains of sand, preventing him from joining his comrades in an honorable death. The shame was crushing. And infuriating.

He was forced to his knees beside a surviving handful of allies, before Pakura and her subordinates with his arms secured behind his back by streams of sand stronger than steel. Maki, the student of Pakura, and the One-Tails jinchūriki stood at her flanks, the latter of the pair wearing a neutral expression while crossing his arms. Sitting upon a hovering rock behind them was the kunoichi known as Hikari.

Ōkami, gaze sharp and violent, stared at the woman draped in a dark cloak, evergreen pine colored hair appearing black on this night, all save the two thick strands framing her face with the color of fire.

"Who dared to betray us?" he questioned.

For betrayal was the only possible conclusion to explain why these shinobi were expecting them.

"Those who value the Sand and its future over outdated traditions and decrepit, power-hungry politicians." Pakura replied calmly. "It's a shame you couldn't count yourselves among them."

The Captain scowled beneath his mask.

Many Sand shinobi were gathering around them, woken or alerted by the initial ambush and the following combat. Among them, he noted, were the previous Kazekage's eldest daughter and son.

The newly arrived Sand shinobi observed the scene from nearby rooftops, halted by the command of the woman who sought the title of Kazekage and the veteran known as Baki.

"Shall we prepare them for interrogation, Lady Pakura?" her student asked.

"Interrogation? Hmph," Ōkami scoffed. "We'll die before we ever submit to the likes of you."

Pakura smiled a cold and cruel smile. "Now that's a tempting offer."

She stepped forward, holding her hand out with the palm up, above which a sun-like orb suddenly formed.

The cold lance that pierced his being before was now stabbing viciously at his insides, twisting them around a serrated blade.

In spite of that he refused to look away, he maintained fierce and obstinate eye contact as she knelt before him. He wouldn't show fear. His life was nothing now, anyway. So he looked her in her brown eyes, now reflecting the orange tailed orb swirling above her hand, as he felt perspiration begin to collect on his face and armpit.

Without a single gesture Pakura floated the orb towards the Captain. He watched it near, inch by inch, heart pounding against his chest. His breaths became quicker, harsher, and he felt his body instinctively attempt to lean back, but a stiff block of Iron Sand blocked his movement.

Not like this, his mind screamed.

He writhed his wrists and ankles against their restraints; the sand ground his flesh, shredding it, but the restraints did not budge.

One touch. One touch was all it would take, he knew. He'd heard the stories. He had heard of the desiccated bodies she left in her wake. A glancing blow of that orb and he would die an agonizing death.

No, no! Not like this!

The orb inched closer. He leaned his head back, turning it side to side like a headless snake's body flopping about.

Heat wafted off the orb, stinging his eyes, causing his mouth and nostrils to dry, and evaporating the beads of sweat which had formed beneath his clothes.

The incandescent sun flickered within Pakura's harsh gaze, all the while terror glimmered in Ōkami's.

"You cling to your traditions with greedy hands," she spoke evenly as the orb stopped, hovering a hair length from his chest. The fabric of his clothes were singeing, filling the air with the scent of burnt cloth.

"You threaten not only the future of our Village, but you are willing to turn our own people into collateral damage to maintain these traditions. No more," she shook her head. "No more will we inflict wounds upon ourselves to maintain a petty status quo.

"No more will I allow men like you to stymie the progress of our Village. No more will you chain us to your outdated traditions. No more will you stifle the potential of our people!"

He barely heard her over his pounding heart, drumming in his ears with the force of a thousand galloping horses.

Pakura rose but her orb continued to float in front of his chest.

Despite the bitter cold air all around him Ōkami felt like he was walking the wastelands in the heat of summer for days. Dehydration and heat exhaustion felt so close. Black dots danced in his vision. He felt like he was dying slowly, when death was said to be quick.

He could scarcely breathe.

Pakura's harsh gaze moved between him and his comrades. "You wish to hold your tongues to protect your masters? Fine. Do not speak. I have no need to hear your voices, I already know everything I need to," she stated. "In fact, I suggest you remain silent if you wish to see the sun rise tomorrow. You and your comrades will be punished, be certain of that, but before that I have another purpose in mind for you."

She made a faint, dismissive gesture of her hand. The orb vanished.

Ōkami gasped. He sucked in the cold, dry air, eyes wide and heart refusing to slow its earth-trembling gallop. In all his life he'd never been more grateful to live. He no longer felt the shame, but the fear…that remained.

He eyed the woman, the war-hero, the kunoichi with terror in his eyes. Briefly, she looked at him with contempt, then turned away.

"Baki!" Pakura looked towards the veteran. "Summon the Council. We're settling this matter tonight."

"Of course, Lady Pakura," replied Baki. Then he vanished.

"The rest of you," she spoke with authority, looking around at the gathered shinobi, "let your comrades and our people know the situation is under control."

