"Tied me tight to a cross, I look longing at the sky,

Penitence for your crime! Penitence and your life!

If I pray who will hear? I am drowning in their cheers,

Devotion turned to dusty tombs

If my love was just a curse than I have only tears to shed

Penitence for your crime! Penitence and your life!

-Witch Hunt, JubyPhonic

A/N: Intended to be read after chapter 16.

It was lonely at the tower.

Osamu walked down a hallway, staring straight ahead, the clack of his sandals his only company. He was surrounded by ghosts. If he looked to the side, his eyes tricked him into thinking he saw a shadow of Tadao next to him. He could almost hear his former friend complaining about him taking up the entire hallway and complaining still about not being able to see if he walked behind him.

Shuji and Mamoru would be ahead of them, or a combination of them, with Osamu always in the back. Mamoru and Shuji used to talk about war, politics, and stuff that went over his head. Mamoru would bounce jokes off Tadao until the latter cracked a smile and called him an idiot. Shuji and Tadao always got into an argument over something small and meaningless, like whether vegetables were better eaten raw or fried.

Lord Hanzo would walk ahead of them, close enough to be part of the conversation if need be, though he was never included or added to them.

It was never this sad kind of quiet when it was the five of them, and Osamu never felt alone. He squeezed the mission report a little too hard, crumpling the paper. He was reduced to a doorman, stopping shinobi from entering the tower and collecting their mission reports, all the while not being allowed to read them himself.

He only saw Shuji long enough to step aside so he could enter the tower, and each encounter made him feel more and more helpless. He wasn't Tadao.

He couldn't go behind Lord Hanzo's back to investigate Shuji. He wouldn't know where to start. Lord Hanzo ignored any questions he asked, and his requests fell on deaf ears. Osamu couldn't keep sitting back and watching his Lord become someone he didn't recognize, watching his friends disappear, watching their dream of peace wilt into nothing.

Osamu stopped in front of the door to Lord Hanzo's office. He needed to talk to Shuji. It was the only thing he could do to try and make this better.

He slid open the door. Lord Hanzo sat on the far side of the room with the wall behind him, scrolls with confidential information spread out on his desk.

Osamu knew that Mamoru and Tadao were still alive. They had to be. He bowed low. "A report from Captain Hotada, Lord Hanzo," he said. He moved closer and put the scroll on the desk. He waited.

The man he thought he knew would've asked for his opinion on the report details, regardless of how useless it would be. Osamu dared to look up and saw Shuji's ghost standing beside Hanzo, willing to explain things in a way he understood. Tadao's ghost sitting on the floor somewhere, papers in his lap, complaining about the workload but doing it all anyway. Mamoru sometimes stood where Shuji did, always more directly involved in making important decisions than Tadao was willing to be or Osamu could be.

Hanzo's eyes narrowed.

The room felt bigger, emptier, and so cold.

Osamu bowed again, turned, and left the room. Only when he slid the door closed did he clench his fists.

It shouldn't be like this. This was all wrong.

崖

The day after, early in the morning, Osamu wedged himself into a narrow hallway made of unpainted, crumbling concrete and knocked on the door of Shuji's apartment.

As it opened, Osamu stared at his friend. His enemy.

How could he secretly be a spy? Back when the foundations for Hanzo's plot for peace were being built, Shuji would point out the flaws in the ideas Tadao or Mamoru voiced. He helped them make it better, make it into something they could do and not what they wanted to.

Why go through all the trouble? How could Shuji fight back-to-back with them on a battlefield and then try to have Mamoru killed?

He knew what Tadao said but... he couldn't wrap his head around it.

"We need to talk," Osamu said.

Shuji looked like he only just woke up. He absently ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down, wearing only a casual shirt and pants. He stepped aside, gestured into the apartment, and Osamu ducked inside.

It was cramped and sparse, with a pillow and blankets in the middle of the room. Most of the apartments left looked like this, having been hastily and shoddily built during the Third World War to lower the homeless population. Shinobi were moved in first.

"It's been a long time, Osa," Shuji said, and the door scraped closed behind him. "I was in the middle of making tea. Want any?"

"What kind?" Osamu asked.

"Konacha," Shuji answered, disappearing into a space separated from the main room by a thin wall. Osamu knew Shuji had a gas stove that worked only half the time.

Osamu couldn't help the twist of his lips. "No."

"Still don't like the cheap stuff, huh?"

Osamu didn't answer. He expected a confrontation, for Shuji to act differently, but instead he was being offered tea and everything felt the same.

Shuji came back with a small cup of lime-green tea. "Did Lord Hanzo send you?" he asked.

"No, he didn't," Osamu said, eyeing his 'friend'. Shuji acting like Shuji was throwing him off.

"He wouldn't," Shuji murmured, sitting back against the wall. He put the tea down in front of him, watching steam curl and float up. "The way Lord Hanzo is now is troubling. I don't know what we can do."

