Spring Monday 7:39 am

x11 ANT

'I never asked, but why are you so obsessed with rebuilding the village?' Those haunting words lingered in his consciousness, like a dark cloud hanging above his head. He fought an internal battle, trying to separate his greed from what he knew was right. The expected response was on his loyalty to the village and its people, highlighting the trust they had in him. That's what brought smiles to everyone's faces, the words they were longing to hear. But his truth was different. As the rain fell gently outside, he watched the shimmering droplets dance in the light, choreographed by a gentle breeze.

The air was crisp and cold, causing his breath to turn frosty. He longed for a cup of herbal tea to match the mood. Suddenly, a feminine voice pierced his thoughts, etching into his soul. He chuckled, realizing she was awake. After a long night of work, she deserved her rest. He could still feel the tension in his jaw, a reminder of how she corrected him.

"Are you going to leave me alone in the cold forever?" She was persistent, her voice slurring against his ear as her arms draped around his shoulders. "Making the woman come to you? Where are your manners?" Her lips danced on his neck, marking him as her own.

She was alluring, with her viper-like red eyes and untamed dark hair. "I have nothing planned," he lied through his teeth, his gaze shifting to the window as it reflected their images. He stayed because of her. She had a knack for knowing precisely how to provoke him and get under his skin. As their hands overlapped, he couldn't help but revel in the comforting warmth she radiated.

"Then come back to bed," she said with a playful smile, pulling him down beside her, and he complied, unable to resist her. The morning sun quickly disappeared, replaced by silver and black rain clouds. He stopped moving. Locked in her embrace, he could feel the warmth of her head resting on his chest, her slender legs keeping him captive. He found himself trapped in an endless cycle, from not wanting to disturb her and further strain his body. Asuma focused his attention on the ceiling. Their relationship was purely physical, or so she claimed, but deep down, they both knew it was something more. They had known each other since childhood, which only strengthened their bond.

As he shifted his head, his gaze fell upon the nearly empty protection box. Anyone responsible would refill it, giving him an excuse to grab a smoke. "I'm not one to worry or dismiss, but do you think these children can change the fate of the village?" Her voice momentarily took him by surprise, but Asuma suppressed his bruised ego and dismissed his petty thoughts.

"They have to," he whispered, his voice drowned out by the rain outside. Her worries were justified, as if searching for a lifeline. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, pressing down on their shoulders. "I have no choice but to put my faith in each one of them, no matter what happens." Rumors swirled like whispers in the wind, but some were content to remain ignorant of the village's external troubles. He gently massaged her tense back, a feeble attempt to strengthen his own resolve.

"They abandoned us, betrayed us," Kurenai Yūhi's words were sharp, cutting through the silence. Everyone universally acknowledged this truth, and Asuma admired her for never shying away from it. Among those who had left, someone had betrayed the village. Someone stole secrets, including important documents, and their purpose is still unknown. Whether used as a bargaining chip or for reassurance, the answers they sought would forever elude them.

"Most of them were protecting their clans and families. They never knew when the next attack would come. In the end, someone had to make the tough decision, and it fell upon them," he mused, listening to the mournful howl of the wind. A sense of longing filled his heart, wondering where those defectors had ended up.

"And themselves," she added, her lips pursed with bitter resentment. He understood that her anger stemmed not only from their betrayal, but from the abandonment of close friendships.

"Fear and uncertainty breed hasty choices," he said, his voice tinged with weariness. Her presence enveloped him, the scent of lilac mingling with the stormy atmosphere. As she buried her face against his chest, he couldn't help but ponder the what-ifs. The departure of the major clans had left them vulnerable and weakened temporarily. If their paths were to cross, nothing would go smoothly. The rain gently tapped against the window, echoing the storm brewing within. Her hand went low and Asuma exhaled, realizing he needed to replenish his supply of condoms.


Fuko woke up, his eyes fixed on his reflection in the mirror. His unruly, shoulder-length hair cascaded around his neck, prompting him to gather it into a haphazard bun with strands playfully grazing his eyes. Despite the intensifying storm outside, the rhythmic patter of rain against the window failed to dissuade him from venturing out. Today was school, another opportunity to earn some money. Clad in a plain black jacket and sweats, he hoped they would be enough to keep him warm and cozy, despite the lack of an umbrella.

