Let's get this trainwreck moving.
The springtime sun radiated warmth across the desert as it continued rising, and the arid air only grew hotter in the open arena where three nations' Genin would fight for the privilege to become Chunin. Cloth had been hung across sturdy wooden beams and fixed in place, providing shade for those spectators whose luck or finances prevented them from getting better seats; high over the civilians and the rank-and-file ninja of Sunagakure, several booths had been filled by more affluent or important patrons. Traditionally, each of the five Kage would receive their own booth, but Temari had elected to break that unwritten rule for Mei.
The Mizukage was garbed in a form-hugging robe that was slightly less formal than her normal dress, with a brighter blue color and a much lighter fabric. Unlike the backless benches in the arena's common seating, she and Temari sat in high-backed chairs that were built into the floor of their viewing room. The rest of the booth was somewhat crowded; Kankuro and Baki stood by the left wall, Fu and Chojuro were by the right wall, Yuurei stood behind the two Kage,
and Yugito stood behind Temari while Tayuya was behind Mei. Several other booths like theirs were spaced around the arena, their inhabitants ranging from civilian officials and businessmen to high-stakes gamblers, or anyone else who was willing to pay a premium to watch tradition unfold. Since ancient times, long before ninja and their techniques had become the continent's dominant military forces, the children of the wind had gathered to test themselves against their peers—mercenaries had always been the desert's greatest export.
The sons and daughters of three nations stood beneath an open sky as dry air baked around them. The proctor in charge of the exam, a somewhat unimposing man, gave a brief explanation of the rules they'd have to follow under his jurisdiction. He would only step in to stop their fights if a clear winner had emerged, or if one side was prolonging a fight with the use of torture. If an outmatched combatant refused to submit, he wasn't responsible for saving their life. Contestants could withdraw or concede at any point. Other than this, the proctor stated, any methods were allowed; they were here to showcase their skills before three Kage, and encouraged not to withold anything.
Yuurei noticed a handful of familiar faces among the participating Genin, students he'd learned beside in Konoha's Academy before they'd graduated. A sense of irony welled up inside his chest—who in their generation would have imagined he was here, standing above them as a spectator? Idly, he wondered for the first time whether any of them had been affected, or perhaps even changed, by the news of his death. Certainly, most of them were good people. They deserved the opportunity to find their ways through life, and to make homes for themselves with the friends and loved ones they chose. Even with many of their senseis dead, though, they didn't realize that they'd already lost so much more than mentorship.
The vicious and vindictive Kyuubi no Yuurei would make the same choices again without a second thought, no matter how many times he might hypothetically reproduce those circumstances. He had robbed them of the futures they thought they were working towards, but they still had their lives. They still had the ability to change their trajectories. That was a demon's mercy. Anger, sorrow, guilty relief that they had been spared—they would feel all of those, and more, when they returned home.
When a foundation was destroyed, when a heritage was left in ruins, what sect or hidden village would simply cease to be? Konoha's name would change, and its power would be diminished, but harsh circumstances would only cause greater strength to emerge. Walking the razor's edge of life and death, would Kiba or Sakura find the reserves of determination they would need to ensure their survival? When faced with the loss of everything they'd held dear, could Ino or Chouji struggle forward into a new era? The strong could only truly be found and determined through the rigorous strains of pains like those. But, before they could get a chance to experience the aftershocks of Yuurei's actions, they would need to survive the final exam placed before them.
Elsewhere in the stadium, in one of the other high booths, the Sound Four were waited on by a civilian attendant. The bouts were predetermined and put in a tournament format, allowing for gamblers to wager on a whole host of outcomes. Suigetsu and Ayame had both put money down, though Suigetsu was playing the odds far more liberally than his leader. Juugo idly ate the snacks provided to their room while Karin paid attention to the contestants on the arena floor. She and Ayame had both participated in Konoha's ill-fated Chunin Exams, despite never crossing paths, so the two young women were familiar with many of the faces in the crowd. Ayame was using that first-hand information to place her bets, but Karin was more preoccupied with the fact that her skills as a sensor had gone awry.
Each private booth was sealed with Fuinjutsu that was beyond her ability to crack remotely, allowing chakra to flow out while remaining impenetrable. This could have been considered a common courtesy to booth-viewers, shielding them from fallout during combat or jealous opponents during auctions, but it was only part of the problem. Multiple titanic energy signatures—not just chakra, but something else—overwhelmed her senses. Ayame's chakra signature was the most intense that the redheaded sensor had ever seen, owing to her dual keirakukei networks, but it was dwarfed in magnitude by at least four people in attendance. That didn't make sense, even if her sixth and seventh senses were screaming that this was a place she shouldn't be.
"There are a lot of participants," Juugo noted. Without paying much attention to it, his hand lifted nuts and dates to his mouth. "It's hard to know who has favorable matchups further into the tournament."