Osamu blinked.

"You know how much worse he's gotten after Tadao," Shuji said. "I've received so many complaints from shinobi frustrated by how little Hanzo is telling them about what led to Iwa declaring war, how close the enemy is to the border, or how long it'll be until they're sent out to fight."

Osamu opened his mouth to agree—then caught himself. He shook his head. "Are you a traitor, Shuji?" he asked gruffly.

Shuji didn't immediately answer. He ran a finger around the rim of his cup. "I can't answer that."

"You can't—?"

Shuji answered him by sticking out his tongue, showing Osamu the seal there. Three solid black lines followed by two broken ones.

Osamu drew back. Despite it all, he wanted to believe in the chance that Tadao was wrong, that this was a misunderstanding, or it was all because of a foreign shinobi trying to sabotage Lord Hanzo. Not someone he would've died for.

Shuji quietly sipped tea.

"Why?" Osamu asked. Shuji, who fought and bled and killed for Ame. His fists clenched. Why go through so much trouble? Why set fire to everything they were trying to accomplish?

Shuji lowered his cup, looking at him with dull gray eyes. "Orders," he said shortly.

Osamu took a step forward. He was angry—for himself, for Mamoru and Tadao. "Why did you keep acting like we were friends?"

All those memories with Shuji, fractured in an instant. It was always the four of them and Shuji. Never the five of them.

"I didn't know how much you knew," Shuji admitted. "I didn't think Tadao would've involved you in this."

It was too late to try and talk Shuji out of this.

It was always too late.

Osamu shook his head. "That's not all of it," he said. "You could've tricked me into believing you were one of us. I know you could've. But you didn't even try to deny being a traitor. Why?"

"Why would I?"

Osamu blinked at him.

Shuji balanced the cup on his leg. "Hanzo trusts you even less after you allowed Tadao to escape. He won't let you near him for long enough to tell him about me, and, if he did, he wouldn't believe you," he said simply. "It's too late to play the hero, Osa."

"Don't call me that," Osamu hissed.

Shuji smiled faintly. He leaned back. "It was a lot of fun," he mused. "Before, I mean. Being trusted, needed, cherished. I'm glad I was assigned to Ame."

Osamu stared at him. He sounded so... detached. "You got what you wanted," he said. "You don't have to keep doing this."

"I know you, Osa," Shuji said mildly. "Which is how I know you genuinely think I might stop if I see how much you believe I can." Shuji shook his head. "If your quest for peace didn't change my mind, you think this will?"

Osamu looked away. "I don't believe that," he began.

It's not that easy, blockhead.

"I want you to stop because of how many people you hurt. Because of how many you will hurt," he said quietly. "And... I want everything to go back to how it was."

"Still sentimental, even now," Shuji murmured to himself. "I'm going to miss that."

Osamu sagged. "You're leaving?"

"Remember the thing I showed you earlier?" Shuji asked instead. "It doesn't like direct answers."

"Why did you do that?" Osamu asked. His determination wouldn't change Shuji's mind, and neither would anger or threats.

Shuji drank the last of his tea. "You could tell Hanzo, if he lets you," he agreed. "He might believe you, after having you intensively checked for having one yourself. But what would it change? Mamoru and Tadao would still be gone. Hanzo abandoned peace. Like I said, it's too late."

"I can still try," Osamu grumbled.

Shuji smiled, shaking his head. "I think I'll even miss the rain."

It was only after Osamu left that he realized he never once thought of attacking Shuji.

ダイブ

Lord Hanzo barred Osamu from entering his office, and no matter how urgent he insisted the information he had for him was, the shinobi stationed outside wouldn't let him in.

Osamu needed to find some other piece of evidence against Shuji. Something Lord Hanzo couldn't brush off, or take as him trying to sabotage Shuji. Something he couldn't ignore.

He couldn't get back the past. He knew that now. But he could still salvage the present. He'd make Lord Hanzo see the truth, and then they would make a new plan for peace.

He had to see Daiki. The bartender had nothing to do with the conflict between the five of them, but Osamu didn't have another choice.

He kept his head low as he ducked into the bar. His eyes flicked to the empty tables, the almost-complete darkness (the only light trickled in from the cracks in the walls and the holes in the roof). Osamu made his way to the middle of the bar, where Daiki stood behind the counter.

Daiki stiffened as he approached, staring at him as he took a seat. After a moment, he wordlessly grabbed a cup, filled it to the brim with water, and put it down in front of Osamu.

Osamu bowed his head in thanks but didn't touch the cup. "I didn't come here for a drink," he said apologetically.

Daiki's dull eyes somehow dulled further. "Seems they never do," he rasped.

Osamu watched the water ripple in his cup. "Is Tadao alive?" he asked, then blinked at himself. It wasn't the question he wanted to ask, but now it lingered in the air between them, festering like mold.

