I hadn't realized that we'd been on an official break from missions until it ended. It was a productive month to be sure; I'd created sealing methods for all elemental chakra natures besides Suiton, I put some development into my Flash Flood Chakra Enhancement, my skill with my mobility jutsu had been elevated significantly, and I'd finished and taken massive strides towards optimizing my thirty-two faced Doton: Jūtan Bakudan no Jutsu. Now, it had three stages of launch: propulsion out of the ground, the new, four-way initial division (which spread out the clusters of explosives and helped keep the faces out of each other's way, lending to their mobility and precision) and their final split into each face.

I had also finished my self-retracting scrolls, three of which I had affixed to my vest. They weren't labeled or coded in any way, but by pulling them out by their end tab, I could absorb elemental chakra into storage seals sewn into the treated leather with Fūinjutsu ink-dyed thread. Each seal only had one use, but I had room to put eight in each scroll (though I had to pull it out quite a ways to reveal the ones in the back, which, with my currently limited arm span, was somewhat annoying).

The three elements I had scrolls for were the ones without substantial mass associated with their materials: Futon, Raiton and Katon. I would figure out where to put the others eventually, I'm sure, but for now these were all I had time to create and attach to myself. They would also require less skill and be safer to use than the currently missing ones. Besides, as an Iwa nin, I was more practiced at countering or avoiding Doton techniques, and as an Earth Style user myself, my defensive ninjutsu resisted Suiton.

One thing that wasn't even close to being ready was my seal minimization. A lot more intellectual legwork needed to be conducted before we could even think about implementing that.

We were summoned by Biwa-sensei to the Tsuchikage's palace, but he was waiting for us outside instead of at the mission desk. He already had the scroll in his hand, so I assumed he had already picked it up for us. Weird, because that meant we wouldn't get to hear the official briefing.

I didn't focus on that, though, because, to my surprise, there was an extremely familiar face waiting alongside Biwa-sensei.

"Nii-san?" I asked in confusion. I hadn't seen Kazuhiro in two days, although I knew he was still in the village. He had taken to staying overnight in his small division's headquarters when he was elbows deep in bureaucracy.

"Hi, imouto," he greeted warmly, though there was something strange in his eyes. "Iwao-kun, Daigo-kun. You all have a C-rank mission, but I'll be traveling with you for the first leg of the journey. It's unrelated to what comes after."

Unrelated?

"Well, what's the mission?" I asked. "Why are we taking a detour, and why are you coming with us?"

It was Biwa-sensei that answered. "Asano-san is coming along with us because I invited him. As to where we're going on our detour…we'll be visiting the ruins of Fugatoro. I'll save the mission details for once we reach our destination."

My eyebrows shot up. Fugatoro? Like, the place I was born? Iwao and Daigo seemed just as perplexed, but we could all guess the purpose. It seemed well out of character, though, for any hardened shinobi of Iwagakure to go so far out of their way to secure closure or whatever for one of their students. It wasn't exactly in our culture to coddle.

"When Kamizuru-sama proposed this excursion, I realized that I hadn't visited since long before the incident," Kazuhiro added. "I decided it was past time for me to pay my respects."

And that was another thing. Obviously, my brother wasn't tagging along for that alone; he was coming to support me. That was on-brand for my nii-san—Kazuhiro doted on me more than most parents in this world doted on their actual children. Which was adorable, and I loved him for it. But, while it was totally believable that Kazuhiro would agree, why would Biwa-sensei invite him in the first place? It was far more touching of a gesture than I thought the man could stomach.

But whatever. If there's an ulterior motive, I'm fine with it. If there isn't…I guess I appreciate the thoughtfulness. I don't have much of an attachment to the place, and I didn't really care much about my supposed origins in this world, so it really made no difference to me.

"Well, it will be fun to actually travel with you for once, nii-san," I offered. "Maybe you can teach me stuff on the way! I think I could argue that the Weighted Boulder and the Lightened Boulder Jutsu qualify as family techniques now," I claimed, mostly as a joke. I really wanted those jutsu; alas, they were B-ranked.

"Absolutely not," Biwa-sensei said bluntly and with passion. Kazuhiro just laughed.

"You can learn them when you become a chunin, and you complete enough B-ranks to earn the right amount of Merits."