As Fuko stepped out onto the wet road, the scent of rain permeated the air, mingling with the earthy fragrance of damp leaves. His footsteps echoed through the empty alleys, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder. Each raindrop, like tiny drumbeats, danced on his shoulders, creating a soothing melody that almost drowned out the chaos of the storm. As the cool droplets kissed his face, his senses came alive and a surge of energy coursed through his veins. Rainy weather was his favorite, as he found that anything cold, including the raindrops on his skin, brought him immense pleasure. That was until a bird, flying overhead, took a shit directly onto his arm. Hastily removing it, he let out a groan as he examined the stubborn stain and the lingering odor it had left behind. With all his other limited belongings dirty or ripped, he had no other option but to endure the day, despite knowing what was coming.

As he felt the droplets seep into his clothes. The gray sky hung heavy above him, casting a gloomy pallor on everything it touched. Puddles formed on the ground, reflecting the dim light of street lamps. Passing by another abandoned house, he made a mental note that it would shelter him. Surrounding him were crumbling homes, some in better condition than others. The slums had a distinct atmosphere, different from the rest of Konoha, which people knew as the 'name' of this place. It was a neglected part of Konoha that people avoided, where irreversible damage had taken its toll. The worst part was the guards stationed at the only pathway connecting Konoha to the slums. It meant that everyone had to endure a search before entering.

Standing in line, Fuko tried to ignore the constant complaining. Families bickered and shouted at each other, some even breaking out into fights. The sound of rain intensified, drenching everything, while the line barely budged. Those fortunate enough to live in central Konoha were spared from witnessing this behavior. Moving forward, he adjusted his hood, observing the frail children nearby whining about the cold. Eventually, it was his turn, and as expected, he raised his arms slightly and spread his legs. "It'll be quick, boy," a guard assured him. Their hands roamed around his waist, crawling up and down before proceeding to his legs. There were many unsettling aspects to this process, with reports of people, particularly women, being groped. Fuko had heard countless stories.

Freed from those slimy hands, he quickly made his way inside, and after a few minutes of walking the world changed, people with umbrellas talking and shopping without a care. They were smiling and laughing among each other, probably talking about the people who had trouble getting in. He could stay in the main section of Konoha, but the prices were ridiculous. Navigating through the bustling crowd, he deftly snatched two apples from a fruit stand and continued towards the school.

Reaching the entrance didn't take long, nor did finishing the apple. As the rain subsided along the way, he unfortunately stepped directly into a pile of dog shit. The color of the dog shit on his boots perfectly matched the muddy stains from his worn-out footwear, despite his best attempts to remove it. Fortunately, the bird dropping was now the least of his problems. Stepping inside the academy's entrance, his eyes settled on the chaotic cluster of umbrellas by the door, their vibrant colors contrasting with the dullness of the room. With no hesitation, he grabbed one, feeling the smooth handle in his hand. He used it to scrape off as much sticky feces as he could. The pungent smell of ammonia filled his nostrils, making him crinkle his nose in disgust. He placed the soiled umbrella back with the rest, trying to blend in as if nothing had happened.

Quickly heading to class, he pushed open the sliding door, its rusty hinges squeaking with each movement. As he entered, his ears caught the sound of shuffling papers and whispered conversations. He watched the girl in front of him hold out her hand, the crinkling of the paper echoing in the room. Her delicate features contorted in distaste as she waved the piece of paper, the silent sound of her judgment lingering in the air.

"Our teacher gave us a seating chart." Mia's large doe-shaped eyes skimmed the paper, her voice carrying a hint of annoyance. "Row two, section two." Fuko nodded, his footsteps barely making a sound as he walked past her and right by his assigned seat. He made his way to the back, feeling the firmness of the chair against his back as he took a seat. Throughout the entire process, he could feel her intense teal-colored eyes drilling into him, her gaze piercing his skin. When he finally met her gaze, her expression conveyed nothing but pure disgust, or at least, that was his assumption.

Mia was widely acknowledged as being a bit of a bitch, or at least that's what people he spoke to said. Overall, she was quite famous in the classroom and somewhat beloved, which was more than he could say about himself. As he watched a group of people surround her and ask about her vacation, he let out a yawn, not particularly excited about the day ahead.