Daiki grabbed a melted plate of wax and a box of matches, searching through it for a dry one.

Osamu frowned. "I don't want to know where he went or—"

"No," Daiki said, eyes on the counter.

Osamu's head jerked up to Daiki's. He didn't understand. "I asked if he was alive."

"Go east until you hit the border," Daiki said, never lifting his gaze. The pile of wet matches on the counter grew. "There you'll find your friend."

Osamu still didn't understand. His brows furrowed. "What did you mean by 'no'—"

The door opened.

Daiki froze.

Osamu, feeling like a slowly growing weight was pressing down on him, looked over. He didn't expect to see Lord Hanzo standing in the doorway, dripping from the rain, dressed like he was about to go to war.

Confusion, then worry. Osamu stood. "Has Konoha reached the border already, Lord Hanzo?"

Daiki sighed deeply, shoulders sagging.

Lord Hanzo looked at him, and he was unrecognizable to Osamu. He watched his Lord make hand-signs. Snake. Ram. Monkey. Boar. Horse. Tiger.

Alarm surged through Osamu like adrenaline.

Lord Hanzo's chest puffed up with the impending fireball and Osamu didn't think. He leapt up and back, shooting through the roof like it was made of paper.

He heard a quiet whisper from Daiki, and it almost sounded like a prayer.

Yellow-orange light ignited the bar, so bright that it blinded Osamu as the fireball turned everything it touched into cinders.

Osamu was still in the air, blinking the stars out of his eyes, when he felt something connect with his face, hard enough that he swore he felt his right eye burst. The punch sent him hurtling straight down and he flipped—landing on his feet on a pile of burned wood, the taste of ash in his mouth.

He couldn't open his right eye. He couldn't even touch the area without pain blurring his vision.

"Why?" Osamu managed, forcing open his left. "I did everything you asked of me. I've always followed orders without question."

"I've decided that having so-called... 'friends' is a hinderance I won't tolerate anymore," Lord Hanzo explained, across from him, kusarigama in hand. "Like an infected limb, your existence weakens me. I'm only doing what I should've a long time ago."

Bewildered, Osamu took a step forward. "We've... All of us always made each other stronger, Lord Hanzo," he insisted. "We were at our best when—"

"Enough!" Lord Hanzo said harshly. He clapped his hands together and sucked in.

The edge of Osamu's vision tinted red. Knowing what was coming, he pressed his own hands into the bird seal.

Wind Style: Air Bullets.

Lord Hanzo spat a pressurized stream of water at him, and Osamu shot five air bullets. The water stream was disrupted and burst as it collided with the air bullets, spraying them both with a dense curtain of mist and rain.

"I'm not going to fight you, Lord Hanzo," Osamu said firmly, dropping his hands. "I haven't given up on finding peace."

Lord Hanzo's eyes narrowed. Osamu didn't move when he surged forward, nor when he swung his blade. He only grabbed the handle, pushing back against Lord Hanzo, preventing the tip from piercing his stomach. He never looked away from his Lord.

"I'm still your friend, Lord Hanzo," Osamu said.

Lord Hanzo stared at him, eyes flashing, and then he pushed the blade forward. Osamu's hand shook, but he fought a losing battle. He couldn't stop the curved tip from stabbing his stomach.

He felt a symphony of agony as his Lord pushed the blade in deeper and he gave up on holding it back, stumbling back with a groan. Every drop of rain that hit his right eye stung. He held a hand against the wound, but still, he never fought back.

"We—We can still make the village a better place, L-Lord Hanzo," Osamu gasped, blood dribbling down his front.

Lord Hanzo didn't move. Didn't blink. "Despite it all, you still call me that," he rumbled.

Osamu's brow furrowed. "You're still my Lord."

Neither of them moved.

"Get out of my village," Lord Hanzo finally said.

Osamu shook his head, refusing, even as pain shot through his head.

Lord Hanzo turned his back on him. "Come near Ame again and I'll have your head," he said, his voice made of steel.

"I won't—"

"If you don't go, I'll offer a bounty for each limb," Lord Hanzo warned.

Osamu felt despair.

You're still my friend.

But Shuji was right. No matter how hard he tried, it was too late.

Osamu took a step back. And then another. As he turned to leave, he saw Daiki. Half of his upper body stuck out from beneath a pile of rubble. His left arm was still and unmoving, fingers half-curled. Dried blood was crusted down his face. Half his torso was blackened.

There was nothing to be done for him.

I'm sorry.

And he was. If he didn't go to Daiki for information, he would still be alive.

Osamu took a third step back, gave Lord Hanzo a final glance, and then he left.

A/N: 崖 - Cliff, ダイブ - Dive

Fun Fact: Osamu was originally supposed to die.

Other Fun Fact: I've learned that canon!Osamu's name is Daibutsu. Who knew?