They all obeyed without hesitation.

It was then, through the cloud of terror, Ōkami realized they'd lost the battle before a single blade had been drawn.

The Sand Village of old was doomed.

---

"These will be the last."

Pakura's emphatic statement was met by the Councilors horrified silence.

Their expressions were grim. Some covered their mouths with their hands while others covered their noses—a futile deterrent to the stench of death permeating within the chamber.

Before the kunoichi lay three mummified corpses of the would-be assassins. Their bodies were sapped of all moisture, desiccated in a blink of an eye, their emaciated faces frozen in their final moments of petrified agony. Steam still yet rose from their scorched remains.

More pointless death. Pakura lamented. More pointless sacrifices of their own shinobi. Whether they accepted her or not, whether they truly hated her or not mattered little to the kunoichi.

The shinobi she had slain today, who had taken their own lives to avoid capture, were Sand shinobi—her people. They were a part of their dwindling military strength, now suffering another deficit not because of the Stone, who had conquered the Grass and Waterfall, but because of traditional factions within the Sand.

Once again they send shinobi of the Sand to their deaths for their own schemes, she thought without seething. It was a difficult task. It was what her heart yearned for most. Yet Pakura maintained a calm and serene essence, she kept her heart clear of a blinding fury.

No more, she decided. No more will I allow their political aspirations to ruin our Village. No more will I allow their hatred to threaten the lives of our people—civilian and shinobi alike.

No more will I allow their traditions to hold us back from our true potential.

"These will be the last," she repeated with authority, sweeping her eyes over each and every member of the Council of Fools, as Hikari so adequately named them. "Take a long look at these men," she added, gesturing to the corpses and to the unmasked survivors, who were bound and forced to kneel on her flanks, their heads hung in shame.

The Captain among them looked ready to be violently ill. Pale as a sheet, he trembled, sweating through his clothes at the armpits and along the back; he'd been inches from suffering the same fate. He'd heard stories, but never seen it personally. Now he had. Now he understood why her kekkei genkai was feared by their enemies. And what she would have done to him had she not learned so much from Mei.

Likewise, many of the Councilors looked upon the corpses with expressions that told Pakura their stomachs were churning.

The specific odor of death caused by her Scorch Style was as unpleasant as the corpses Mei melted with her Lava Style and corroded with acidic Vapor Style. Pakura was not fazed. She'd grown accustomed to it long ago on the battlefields.

"Whoever among you organized these men, know that these shinobi will be the last you send to die," she stated emphatically. "They will be the last you use as pawns in this political game to maintain power."

She could guess who the responsible factions were. However, although she wished to slay them for the attempt on her life, and what would have been the tragic loss of the innocent lives who shared her apartment complex had she not been forewarned, and had she not secretly evacuated them prior to the attack with aid from supporters—comrades—among the Anbu, Pakura stayed her hand.

If I kill them I'll appear like a tyrant, she reminded herself. It will appear to be a coup to the common folk and my efforts to rebuild, reform, and move our Village forward will fall apart before they can begin.

The needs of the Village were greater than a quick, satisfying, but ultimately petty desire for vengeance. She would not forget, however. Nor would she forgive.

Someday, Pakura promised herself, justice would be served. Until then she would hold herself to a higher standard than the greedy, impulsive fools before her—the standard she believed a Kazekage should live up to.

"Already," Pakura continued, "we suffer from the grave losses of our failed Invasion and the invasion of the foreigners. Yet, despite these losses, you send our talented shinobi to cut down their own. Look at what your actions have caused. Your thoughtless actions weaken our military strength," she said with a calm gesture to the steaming corpses.

"You threaten the lives of our own people, disturb their sense of peace and security at a time when they feel most vulnerable—while many still mourn those we lost in the foreigners invasion.

"You throw away lives—talented shinobi—while the Stone skirmish on the Land of Fire's border, pushing for inroads in the north while scouts suggest their forces are maneuvering closer to the Land of Wind. You throw away lives without thought or care while our true enemy seeks to build an Empire spanning the continent—a very real possibility, given what our Intel has thus far shown.

"Why? For power? For money? For tradition? Do not answer or interrupt, I do not care for your excuses or your accusations, nor am I in the mood for sycophants and their insipid brown-nosing," Pakura said with a shake of her head. "I will not stand to see our Village suffer any longer from the incompetence of a few for reasons of politics, tradition, or power hungry fools.

"So, I will say it one final time: These will be the last," Pakura stated. "Test my Will to protect this Village and my patience at your own risk."

The Councilors said nothing. They looked upon the macabre corpses and the Anbu agents shamed before them.

And those responsible, with hatred for the war-hero ever present in their hearts, wisely heeded the one and only warning Pakura deigned to give them.

For a time.

---

Over a month and a half had passed since Anbu training first begun for the Trinity.

