"Happy to listen.

"Happy to play.

"Happily watching her drift away."

-Drift Away, Sarah Stiles

A/N: Intended to be read after chapter 10.

Mamoru knelt, head bowed, back facing the wall. In front of him, Hanzo the Salamander and Danzo Shimura shook hands. Four of them were clustered in the small room, two positioned on either side of the elder from Konoha. A kerosene lantern hung against the wall, between Osamu and Tadao, filling the room with dull orange light.

Danzo, despite missing an eye and having one arm in a sling, didn't look frail. He carried an air of absolute authority about him, and the look in his eye could make a mountain move out of his way. It was only matched by the unyielding will that exuded from Hanzo like the poison on his breath.

Each man stared the other down, still holding hands. It went on for three seconds. Four.

Mamoru discreetly shifted. His calf was starting to burn. Only the six of them knew about this meeting. It started with a scroll, delivered to the border patrol by a member of Root, forehead protector and weapons abandoned, a white cloth tied around her forehead to mark her as a messenger. Without it, she would've been attacked on sight.

Only after Tadao inspected it for traps, seals, or genjutsu was it was delivered to Hanzo.

Mamoru had been present when Hanzo read it, when his eyebrows shot up in surprise and he passed it around for the four of them to read. Shuji was the one who suggested that if Danzo were serious about meeting privately, he should be asked to come alone as a show of good faith. They were all surprised when he did.

Konoha, Suna, and Iwa might have agreed to an armistice and the fighting might have stopped on their borders, but that fragile 'peace' didn't exist in Ame. Mamoru only knew about the armistice because Shuji brought it up while they were dumping the day's dead in the lake that surrounded the village—there were barely any capable shinobi left to fight, let alone to do the menial tasks like gathering the dead and disposing of the bodies. Only the war orphans, injured survivors, and the exceptionally strong were left.

The civilians left in Ame were constantly terrorized by shinobi from Iwa or Suna, who took advantage of the devastated state of the village and looted, murdered, or both. If they were caught and taken into custody—and not killed right then and there—they became food for Hanzo's pet, Ibuse. Sometimes, a team from Konoha would stumble into Ame, unaware that the war was supposedly over.

They never stopped to chat about the state of the world before they leapt at you either.

Five seconds.

The soft patter of the rain on the roof filled the silence. Six. Danzo pulled back first, a small concession of defeat. Mamoru suspected that if he hadn't, he would've been stuck in place until the end of time.

"So we have an agreement, Hanzo of the Salamander?" Danzo asked, hand closing around a cane propped against the wall.

"For now," Hanzo rumbled. "But hear me, Danzo. I will only help you depose your Hokage after you fulfill your end of our agreement. Not before. You will receive no help at all if you decide to go back on our terms."

"I would expect nothing less," the elder said. He didn't incline his head in acknowledgement, nor did he bow. He simply stared for a moment more and turned away. "You'll have your third of Root, as promised."

Mamoru didn't lift his head as Danzo exited the room. He listened to the soft click of the elder's sandals through the paper-thin walls, only looking up when Shuji slid the door to the room shut. Hanzo stood still in the middle of the room, arms crossed, eyes closed.

"Did this go how you thought it would?" Mamoru asked, pushing himself up. His leg ached. When was the last time he slept? Three, four days ago?

"Lord Hanzo," Osamu hissed at him. He was still on one knee.

Mamoru, like the good little soldier he was, waved him off.

Hanzo didn't answer.

"It doesn't matter how well it did or didn't go," Shuji said in his place. His eyes flicked to Hanzo, but the village head didn't tell him he was right or wrong. "Lord Hanzo was aware of how fragile this partnership would be when he agreed to meet. If Danzo is right and another war is on the horizon, we won't have the manpower to survive it. Unfortunately, Danzo knows this. Lord Hanzo will survive the war, but without outside help, Ame may not."

"Tedious," Tadao drawled. His legs were crossed, head tilted back against the wall. "All that double-talk. Why can't anyone just say what they mean and be done with it?"

"We're taking advantage of Danzo," Osamu protested. "Not the other way around. With Danzo on the seat of Hokage, we'll finally have some sway to establish talks with the other villages. We have the same goal, in the end. To unify the Great Nations."

"Blockhead," Tadao said quietly.

Osamu glared at him. Out of all of them, he was both the tallest and the biggest, second in raw physical power only to Hanzo. "Tell me why I'm wrong."