I scoffed. "I'll have enough B-Rank Merits to buy them as soon as I can get into the archive."

He ruffled my hair, and I squawked in protest.

"Of that, I have no doubt."

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Alarmingly, it only took a day to reach Fugatoro. Not even—it would be hours before the sun even began to caress the horizon. That was probably a big reason why the attack over a decade ago had been such a big deal.

I already knew how close it was, of course, but actually making the trip really put it into perspective. Fugatoro was the last line of defense. That was why it was garrisoned almost entirely by disabled veterans. No enemies were supposed to make it here, but they did. In the midst of war.

If they reached this point, they could have easily gone all the way. They might as well have struck out against Iwagakure herself. But they didn't. They preyed on the defenseless and bounced. There was no strategic benefit in a hit and run on Fugatoro besides one; psychological torment. In my opinion, a pretty shit reason to slaughter an entire village.

A somber silence overtook the group as we entered its bounds. Fugatoro hadn't been rebuilt or populated, save for a solitary, small military outpost. But this place wasn't vulnerable, not like it used to be. The outpost wasn't manned by weakened veterans, but by the Red Ogres. I saw a mask in the distance before it vanished. We didn't check in with them, nor were we stopped; they must have known to expect us. Or maybe I just wasn't observant enough to pick up on any communication between them and Biwa-sensei.

The rubble hadn't been cleared away, but time had rotted the wood and wild grasses sprouted from eroded dirt, sparsely carpeting the debris with sickly-green. I closed my eyes, the pale blue sky turned to night, and color pallets swapped to smoke-clogged gray and billowing orange fires that reached up towards the heavens. I touched my throat absentmindedly, feeling phantom pains as my ears filled with the crackling of flames, human screams and the desperate braying of a doomed animal.

I spied the remains of a fence, long collapsed aside from a couple crumbling stone supports.

"There was a goat in this enclosure," I recalled, making my way to it and easily stepping over the raised mound of buried wood. "It was trying to get out."

Slowly, I cast the Moguragakure no Jutsu, turning a small stretch of earth underneath me to fine sand. I didn't sink below, but I reached in with my hand, and felt around. I found the chain that locked the now vanished gate several paces away; it was so rusted that, if I was inclined, I could snap it with ease.

Not even a foot from it into the enclosure, I detected something else that my jutsu couldn't penetrate. I traced its smooth surface, finding a handle in the form of a ridged horn, and pulled the whole thing up. It was the goat's skull, stained by the earth but otherwise picked clean by the creatures that had wriggled through it.

Looking up at my brother and my team, I was greeted by uncomfortable expressions. I didn't know what to make of them, so I looked away, hesitating before deciding to take the skull with me as a keepsake. A souvenir of my reincarnation. It was no shot glass or enamel pin, but it was something. With a pulse of chakra, it was in my inventory.

I scanned the dirt paths, so packed from decades—maybe centuries—of footfall that even today vegetation had a hard time taking root. Chakra strengthened mental abilities, memory included, so despite all the time that had passed, I had no trouble recalling that night in detail. But placing the exact position of everything was still tricky, as most landmarks had been burnt down or otherwise consumed by nature.

"Here," I breathed, noticing a pile of stones. The base of a signpost that I vaguely remembered. I crouched over the path beside it.

"This is where she died. This is where she burned."

I took a deep, shaky breath, becoming emotional and not knowing why.

"She tried to put it out," I whispered, but they all heard me. "Tried to stifle it against the dirt. But it was Katon chakra. She couldn't. She died too quickly. But as she drew her last breath, she reached for me."

Fires powered by Katon chakra couldn't be put out nearly as easily as their mundane counterparts because, while ordinary fires needed oxygen, fire chakra did not. As long as the chakra itself remained, it would continue to amalgamate. Sure, increasing the difficulty to amalgamate could cause the chakra to be used up more quickly, but that just meant that, unless it was stifled completely for long enough, it would reignite the moment it could. And the chakra itself still hurt quite a bit without any of the material associated with it, so even if you jumped into a lake right after you were blasted with a fire jutsu, you wouldn't come out unscathed.