For over forty-five days they had endured the most grueling and demanding training they had ever experienced, pushed to their limits, left battered, beaten, and drained physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Yet they continued to endure. For their dreams and goals, of course, but predominantly for each other.

Even when training separately, their hearts and spirits were united. Even as the training intensified week by week, forcing them to push beyond preconceived limitations, they kept thoughts of their Trinity and their goal close to the heart. That bond kept them marching ahead, tackling the challenge head-on, and now they were past the halfway point.

Now the days were winding down faster. The goalpost of ninety-days was rapidly approaching. The pass-or-fail test no longer sat out on the fringes of a far off horizon, it now rested at the top of a final climb for their team.

A hill surrounded by a war. A hill occupied by soldiers, a hill which was already blazing with an uncontrolled fire as ninja tools clashed and whistled through the air, all the while a large snake and a Masked Man lurked in the shadows, waiting for their chance to strike.

The Third Great Ninja War had restarted with earnest. Skirmishes raged on the north-western border, where land and ground was gained and lost in an early tug-of-war.

The Stone eagerly charged ahead with their spears and horses against the Leaf's shield wall. They were holding the line as best they could, for as long as they could manage against the overwhelming numbers and machines of war pounding their defenses. But loss was inevitable.

Efforts to install a puppet government in Ishigakure, the Hidden Rock Village, a small Nation located between the Land of Wind and Land of Earth, ended in success for the Stone Village. They were met with little resistance.

Thus far the desert of the Land of Wind had not yet been entered, as winter storms had delayed the delivery of key equipment and supplies for the inevitable conquest. News of the recently elected Fifth Kazekage, Pakura of Scorch Style, had spread across the continent, but it did not alter the Stone's plans.

The Rain Village, despite attempts of contact made by the Stone, remained disinterested in their offers. And unwelcome to shinobi of the Great Nations.

The fires of war were slowly spreading. Soon enough it would spread farther, for the blood of the previous wars had dried up, and those who were lost had nearly all been forgotten.

Now the earth was ripe for burning once more.

However, it would take time for the flames to engulf the world, and within the walls of the Leaf the fires of war could not be seen on this day. Not yet.

Fresh snow was falling, the first snow of the season…

---

"I had no idea it snowed this far south," Fū said, clearly amazed by the falling snow.

Looking up at the sky, watching as snowflakes gently descended and vanished into the compact sea of white surrounding them, Karin felt a similar, but more mild surprise.

Amaririsu had warned them. She went so far to prepare them for it when they were first granted sanctuary a month ago, preemptively buying the thick parkas, pants, scarves, mittens, and winter hats they now wore.

Despite steadily rising to a healthy weight since arriving, as well as the little bit of physical training she'd begun to learn self-defense from Amaririsu, the heavy clothes made Karin appear like a small child wearing adult clothes. That was okay, though. Amaririsu and Fū looked that way, too.

The only item Fū wore beneath her parka that Karin didn't—couldn't—was the Leaf headband the Hokage presented her, worn around her neck like Amaririsu and Hinata wore theirs. She still wore her Waterfall headband around her bicep.

She would always wear it, no matter what.

Flecks of white dotted the lenses of her glasses. Karin scrunched her nose, lowered her chin, and gently wiped each lens with her mitten.

She supposed she shouldn't have been nearly as surprised by the snowfall. The Grass and Leaf weren't that far apart, so it made sense a winter storm could produce snow within the Village.

Still, she hadn't expected so much. The storm blew in heavy last night while they all slept, and though it had calmed for a gentler precipitation, the steady fall of snow and below freezing temperatures guaranteed another few inches or more to join it.

"There are a handful or more days of heavy snow throughout our winter season," Amaririsu explained as she and her Shadow Clones, bundled beneath a heavy cloak and general winter apparel, shoveled the snow in front of her home. "Generally our winters consist of colder temperatures and sporadic, light snowfalls."

She stuck her shovel in a mound of snow, pausing for a moment to wipe the tip of her red nose.

"Compared to the Land of Snow, though, this isn't too bad. I mean, cold is cold," she added. "It's not a pleasant day for a brisk walk. I doubt we'll see the sun today. But it could be worse."

"Oh, that's right!" Fū struck upon an epiphany. "I forgot you've actually seen other Nations beside the Land of Fire. You met the Land of Snow's Princess, too. You got a kiss and everything!"

"I…did," Amaririsu admitted. It was impossible to see if she was blushing, cheeks already rosy, but her awkward confirmation made it obvious the winter chill wasn't the only reason now.

Karin couldn't deny her own amazement and intrigue in learning of Amaririsu's vast and varied world experience.

She'd seen small impoverished Nations like the Land of Waves, met a Princess and helped reclaim her throne from those who'd murdered her father and seized her Nation; she had seen the desert of the Land of Wind and ancient ruins, not to mention the whole existence of that Hero World and The Beyond.