"Danzo won't keep to his word," Shuji spoke.

Osamu faced him.

"We'll get half of a third of Root, or a third of that at most. Since we don't have spies in Konoha, we have no way of knowing how little of his forces we're actually getting." Shuji shook his head. "And though they might listen to Lord Hanzo for now, they'll always be loyal to Danzo."

Osamu's thick brows drew together. "Then why are we letting them—"

"Do you think the four of us could hold off Konoha, Iwa, Suna, and whoever else gets involved in another war by ourselves?" Tadao interrupted, eyes closed.

Mamoru looked at Hanzo. It was hard to tell if he heard anything that was being said, or he was ignoring them all to focus on his own inner thoughts about the agreement. Mamoru suspected it was the latter.

"Tadao," Mamoru said, drawing the room's attention. "You can't expect me to believe Danzo actually came alone."

"He didn't," Tadao confirmed.

Osamu's eyes bulged. "Why didn't you tell us?" he spluttered.

Tadao glanced at him. "Because I only sensed two others, right outside the door. Either Danzo overestimates himself, or he underestimates us."

"That's insulting," Mamoru said.

"You mean worrying," Osamu said. "Do you think he brought two of the sanin with him?"

"No," Mamoru sat against the wall. "I feel pretty insulted."

"He didn't," Tadao said, eyes on the lantern.

"Once Danzo has what he wants," Shuji began again. "He'll have Lord Hanzo killed as soon as possible. A man willing to have his own Hokage executed can't be trusted not to do the same to someone else who might threaten his power."

Osamu frowned. "He won't," he said firmly. "He'll have to go through me."

"Lord Hanzo won't let that happen of course," Shuji continued. "Once we've used Root and the war is over, Lord Hanzo will ally with the Third Hokage and expose Danzo's plan. The scroll sent to Lord Hanzo is evidence enough. The Third is a more reliable ally."

"All that backstabbing," Tadao murmured, shaking his head. He was the shortest, but his sensing abilities were better than the four of them—including Hanzo—combined.

"Danzo wrote of how soft and weak-willed the Third Hokage is," Shuji continued. "Lord Hanzo only has to use that to his advantage."

"With the Third as our ally, we can push him into calling for a Five Kage Summit," Osamu realized.

Hanzo's eyes snapped open. "Mamoru, Shuji. Once the tools from Root arrive, it will be your job to monitor them. They'll be split into three-man teams and assigned to a capable jonin, but, regardless, I want you to tail and report on those who you especially suspect to have ulterior motives."

His eyes flicked to Osamu. "Osamu, you're back on active duty, effective immediately. Report to the southeast border and inform Commander Abe that you'll be joining her team."

Osamu visibly bit back a protest. He looked unhappy, but bowed, hands stiff at his sides. "Understood, Lord Hanzo." He disappeared without another word.

"Tadao, you'll accompany me. If anything appears off—"

"I'll let you know," Tadao interrupted him.

Mamoru wondered if the temperature dropping by several degrees was just his imagination.

Hanzo turned. Tadao laced his hands behind his head. "We're alone," he added. "You have to appear a certain way to people, I get it. But it's just Mamo and Shu. No one else is here."

Hanzo looked at him for another moment. "Insubordinate," he said, finally turning away.

Despite his carefree attitude, Mamoru didn't miss the slight way Tadao's shoulders relaxed.

"Until Root arrives, aid in the search effort for the injured," Hanzo glanced between him and Shuji.

Deciding not to push his luck, Mamoru inclined his head. "Right away, Lord Hanzo." A second later he was gone.

長い

A week after Root arrived—in small, discreet teams dressed in gray and wearing Ame headbands—Mamoru caught a spy.

Shuji had chosen to observe them while they settled into one of the last towers in the village. It was damaged, like every building was, but the foundation was strong. All agents from Root would live within it until the war was over—if the building didn't come down first.

Mamoru stood against a wall near the entrance, a hand held up in the rat seal. The spy, wearing a black raincoat with the hood up, pulled open a metal cabinet and carefully searched through the contents. Mamoru could count the number of people who knew of the room's existence on one hand. It was hidden underground beneath Hanzo's tower, waterproof, and notoriously difficult to get into. It was the perfect place to store confidential information, secrets, and blackmail.