"That depends on the combatant," Ayame replied, finishing her list of first-round bets and handing money over to the room's attendant. "If you know one is clanless, you're biased towards believing they have worse chances. Take me for example. Before the invasion of Konoha, I was set to fight against a prodigy from the Hyuuga clan. Do you think many people would have bet on a clanless orphan to win that fight?"
Juugo pondered those words while the first match began, and he felt the cursed seal ache in his muscles as the first drops of blood were shed on the arena's sand. Once that sensation started, he would normally begin to mentally unravel; something in the air told him just how terrible an idea that was. He wasn't a sensor-type ninja like Karin, but he could feel that something wasn't quite right. If he were to hazard a guess—and he would, since he wasn't going to question Ayame about her motives—it should have something to do with the demon that his leader was acquainted with. It was common historical knowledge that there were no new demons, as virtually all of them had died in battle thousands of years ago. The only survivors were the Biju. So, who was enough of a monster to be referred to by the title of Kyuubi? A nukenin Jinchuriki?
While the broad teen was lost in thought, a figure clad in black and red sat alone in the viewing booth directly across from the one where Yuurei stood. Konoha's leaf sigil was worn proudly on his hitai-ate, while his clan's infamous symbol—a blood-soaked gunbai, the signature weapon of the Uchiha during the Warring Clans Era—was displayed across his back. Two three-tomoe Sharingan spun lazily in his eye sockets, and he unconsciously scratched at a line across his throat that he didn't remember getting. After his hand moved away, the line opened to reveal a lilac-colored eye with concentric black rings.
Madara's consciousness practically shuddered with delight, inwardly thanking the young Kyuubi for so thoroughly disturbing Itachi's soul without killing him. Even if it was only slightly, he could now exert some control over the Hokage's body while the human was still awake and alert. Choosing not to engage Naruto at the entrance of the Kazekage's mansion had been a wise decision.
The three-eyed demon stayed Itachi's anxious hands, allowing them both to focus on the fights happening below them. They were children in almost all aspects, save for the law that saw registered ninja as adults. Many didn't have control over their strength, and others hadn't yet become strong. Such was the fate of all Genin; they were still learning, still being raised by the Jounin sent to guide them. In truth, many of the participants of this exam weren't necessarily fit for a promotion—if they were, they would have received it during the exams from a few months ago. Still...bloodsport was one of the oldest forms of entertainment known to man. If one performed admirably, shouldn't they receive a reward?
Whether it was Itachi, Madara, Temari, Mei, Yuurei, or Ayame, separated as they were in their respective booths, all of them thought so.
Just over a month had passed since Sasuke had decided to leave Jiraiya behind, following Shizune out of the desert. In the undulating foothills of Tsuchi no Kuni, where mineral-rich red clay hid beneath long blades of grass, the pair had carved out a meandering life. They'd crossed through six civilian towns while acting as traveling physicians, though Shizune had hardly been acting. Her once-black hair had been lengthened, bleached, and dyed with sea-green streaks running down to the base of her neck. With electric blue contact lenses and a newfound emphasis on makeup, the medic was confident that only a handful of dead or missing people would be able to recognize her after a few minutes of study.
Conversely, Sasuke had chosen to dye his hair a rich, bloody color. In place of the headband that showcased his allegiance to Konoha, a blue cloth bandana with a golden scale pattern kept his hair out of his eyes. Perhaps more importantly, it let the hair on the back of his head rest on his shoulders. His clan attire had been replaced by nondescript robes similar to the ones Shizune wore, and black gloves allowed him to conceal his unnatural left hand.
"Another morning done," the Uchiha said as he slumped down in a chair. "Is this what life was like for you before we started traveling together? Going town to town for an endless stream of patients?"
"No," Shizune replied, and a difficult look came over her face. "There were also several stops in larger cities for extended trips to one casino or another. More than alcohol, more than senseless violence, that's her true vice. Complicating things further, she's the worst gambler I've ever seen. It's like some sort of curse. Every time she wins…"
"Something bad happens, huh?" Sasuke practically finished the woman's sentence for her. Shizune, hearing those words after she'd trailed off, merely nodded.
"Those are hard times," the medic said, taking a seat on the sofa near their small room's lone bed. "And I was always caught as the mediator, because Tsunade is always so quick to anger when she's been drinking. It's not easy to deal with someone who's as upset as those managers, especially when you're the one in the wrong. But if she were left to her own devices, I'm not sure Tsunade would be able to remain calm. I was saving their lives just as much as I was trying to get us out safely. She's banned in fifty-seven cities in just the eastern territory of Hi no Kuni. Take the rest of the country into account, or any of our other neighboring countries, and that number starts rising exponentially. "
"So, just doing doctoral work might have been more pleasant." Sasuke pondered his own statement for a few moments, reflecting on what tribulations the woman across the room had been through. Even without being branded as nukenin, it sounded like the traveling life hadn't been kind to Shizune. It left the Uchiha wondering why she'd continued to put up with it—taking their bond as master and disciple into consideration still couldn't account for why Shizune would continue subjecting herself to that headache.
