Chapter Nineteen

A History

Deep within the Amegakure woods, an army of rebels have gathered in the name of the Black Salamander King. The successor is a young man following in his father's footsteps. His name is Sanshōuo no Hattori, Hattori of the Salamander. It is a name that his mother gave him – a family surname, bestowed upon the boy in secret to protect him as he grew.

His mother, Huri Mei, had not been born a noblewoman, or fortunate enough to even have a reputable surname. Her parents, a gentle (albeit elderly) farm couple, had adopted her when their strength began to wane and they could no longer care for the farm as they once had. The elderly couple cared for Mei as if she were their own flesh and blood. They lived a quiet, modest life, and kept a very small social circle. Mei's parents passed away before she turned eighteen, and the small farm fell into her hands, and her hands alone. She kept up with it to the best of her abilities, but the work was long and hard, and her hands were soon gnarled and callused. Her spine ached from hunching for hours on end, and Mei grew worried that the work would soon send her to an early grave.

The rain had been exceptionally unforgiving the summer after her parents died… Mei's crops weren't growing. She stood on the stoop of her wooden porch, looking out at her pitiful, translucent green sprouts uprooting and washing down the valleys that she had worked so hard to build up that spring. Mei looked behind her shoulder, gaze raking over the minimal contents of her house. She'd already sold anything of value and traded it for food. Hope drained out of her like the plants washing down the makeshift rivers that were flooding her crops. Soon, Mei would not even be able to feed herself. Perhaps it wasn't the hard work that would kill her after all, she thought.

Sanshōuo no Hanzō was leaving the village with an entourage in pursuit of an enemy when they passed by Mei's farmhouse. Hanzō spotted Mei, wrapped in a cerulean blue shawl, a striking contrast to the milky hue of her skin and long, raven-wing black hair. The young woman was visibly frail, but even in that state, Hanzō had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life… It was an unconscious decision to dismount his horse, and he would argue that fate controlled his movements until he snapped back to coherence once kneeling on the steps beside her.

Sanshōuo no Hanzō had never knelt before anyone.

"What's your name?" he asked her.

"Huri Mei," she replied weakly.

Hanzō framed Mei's slender cheek in his large palm and gazed deeply in her eyes. "Let's get you inside and make you some tea."

Sanshōuo no Hanzō's marriage had been arranged. His wife was a noblewoman; a pretty thing, but cold and sharp like the edge of his sword. Half a decade had passed, and yet she bore him no children. There was no love between them, but Hanzō had always considered himself a dutiful husband. He'd been faithful – loyal, and yet… One look at Mei was all it took for him to realize he would set fire to his wedding vows for her. This slim creature with damaged hands and eyes like jeweled whiskey. Hanzō would not have classified himself as a romantic, nor had he ever believed in soulmates… but if the gods had anything to say about it, they'd sent Mei to him as divine intervention.

The affair was kept secret.

Hanzō would visit Mei only under the cloak of nightfall, long after the village had gone to sleep. He'd bring her the finest food and beverages, and spoil her with new fabrics and clothes. He could not risk giving Mei money or jewels, but he made sure she was taken care of. Six months into their love affair, Mei realized that she was carrying his child… She hoped this would be a blessing, a way out of poverty and into the palace where she could be his new queen. After all, he didn't love his wife, and she had never bore him children.

But the wars were waging over the entire continent, and Hanzō was in battle more often than not. When Mei finally learned that he had been killed, the dreams and desires she allowed herself to believe in – shattered like fragile glass. The man she loved was gone, never to return, and she was pregnant with his illegitimate child.

Mei knew she needed to protect their baby at all costs; she'd known what kind of man the Salamander King had been – had known he was dangerous and hated by many. Mei had never feared him, but she feared what would happen if anyone ever found out she was carrying his child. Mei sold the farmhouse at the end of the war, and settled deep into the woods and built a hut with the money she'd earned. The ryo held them over for a couple years, but Mei was soon forced to go back to her roots – farming and foraging for their survival. When Hattori was old enough, she taught him everything she knew. She taught him how to forage for the safe plants and edible mushrooms, and showed him which plants were poisonous and could hurt him. Young Hattori had been particularly intrigued by the poisonous plants, and wanted to learn what each of their poisons could do. Though Hattori's fascination with poison was worrisome to his mother, Huri Mei believed it to be a link to his ancestry – something biological and rooted in his DNA that couldn't be helped.

When the winters were long and hard, Mei and Hattori were forced to sneak into the village, stealing meager bits of food and supplies from merchants and shopkeepers who had mysteriously fallen asleep after being offered a cup of bitter-tasting tea… At a very young age, Hattori's skill for crafting poisons was bordering on the level of genius. He understood the chemistry – perfected it after stealing medicinal plant tomes from the hospital archives. He became obsessed with cultivating and crafting new concoctions, experimenting on the mice he caught in the grain storage. (He hid this from his mother of course.) Mei was a gentle woman, and didn't like the idea of hurting an animal if they weren't going to use it for food. Even at seven years old, Hattori couldn't get her to see that his experiments were in the name of science.