Knowing the science behind it really drove home how terrible a way to go it was. My…mother must have felt far more agony in her death than I had in mine. Still, I wasn't sure whether or not I would prefer my circumstances to hers.

I looked up at Biwa-sensei. "Do you remember?"

I wanted him to remember. Again, I wasn't sure why.

His face was grim. "Not as well as you. But yes. When I found her, she was reaching for you."

Nodding in satisfaction, I circled around the spot, which looked so ordinary. So unremarkable. There was no way to tell, after all these years, that someone who could have been so important to me drew their final, agonizing breath right here.

My companions were looking at me expectantly, making no moves of their own, so I took that as my cue to wander. The ruins were eerily still, aside from the gentle wind in the grasses, and the occasional bird that landed on an outcropping.

"Nii-san?" I asked Kazuhiro. "Do you know where my house was?"

"I do," he murmured. "Would you like me to show you?"

"Yes, please."

He led me through the wreckage, to a lump of wood and stone that looked no different from every other pile around it. I don't know why I expected anything else, don't know why I expected to find any identifiable mark, signifier or characteristic.

It was a home. Almost my home. Frankly, it deserved to end up in this state. It was built on lies and betrayal. On the murder of a comrade.

The memory of my dead mother, horribly burned and disfigured, desperately reaching out to me, filled me with a surprising sense of loss. But should I be sad at her passing, just because she loved me? Should I mourn her, a complete stranger? Did she deserve that?

"Nii-san," I whispered, this time too softly for my team, far behind us, to hear. "Was my mother a good person?"

Kazuhiro frowned. "As I remember her, yes. She had a wicked sense of humor, though I was too morose at the time to appreciate it. Very kind to me, specifically, though I got the sense it was mostly due to my circumstances and my relationship to Hisashi. I would judge her to be a generally good person."

I hummed. "I don't know if I could consider someone who, immediately after the loss of her husband, conceived a child with another to be good. Even if she didn't know that Hisashi was the one to kill him. Unless her dead husband treated her poorly in life, in which case Hisashi killing him would have likely earned her some points."

Which I wouldn't be entirely surprised to learn, considering how negative all my experiences with Bakuhatsu clan members have been. But that was unlikely. Omori Mana was a proud jonin of Iwagakure. If Bakuhatsu Genji treated her poorly, I doubted that she would have just taken it.

"I don't necessarily agree," Kazuhiro said, cautiously. "Even if she did love her husband, and he did treat her well, I wouldn't begrudge her for finding comfort in Hisashi. They weren't strangers. As her husband's genin teammate, they knew each other well. If he approached her, revealing he was present for Bakuhatsu-san's death and claiming to grieve it as deeply as she…you have to understand. Imai Hisashi wasn't charming in the traditional sense. But that made his moments of compassion feel like that much more of a reward. And he himself was a jonin. I can easily see how he could trick Mana into…conceiving you with him."

I supposed I could understand that. Due to my military background, and that of my family, I had seen and experienced my fair share of grief. I knew what it did to people, knew how it could make people act. I had seen people indulge in meaningless sex as a coping mechanism. And that meaningless sex could easily turn into something more.

Omori Mana. The woman who birthed me, who refused to leave me behind even if it slowed her down, who reached out towards me even as she died to the most excruciating pain she'd ever experienced. I would never truly know her. But if she loved me that much, I could choose to love her in return.

I didn't announce that to Kazuhiro. All I afforded him was a single nod.

"There's something else I want to show you," he said, taking my hand.

I felt strange as he led me away to the heart of the ruined village, the rest of my team following a respectful distance behind. This wasn't supposed to affect me. I was sure it wouldn't. I spent absolutely zero minutes and zero seconds mourning my circumstances in this life. Sympathizing with Kazuhiro's grief was the closest I'd gotten to forging a personal connection with Imai Kasaiki's origins. Because make no mistake—they weren't my origins. I've found precious people in this life, but my formative years were spent in another world entirely.

A world I'd left behind. Or tried to. The moment I'd gained consciousness in the Elemental Nations, I decided that this would be a much needed fresh start. My life on planet Earth had started out rough, and though I'd overcome that and gained some semblance of peace and purpose eventually, the past few years leading up to my death…well. The sky was beginning to darken, the waves were getting choppier. It was almost fitting that my life would end when and where it did.