Never once had Amaririsu's chakra signaled a lie. She also had physical proof of certain incidents, like the photos of the Princess of the Land of Snow kissing her on the cheek and the people from Class 1-A of that strange Hero World. There was also that "action figure" which scared the living daylights out of Fū when she, coaxed by Amaririsu, pressed the button on it.

At the press of the button, a booming voice she would later learn belonged to the man the figure was designed after declared its message without warning, causing Fū to squeal in surprise and drop it.

Amaririsu had giggled madly after catching the precious gift.

Fū still gave the action figure a stink eye each night, afraid it would spontaneously declare one of its messages on its own at any given moment.

Karin covered her mouth and nose with her mittens for a moment, hiding the small smile that had crept onto her lips. Then, after lowering her hands, she asked,

"What was the Land of Snow really like?"

"Yeah! I was just about to ask that, too! Way to be a step ahead of me, Karin!" Fū gave her a thumbs up.

That isn't too difficult, she wanted to tease, but hesitated. She didn't want to accidentally hurt anyone's feelings, least of all those who'd shown her nothing but kindness, sincerity, and had opened their warm arms to her—a complete stranger—the way Fū, Amaririsu, Kurenai, and so many others had.

"What was the Land of Snow really like, huh?" Amaririsu pondered the question.

"Hey, you need to keep working, too," one of her Shadow Clones reminded.

"Yeah, don't be troublesome," another scolded. "We'll get it done quicker if we all work together."

"Right. Sorry about that." Amaririsu paused, as though her ankle had caught on a wire. She then shook her head. "Apologizing to myself is always strange."

Fū grinned. Karin giggled softly.

"Anyway," she began again as she resumed shoveling, "the Land of Snow, like its name suggests, was a frozen tundra when we first arrived."

She grunted, hefted up her full shovel, and dropped it out of the main pathway they were carving out.

"Uninhabited glaciers, a chill that cut straight through our clothes, and finally white mountain peaks stretching out as far as we could see. It's an isolated, frozen Land with little by way of life, not at all unlike a desert, I suppose you could say."

Amaririsu filled her shovel again and continued to speak as she slowly marched to drop it off.

"I thought it was pretty miserable for most of my time there. Add in the Princess's initial attitude, that crazy old director's God's smiling on us, which always seemed ill-fortuned despite his claims they were gifting us something, and then the Snow shinobi we encountered and it would be easy to complain about it. To say there was no beauty whatsoever.

"But that's a closed-minded outlook, skewed by our limited winter gear making me cold and agitated, and the enemies that…eventually led me to a dark place, let's say. Objectively speaking, the mountain vistas were breathtaking. Snow and all.

"It was…" Amaririsu grunted as she shoved her shovel into the snow again. "…after the generators were activated that the Land of Snow became a Land out of a fairytale. In an instant spring had come to the Land. It's one of those times I'd say the grass was greener, literally speaking instead of metaphorically. The color just…popped out at you. Everything about the Land felt peaceful despite the battles that had occurred. Like the entire Land had finally exhaled a sigh of relief; it was like we could all feel it within our souls.

"I saw flowers I've never seen before. The hills and mountains—everything about the Land was breathtaking. Like a true fairytale kingdom. Sorry," she apologized suddenly. "I wish I could describe it better than that. I'm not doing any of it justice. Calling it beautiful is accurate, but it's also too bland, it doesn't capture the feeling I felt at all.

"Someday, though, I'd like to go back."

It almost didn't sound like a real place. Yet Karin believed Amaririsu, and though she hadn't seen it herself, she could feel Amaririsu's own peace when speaking of the Land. That said everything that needed to be said.

"Can we come with you?" Fū asked. "I'd totally love to see it."

"Of course. As long as you want to go, anyway. I wouldn't want to drag you there against your Will. That'd be a drag."

"It's a promise, then, hehe!"

"Hopefully it'll be known as the Land of Spring by that time. I wonder how the Princess is doing…"

"Why?" Fū teased, grinning. "Wondering if she's thinking about you? Are you hoping to steal another kis— ahh!"

Karin's eyes went wide as the girl was buried beneath several loads of snow, thrown by Amaririsu and her Shadow Clones. She hid her snickers behind her mitten as Fū frantically clawed her way free of the snow, before she began squirming and hissing—snow had gotten inside her parka, it seemed.

Amaririsu was definitely blushing.

Minutes later, when the Leaf kunoichi finally finished shoveling, she dispelled her Shadow Clones and set the shovel down in the snow. She lifted her eye to the slate sky, shut it, and inhaled a long breath of bitter air.

Without any preamble she flopped back first onto the thick snow bordering the new walkways. Karin's heart jolted in panic, for a moment.

Had something happened? Did Amaririsu's heart just give out or something?