"I noticed this boy," her friend continued while Mia's attention drifted away from the unexpected conversation, focusing instead on organizing the familiar and unfamiliar individuals in the newly arranged seating. "But nothing compares to Sasuke," Mia shuttered at her friend's provocative tone, sending chills down her spine. She never understood her classmates' infatuation with the boy, the lengths they went to, like stealing a lock of his hair. It was disgusting. "Talk about perfect timing," Mia shot an irritated look at the girl before guiding the brooding boy to his seat, paying no attention to the exclamations of those nearby.

Ino stepped in, placing her arm around Mia, and said, "Please give Mia some space. She's not comfortable right now."

As she looked between her friends, she let out a sigh, parting her lips. "Both of you, go to your seats," she said, knowing that Iruka-sensei would arrive soon. With her attention fixed on the departing figures, she quickly shifted her gaze to the next face in the doorway. Attempting to remember everyone's face and name, Mia found it made everything flow more smoothly.

Assisting anyone else who entered, Mia finally settled into her seat in the front row, right beside Ino and the perpetually tardy Nazorashi. "So, doll-face, how was your vacation?" Ino playfully attempted to pinch her cheek, only to receive a light slap on the wrist. "Ow, you know I can't help it."

Mia rolled her eyes, her lips tightening. "I helped my mother and studied." Ino's questions never bothered her. Despite being repeatedly told to stop talking, the girl would persist. It was an endless cycle. As Nazorashi entered, Mia stood up, her simple blue dress gently swaying. She gestured towards the empty seat beside her, paying no attention to the boys speaking about her in the back.

As Nazorashi settled into her seat beside Mia, she calmly ignored the hushed whispers emanating from the rowdy boys at the back of the classroom. Instead, her focus honed in on the imminent start of the lesson. The scent of freshly sharpened pencils and the soft rustling of textbooks filled the air, heightening her anticipation. Mia's reputation for unwavering commitment to her studies and unwavering determination to excel preceded her. Undeterred by the distractions and occasional interruptions, she remained resolute in herself and her goals.

The noise grew increasingly louder until Iruka stepped forward, sliding open the door. Those who had been out of their seats quickly rushed to their designated spots, alongside a few select individuals. Mia observed as he cleared his desk of books and announced, "Starting today, roll-call will be conducted according to the seating chart. If you're not in your seat, you're absent." The sound of collective groaning filled the room as some students begrudgingly got up from their seats and made their way to their assigned spots. "Naruto and Fuko, this applies to both of you as well."

All eyes turned towards the two boys—one desperately attempting to conceal his face, while the other wore a wide, maniacal grin. Mia watched as both of them listened, Fuko taking his seat behind them while his singular seat partner crinkled their nose and asked why he smelled like shit.

"Wow, you really stink," Ino chimed in as Iruka began roll-call.

"Perhaps you should mind your own business?" Fuko spat, clearly annoyed.

As Iruka continued with the roll call, Mia noticed the tension between Fuko and Ino escalating. It seemed that Fuko's outburst had ignited a spark in Ino, who was never one to back down from a confrontation. She shot back, "I have every right to comment on your smell. It's offensive to the entire class."

Naruto, who had been trying to keep a low profile, couldn't help but interject, "Leave him alone, Ino! It's not his fault he smells. Maybe you should learn some compassion."

Ino scoffed, not willing to back down. "Compassion? Please, Naruto. You're just defending your little sidekick."

"Sidekick? I hardly know the kid, you blond bimbo," Fuko argued, standing up.

The tension in the classroom was palpable as the two engaged in a heated exchange. Mia couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, knowing that this confrontation could easily escalate into something more dangerous.

Just as Mia was about to intervene, Iruka's stern voice cut through the tension. "That's enough! We're here to learn, not argue. Ino, Naruto, Fuko, I expect better behavior from all of you."

The room fell silent as the students returned their attention to Iruka, who continued with roll-call. Mia glanced at Fuko, who appeared noticeably more composed. In contrast, Ino whispered profanities under her breath, attempting to divert her attention.

As the roll call proceeded, Mia couldn't help but ponder the dynamics within the class, noticing underlying tensions and conflicts that needed to be addressed. She hoped that the seating arrangement would force everyone to confront their differences and find a way to coexist peacefully.

Time flew by as the lesson flowed, and Iruka briefly left the classroom. In his absence, Ino turned around and yelled at Fuko, who had previously belittled her. Mia shook her head, astounded by the pettiness of both individuals. Determined to stay focused, she ignored their argument and began organizing her notes.