"This is a memorial," Biwa-sensei announced, and I blinked in surprise. I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice the marble pillar in front of me, or that my sensei was now standing at my side. Looking over my shoulder, I realized that Iwao and Daigo were close behind. "It commemorates the heroes lost in the attack. Their names are carved into it—those that we could place here at the time of their deaths. Regrettably, there are some that are surely missing, as Iwa's records preceding that night didn't account for those who chose to settle down in the village outside of assignment. It was only due to the surviving family members of the victims that resided in Iwagakure that the list is as complete as it is."

"Your parents' names are on there, somewhere," Kazuhiro murmured. "Both of them. I've never seen it, so I don't know where. But I'll help you look."

Both of my parents. Kazuhiro must have reported Hisashi as one of those killed, and in the chaos no one had the time or inclination to dig any further.

"I did not have us take this trip solely for Imai's benefit," Biwa-sensei said, drawing all of our attention. "I brought you all here so you could understand. You have heard about the bad blood between Iwagakure and Konohagakure. You know our conflicting histories, learned about the atrocities they've committed against up. But there is a difference between knowing the facts and seeing them for yourself."

He stepped forward, turning around so that he stood directly next to the monument, commanding our attention.

"There will be war between us and Konoha," he declared, and even though this was known to us, we all felt dread at the solemn statement. "Over the next few years, we will be preparing. We will be building ourselves up, and attempting to tear them down so that when conflict officially breaks, we are in a better position to win than they are. We can more easily access their agricultural centers than they can ours—Iwagakure herself stands between our enemies to the east and our resources in the west. Konoha is in the dead center of their nation, and through Grass we have easy access to their fertile farmland on their northwestern quadrant. I'm sure Kumo will do its part to sabotage those resources in the northeast. Perhaps Kiri, should they decide to participate in this conflict, will wreak havoc up the coast as well."

Yeah, Konoha was kind of in the worst physical position on the map. They were literally surrounded by enemies on all sides. However, they had their own distinct advantages. Namely, the people who lived there.

"We can win this war," Biwa-sensei said strongly. "But we can't count them out. Frankly, at the tail end of the Second, we underestimated them, and paid the price. Lower ranking Konoha ninja are known for being weaker than the lower ranks of Iwa. But their outrageous clans offset this advantage. Konoha has more bloodline clans than any other hidden village—only Kiri comes close. And each of them are known for spawning uncommonly dangerous shinobi."

Like I said. The "once in a generation talents" in Konoha were more like thrice in a generation, or more. They consistently put out more A and S-ranked shinobi than any other village, and each of them could be worth entire companies of genin and chunin.

"But there is one factor that every soldier is subject to, no matter their rank or their skill: morale. Konoha can and has thrown away their lower ranks like garbage without batting an eye, because they think their legends can win all their conflicts for them. What they fail to realize is that Iwa has legends too."

He stood tall, a legend himself.

"You three are the most promising and talented shinobi of your age. Properly honed, you can stand against the likes of Nara Sakamoto, Akimichi Tani, Aburame Nagata. You could even stand against the Sanin. And we will show them this. They will learn to fear you. They will think twice about deploying skilled personnel to the battlefield, lest we capitalize on the vulnerability of the sites they leave behind. Their people will lose hope, because while they have Uchiha Matsudaira, we have Hirose Daigo. While they have Shimura Toma, we have Ishida Iwao. And while they have Hatake Sakumo, we have Imai Kasaiki."

Those, mostly, weren't names I remembered from canon, but I had learned about them in this life. They made up Konoha's current A-rank roster, and above.

"Our current mission will take us to the Land of Rain, where we will be picking up a wealthy merchant in a sensitive situation who wishes to relocate to Iwagakure. He has stolen secrets from Konohagakure, and expects them to take them back. The threat of Hanzo the Salamander will stall the enemy's retribution, but not forever."

That was…interesting. The whole Rain situation was precarious. They shared borders with three of the great five, and as such had been utterly decimated in the last war. However, at the same time, it was ruled by possibly the strongest shinobi of this era. Certainly outside of the kage themselves.