With his other hand Mamoru quietly pulled out a kunai. The secret door leading down here had to be opened in a specific pattern, or it would explode. On top of that, Tadao had rigged the staircase with traps and alarms. All of them had been disabled the night before.

He dropped the genjutsu. The room shifted two paces to the left. The spy, who thought they were standing in front of a cabinet, abruptly found themselves in front of a wall, hand pushing around air. The spy jerked back, but not fast enough.

Mamoru flashed through the snake and rat seal. Demonic Illusion: Death Mirage Jutsu.

The spy spun, a dagger held in each hand, but they were already within his genjutsu. It was small, easy to break for anyone above genin-level, but by the time they did Mamoru was already behind them, a kunai held to their throat.

The spy stiffened.

"You're not supposed to be here," Mamoru said casually.

He caught the spy's wrist before the dagger could meet his ribs and twisted their arm behind their back. The spy hissed as he yanked her arm further up, the weapon clattering to the floor.

"Move again and you die," Mamoru warned. "Now, tell me what you were looking for." He thought he knew, but he wanted confirmation. Especially if the Root spy wasn't looking for the scroll.

He knew what Hanzo would do if he brought the spy to him. There would be no interrogation. Hanzo would summon Ibuse and that would be that.

The spy's free hand twitched upwards. As a reward, Mamoru stabbed his kunai deep into her side. She gasped and only his grip on her arm kept her upright.

"Let's try something easy," Mamoru said. "What's your name?"

"Moyasu," she grunted. She released a breath. "It means burn."

Her fingers closed around his and he tightened his grip on the kunai, thinking she would try to pull it out. Instead Moyasu yanked his hand to the side and tore open her own stomach.

Mamoru jerked his hand back with a curse—but it was too late. Moyasu collapsed on top of a bloody pile of her own organs and didn't move again. Mamoru knelt and checked her pulse, but the lack of one only confirmed what he already knew.

She was dead before she hit the ground.

He lifted her hood. She was younger than he thought. Fifteen or sixteen, at most. Her brown eyes were wide and dull. Blood dribbled from a corner of her mouth.

Were all the agents from Root this young? Were all of them trained to take their own lives at the first sign of trouble? Mamoru shook his head. It was a waste. Not because of the information she took with her, or her inability to contribute to the village, but because Mamoru hated watching kids die.

He flipped her body over and lifted it—sans her organs—and left the room. Before he reported the incident to Hanzo, Mamoru left Moyasu in a shallow grave between a pile of rubble and a cluster of broken trees. He could've left her with Hanzo for Ibuse. He could've dumped her in a pond overflowing with the dead. Hell, he could've destroyed the body himself and been done with it. Though, Mamoru couldn't do any of that with her staring at him.

Guilt didn't capture how he felt. Mamoru had killed far too many people—kids included—to feel guilty. Perhaps what he felt was closer to regret. Regret that Moyasu had been driven to kill herself, even if he would've sentenced her to a worse fate once he was done questioning her. Regret that she had been there at all.

Regret that she, along with all the other agents like her, were nothing more than fodder to beef up Ame's ranks. Regret that one of them would've killed the other, all the same.

The rain had washed away the blood, but made her grave more of a muddy, half-submerged prison. Mamoru did her the courtesy of closing her eyes before he walked away. Still, he felt her eyes on his back, asking him whose idea of peace was the right one.

Was Danzo right to kill his Hokage to bring about his own version of peace?

Was Mamoru right to kill for Hanzo in the name of peace?

He stopped, but didn't look back. Mamoru knew that in a week's time, he would be the only one who still thought about the girl named Moyasu and the fire that burned bright in her eyes in the moment before she killed herself.

方法

Mamoru knelt. "I discovered a spy beneath the tower," he announced.

Shuji was already in the room, standing beside Hanzo. "She took her own life once she knew she was caught, but I witnessed her searching through classified information. I suspect she was looking for the message the Konoha elder sent," he continued.

Mamoru waited, but Hanzo didn't speak. He looked up and Hanzo's gaze was cold enough to send chills down his spine. Hanzo turned to Shuji, and Mamoru felt a brief flash of confusion. Wasn't this what they expected to happen?

"Are you certain?" Hanzo asked. It sounded like it wasn't the first time he asked.

Shuji nodded. "I am, Lord Hanzo," he answered. "Tadao was able to confirm that the messages he found in Mamoru's apartment had traces of Danzo's chakra on them."

Mamoru went very, very still. "Messages?" he repeated.