Before the panic could fully grip her, the Uchiha Clan Head began to spread her arms and legs out repeatedly. Finally, she sat up, looked back at the snow angel she formed, and let out soft giggle.

"I've been waiting almost all year to do that."

Out of the panic a small, shy smile crept onto Karin's lips.

She's always so confident and strong, sometimes I forget she's a kid like us.

"Awesome! C'mon, Karin!"

"Huh?"

Fū was already dragging her towards Amaririsu.

"Let's make snow angels, too!"

Out of the question, she wanted to argue. She'd never made one before. She didn't really know how; sure she'd seen Amaririsu do it just now, but what if she messed it up? What if it looked stupid?

Fū had no such fears. She flopped down beside the edge of the "wing" of Amaririsu's snow angel and, giggling, started to spread her arms and legs out.

Out of her element and feeling totally awkward, Karin looked to Amaririsu, who smiled encouragingly at her and gesture with a small tilt of her head to join them. She was thankful her cheeks were rosy.

Awkwardly, she sat down beside Fū's newly formed snow angel. She pursed her lips.

Was she really about to do this? Was it okay to? Amaririsu and Fū didn't hesitate, even if it made them look a little foolish or childish, so…

After a moment of hesitation she finally laid back. After another she began sliding her arms and legs back and forth, and the tightness of anxiety in her chest slowly fizzled out, replaced by a strange feeling of relief and…child-like joy she'd never quite felt before.

When she sat up and checked her work, she couldn't help but let out a small giggle. The snow angel was a bit smaller than Fū's and Amaririsu's, but it was a snow angel all the same.

"Hehe!" Fū giggled. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

"A little," she admitted.

"More than a little." Fū flopped onto her back again. "Still, I'm really sorry, Karin."

Karin turned to look at her, confused by the sudden apology.

"Sorry? What are you sorry for?"

"For dragging you into this."

"Dragging me into wha—"

Fū exploded off the ground with her insect wings, and that was the last Karin saw of her before a wave of white crashed on top of her. Amaririsu, the target of the attack, also found herself buried.

When they both emerged out of the snow, which gathered on their shoulders, their hats, their hoods, and in their hair, Fū was standing across from them, hands on hips and a proud grin plastered on her face.

"We're even now!"

Amaririsu's eye twitched.

"Even?" she repeated. Then shook her head. "Oh no. You just started something you can't hope to end, Fū," Amaririsu declared.

Her hand, dug into the snow, flashed through the air. Karin wasn't able to track the snowball, nor was Fū.

"Gah!"

The snowball dispersed off her face, knocking the kunoichi onto her butt.

"I declare war on you!" Amaririsu declared, springing to her feet with a snowball in hand. She jabbed her finger at Fū. "The First Great Snowball War!"

Two snowballs flew in rapid succession from the opposite side. The first Amaririsu evaded, the second crashed into her forehead and knocked her to her butt.

"You'll regret that!" Fū replied. "Me and Chōmei will totally defeat you!"

Thus snowballs and giggles flew through the air as Amaririsu and Fū engaged in a totally official snowball war.

Karin watched on from her spot in the snow as they raced around, Body Flickering and flying quite literally in Fū's case, bombarding one another with snowballs. She curled her gloved fingers into the snow, pursing her lips awkwardly.

She wanted to join. She really did. It looked like they were having so much fun and she…she wanted to be apart of it.

On a strange whim, she began to bundle up snow, patting it until it took on the shape of a softball sized snowball. She stood up and slowly, hesitantly, approached the two, trying to track them. She just had to wait for the right moment, then…then she could try to join them.

When Fū was hovering above, back turned to her, she bit her lip nervously.

Should she? Was it okay to do this?

After a hesitant beat, she drew her arm back and threw the snowball.

It exploded on the kunoichi's back, who gasped, turned and looked down at Karin. She couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk on her face—she'd done it, she'd actually hit Fū. She'd taken part in their strange, childish, and joyful snowball war.

"Traitor!" gasped Fū.

"You started it." The remark was childish, but it perfectly summed up her retaliation.

"I guess we're even the—"

A barrage of snowballs, thrown by three Amaririsu's, created while the Waterfall kunoichi had her back turned, pelted Fū at speeds and impacts Karin couldn't replicate. Before she could flit away, the real Amaririsu appeared out of a leap, tackling the mint-haired girl out of the air and down into a thick mound of snow.

"No," Karin giggled openly and freely. "Now we're even! Hehehe— Ah!"

The barrage of snowballs to knock her over came from the Shadow Clones.

"We declare war on all three of you!" the leader of the trio announced.

"Turncoats!" Amaririsu declared. "Fū, Karin, it's time to set aside our differences and unite against a common enemy!"

"Yeah!" Fū pumped her fist into the air as her insect wings scattered the snow off her.

"I guess we have no choice," Karin groaned as she sat up.

