Location: ?
Subject Matter: ?
November 29th, 1963
Hunched over his keyboard watching the attack unfold; a gray tongue crosses dry lips, hungry with anticipation, and appreciating every languid detail slowly unfolding like molasses seeping from a tree. His predictions had varied over the course of every seminar, but nothing truly can ever come close to live field-study. "Marvelous; simply incredible," he whispers breathlessly. Anxious fingers dance across the keys, committing all he sees to memory.
"Assessment: Subject 9 encounters Agent #88912 in sector 40, quadrant West, coordinates 35.462348,138.617998. So far, the address has showcased a number of variables previously unknown in prior theory. Primarily, the efficacy of the clone technique by which it can maintain itself whilst under extreme duress, and separated from the main host.."
Eyes are alight and follow closely as chakra sensors and sonar outline a picture on the black screens before him; Aburame's wasps have done away and blocked most of the cameras within the vicinity, surely sending the main "brain-tank" into a tizzy. By now, they've already contacted the local tokubetsu jonin meant to monitor the area. What he wrote down, it is serial number 01167; a capable enough shinobi. Unremarkable, yet dependable.
Exactly the kind of ninja the Third Hokage likes to surround himself with.
A careless oversight with predictable outcomes.
"Subject 9's resiliency is uncanny, though of course, expected. Similar subjects have tested accordingly, exhibiting a central tendency towards associated congenital insensitivity towards pain. Nerve receptors are normally handicapped, either due to an autoimmune or inflammatory condition that has altered cardiomyocyte ion channel functioning of the body. His case study will be monitored closely, however..."
His head leans over towards a map he's opened to the side of himself; cameras a ways from the riverbed were able to pick up where some of the company have scattered. Subjects 13 and 27 - an interesting combination he hadn't prior conceived of - have managed to stick together. Will make for a good show; Agents #13409 and #00327 are already on the move. Whereas subject 40's seemingly retreated in the opposite direction.
"As expected, Subject 40's symptoms have seen an uptick over the course of three weeks. Fever, chills, insomnia - these were all a given. Yet, his chakra pathways still have not fully succumbed. Close monitoring with antibiotics and immunotherapy has seen pain levels relegated to a bearable minimum, yet his body's capacity to resist is...revealing."
The hum of the generators behind sputter and spit behind him as he types; he needs be careful mind the power cells. No one would want another blow-out like last time. Not while he's able to make out their target in question so clearly, so vividly before him.
Subject 40's shoulders rise up and down, choking down air as he curses. There is no sound - mics were an extra expense they couldn't afford. But the image is clear enough he can read his lips. I said don't be annoying, he shrugs off his concerned squad mate. I just need to catch my breath - check on him.
The banter between the group goes back and forth, but Subject 40 does not relent one bit. Weakness to him was utterly unacceptable, and would not budge him no matter what. It was in his psyche evaluation years prior, even while he was just a boy. This yearning to be the best, to be ever in control, compelled him to view any assistance as an indictment towards competency.
Which is why he was their most preferred prospect here.
Sapporo can say what they will about this "examination"; Utatane and her ilk can paint it, spin it, and sell to their misinformed "People" however they need. But it didn't matter: this was a showcase catered only for one. The field, the players, the entirety of this forest manipulated and administrated specifically to push Subject 40 over his last hurdle. Because if he wanted to be the best, he needed show just what he was willing to do to achieve it.
"Projections wavered slightly, however the forecast is playing out as expected: Agent #88912 has played their part, and so too shall the rest," he says, before tapping heavily on the telegraph sender before him. Its rhythmic notes relay a message, coded and undetectable, to the sole receiver located in sector 28, quadrant North, coordinates 35.484086, 138.626700.
Here, Tenzen put his best man on the job. The ROOT Director's very own pupil. The only one deemed capable enough to handle Sasuke Uchiha.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Retreat into Sector 8G
9:45 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Sasuke stood among the trees, frustration boiling in his veins as he repeated the events that had unfolded. The ROOT agent had slipped in unseen, striking without ermcy, and now they were left reeling. Sasuke bit his tongue to keep from voicing the anger churned within.
Again, he thought. I should've been better.
But he wasn't.
And that realization only deepened his ire.
He reaches up to rub at the tender spot in his neck, the pain radiating through, intensifying every moment. Why was it getting worse? He didn't have the answer, nor was he willing to share his struggles with Naruto, who seemed hell-bent on playing the hero despite teh danger surrounding him.
"We need to go back and help whoever is left behind!" He gasps, voice tight and strained. Sakura was beside him, her hands glowing with a soft green light as she worked to heal him, but the venom from the attack was taking its toll.