Hanzo's eyes darkened. He was ignored as Shuji unrolled a water-stained scroll. "According to the information gleamed from them, Mamoru has been in correspondence with Danzo for at least five years, though I suspect it to be longer, as many of the messages still haven't been deciphered."

Mamoru shot to his feet. Alarm, confusion, shock—he pushed it aside. "Tadao made a mistake," he said quickly, taking a step forward. "The first time I met Danzo was during the meeting, and we never spoke."

Hanzo looked to Shuji again.

Shuji shook his head. "You don't have to take only my word on this, Lord Hanzo, but Tadao's report was clear. Mamoru Ito is a spy for Konoha. I didn't want to believe it either."

Someone planted messages in his apartment. Someone tipped Tadao off, gave him a reason to search for them. Then Hanzo was made aware of his 'betrayal' when he wasn't around to defend himself. Mamoru's gaze flicked to Hanzo. "We fought together during the Second Great War," he said. "I've been fighting and killing for years in the name of your dream. Why would I betray you?"

Hanzo wouldn't look at him. Shuji tucked the first scroll under his arm, unrolled a second, and Mamoru was left to watch, helpless as his entire history was rewritten.

"The messages point to Mamoru being born in Konoha," Shuji read. "We suspect that he was recruited by Root in his youth and assigned to spy on you and Amegakure around the start of the First Great War. It would have been easy for him to infiltrate among the refugee's fleeing from Fire Country."

"From then on, he acted as a shinobi of Amegakure and rose through the ranks until he gained your trust, Lord Hanzo. The entire time he reported everything he learned to Danzo."

Mamoru kept his focus on Hanzo. "I was born in Ame—" he began but stopped himself. Could he prove it? Did he have anything to dispute Shuji's claims that hadn't been destroyed or lost in the war? Even his apartment was relatively new, as his last one fell early on.

Hanzo turned fully to face Shuji. "You were right to bring your concerns about Mamoru to me, it seems," he finally said. There was a trace of something that was almost bitterness in his voice.

Mamoru turned his stare to Shuji and his eyes widened. It was Shuji who pointed him out as a spy. Shuji, who brought the evidence against him to Danzo before he could be made aware of it. Shuji, who claimed he was speaking on behalf of others. Shuji, who they all trusted.

He realized something he should've before. Moyasu killed herself. Someone capable of dismantling Tadao's traps like it was child's play had chosen to die rather than fight and escape.

Moyasu hadn't been the one to dismantle Tadao's traps.

Shuji rolled the scroll back up. Danzo had never walked into that room alone, had he?

Mamoru inhaled. He was going to die. He had no defense other than his words, and that wasn't enough. He knew how Hanzo dealt with traitors.

Shuji knew all about the plan to double-cross Danzo.

Mamoru's eyes darted back to Hanzo. He needed to plant a seed of doubt about Shuji. One that wouldn't be brushed off as the ramblings of a traitor but would take root and fester and grow until he couldn't ignore it. His next words might be his last.

"Shuji—" he barely got the word out before he stumbled back and hit the wall. In the instant after, Mamoru registered the abrupt emptiness on his right side, the lack of response when he tried to move his arm, the pain that drove him to his knees. The moment after that his right arm hit the ground with a wet slap.

Hanzo stood in front of him, blood dripping off his kusarigama.

Mamoru clutched his shoulder, only to jerk his hand back at the sudden and unbearable wave of pain. Black spots clouded his vision. The room swam. The sound of his own panting echoed in his ears. He glanced up, past Hanzo, to where Shuji was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed, watching.

Shuji's expression was blanker than he'd ever seen it.

Hanzo raised his sickle. Mamoru would be beheaded by his oldest friend and then his remains would be tossed to Ibuse like scraps to a dog. It all meant nothing. His life, his dreams, every single person he cut the throat of, it all meant nothing.

It was worse than being forgotten, because to his friends, he was a traitor. He wouldn't disappear from their memories like Moyasu. They would erase him. Tadao, Osamu—they wouldn't want to remember him. They would question his every action before this point, they would cut him out of their memories and spit on his body.

All the blood and bodies Mamoru had to step over to get this far—finally having a chance for peace in their grasp, being so close to get others to just listen—all of it gone with five simple words.

Mamoru Ito is a traitor.

All because of Shuji. Because of Danzo.