Brought together by their common enemy, the first ever Great Snowball War continued in earnest until they were all out of breath from running around and giggling.

Like the Great Ninja Wars of history, though, it would not be the last.

---

As usual, the day of a Mizukage was fraught with all manner of reports, requests, and meetings.

Although, Mei considered as she paced around her office, if only to stretch her legs a moment as she poured over their most recent Intel on the movements of the Five Great Nations, I suspect such is the reality of any Kage. Especially now as the world enters yet another war.

Lips pursed, she paused, turned around, and began to walk towards the opposite wall, heels clicking along the floor.

With the grim renewal of the Third Great Ninja War, the necessity to rebuild Mist Village's infrastructure, its forces, and build concrete alliances with the Land's of Fire and Wind was more pronounced than ever before. And time sensitive.

This moment of relative peace, where their isolation from the continent provided breathing room to rebuild, reform, and renew their Nation without external conflicts as an addition to their internal ones, it was quickly draining away. Faster than she could have ever imagined it would.

Mei turned around again, but did not immediately begin walking. Her eyes drifted from the report momentarily to an empty space on the far wall.

What a state this world of ours is in, she lamented. We've made strides in the right direction here in the Mist, but not nearly as many as we need, nor enough to be prepared for war. Least of all a continuation of the Third Great Ninja War.

Already there are voices who seek to steer us from becoming involved; I cannot blame any of them, truly. A part of my heart agrees, if I am wholly honest. We simply aren't in a position to fight another long, bloody war.

Were it just a war between the Stone and Leaf, with no chance of spilling beyond their borders, I would only seek to offer peripheral support. In doing so we could build bridges and boost our economic situation, without a single Mist shinobi ever risking their life in the conflict.

Emerald eyes drifted back to the report.

However, I fear this war is already spilling beyond their borders. It has claimed the Grass, the Waterfall, and the Hidden Rock already. And if the Third Tsuchikage's prideful eyes are set on an Empire…

The Stone would drag them into this war. There wasn't an inkling of doubt within Mei, for Mist and Stone shared a long, violent history of bloodshed, betrayal, and enmity, stretching back to the birth of the Five Great Nations, truly.

The rivalry between the Second Mizukage and Second Tsuchikage, in particular, was well-documented, a clash spanning the near entirety of their time as Kage's before their final, fateful battle where both men slayed one another.

Their deaths did not mark the end, however. Far too much blood had been spilled by then to be simply washed away. Their Nations vendettas, forged in years of bloodshed, lingered on, like the stench of a rotten corpse hidden beneath the floorboards. It permeated within the rot which infested the past administration of the Mist.

All it will take, Mei sauntered ahead, is one incident. One attack from the Stone upon our shinobi and we'll rip the floorboards from the foundations, we'll dig up the mass grave and find that the blood we thought was old and dry is as fresh and wet as the sea. And the hesitation for war we now feel, rightfully so, will be replaced by the familiar hawkish fervor of the Dark Times.

Third Tsuchikage, what on earth are you thinking? Have you learned nothing from history? Have you not had your fill of this tragic bloodshed?

His actions were his answer.

This renewal of war, it caused her heart to ache terribly. So many had already lost their lives. Many, many more would join them. Mei had hoped beyond hope that the Stone would come to their senses, she had hoped they would not throw the world into chaos once more, staining yet another generation with the scars, trauma and hatred the previous generations clutched so tightly.

They couldn't avoid it, though. They couldn't bury their heads in the sand and pretend they would remain forever free of the conflict. One way or another it would reach them. Whether through the Stone shinobi, their mercenaries, or by turning Mist shinobi against her, as they had in the Waterfall, Grass, and Hidden Rock, they would target the Mist and Land of Water.

She would not let them harm her people. She would not let them ruin what progress they had made towards a better future.

If we maintain isolation, Mei thought, turning around again, heels clicking with each step, by these reports, there is a very real possibility the Stone can make their bold ambition a reality. At least their perceived capabilities paint such an image; we will see how close their true capabilities to create such an Empire compare to the perception they've created.

However, assuming the worst, they may very well annex portions of or all of the Land's of Fire and Wind. Should that occur, who would we then turn to for an Alliance? The Cloud Village?

Mei puffed out a bitter chuckle.

The very idea was laughable, and wholly disheartening.

What a wonderful indictment of humanity, Mei thought bitterly, that even the threat of the Stone's Empire would push us into deeper isolation. I know it would. We are all too prideful. Too chained by our past quarrels to unite. No, rather than rally together, rather than stand united against a foe who seeks to conquer our Lands and our people, we of the Mist and they of the Cloud would prefer to dig ourselves deeper into our own trenches, fighting alone in the name of pride and past quarrels.

Altering course, Mei sauntered to her desk, sat in her chair, exhaling a resigned sigh as she did.