"His airways are clogging up, and he might go into shock if we're not careful," she said urgently, eyes darting up to Sasuke.
He snorts, disbelief mingling with his irritation.Since when has Naruto ever been careful.
"If you don't dispel that clone, I will. Knock it off, Naruto; there's no time trying to act a hero, and if there was, you'd be the last one anyone would be looking for to save them."
Yep, there he goes again; being the asshole. Because he can't help being any other way, because Sasuke Uchiha couldn't allow himself to be anything but a harsh, cynical, unbearable prick when he needed to be anything else. He grimaces again, the ache in his neck glaring as he continued to squeeze the tension away.
"You don't always have to be so fucking difficult," Sasuke tells him, but Naruto clearly wasn't having it.
"I'm the only one left there who can help them," Naruto wheezed. his breathing becoming more labored in spite of Sakura' efforts. She tells him to take it easy, a sentiment Sasuke echoes, but Naruto was too stubborn to calm down. "The longer I keep the guy pinned down the better it is for everyone to put distance between them and him."
"It won't matter!" Sasuke's frustration boils over. "The Aburame train their wasps to track for kilometers. If he wanted, that guy could drive everyone up a tree, and the entire examination would end in one giant failure."
Sasuke kicks the bush in a. fit of anger, slamming his fist against the rough bark of a nearby tree, trying to swallow the bile that threatened to rise in his throat. More frustration consumes him, another voice cajoling him; they hadn't gone too far. Doubling back to ambush the ROOT proctor flicker in his mind, a tantalizing possibility. Get the bell, get the supplies, find get the weapons - maybe...
Or maybe that would be a huge fucking mistake.
It was a fool's errand, something somebody more desperate than he would concoct. They needed to regroup, yes, but his ANBU training had drilled into him the importance of moving forward. Heading back into a kill zone would only put them at a greater disadvantage. This Aburame was a skilled fighter - and their dabbling in poison was only the tip of the iceberg for why Sapporo supported this clan of freaks. Says a lot when Konoha entire disavowed the while family because their practices were too...unsavory.
Up tot Sasuke, he'd burn those freaks into cinder and piss on their ashes.
Sasuke grits his teeth, and chews the inner lining of his cheek. With hard slap, he knocks against the bark of the tree whose branch he sits on; the Aburame were bastards. Their proficiency in poisons were the only reason ROOT ever took a keen interest in them. Even when Konoha disavowed most of their clans practices, the Sapporo government ever had found use of them. If it were up to Sasuke he'd burn the entire clan of freaks to cinder
"Give this to him." The rattle of a little white capsule of pills flies through the air. "That should help."
Sakura looks over to him, but relents. For that, at least Sasuke is grateful. He appreciates her willingness to stay the course, even if it meant helping him procure a few extra items from a government building. Taking from a hospital was a serious offense which would see her commission cut in half, his ANBU designation revoked, and them two shuttled off to the nearest corrections facility in the island of Hokkaido.
But he needed these to keep his head on straight, to make him strong; and these pills could help Naruto stay strong, too.
"What are these?" Naruto asked, eyeing the capsule skeptically.
Sakura places two pills into his hands. "Take these and drink," she instructs, handing him a canteen.
"Again: what are they?" Naruto pressed again, visibly annoyed at the vagueness.
"Candy. Now shut up before you keel over," Sasuke shot back, irritation flaring.
"It's colloidal silicon dioxide, croscarmellose sodium, hypromellose, magnesium stearate, talc, and titanium dioxide. Mixed with a bit of black rhinoceros horn." Sakura reassures, but Naruto looks unconvinced.
"Oh, is that all?" Naruto replies sarcastically, glancing at the tablets. But then fires a sharp look. "Are you the reason I'm having to smuggle pain meds across The Wall?"
"Naruto!" Sakura tries to object, but Naruto presses.
"No, enough! Why does he have these - Why do you have these?!" Naruto shot back, his voice rising. "Your daily vitamins or something?"
Sasuke's anger was turning black within him, his gaze becoming muted as he wanted nothing more than to shut Naruto up. He bites his lips and gnashes his teeth, fighting the urge to grip his blade, and take off his friend's head in a second.
"Spare me the whole self-righteous act; like you're running around solely to do good deeds, huh? Last I echoed, The Fangs don't deal in pharmaceuticals."
Despite Naruto's struggle to breath, he doesn't back down, getting right up into Sasuke's face. Sakura tries to calm him down, knowing the toll of maintaining his shadow clone, coupled with the effects of the poison, would put massive pressure on his heart.