That being said, Hanzo couldn't be everywhere at once. He was a deterrent, but stopping every foreign ninja from entering his borders was an effort in futility, though he still went through periods of attempting to do so. That tended to cause the nation more problems than it solved, anyway. Rain was far from self-sustaining, and those great nations they shared a border with could still make their lives very difficult without engaging the Salamander in battle.

"It is inevitable that we will encounter Konoha shinobi on this mission," Biwa-sensei stated. "And when they meet you, they will realize how outclassed their village will be once war breaks out. They will report back to their superiors, to their Hokage. And they will realize how great a mistake it was to attack us so cowardly all those years ago."

The spell was broken as he looked over his shoulder, at the monument, as he pulled twin sticks of incense from his pocket. Wordlessly, he extended them towards me, and after a beat, I took them.

"For Fugatoro."

Everyone stepped away from me, and I knelt in front of the statue, sitting seiza. If the mood was more lighthearted, I would have cracked a joke to Biwa-sensei, calling back to something that was said about me during our first encounter. But I didn't, because that would be inappropriate.

There were two holes bored into the base, and I stuck the ends of the incense sticks into them so that they stood securely at an angle. Slowly, I flipped through the three hand seals for Katon: Chōchin no Jutsu, and pinched the end of one stick. It caught on fire, and I repeated the process to light the other one.

It was dead silent as my companions prayed for the souls lost here. I didn't. I was never much for prayer, and I had no idea what to say anyway. My mind was elsewhere.

War never changes. In the service, we'd quote that as a joke, but it was true, wasn't it? Same shit, different world. But despite the barbarism of the Elemental Nations, I preferred this kind of conflict.

On Earth, I joined the United States Navy out of patriotism, and because military life was all I ever knew. My father was a military man and so was his own, who I never got the chance to meet. I was told that fighting for my country, putting my life on the line to protect my people, was the greatest honor I could receive.

But I wasn't really protecting my people, was I? As the years passed, the rose-tinted glasses fell away, and I realized that I was more so protecting the interests of billionaires that were doing more harm to those I cared about than any foreign nation. Soon, I was just going through the motions, excelling at my job merely because that was what was expected of me.

That was why I pursued my final assignment. I wanted, for once, to stand against those who I believed to be a genuine threat to my people. I wanted to do what I set out to do, be the person I hoped to be when I enlisted. I wanted to be the hero my father told me I'd become by joining the Navy. And maybe I did. Maybe, in death, I became a martyr, a catalyst that brought the US or other nations deeper into the conflict. Maybe I saved lives by dying. I could be satisfied with that.

Here, in the Elemental Nations, there was no confusion. I knew who my precious people were, and I could be sure that my actions protected them.

I looked at the names before me without seeing them. I realized, halfway through Biwa-sensei's speech, that I was looking at this excursion too sappily. He didn't care about bringing me any closure. He—and a lot of other people too—knew that I didn't have much of an emotional connection to my past in this life. He brought me here to change that.

It was working better than I thought it would have, I'll admit. Here amongst the ruins, reclaimed by nature, I felt true personal loss. But it wasn't just for the people here. It wasn't just for those who gave Imai Kasaiki life.

Eleven years ago, give or take, I—a thirty-four-year-old naval commander—closed my eyes for the last time as the final traces of air were pulled from my lungs. Then I reopened them, and I was no longer in the frigid, crushing grip of the ocean. I was someplace else entirely.

That should have been alarming. But like I said; to me, it was only the natural conclusion. There were very few things I would miss from that life. The warm ocean (not that bitch Baltic). My brother. Several friends who I used to be a lot closer to. My father, kind of.

I was glad I died while I could still consider them loved ones. My brother and my friends were on the fast-track to becoming strangers to me. And my father was on his way towards something far worse. His career was cut short during the Gulf War when his ship was taken down. His spine was messed up; he couldn't walk right after that, and would spend almost all of his time in a wheelchair ever since.

The mental damage was worse than the physical. Especially after he was honorably discharged, came home with disability, and my mother left us a few months later. She only got with him because he was a hot shot in the military, and knew that if she married him, she could stay at home and get a nice check in the mail without having to do anything.

She never really took care of her kids, foisting us instead on our father's mother who did all the work in raising us. And when she realized she was actually going to be expected to act like a wife and take care of her disabled husband, she decided her easy life was over and hightailed it out of there.