"...yes." Shizune's affirmative statement came at great length, and the haunted shadows under her eyes vanished almost as quickly as Sasuke noticed them. "Nobody is perfect. For any and all of her faults, my master is practically unmatched in the field of medical Ninjutsu. If she'd wanted to leave the village behind, it would've been the easiest thing in the world to retire and spend her time healing the sick. Instead, we were always stuck with a foot in each idea."
There were regrets there, and a tinge of resentment in the medic's tired voice. If Sasuke were a smarter, colder, crueler young man, he could have twisted those feelings in Shizune's heart. It would be easy to give her platitudes and apologies, to tell her that she deserved better, to take their questionable positions as individuals and slowly start binding her to him. All she needed was a push, and the emotional avalanche would slowly pick up speed on its own. He wouldn't do that to her, even if he could; all the young Uchiha did was stand, walk in front of Shizune, and give her a comforting look.
"When we find her, you need to reason these thoughts out with her. How many years have you been keeping that inside?" His question fell on uncompromising ears, and he knew it. If this wasn't a long-standing issue, he doubted Shizune would be affected enough to confide in him.
"Too many," Shizune replied, looking up at Sasuke's face. It wasn't easy to choke down the words, "since before you were born," but she managed. Strands of long blonde hair brushed past her cheekbones as her head moved; she felt each of them continue moving as Sasuke reached out to her. The teen's arms wrapped around her as he dropped into a crouch, and Shizune didn't resist as she was pulled in for a hug. After the things she'd just said, her brain was numb with the feeling that she was betraying Tsunade. Or worse, as a steadily strengthening voice persisted inside of her head, she was betraying Tsunade's memory. Whether or not those feelings were true, she wouldn't say no to a hug. She needed one.
Sasuke didn't continue the conversation any further, leaning his way forward until his arms were digging into the sofa's cushioning. The woven pattern would etch itself on his skin, forming a temporary tattoo that would remind him of their conversation in the coming hours. He felt Shizune's loose body shift as more of his body weight began pressing on top of her, and thin arms gripped his sides as the medic hugged him back. At first, Sasuke thought that the heat radiating between them was coming from his unnatural left hand; it took several seconds for him to realize that the high temperature was instead rolling off of Shizune's body. She was doing her best to burrow her head into his collar, while his face was still slightly separated from the skin of her neck. The long, slow breaths he took, as he tried to make his presence something to latch on to, seemed like they were doing anything but relaxing her.
In the privacy of her mind, Shizune knew that things were taking a turn that she thought she shouldn't allow. She was confident in the idea that Sasuke didn't know the effect he was having. He didn't understand the way his deep exhales made her skin shiver, or how the gentle kindnesses he displayed made her reflexively draw him closer. How could he? He wasn't quite fifteen yet, not that far-removed from his graduation. Had he ever had a girlfriend? Had he, as an Uchiha, even thought about romance at such a young age? That clan was known to value power over all else, and sensitive men like Itachi were rare even outside of the Uchiha clan. Still, her wrists and elbows locked in place to bring Sasuke closer to her. She felt him, almost painfully, as his still-growing weight seemed to try to swallow her whole. She felt the way that she was pressing into him from below, especially as she drew him further in.
She had a litany of reasons to throw her burgeoning thoughts and feelings away. She was twice his age. She doubted she could give him whatever it was that he might be looking for. She wouldn't believe that he might favor her outside of his vacuum of experience across their travels. He was only trying to be helpful towards her, and his acts of kindness weren't born from infatuation or lust. She hadn't told him all of her self-contained reasons why going further than this level of intimacy would be a terrible idea.
But with the dead gods as her witnesses, as the length of their hug continued to extend, she wanted. It wasn't the first time; it wouldn't be the last. Often, in the course of her traveling life, she'd placed her wants by the wayside to promote unity or safety. That was what it meant to be a disciple, to follow, to lack the consistency that a true home could give. And, after almost three decades of putting others' needs before her own, she was tired of never getting the things she wanted. She wouldn't force anyone into anything. If Sasuke made a decision that ran contrary to the path she was starting to forge in her mind, then she wouldn't protest, because that was his right. But...if he elected to lead himself down that road, if he found his way to the same thoughts and feelings she was beginning to allow herself, she wouldn't resist.
She wondered what Tsunade would have to say about that. She knew what Jiraiya would have to say. The sage's hatred for her uncle and his entire family included her, and she knew that it even brushed against Tsunade in his psyche. He would never admit it out loud, but he didn't need to. The lack of effort he'd put into finding her missing master was enough for Shizune to confirm her suspicions. There was always some scapegoat for Jiraiya, always some person or reason why things weren't his fault. Even as she'd tried to save him from the wound the Kyuubi had given him, she'd quietly relished in its delivery. It wasn't always right of her to foist anger and hatred in the direction of the white-haired Sannin, but he'd taken her family. She could take his latest apprentice as compensation.
One of the medic's legs shifted, lifting and closing around the back of Sasuke's knee to lock him in place. There were more people to help, and more illnesses to cure, but they could wait for at least a few more minutes.