"Do you know how little Tree Leaf has? Of everything? And you two are skimming off the top?" Naruto yelled.
"Sasuke-kun needs these, Naruto."
"So too do a lot of other people!" Naruto shouts back.
"Not anyone worth a damn to me!"
The words come out like they were fired from the muzzles of a firing squad. The recoil hits hard, and Sasuke at that moment wishes he could take them back; especially, seeing Naruto's reaction. It was dark and accusing, much like he once was used to when he had been tasked with the ANBU training. They wore him down, broke him, and pieced himself back together. Team 7 had a hand in helping with that, too. Yet, still, Sasuke could feel there were bits and pieces of himself left behind. Lost. And probably never to be found again.
But it was all right: Sasuke didn't need those pieces.
He was stronger without them, because he needed to be strong. They all had to be. And for those who weren't, well, no one ever said fate needed to be fair. Sasuke was the poster child for such a sentiment.
"Old, sick, young, dying, or cripple - what do you think a few missing painkillers are worth to them, huh?" Sasuke drums up a low, dark tone; an infernal engine humming inside as the pain races, and his mind blurs. "Scraping out a few more seconds, for what? To lay flat on some hospital bed, wasting away, not able to do a damn thing. They're lot in life has already been decided for them, Naruto, but we're strong enough to live on and change ours. That's who's important - We are the ones who can make a difference. No one else!"
Naruto means to protest more, give them the whole "ninja don't leave friends behind" shpeel. His fists are balling, anger risings in a red shade. Sakura means to interject, wishing Kakashi was here to set things right. But their sensei was long off in a safe watchtower, determining if he trained his pupils enough to survive. It was his job to turn them into the shinobi they were. To endure, first and foremost. Survive. By an means necessary.
Altruism can come afterwards.
"The weak die, the strong live - No truer place to teach you that than here. Why the fuck do you think they call it the 'Forest of Death"?"
Naruto blows a puff of air past his cheeks, ambivalently hostile to Sasuke's retort. He looks away - not because he was intimidated, but perhaps Sasuke figured, he just couldn't continue looking at his friend.
Sasuke didn't blame him.
"Strong, weak, young, or old - plenty of people can make a difference, you bastard," Naruto says, shoving the pills hard into Sasuke's chest. "And they don't need you to do it for them. Maybe one of these days when you pull your head out of your ass, you'll see not everyone needs you to do their dirty work."
"Unlike you?"
Sasuke wants to stop, ought to shut his mouth, and let Sakura handle Naruto. She tries to get in between the two, forcing them apart, but her small body can only do so much - this was the same story playing out between them for years. No one could get them off it, lest they had a bucket of water and a shotgun handy. Sakura had neither, only her angered pleas telling the two of them to get a room, or shut the fuck up.
Because she heard something being carried on by a cold wind
Running along the tree tops, a shrill, curdling scream blanches the blood from their faces. It comes with panic and terror, stricken as akin to the throes of a dying animal. The trio look off - two kilcks northwest of their position. Up against a valley with a clearing, and a bottomless lake. They know of the place from their first forays into the Aokigahara.
Again the scream comes, clearer than before, and recognizable.
Sakura is worried, and Naruto sends a questioning look to Sasuke, wondering what he makes of this; it made Sasuke wanted to rip Naruto's eyes out if he could. Always with that judging, hopeless gaze. Giving him the business, yet offering nothing himself. Nothing but wayward jokes and dumb antics. There was a shinobi in there - Sasuke could see it, but he struggled to get out. So he made it his mission to make sure his friend fulfilled that potential.
They were shinobi after all; intended to strive.
No matter the obstacle, no matter the cost. They were put here on this earth and made to forge their own paths. No one else's. Soon Naruto was going to have to shed that bleeding heart of his if he was going to be serious. But today was clearly not the time; Naruto books it off in the direction of the pleas. Sakura calls out after him, telling him to slow it down.
Leaving Sasuke alone in the bright gray soup, made bright by the struggling light, shiny wisps of mist falling upon his tight shoulders. All as another wave of unrelenting pain surges up, and sinks its teeth once more into him.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Watchtower 12 Command Center
9:50 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Kakashi was hectic in his approach, but thorough: he went to the top of the Watchtower to ensure the antenna for the Satellites weren't askew or in an awkward angle; he flies back down the stairs - ordering the tech crews and the comm-agents to work on retrieving "B" feeds to boost the signal. Did he even knew what a "B" feed was? No, in fact, he was pretty sure he made it up on the spot. But the technicians worked diligently as he went back into the Command Pit, the screens and cameras all a mess of black and no sound.