We all hated that bitch, so her leaving was whatever. But it hurt my father's—Sir, as he made us call him—pride. Not being able to walk, needing a carer or family member to fulfill his basic needs, was even worse. With him back in our lives, things changed. Sir was hard to live with; he wasn't abusive, but he had his moods that could range from passive aggressive to overtly caustic. I took his measure and learned to deal with him. My brother did not. He enlisted right out of high school, and not into the Navy. Into the Army. Holy shit that pissed Sir off. It was the death knell for their already deteriorating relationship, and I'm not sure if they've so much as spoken since then.

But as difficult as it was to live with him sometimes, a part of me did love Sir, and felt sympathy towards him. He had his moments. There was a compassionate man buried deep under all the baggage and temperamental issues.

But his pride; that was one demon he could never escape. When it was time for me to join the Navy, I excelled, and he was proud of me. Until I began to excel too much. When I reached his old rank, Lieutenant Commander, our interactions became stilted. When I surpassed it…well, he never said anything outright, but I knew there was a problem. He was jealous, possibly felt threatened. In several instances he implied that I didn't deserve the rank, and that pissed me off so much I'd begin shaking.

It didn't seem to be getting any better, but maybe it would have. Maybe he'd find peace with it, with his own circumstances, and our relationship would repair. But it was more likely that it wouldn't—he was a stubborn, emotionally impotent old man. So it was a good thing I died before I had to cut him out of my life intentionally.

I took a deep, ragged inhale, and was surprised at the sound. Thoughtlessly, I raised a hand to my cheeks and found them wet.

Life is a choice. And death is a decision.

My attitude towards my death could be summarized as; it happened, I got over it. It didn't weigh on me. I barely even thought about it. Not of my last moments alive, the instant we were hit by that torpedo, how water rushed in slowly, and all my crew realized that we likely had no hope for survival. Their loss I regretted with all my heart. Actually, that was one of my final thoughts before the forces of nature did their work, splitting the body of the submarine and sucking us all out into the open ocean.

Then, I was here. Dying was easy. Being reborn, doubly so. I didn't have to do a damn thing.

It happened, and I got over it.

That's what I thought. Up until this very moment. But did I, really? Could I say that I've moved past something when I refused to even think of it? In the academy, when Yoshiro-sensei pushed me into a pit—burying me alive—I had a panic attack so intense that I blacked out and had to be resuscitated. Was that the response of someone who's "gotten over it?"

No, that was PTSD. I should know; I was somewhat of an authority on the matter. I just never addressed it, or spared it any thought. I couldn't stand to. Maybe I hadn't gotten over my death. Maybe I just ignored it. Pushed it out of my mind.

Exactly like a ninja should. As an outsider indulging in the story, I always condemned the shinobi-should-never-feel-much-less-show-emotions outlook. I knew from experience how damaging that could be. But, though I would remorselessly disparage it (to a safe audience), I was unintentionally embodying it to a T.

That was unsustainable. Dangerous. I knew it was. So, even though I would frankly rather stick senbon through all of my joints, I decided to stop being a hypocrite. I forced myself to think. To feel. To remember. To mourn.

Sobs began to wrack my body as I lost myself in the flood of my memories, my emotions. I drowned again, sinking through the ocean within me. At its floor, I found something. A crevice, a trench. A part of the Deep I'd never noticed. A new current began to rise from within, and I embraced it, let it carry me away. It dyed my water, it dyed my mind, and once again I felt the peace of death.

I couldn't even feel the storm outside.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Iwao thought he knew Imai Kasaiki. He was certain that his appraisal all those years ago was true; she didn't truly care about her parents or her past. She admitted as much herself finally, over a month ago during her birthday celebration. She hadn't been lying—he was sure of it.

This excursion was successful in some ways. Personally, Iwao was truly moved by Sensei's speech, and felt the righteous anger for those lost here in Fugatoro. But he was sure that, if Biwa-sensei hoped to forge a more personal connection between his teammate and her origins, he would leave disappointed.

Until he began to see tears drip down her cheeks.

In that moment, Iwao realized something. Imai Kasaiki was a mystery that he couldn't solve—this, he'd known for a long, long time. He didn't understand her, and he probably never would. But now, as he remembered their conversation that moonlit night, he wondered if even Imai Kasaiki could understand Imai Kasaiki.