However, the growing intensity and disorder of the comments being exchanged abruptly shattered Mia's focus. "You should ask your mom to bathe you properly!" Ino responded with a trembling voice and shaking hands, fueled by her growing anger.

Mia swiftly positioned herself between the two, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was filled with tension, the air heavy with suppressed anger. She chastised herself for not stepping in sooner, her mind clouded with regret. "You and your friends are a bunch of whores." Ignoring the hurtful words, Mia restrained Ino, their labored breathing filling her ears. She could feel the heat radiating off their bodies. It didn't take her long to realize it would be a day that dragged on.


Nazorashi Nakazawa observed a throng of people trailing behind Ino, their footsteps echoing through the hallway. During class, Ino had declared her intention to confront that boy, and now both she and the crowd were fervently on the hunt for him. Because of her perpetually unfortunate luck, Nazorashi found herself inadvertently caught up in the situation, despite having no involvement whatsoever. It was lunchtime, and she sat in solitude at a table, the silence enveloping her. Just beneath the table was the boy. Nazorashi couldn't help but admit that he was even craftier than she had anticipated. As she took a bite of the crisp green apple he had used to entice her, she casually observed the restless crowd, their excitement and whispers filling the air.

Finishing the juicy apple, she reached her slender hand down, subtly signaling for more to maintain the ruse. "I don't have another." Hearing that, she cleared her throat, getting ready to leave the boy to fend for himself. "Wait, help me out and I won't tell everyone which brothel your mother works at." She did not react, realizing that he was even more insufferable than she had previously assumed. But two could play that game.

"Should I enlighten everyone as to why you were at said brothel?" Sure, they crossed paths a few times, and she caught a match or two of his, but their relationship was far from amicable. If anything, he was a constant thorn in her side, and she had a strong inkling that the feeling was mutual. Convenient to use at times, but overall just another person.

He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with temptation, "I'll buy you any book you desire." He knew her weakness, her love for literature. It was a convenient bargaining chip he often used to his advantage.

But she was not so easily swayed. She stood up, causing the sheet that covered the table to be ripped from its place, exposing him in all his disheveled glory. Nazorashi glanced downwards before nonchalantly strolling away. "Nope."

Heading to the bathroom, her straight shoulder-length midnight blue hair swayed side to side. Stopping in her tracks, she looked at Mia scolding Ino for causing a scene. To her dismay, they assigned a seat next to the two people she couldn't get along with. One person was excessively noisy, while the other was overly strict with following rules. Nazorashi intentionally ignored Ino's attempts to get her attention, walking past without acknowledging her. Ino's insult to call her a whore fell on deaf ears as she went inside the restroom.

Shaking her head, she could feel the refreshing sensation of water splashing against her pale face. Winter had recently ended, and she couldn't help but lament the missed opportunities to venture outside and explore, all because she didn't own any winter clothing. Spending her time inside, her pale complexion became more apparent, but with spring and school, she knew her tan would soon come back.

Unconsciously, Nazorashi's gaze darted to the group of girls who entered the room, their snickers echoing through the air. The sound of stifled laughter mixed with the faint scent of perfume filled the room. "Excuse me, can I borrow some money?" One girl asked, her voice laced with mockery as laughter erupted behind her. The situation did not shock Nazorashi; it was a common occurrence. People either ignored her or tried to pick on her, assuming she was an easy target. Another girl pulled her friend to the side, attempting to whisper, but their words carried through the room. "Look at her clothes, why would you ask her that?" The sight of her worn-out white tank top stretched over her sports bra and the sight of her brown, ripped shorts matched with worn-out sandals caught their attention. Their whispering grew louder, blending with the sound of water splashing as Nazorashi dried her hands and face. "Gosh, have you seen her little brother?" One of them remarked. The room filled with a mixture of pity and judgment. "Both of them look homeless. I kinda feel sorry for taking the money he had."

She felt a pang of annoyance and frustration at the girls' comments, but she refused to let their words affect her. She knew the truth about her situation and didn't need their sympathy or judgment.

After using the restroom, lunch quickly ended, and she returned to her original seat, even though she wanted to switch seats. However, she knew that graduating would benefit her in the long run. Luckily, Ino went home early, which helped her get through the day easier.

"Iruka-sensei expects a handwritten apology on his desk tomorrow, Fuko," Mia's voice was stern and somewhat demanding, something she found annoyingly funny. Resting her head, she couldn't wait for the day to end.