War was coming. There was no way to avoid it, nor could they wait until the last minute to decide to stand firmly against a totalitarian Empire. No, she could not stand idly by, waiting to see how the Leaf and Sand would fare, like a vulture waiting for a dying beast to lose the last of its strength. It would weaken their position as allies, breed enmity, for it would be clear they had waited.

Additionally, should the Stone be as strong as their forces appeared, if she waited too long it may be too late to halt their advance. Then the Mist would be next on the chopping block, left alone to fight against a military power outmatching their own.

At this stage, she thought, we're too weak to fight any large-scale battle on our own. It is likely the same for the Sand, and the Leaf cannot be too far removed from such dire circumstances, especially now that they face the brunt of the Stone's attacks.

We must unite, she thought. I fear it may be the only way our Nations will survive at all.

Fortunately, inroads had already been made to these difficult but necessary goals, such as the line of communication already formed with the Leaf. Additionally, she was even more hopeful of their chances of forming an alliance with the Sand now that Pakura of Scorch Style had taken on the mantle.

Hopefully they would finally be able to move mountains together, alongside the Fifth Hokage, of course.

There was also the newest and, frankly, shocking mission request to reach her desk.

The door to her office opened. Natsumi entered first, followed by Haku; she'd been waiting for them. This new mission, shocking as it was, required a deft touch.

"I'm sorry to summon you both on such short notice," Mei apologized calmly when they stood before her, but her expression remained serious, "but we've received a request our Village cannot afford to turn away. It will require you to leave as soon as I finish briefing you, if you are to reach the rendezvous point in a punctual fashion. First impressions are everything."

"We're leaving the Land of Water, then," Natsumi correctly concluded.

"Indeed," Mei nodded once. "This will be a B-rank escort mission, one which you will be partaking in halfway through; the report suggests the previous escorts abandoned the client, though their reasons aren't given."

"Our client is clearly a person of means," Haku deduced. "It would be impossible to hire a new escort otherwise. Also, to communicate an urgent message to our Village requires connections those without means lack."

Mei nodded. It pleased her to lead such sharp shinobi.

"Our client is the Prince of the Land of the Moon—a wealthy island Nation host to all manner of luxuries," she explained. "It's a resort island for the ultra wealthy, due southwest of our Nation and due south of the Land of Tea. I've heard their chocolates are to die for.

"Now then, before I give you your rendezvous location, there are two important matters to go over. First, I suspect you are likely to discover what ran their previous escorts off. It could be nothing. However, given the money involved and, shall we say, the tribulations of royalty and succession, it may prove to be something quite nefarious."

"Every King wants to be King forever," Natsumi said, placing a hand on her hip. "Same story, different Nation."

"Mm," the Mizukage hummed in agreement. "I do not need to tell either of you to stay vigilant; I trust wholly in your abilities to accomplish this mission, even should it escalate beyond the parameters of the initial request.

"Instead, I must ask you to see the mission through to completion, regardless of what caused the previous bodyguards to abandon the Prince. The money we've been offered for completing this task stands to change everything about our economic situation."

Natsumi whistled lowly. "They must be offering hundreds of millions."

"A little more than two billion, actually."

Haku blinked, taken aback by the sum. A crooked grin formed on her student's face.

"Is he selling us unicorn horns, too?" she asked wryly.

"Can they actually pay us two billion?" Haku asked.

"They can. I do not blame either of you for your skepticism. However, great sums of money flow through the Land of the Moon," the Mizukage explained. "Their King is said to be worth enough to buy the Five Great Nations from the Feudal Lords themselves. And still possess generational wealth."

"Sounds like a scam." Natsumi shrugged. "But I trust you, Lady Mei. If his Highness is willing to throw stupid amounts of money our way for a B-rank escort, we'll take care of him. Hell, throw another billion in there and I'll be his court jester for an evening."

Mei smiled. "I'm certain they could fashion you quite the dashing dress and hat. The bells on your shoes could be encased in diamonds."

Her student scrunched her nose. "Sounds too pretentious for my tastes."

"Mm, true. Perhaps next time. Now then," she leaned back into her chair and crossed her right leg over her left, "the final matter we must discuss is connected to the first. It is not merely the money I need you to complete this mission for.

"This mission presents us a very special opportunity. We can build a rapport with a wealthy Prince and future King, as well as lay the strong foundations for an alliance with the Leaf."

"The Leaf?" Natsumi recoiled slightly.

Haku stood up a little straighter, his eyes alight with curiosity and, dare she say, hope.

"We will be conducting a joint-operation with Leaf shinobi?" he asked.

"Precisely," Mei nodded. "You could say the fates have smiled upon us; the Prince has hired two squads, ours and a team of Leaf shinobi. I have no information on who the team will be comprised of, unfortunately. However, I think I can safely guess at least one of the members the Fifth Hokage will pick…"

---

"Sorry I'm late!" Hinata apologized as she hurried through the falling snow and through the Leaf's open main gate, where two shinobi were waiting for her.