The tears surprised everyone, even Asano-san.

"Imouto?" He called softly, worry evident in his tone. Iwao wondered if he'd ever seen his sister cry; Iwao sure as shit hadn't. "Kasaiki-chan?"

She didn't respond, but her shoulders began to shake, ruining her otherwise perfect seiza. Asano-san took a worried step forward, carefully reaching out towards her.

Then, Iwao felt a loud crack in his bones, almost stumbling to the ground at the sudden, unwelcome feeling. Biwa-sensei grabbed Asano-san by the arm, yanking him back as he sensed something that none of them could. Just in time.

Chakra exploded from Kasaiki. Heavy, overwhelming chakra, unlike any Iwao had ever felt. Just calling it chakra was a disservice—it was a force of nature.

Iwao's breath was ripped viciously from him, and panic began to set in when he realized he couldn't catch it at all; it was like his lungs were being held in a vice. The edges of his vision steadily darkened, and he wondered if he was about to die.

Then, salvation. A torrent of royal blue surged from Biwa-sensei, so much that Iwao could see it clearly through the spots in his vision. And it carried its own presence, one that conveyed preservation, determination, and, dare he say it, hope.

It overpowered the wrongness emanating from his teammate, and he could suddenly breathe again. His senses returned, and he could see Daigo on his knees next to them. Not even Asano-san—a jonin—was unphased, though he hadn't lost his footing.

Biwa-sensei was the only one who could stand tall. A monolith parting a dark storm. Iwao could put it no better; before his very eyes, the color leached out of Kasaiki's very visible cloud of chakra, reaching up high into the sky.

A human's chakra was blue—that was common knowledge. Color could be manually changed by some jutsu, like medical jutsu for instance, but that was an active process. Iwao had seen Kasaiki's chakra before, and it was normal. It didn't look like this silvery gray abomination. There was only a hint of blue left.

"Kamizuru-sama, what's going on?" Asano-san barked, and Iwao was glad he did because he himself could barely force out an intelligible word.

"Her chakra has changed to reflect her will," Biwa-sensei answered, grimly. "I've met people with characteristics like these before. It's incredibly rare—I don't think we have anyone in Iwa like this, currently."

"Is she okay?" Asano-san demanded. "Is she hurt?"

"Physically, yes, she's fine. Mentally? Spiritually? I'm not sure. I don't know if anyone has figured out how or why this happens. But."

He paused for a moment, uncertainly.

"I've seen dark blue, in those with especially potent chakras. Above that are those with purple chakras. I've even seen red chakra, though not in humans. But I've never encountered anyone with gray chakra. I've never even heard of it."

Asano-san gave a shaky, helpless sigh as chakra continued to pour out of his sister.

"We need to snap her out of it. She's expelling way too much chakra. She'll get exhaustion or worse!"

"No!" Biwa-sensei snapped, making him falter. "Her chakra is changing, and that doesn't just happen for the hell of it. She is clearly undergoing some metamorphosis of spirit. If you disrupt her, the consequences might be far more severe than mere chakra exhaustion."

Iwao had never seen a man look so helpless.

"What do we do then? How do we help?"

"By doing nothing," Biwa-sensei replied.

"But what if she dies?"

Biwa-sensei did not release his grip.

"She won't die," he said, the certainty absolute in his voice. "Don't you know your sister? She'll fall in battle or not at all. She's a fighter. And once she snaps out of this, she'll be all the more insufferable for it."

His eyes flicked over her head. "Look."

They followed his gaze, and Iwao squinted up at the metallic, roiling chakra.

"Is…is that a face?" Iwao asked, trying and failing to reign in his stammer.

If it was a face, it wasn't a human one. It was almost lizard-like; it's face triangular, mouth gaping, and full of too many teeth to count. Though the entire thing could have just as easily been a hallucination. Immediately, Iwao grew self-conscious, thinking that Biwa-sensei had been referring to something else entirely.

"I once fought a savage from Kiri who went rogue," Biwa-sensei said. "He was A-ranked in the bingo books, and had monstrous reserves. They were dark blue, but they formed a face almost like that."