Spring Monday 11:01 pm

x11 ANT

Hayate crouched silently on a sturdy branch, his eyes fixed on the group of shinobi conversing below. Raindrops pelted the ground, veiling their presence. Two of the four men began scouring the area, their movements betraying their true intentions. The scent of wet earth mingled with the faint aroma of leaves, carried by the wind that rustled through the trees. Dressed inconspicuously in civilian attire, they seemed harmless at first glance, but their clumsy attempts to mimic a civilian's mannerisms gave them away. Hayate's fingers instinctively wrapped around the hilt of his sword, the cold steel beneath his touch. They were far enough from the village to ensure no innocent lives were at risk, permitting him to complete his mission.

As the rain intensified, the sound of droplets pattering against the leaves filled his head. He leaped from the branch, his body moving with the agility of a predator. Landing silently on the wet ground behind the unsuspecting shinobi, the earth squelched beneath his feet. He raised his blade, the glint of cold steel reflecting the dim light. With a swift, slicing motion, he cut through the air, severing the first man's throat. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the fresh rain, creating a distinct odor. The second shinobi turned just in time to witness his comrade's demise, fear flickering in his eyes. Hayate lunged forward, the weight of his body behind his blade as it pierced through the man's chest. As he twisted the blade, he could feel the resistance of muscle and bones giving way.

The remaining two shinobi, now aware of the danger, drew their weapons, the sound of metal scraping against metal filling the tense atmosphere. But Hayate was already in motion, his movements a blur of deadly precision. He deftly dodged a kunai, the wind whistling past his ears. With a swift, powerful kick, he sent one of the shinobi hurtling into a nearby tree; the impact reverberating through his bones. The other shinobi lunged forward, desperation etched on his face. But Hayate's reflexes were faster, his sword dancing through the raindrops, each clash with the enemy's weapon sending sparks in the air. In a surge of strength, Hayate broke free, his blade slashing across the shinobi's chest. The distinct sound of metal meeting flesh echoed through the rain-soaked area.

"Now," Hayate said, his voice carrying a hint of menace. Turning around, he saw the man next to the tree, his chest heaving as he struggled to breathe. Rainwater dripped from the leaves overhead, creating a rhythmic pitter-patter. "Will you answer my questions, or are you gonna give me a hard time?"

Time seemed to slow down as the man opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue. A strange mark appeared, causing his body to swell unnaturally. Jumping back, Hayate instinctively covered his face as an explosion erupted from the man's bloated form. Bits and pieces of flesh and debris scattered in every direction, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh permeating the air. Before he could process anything, his instincts screamed. A sharp pain shot through his arm, followed by the warmth of his blood streaming down, staining his clothes. Another player entered the battle, their weapon cutting him, but thankfully, there was no poison on it that would have proved fatal.

The assailant was faster than him, but Hayate had been tailing these four men out of the village, indicating the possibility of him being followed or a predetermined meeting place. He knew he had to handle this situation swiftly before it escalated further. The surrounding bushes rustled, leaving him uncertain whether it was the wind whispering through the leaves or the presence of the person who had attacked him. Holding his ground, Hayate whipped his head around, his senses on high alert, trying to anticipate where the next attack would come from.

Underneath him, the ground cracked and crumbled, causing him to jump back once again. But this time, he was met with a slash to his chest from the front; the pain searing through his body. When the attacker initially struck; they had set a decoy bomb on the ground. Clutching his wounded chest, Hayate did his best to stem the bleeding, the sensation of warm blood soaking through his clothes adding to the urgency of the situation. Meanwhile, the assailant stood proudly before him, their face concealed by an owl mask, leaving Hayate to wonder about their identity.

Look at the mess I got myself into. Without prompt treatment, he would die from blood loss, and the two previous attacks indicated this person was superior to him. Even if he used the transparent escape technique, his blood would give him away. There were only a few possibilities for him.

Every breath he took was a struggle, his chest burning with pain as he fought to stay conscious. The ground beneath him trembled, a constant reminder of the imminent danger he faced. With his vision growing hazy, Hayate's mind raced, searching for a way out of this deadly predicament. "Hey," he taunted, "you think you'll be able to escape?" In a moment of desperation, he let go of his weapon and swiftly moved his hands to perform a few intricate hand signs. "We're both going to die!" he yelled. Two smoke clouds materialized, and identical clones of himself emerged from within. Hayate's hands contacted the clones' backs as they lunged towards the masked man, triggering the explosion seals placed on both.