"Actually, you're right on time," Kakashi assured. "I just arrived. And, well," he eye smiled, "you know how Amari is about being early."

"Try as you might, you'll never rub your tardiness off on me, Kakashi-sensei," Amaririsu teased, poking her teacher in the side.

"Never say never," he replied cooly.

Amaririsu rolled her eye, then smiled at Hinata. "Anyway, you're not late, so don't worry about it. I'm sure Lord Hiashi wanted to speak to you, given the nature of our mission and the client we'll be working for."

Hinata nodded slightly. It was true. Her father had spoken of their mission as she prepared her pack for a long-term mission, which included preparing clothes for different weather circumstances.

Their mission, as the Hokage explained, was important on two fronts. First, the purely economic—their client would pay them well. Very well. In fact, Hinata had never seen so many zeroes behind a number before.

Secondly, the mission presented a chance to gain an ally in the Prince, as Team Seven had with the Princess of the Land of Snow, and it would be an official joint-operation with Mist Village—a chance to deepen the bonds of their Villages for a future alliance.

"The Fifth Hokage has handpicked all three of you," she recalled her father's words, "for your abilities, of course, but for your statuses within the Leaf as well. It is a wise gesture.

"There is Kakashi Hatake of the Sharingan, an elite shinobi, a man who's name is known far and wide; he is a man among a small pool who could one day be acknowledged as Hokage. As the student of the Fourth Hokage and the son of the White Fang, his presence shows our conviction to an alliance, true, but his presence will also temper their worst instincts.

"Then there is Amaririsu Yūhi—the Head of the Uchiha Clan. She is a known entity to the Fifth Mizukage and her inner circle, an individual who already possesses a connection to shinobi within the Mist, as a result of her role as an emissary in the Land of Rivers.

"Young though she may be, Amaririsu already carries herself with the poise, strength, and dignity of a Clan Head. There is still much she must learn. There is room for improvement and growth, as there is with all of your peers. However, Amaririsu wears her convictions well. The Mist shinobi will see this, of that I have no doubt.

"Furthermore, it is clear the Hokage believes Amaririsu possesses the ability to bridge the divides of our Nations, otherwise she would not chosen her as an emissary before; Amaririsu would have been thought of as too inexperienced for such a role, too young as well to depict an honest attempt to reach a peaceful agreement.

"So far the Fifth Hokage's instinct, her faith in Amaririsu's ability, has brought us closer to peace with the Mist than we've seen in decades. Some may reject this, of course. Especially among our Clan, when a shinobi like Ao of the Mist still lives."

"But…we can't keep bearing grudges like this. This war…"

"You're right," her father interrupted. "It is unlikely we will ever forgive or forget what has occurred in the past, but to continue to bear these grudges has led you to fight in a war we thought had been put to rest, and it will lead my grandchildren and great-grandchildren to fight in these endless wars if we continue on this path. I can see that clearly.

"True cooperation was achieved in the Land of Rivers between the Leaf and Mist. Similar bonds have formed between your generation and the Sand shinobi. This departure from the grudges of old, there is a common thread which binds them, an individual who stands at the heart of these changes."

"Amaririsu," she stated instead of asked.

"Indeed. I have seen what you and Neji both see within Amaririsu. You both speak highly of her. In the Land of Rivers, most recently, Neji was impressed by her actions as an emissary, he believes she will be a light which guides our Villages closer together"

"I agree," she had replied. "It is as you said, Father. Amaririsu wears her convictions well. I believe the Mist has already seen that, and the bonds Neji and Team Guy formed fighting beside the Mist shinobi, I believe they, too, will bring our Villages closer together."

"We can only hope. This will be your chance to further improve our relations with the Mist as well. As my daughter and a member of the most powerful and influential Clan in the Leaf, your sheer presence, like Kakashi's and Amaririsu's, presents the prestige and power of our Village and Clan for the Prince and the Mist shinobi to see.

"Without a word the Fifth Hokage is presenting our conviction to a potential alliance. So stand tall, Hinata. Stand proud. This is your chance to reach out to others as well. That is what Amaririsu has inspired you to do, after all, isn't it?"

It was. And she would, that was a promise she wouldn't go back on.

I'll have to keep up with Amaririsu and Kakashi-sensei, she thought. I'll be representing the strength of the Leaf and the Hyūga Clan, I have to make a good impression. I have to…

"Well, are we all set?" Kakashi asked.

"Ready when you are, Kakashi-sensei."

"I'm ready," Hinata nodded sharply.

He dipped his head towards the road. "All right then, let's not keep our client or our allies waiting."

"Right," she and Amaririsu agreed in unison.

I'm going to walk beside them this time.