Iwao was glad he hadn't embarrassed himself.

"The form was entirely different. His resembled an Oni. This is more like a creature I'd run into in the Land of Swamps. I obviously didn't have the opportunity or inclination to question my opponent before I killed him, but Tsuchikage-sama told me that strong enough wills imparted into great enough chakra can create a manifestation. Representations of those that bear them."

"How does that thing represent my sister?" Asano-san asked, unblinking as he stared down the beast.

"Hell if I know."

Sensei glanced over his shoulder and held up a hand towards something behind him. Turning around, Iwao saw no less than twenty Red Ogres approaching, some with weapons in hand. They stilled at Biwa-sensei's signal, and Iwao couldn't spare them another moment's attention.

Biwa-sensei's intent to protect allowed Iwao to withstand his teammate's chakra, but the clash between the strong wills wasn't peaceful. The two chakras snapped at one another like hungry wolves, and Iwao's stomach protested their quarrel. He tried to remain outwardly indomitable, but sensei saw through him anyway.

"You two, wait with the Ogres," sensei ordered. "They will host us tonight at the base."

The day was relatively young, and that surely hadn't been the plan. Team Tsuchibokori was likely supposed to be well on their way to Rain by the time they set up camp. But even if Kasaiki were to snap out of it this instant, she was hemorrhaging chakra. She'd need time to recover.

Daigo was eager to comply, but Iwao held his ground.

"Are you sure?" He asked, because he owed his teammate that much. "Is there anything I can do?"

Biwa-sensei shook his head decisively.

"If she needs anything, we'll be there," he said, and that was as much consideration as Iwao could spare under the circumstances. He nodded and fled with as much dignity as he could, leaving the two jonin to anxiously stand vigil over his monster of a teammate.

Maybe being an ordinary, competent shinobi was enough. Maybe he had been foolish to ever be jealous of Kasaiki, if this was the bullshit she had to deal with.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

Far, far away, in a pitch black room, an ancient being opened his eyes for the first time in decades.

"What an interesting chakra," he mused, voice scratchy from age and disuse. "For a human especially. Now, how exactly did a reincarnated soul get there of all places?"

Around him, though they couldn't be seen in the darkness, the ground rippled as small bodies began to pull themselves out of the dirt, curious to hear about what had roused the elder from his long slumber. He ignored them, absorbed in his own musings.

"Little lost soul," he said, almost pityingly. "You're not even in the right body. You should be here with me. With us. It's where you belong."

Those on the ground began to cluster around him like children clambering for a piece of candy. Beyond them, circling the giant chamber, larger beings—some much larger—waited with more patience.

The elder shook his head. "You will have a troubled new life, young one. The lost rarely find peace for themselves. I hope you'll live long enough to reach us one day. I'm sure you have many stories to tell."

Then, to the irritation of everyone present, he closed his eyes once more and immediately went back to sleep.

- - - { ワナビー } - - -

AN: Ha! Betcha y'all weren't expecting a chapter today. You know, on account of me flat out telling you I wasn't going to post one. Hopefully, a welcome surprise.

Little bit of a change of plans. I was writing, and I realized that I would probably need another chapter in between this one and the one that was going to take me a long ass time to write. And I wanted to maintain my commitment of posting weekly unless I really, really couldn't, so here we are! Next chapter will be released next Sunday. And then, the one after that will come out a week and a half later.

If it wasn't abundantly clear, we're about to get to some development of the overarching plot. The kind of shit I've been looking forward to since before I even began writing. Hope you're all hungry, because I be cookin'.

As always, a special thanks to my betas, David and DoubleBock. They're more than pulling their weight; they have been ever since I enlisted them. I'm very grateful to have such imaginative, thoughtful people on my team.

Speaking of, I'm still looking for help with my Spider-Verse fic. Let me know if you're interested!

I don't have a Ptrn. If you've gotten just five bucks of enjoyment out of this story, please consider buying my original work on amazon (information in my bio). Between the two sites this fic is posted on, I have over 2100 readers. If even half of you choose to support me in this fashion, I would have considerable bargaining power when it comes to getting future books published. More publishing deals means I can quit my day job, which translates into more time for fanfiction. It's a one time thing, and you even get more of my writing out of it.

See you next week!