As the explosion erupted, a billowing cloud of acrid smoke filled the air, its noxious fumes invading the nostrils and searing the eyes. The deafening boom reverberated through the area, obliterating all other sounds. The force of the blast sent shockwaves rippling through the ground, intensifying the already trembling earth, the grass withering away.

Hayate felt the scorching heat of the explosion engulf his face, the searing pain momentarily eclipsing his injuries. The sheer force of the blast propelled him backward, his body colliding with a tree. Every movement now sent a jolt of agony through his battered form, but he remained resolute, refusing to succumb to the pain.

Through the thick haze of smoke, he caught a glimpse of the masked man, his figure obscured and disoriented. Hayate knew he had only bought himself a fleeting respite, aware that the masked man would soon recover from the surprise attack. Summoning whatever strength he had left, he pushed himself up, his body protesting with every agonizing movement.

Blood saturated his tattered clothing, a grim reminder of the life-threatening wounds he had sustained. Each breath was a battle, his lungs gasping for air as he fought to maintain consciousness. The pain in his chest intensified, gradually numbing his senses. With his vision growing increasingly blurry, he strained to focus on the masked man, his mind racing to discover another means of escaping this deadly predicament.

Giving in to his intrusive thoughts, he sprinted towards the village, slicing through a dense thicket of prickly bushes, the sharp rustling of leaves echoing in his ears. Ignoring any time wasted, he could feel the branches scratching his skin, a tingling sensation mixed with the burned scent of burning foliage.

Despite the pain and exhaustion, Hayate pressed on, his determination propelling each step. His objective was clear: reach the village, seek help, and warn them of the masked man's presence. Thoughts of strategy and survival raced through his mind as he dragged his feet.

"That was a petty trick back there," the figure remarked, their voice laced with a hint of annoyance. As if materializing out of thin air, they appeared in front of him, gracefully brushing off the debris from their shoulder.

"You grazed me, I'll give you that," they admitted, their tone begrudgingly impressed. With a swift motion, they popped their shoulder back into place, wincing slightly. Adjusting their cracked mask, they exhaled a looming sense of defeat washing over Hayate.

His wounds oozed blood, staining his clothes and creating a crimson pool on the ground. Each breath he took sent sharp, needle-like pains through his chest as if death's door was slowly creaking open. The village was in view, but the second he took another step, his head would roll.

"I was supposed to take you back alive, but it seems you'll die in a few minutes." They took a step forward, and Hayate dug in his vest. He had one more trick up his sleeve, even if it cost him his life. Knee's buckling. He fell to the ground, his consciousness slipping away from him. He could hear their footsteps growing closer and closer. Two ball-shaped beads rolled out of his vest and a cloud of smoke engulfed the area.

As the smoke dissipated, Hayate's body vanished without a trace. The figure's eyes widened in astonishment, realizing their prey had somehow eluded them. In a state of panic, they frantically scanned the surroundings, desperately searching for any clue to Hayate's whereabouts. Their attention quickly focused on the trails of blood leading them towards the village. Little did they know, Hayate had employed his final trick to create a diversion and ensure his escape from certain death. Amidst the chaos and confusion, he had stealthily crawled away, concealing his body behind a bush, using every ounce of strength he had remaining.

Hayate felt a mix of relief and urgency as the concerned voices of some people melded into a chaotic symphony as they rushed to his aid. "Check his pockets." Darkness closed in on him, his vision slipping away entirely, and the final words he heard echoed in his mind.

As he gradually emerged from unconsciousness, a disorienting fog enveloped his senses, like a disorienting mist that clouded his perception. The concerned faces of his friends huddled close, their furrowed brows and anxious eyes speaking volumes without uttering a single word. The throbbing pain overwhelmed him, piercing his body like a thousand sharp needles, making him question if death would offer respite from the impending onslaught of paperwork and relentless interrogations that were bound to follow.


New faces and old faces! The political aspect of this story had me reviewing the material over and over again. I love the idea of Konoha fighting its way to survive, how big of an impact the nine-tails attack had on the village, and what follows suit.

First of all, thank you to everyone who submitted a character! The cast is almost filled, I plan on introducing two to three characters in each chapter. Everyone so far is colorful and unique, so pardon if it takes a chapter or two to fully immerse myself in their head to write them perfectly! That being said, thank you for the likes and follows and I'll see ya later.