Let's get this trainwreck moving.
Yuurei stared wordlessly towards the hotel where Konoha's forces were staying, a mocking smirk on his face as he looked at Itachi through the latter's window. He was on the same roof he'd stood on a few days ago, after killing the Hokage's wife while he slept beside her, and he wanted the esteemed Uchiha to know that he was being watched. He wanted the demon wearing Itachi's face to know that fact, too. The Hokage couldn't move without being watched, and Yuurei wouldn't give him the brief satisfaction of letting the situation come to blows.
The second round of the Chunin Exams was over in Suna, and many of Konoha's children had returned to find that their teachers were dead—they had nobody to immediately turn to for help or training, and the few strangers they could turn to for comfort were already struggling to comfort themselves. Their friends were hurt, and some of them were dead. Malaise permeated the building and its inhabitants, and they still didn't know what was waiting for them on their return home. Yuurei, Fu, and Chojuro had violated the stability of their lives after they'd gone to take the first two exams, and there was nothing they could do to recover from that blow.
As one Sharingan and one bloodshot eye focused on a man across the street, Yuurei's smile grew wider. To a human, this kind of vengeful joy would be excessive; he was blatantly toeing the line between aggravation and aggression, if he hadn't already passed it, but he wanted to send a message. As angry and hurt as Itachi was, Yuurei didn't fear his reprisal. If not for the fact that they were in Sunagakure, where he was made to consider the lives of Temari's citizens, Yuurei might have already baited his adversary into an altercation. Unfortunately, he was pressed into a situation where he couldn't make arbitrary decisions.
"What do you hate?" The demon spoke his thoughts aloud, though any onlooker would be confused about his audience—was it himself, or Itachi? Did it even matter? "That's what defines you."
In the corner of his eye, Yuurei imagined Sai rising up from a dark pool to chastise that thought; the black ops commander would quip that they were both undefined, because one hated too much and the other barely felt. It would smell like fresh ink out of a ballpoint pen, sweet and metallic like all of Sai's lies—Orochimaru's son felt just as strongly as any other human, but those feelings were compartmentalized beyond Yuurei's ability to understand. It was the way Sai had been raised and trained, like so many other orphans who'd gathered under the banner of "the Banchou" in his childhood. All the same, though, Sai wasn't here to have that conversation. He was days away, likely in or around Konoha, constrained by duty and station. Yuurei didn't envy him.
Instead, it was a lithe blonde woman who approached him from behind his left side. Her arm reached out somewhat stiffly, as if moving it continued to present some challenges, and the tips of her fingernails softly grazed the shirt on Yuurei's shoulder.
"Yugito?" He asked, still with his back to her. Even without looking, just from the way she reached to touch him, she was too tall to be Tayuya or Temari. "What made you come out here?"
A dozen sarcastic retorts flashed through Yugito's mind, and more that had some truth to them, but she held herself back. Yugito knew Yuurei's moods as well as anyone. With the way that he was focusing on Itachi, letting anger turn over inside of his heart while he tried to think of his next move, he wasn't willing to deal with one-liners. That was why she'd come, instead of Tayuya.
"It's Mei. She's waking up, but she's having a lot of difficulty. We don't know why," Yugito said. "I thought you'd want to know." Faster than the ex-Jinchuriki could think, her master had turned himself around and stood less than a half-step in front of her. Unable to react, she was taken by surprise when Yuurei dipped his head to bring their lips together. It wasn't her first kiss, or his, or their first kiss together, but Yuurei wasn't prone to that kind of affectionate display. After they separated, she looked at him with a puzzled expression, wordlessly asking for an explanation.
"I know how hard it is to do what you're doing. Putting someone else, someone you see as a rival, ahead of yourself." Sharing was difficult. The idea that one needed to sacrifice part of their goal for the group was bitter medicine to children all over; asking multiple different women not to fight or sulk over his attention or affection, especially when most of them might prefer monogamy, was even more difficult. Never mind that it was a side effect of his drive for conquest—excuses like that didn't change the situation they all found themselves in.
A complicated expression broke out on Yugito's face, as if she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry at Yuurei's observation. The seal on her neck was an easy target to blame her situation on, but not entirely at fault; Tayuya's attention was mainly divided between Yuurei and Mei, but the diminutive redhead didn't seem to have a problem with splitting her time with multiple partners. Temari had offered herself freely, even if the terms of that offering hadn't been fulfilled yet, having already known that Yuurei had two women with him. As much as Mei had wanted an idyllic married life with a husband who loved her—a dream she'd given up on in order to turn the tide of her civil war—the Mizukage had wholeheartedly devoted herself to Yuurei after taking a fraction of his strength for herself, and she seemed closer to him than any of the other three women.