At fifteen, Hattori had become rather cunning with his thievery. He was stealing bigger and better supplies, so much so that he was able to build a laboratory of sorts, and even an armory. This too was kept secret from his mother. As were his late-night rendezvous with a merchant's daughter he'd met on one of his supply runs. She was training to become a ninja, and caught him stealing a sack of oranges from her father's booth. Hattori had taken after his mother in looks, and was rather charming when he wanted to be… Despite her better senses, the ninja girl was swayed by that charm and allowed herself to be caught up in the mysterious excitement of the strange boy who lived in the woods.

Most nights, the pair met below the leaves of the maple tree just outside the village on the edge of the woods. Karina was her name, and she was teaching Hattori how to spar and control his chakra. After the lesson was over, they would partake in a different type of tumble, and one that left Hattori breathless and hungering for more. Hattori ached for the feel of her when she wasn't near, but he kept himself plenty distracted in his laboratory.

On his sixteenth birthday, Hattori's mother had baked him a chocolate cake, and for the first time in his life, Hattori asked about his father.

Mei nearly dropped her fork. "Why…" she cleared her throat and tried again, "Why would you want to know now?"

"Karina asked about my family," he answered simply, spooning up a rather large helping of chocolate cake. "You've never spoken of him. I realize you must have your reasons, but I am a man now, and I have a right to know who my father was."

Mei's whiskey-colored eyes grew wide in surprise. "Yes, I suppose you do." Mei pushed her plate towards the center of the table, having lost her appetite. "What I'm about to tell you is very dangerous, Hattori. I once told you that we lived in the woods as a means of protection, because it was too dangerous if the people of the village ever found out who we were."

"Go on," he encouraged his mother.

"You are the blood heir of a very dangerous and powerful man… a man who was killed because of what he could do," Mei said in a small, quiet tone. She hadn't spoken his name in many years, but she thought of him every day… She still remembered his touch and the way he smelled, as if those things had imprinted on her soul.

Hattori had stopped eating and was clutching his fork in his hand like it was his prisoner. "Tell me," he said with the authority of a king, "what was my father killed for?"

When he learned of his father and the war, Hattori suddenly understood his purpose. For nearly all his life he wondered why poisonous things held such a fascination for him, only to discover they were little keys – unlocking the truth that was concealed within his very DNA. His birth had been written in the stars. Hattori vowed to take after his father's legacy, avenge his death, and become the rightful ruler of Rain Country. (When the time was right.) He needed to be smart about this of course – and he needed an army… There was only one other person in the whole world he could trust with this information, one other person who could help him claim his path to glory.

The years passed and Karina and Hattori grew stronger and more powerful. Karina, not unlike Hattori's mother, had the persuasiveness of beauty on her side. She was graceful and charming, marked for her skill as a ninja of Rain, and known for her Water release techniques. She was smart and resourceful, and gathered troops who she thought would most easily sympathize with their plight. Orphans and outcasts, ninja with no real chakra abilities, but useful with weapons nonetheless… Promises were made from the future king, and only when his circle began to grow, did Hattori dare to claim the Sanshōuo title.

Hattori's whole life had been built on the principle of cunning and wit – of stealth and secrets. He'd fought for his own survival and developed tools and weapons to help him succeed, and now he had a plan to claim his throne with a queen on his choosing, and to get his mother out of poverty once and for all… Whatever challenges stood in his way he would face, and Sanshōuo no Hattori was determined to succeed.

Four Miles from the Rain Country Border

Kakashi wondered how many missions he'd served as an ANBU operative. Wearing the uniform dredged memories he thought he'd buried long ago, but somehow always came unbidden to the surface. Kakashi might as well have been a shadow back then – a shell for a soul that had shriveled up and tucked itself away somewhere in the cavernous abyss inside him. How many years had he gone through the mechanics of life that way? How long before his soul had grown exhausted from the dormancy and began clawing its way back to the surface of his being? How long before he considered himself human again?

Kakashi supposed in the grand scheme of things, it did little good to dwell on the past. There was no re-writing the history, no undoing the damage that had been done. He had regrets of course, but he was wise enough to know that he would not be the person he was today without having gone through and enduring those hardships. Every step, predestined or not, had led him to where he was now, and Kakashi had seen the light at the end of the tunnel. That light took the shape of a certain pink-haired kunoichi, and even though she'd told him to wait, he was kicking himself mentally for not having said those three little words before exiting the armory.

He'd felt it for a while now, long before they crossed the line of friendship. If he had said it – it wouldn't have been a decision made in haste because he was going off to battle. It would have been the honest to gods truth. And he wanted to say it to her every day for the rest of his life because he didn't want to live with anymore regrets.