It filled him with a rage so potent it could've set the room on fire. Mamoru saw it all so, so clearly. Hanzo, the slightest hesitation in his swing, eyes hard to mask the disappointment. Shuji, the almost-invisible upward tilt to his lips.

At least if he died after exposing Shuji, he would've been a catalyst, the first domino to knock over all the other dominoes. But he couldn't even do that.

Mamoru let his body fall backwards while he forced his fingers into the ram seal. Hiding in Surface Jutsu.

He fell through the floor like it was air. There was a moment of silence as he fell, and then Mamoru hit a table with a deafening crash and went straight through, meeting the ground in a shower of splinters and enough pain to make his vision go red and hazy.

Blood coated the ground around him. Mamoru could taste it on his tongue. His hand shook as he lifted it, fingers numb as he twisted them together again. The ceiling above him splintered and broke apart, raining concrete and plaster down on Mamoru. Hanzo was amid the shower, sickle raised, a murderous look in his eyes.

Mamoru pointed two fingers at Hanzo. Illusion Technique: Unknown Fire Jutsu.

The only reason Hanzo missed was because suddenly he and the whole room were ablaze in bright blue flames. Instead of taking off Mamoru's head, the blade sliced a deep cut between his eyebrows. Compared to his shoulder though, the pain was negligible.

Mamoru had two, maybe three seconds—if he was lucky—before Hanzo broke the genjutsu. Hiding in Surface Jutsu.

Mamoru fell through the floor. He did it again and again and again until he was on the bottom floor, where the sound of him vomiting filled the silence. Mamoru wedged his arm under his body and propped himself up.

Hanzo wouldn't destroy each floor to follow him. If he did, the entire building would come down. He would have to take the stairs or leap out the window and run down the side. Even then, Mamoru could've hidden on any of the floors between the bottom and the top.

Water Clone Jutsu.

A clone of himself emerged from a puddle and disappeared up the stairs. It would hide on the third floor, run if discovered, and, hopefully, keep Hanzo busy for at least a few minutes.

Mamoru stumbled once he was on his feet, but didn't fall. He took off his flak jacket, tore a sleeve off with his teeth, and tossed the rest away. He tied it tightly around his shoulder as he headed out into the rain, dizzy with blood loss.

As he dragged himself away from the tower, Mamoru's rage melted away, replaced by a melancholy sort of exhaustion. He wondered, quietly, why he ever let himself believe in a dream as foolish as peace?

ダウン

Mamoru collapsed in a corner of a building that used to be a weapons shop. Jagged pieces of the wall dug into his back and rain dripped on him from a hole in the ceiling, but he didn't have the strength to keep walking.

He was freezing. Was Hanzo coming after him? Would he bother when the blood loss would do the job for him?

Mamoru tilted his head back against the wall. His plan had been to escape, to live to spite Shuji and the hand he'd been dealt, but now what?

He thought of finding Osamu and Tadao, of warning them, but, even if they didn't kill him, apprehend him, or worse, Mamoru would only be condemning them. What evidence would Shuji need against them when they were seen conspiring with a traitor?

Mamoru laughed. It was a quiet, broken sort of laugh, almost at himself. What did he expect to accomplish with one arm and a quarter of his chakra? Find a nonexistent medic-nin in this pile of rubble called a village and come back stronger, armed with the power to make Hanzo listen to him and out Shuji as the real traitor?

Then, while he was at it, he would shove a kunai through Danzo's lone eye and single-handedly bring about peace. Mamoru laughed so hard he couldn't tell if the tears were from his hysteria or because he'd lost everything in a matter of minutes.

His laughter eventually petered out, leaving him with a dull sort of emptiness. Mamoru had the chakra left for one jutsu. After that, well, he could at least make it difficult for his would-be assassins. He slumped against the wall, but managed to raise his hand.

Demonic Illusion: Double False Surroundings Jutsu.

Mamoru didn't have the chakra or time to change his surroundings, so he simply erased himself from the picture. He held it for six minutes before a little girl with hair as black as night and a scarf the color of blood walked into his genjutsu.

A/N: 長い - Long, 方法 - Way, ダウン - Down

I'll leave what happened to canon!Mamoru to your imagination. Maybe the Ame Orphans found him, maybe they didn't. Either way, canon!Nagato is not a medic-nin.

Originally this was supposed to be a quick 1k word thing to explain how Mamoru ended up where he did but then my brain exploded and here we are.