Even as a child, Yugito had difficulty sharing spaces or things with others. She'd considered that it was part of Matatabi's feline nature to desire her own domain, and that trait had been passed to her, it hadn't stopped her family or peers from leaving her isolated. Only one person had looked at her and made the choice to keep her; he'd taken her off the street and collared her in blood. She got angry with some of the things he chose to say or do, but he'd saved her life at least three times over. Yugito could be friends with the other women who gathered around Yuurei. She could trust them unconditionally when lives were on the line. She would never relent that Yuurei was hers, no matter how much time he did or didn't spend with the other women.
"Let's go. Mei will want to see you," the shorter blonde finally said. In the back of her mind, Tayuya's assertion of their master's favoritism towards her kept repeating. She couldn't make herself believe it, because she'd been dead for Yuurei's trip through Makai and the Blessed Lands; Yuurei cared about them all, just like he cared for anybody who entered his life with positive intentions, but Yugito could count the times he'd vaguely expressed "love" on one hand. He'd been coerced into three of them on the night after she'd been brought back to life.
Tayuya had told her to speak to Yuurei about the enslavement seal that had chained her thoughts to him. She still hadn't—and likely wouldn't. The shame of admitting that she was the reason things had gone awry, that her hubris was the reason, rankled her. She was also worried about the possibility that there was nothing Yuurei could do; for all his skill in Fuinjutsu, Yugito had never seen her master use seals that could be undone.
"Everything will be alright," the demon said. "Expectations of others are hard to juggle. I...I know I've let you down before. You have the scars and seals to prove it. And the minute I tried to start fixing that, I let Mei down. Going into the desert with you and Tayuya wasn't just to help you get stronger, it was to put my mind at ease. And it did! It did, until we came back. I know how strong you are, and I shouldn't have to worry, but things keep getting more dangerous."
"I don't think I need to remind you of this, but Mei and I became ninja before you could walk." Yugito's voice took on an edge she didn't often use with Yuurei. She looked up at him, one set of mismatched eyes staring at the other. "The world isn't getting more dangerous. It's always been this dangerous. You spent your whole life in Konoha, went rogue almost immediately, and you've gotten by because you could muscle or seal your way out of any issue you found yourself in. Your experiences aren't universal, because some of us never had a choice. Now, let's go."
Yugito seemed to spin on her toes as she left without waiting for Yuurei's response. The tall demon stared at her back with a depressed smile before performing a perfectly-synced shunshin with her, and the pair quickly maneuvered towards the Kazekage's white-brick mansion.
The twitching and turning Mei unconsciously committed was gentle, but any movement would have been enough to alert the women who'd taken turns watching over her. Whatever mental trauma she'd been forced to endure wasn't over yet, but after nearly a week, it seemed to be in its final stages. At least, Temari hoped it was in its final stages as she looked at the taller redhead. Itachi was renowned as a master of Genjutsu, but the Kazekage had never seen an illusion that could put the victim in a coma. Clearly, the rumors didn't do Itachi justice, but those weren't the kind of thoughts that she wanted to deal with at the moment; she was waiting on a different man in a league of his own. Yuurei had been the one to save Mei's life—or, at least, he'd done something to her that night—so Temari assumed he would have understanding or answers.
Several minutes passed as she watched Mei struggle against the bonds holding her mind, but the redhead didn't increase her struggling at all. She just continued to twitch and shift in her bed, like someone who'd woken up before they needed to and was trying to go back to sleep. It was a difficult thing for Temari to sit through. Not because Mei was in pain, even if she was in distress, but because there was nothing the Kazekage could do to help her. Idly, she wondered if that feeling of helplessness was a common theme in the hearts of Yuurei's other inamoratae; she doubted it was intentional on the demon's part, for a number of reasons, but there was a level of learned dependency that they could fall onto if Yuurei continued to be the only person capable of solving their very specific problems.
And even if he wasn't the only person who could help them, there was still the notion that he was the only person who had. Temari was still horrified by the seal on the back of Yugito's neck, and would never consider it anything less than selfish barbarism, but she'd seen the grace Yuurei had granted to Tayuya when he stripped Orochimaru's cursed seal off of her. She'd watched the blond demon's incalculable rage come to light when Yugito had been hurt. In spite of his assertions that might made right, Temari had seen and experienced her future lover's capacity to do good. Even knowing about his crippling addiction to violence, she chose to believe that Yuurei might still choose kindness when given the opportunity.
Why else would he side with the rebels in Kirigakure to overthrow a tyrant? Why else would he ask for innocents in Konoha to be spared from whatever fate it now endured? Even if Yuurei had ultimately decided on destruction, and even if it was justified, he'd still tried to spare the people around him. What other explanation was there for his one-man defense of Suna until Gaara had arrived? There was no way to write off the oath he'd made with her, either—he could've just as easily refused the offer, or refused her exact terms, but he knew her soul was bleeding when she offered her future freedom for vengeance. He hadn't accepted because it was a way to take advantage of her, but because he wanted to get his own revenge for Gaara's death as well.