Kakashi dragged his palm up the back of his neck, inhaling sharply as he perched on a high branch within the canopy. Sasuke had led them on an uncharted path, choosing the long route to Rain Country so as not to tip off any of Hattori's rebel army… Kakashi and Sasuke had traveled ahead of the group, eyes and ears tuned in for any ninja-shaped threats that might be lurking in the forest. The constant patter of rainfall made it harder to listen, and though the wet clothing was inconvenient and mildly irritating, it also helped them pass through the territory without being seen.

The operatives didn't dare to speak. They communicated with hand signals, and kept themselves spread through the forest so as not to become an easy target. The path Sasuke had chosen was dense and overgrown with shrubbery and angry vines. Kakashi had brushed a dozen bugs from his shoulders, and nearly walked into a snake. He wouldn't complain – not when this path kept them out of sight until they reached the great lake surrounding the congested industrial city. The Amegakure's quaint palace was in the heart of the city, protected only by the confusing maze of buildings surrounding it. Amegakure's real protection was the lake. One could arrive to the village on foot, after passing across the great stone bridge – or, one could arrive by ferryboat. Security had been amplified as the Amekage rose to power, and extra shinobi were sent to guard the bridge and port entrances. They recognized Konoha as their ally, but the ANBU were still greeted by armed forces when they reached the bridge.

"Commander," one of the Ame shinobi said in greeting, nodding respectfully. "The Amekage is awaiting your presence in the palace. Please, allow us to show you the way."

Kakashi had spent nearly two years helping to rebuild the city after the war, and knew his way around without the guard detail – but he fell in line behind the Commander and followed quietly through the rain-drenched streets. He'd been here just a few short weeks ago, advising the council before getting ambushed (by what he now realized was Hattori's rebel army) on his way home to Konoha. He'd been lucky to escape them without being poisoned – lucky that Sakura had been home to heal his ass, after thoroughly kicking it, of course.

Kakashi took note of Ame's peculiar buildings, the long pipes and chimney stacks, puffing gray smoke into the smoggy sky. The city reeked of coal fumes and hot iron; the scent overpowering the pleasant aroma of food from the street vendors. He could smell that too if he tried hard enough, but the metallic stink engulfed his senses more than he cared for. He was happier when they reached the palace and were ushered into the grand sitting room, each trying not to look guilty for dripping onto the luxurious carpets in front of the marble fireplace.

A few moments later, Kimika, the Amekage, rounded the corner dressed in a flowing purple gown and had her long auburn hair twisted up at the sides into twin buns. "Welcome," she said, bowing unnecessarily to the operatives. It was a gesture of appreciation and mutual respect. The operatives returned the gesture at once, bowing even lower. "We appreciate you coming to our aid in such a hurry. My troops have all been warned, just as you asked, and are prepared for battle. Tell me," she paused, "is the medic developing the antidote among you?"

"We couldn't risk bringing her, Kimika-sama," the Commander said, stepping forward. "Our mission objective is partially the same as it was before. We still intend to dispatch a sample of the poison back to Konoha as soon as we are able."

The Amekage furrowed her delicate brows, pressing her glossed lips together with a small nod. "I was hoping for better news."

"As were we," the Commander said.

"Very well." She crossed her arms and the long bell sleeves of her gown swallowed her fists when they touched. "Please, you must be tired after your journey. My men can show you to the guest chambers where you can bathe and change into dry clothes. I'll summon the war council after lunch and together we can come up with a plan of attack."

Kakashi shifted, feeling the weight of the pack he was carrying. The packs were waterproof, and changing into a set of dry clothing sounded more than inviting.

ANBU Headquarters

Back in the lab, Sakura was kneeling over Tenzo with a needle in her hands. She and Riku had worked tirelessly through the morning, testing the black salamander poison that was left over from the broken shuriken embedded in Tenzo's wound. The poisonous compounds seemed to act as an adhesive predator, feeding off the metal and making it weak. (That's how the shuriken had broken in the first place and how the poison remained untainted.) The weird symbiotic relationship between the metal and the black salamander poison had somehow kept the leftover compounds on the metal pure.

They followed the steps from the violet-spotted salamander poison she had perfected, and began creating the antidote that would put an end to a tyrant's war… They were meticulous and thorough, and after a few hours of nonstop work had managed to create the first batch of antidote.

Sakura inhaled, sending a prayer to the gods as she slipped the needle into Tenzo's arm and pressed down on the plunger. Tenzo's brow furrowed in his sleep, his pale lips parting.

"How long before we know if it works?" Riku asked behind her, administering the antidote to a sleeping Aoto on the next cot over.

"Antidotes work quickly to neutralize the toxin, but given the severity of the poison, it could take several minutes. It might be a day or so before they feel back to their normal selves, however," she answered.

Tenzo's eyelids began to flutter, and slowly, her former instructor began to open his eyes. "Sak–Sakura," he murmured, wetting his lips with his tongue.

Sakura smiled down at him, gently wiping her hand over his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he said. "What happened?"

Relief washed through her at once. "It's a long story, but you might have inadvertently saved the day, Tenzo."

Thank you for the comments/reviews. It's always appreciated.

XOXO,
~Sparrow