All of those thoughts froze in Temari's head as a dark, oppressive feeling washed over the room. Youki slowly began leaking out of Mei's pores and permeating the air around her, leaving the Godaime Kazekage to wonder what Yuurei had really done to the older woman when he'd sealed her with the blood of two inhuman entities. Mei's unnatural paleness wasn't anything close to Orochimaru's sheet-white complexion, but it created a much stronger contrast with her hair than her former skin tone; it made her look like she'd been cast out of porcelain by a master craftsman, without any hints of blemishes or scars. That just didn't make sense—how could you spend almost three decades in the most violent ninja village of the Elemental Nations and go unscarred? And yet, the truth was right there in front of her: from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet, there was only soft jade-white skin on Mei's body.
"The heavens are jealous," the Kazekage mused. If she was to have a perfect body, unmarred by the world around her, then that world would make her soul suffer.
"That happens to demons a lot," a new voice said from behind her. Yuurei stood in the doorway, and Temari had been too captivated by the youki Mei was emitting—or her own thoughts—to notice his arrival. When she looked back, seeing the taller blond's grin, she couldn't help the twitch in her right eye.
"So what are you going to do?" Temari turned her gaze back to Mei as she spoke, watching as her already-weak movements began to die down in Yuurei's presence. In short order, she was once again as still as she'd been for the past several days.
"I forced her transformation to accelerate," he said, watching the unconscious Mizukage. "I had around seventeen years to acclimate myself to my strength, if you account for the time before I was born. Tayuya's had a little over six months, and Yugito's had a little bit longer, and you've had a little bit less. Of the four of you, Mei's had the least amount of time to begin adjusting to demonization, but it was the only way I could think of to save her. Her biological functions have slowed to a crawl, but the enhancement of her keirakukei through superhuman blood has made her mass-produce chakra."
"And that...sped up the process?" Temari asked.
"The closer her chakra reserves are to empty, the more her body draws on youki and facilitates its production. Yugito and Tayuya are the same way, but now Mei's taken a leap ahead of them. A complete leap. The only thing she needs now is to wake up," Yuurei replied.
The Mark of the Beast in Temari's blood began to burn, but the sensation wasn't unpleasant like it had been when Yuurei had first delivered it to her. One thing that hadn't changed, however, was the high she got from the seal; it wasn't like anything else she'd ever felt, but the most appropriate description she might give was a feeling of anticipation. The few drops of Yuurei's tainted blood that she'd absorbed months ago left her in a state of walking rapture, and she focused on the demon as he moved to kneel at the Mizukage's side.
Nine iridescent tails fanned out behind Yuurei as he unleashed his own youki, quietly blanketing Mei's weaker demonic energy and forcing it back inside of her body. Even after she'd been wholly suppressed, lying perfectly still in the bed, Yuurei continued to press his youki down on Mei's body. He sought out each of the Mizukage's organs, quietly passing over her body with a hovering hand to root out each one. Yuurei frowned as he poured youki into her intestines, as if he'd found something outside of his control for a moment, but the tall blond shook his head before moving on. Slowly but surely, Mei's keirakukei were inundated with Yuurei's energy. The first times Temari had felt that oppressive youki, it had terrified her out of her wits, but now she seemed to be part of the wellspring it drew upon—whether it was because they'd made an oath before, or because that oath hadn't been fulfilled yet, she didn't know. She also didn't know, or really care, if it mattered.
Having already reached out to everything resting beneath them, Yuurei turned his eyes on Mei's heart and lungs. Only when he was sure that they would properly work again, after nearly a week of disuse, did he dare to venture up to the Mizukage's head. That was the one piece of the puzzle that he had no control over; even if he could manipulate it, he didn't trust that he had the necessary skills to pull Mei away from her nightmare. His failure to truly eliminate Yugito's pain had left an otherwise invisible impact on him. Slowly lifting his hand, Yuurei pressed his index finger against Mei's forehead in the spot where he'd given her the alternative Mark of the Beast: the middle of her forehead. Taking a kunai in his other hand, he carefully cut the underside of his finger and let the blood slide down onto Mei's face. The drops traveled through Mei's skin before dispersing, and Yuurei withdrew his finger before beginning to wait. Several minutes later, that patience was rewarded.
The first thing Mei did after that was take in a massive breath, loud and panicked enough for Temari to feel a communal sense of worry. The second thing she did was open her eyes. The green human irises she'd been born with were gone, replaced by a red-orange tone that reminded Yuurei of natural campfires. He couldn't help his toothy smile, but as Mei stared up at him with a curious expression on her face, he decided thoughts might speak louder than words.
[It's good to see you again,] he said telepathically. [We've all been worried.]