Every camera, Kakashi curses as he leans over one screen. Every damned camera. The radar panel still pinged off its usual power supply and painted a map of the surrounding three kilometers around the riverbed. Two down ninja, and two more hovering over them; judging from the positioning and movements, the quick, agile blip pinging off in every direction had to be Naruto. The other - still, calm, hesitant in its movements - was the Aburame. He doesn't need to move, Kakashi thinks, pushing off the headset from one jonin and placing the mic near his mouth. Son of a bitch has four thousan fighter jets fizzing around - why the shit would he need to move. He doesn't have to. Damn it, Naruto. Think!
Looking over at the command map in the center of the room - wooden pieces and flags are flying and moving about as calculations are made. Kakashi doesn't like it - there are too many people here, too many minds. Too many assumptions, and the eyes can tell a completely different story. Hell, it was like the war effort all over again; many of the "old breed" here remembered it. Back when they were all puppets dancing on a string to the whims of a waywardly ignorant, and outwardly arrogant government.
Can't say much has changed, not with all the familiar faces still surrounding Kakashi.
"Who's the closest to the area?" He asks a radioman off his right shoulder. "Quickly! Who else is out there?"
"We-We've four in that sector who can survey the area, Comrade!" Goes the man.
Hes hectic, feverish, isn't sure as he flips through paper; Kakashi has no time for him.
"WHO. IS. THE. CLOSEST!"
"Shinobi #011671, Comrade!"
Hayate.
Good.
"Put a line into him and send him the coordinates - Make sure he gets there on standby for ANY assistance needed." Kakashi says.
The miserly scarecrow looks up at the murder hovering above him, looking down along the command pit with all the chaos and confusion roaming around, and chews the inside of his mask. Cameras point down and flash, Utatane is making a scene as she records all the excitement going on; she knows how to make a sorry out of this, and Kakashi doesn't know which way the wind will blow in accordance to it. Could either be a maelstrom or passing fancy, he'd no idea. Koharu had a bad habit, or a gift, of turning mole hills into mountains.
And those monsters lurking about it were just as worrisome.
"No perimeter made, no watches placed. Careless of them to think they wouldn't be watched soon as they entered the forest." Danzo says over the din; his wounds watch teh screens, a pantomime of what a real veteran looked like, as he was all scowls, jowls, and bad temper. Kakashi would've appreciated if the South's Defense Minister would keep his jibes to himself. But because it was Danzo...
"Appears the level of acumen for the vaunted shinobi of Konoha is somewhat lacking, by my estimations. My early reports of what it would for the South to defend itself should an offensive be mounted may have been overly eager," he says to Kakashi, doing his best to ignore the buzzard.
"Any word on Comrade Gekko?" Kakashi inquires.
"Not only him", another radioman goes; two more have been reached and are dispatched to the area: Kisuke Maboroshi and Tokara. Bothw ere closest in line to the fight, but would most likely be tasked with minding the confused stragglers after the ambush.
Kakashi looks up at the monitors - most all the ones planted in the area were done away with by the wasps. Either they had taken them out of commission or were blocking the lenses, masking pretty much everything. Kakashi and the rest were blind, and was fighting against the urge of sending in most of the tokubetsu monitors to report to the riverbed. It would hinder their capability of covering the large are of the forest, but that was a small price if it could spoil Tenzen's enjoyment from this.
"Not to worry, everyone," the ROOT director addresses one of the cameras pointed his way. "My people are instructed specifically not to harm - lethally - any of the Konoha shinobi taking part. This right here is merely a...triviality. A test. Something to be expected, especially in the confines of a battlefield, where nothing is certain and the realities can change at the turn of a dime."
The man looks so sure, so calm; a veritable phantom knowing his graveyard haunt is his and only his - no one can make heads or tails here, because each of the headstones have been cared for by him for too long. The winding rows which go on endlessly may seem confusing for those who've never walked through this damned lanes, but Tenzen had clear knowledge of what to expect. For he was the one who put many of those names in the dirt in the first place.
"Imagination is the greatest weapon a shinobi has - it must be tested by the whetstone of chaos of a fight every now and then to hone the edge. A real fight. One which excites the blood and draws out the primal instinct of pure, unfiltered survival. We at ROOT believe to be the best, you must earn it. Mankind - along with every other creature on this planet - derives its place from struggle. And is that not the issue of these examinations? To see if the State's children have what it takes to earn their place?"
Tenzen speaks like it was almost directed at Kakashi, at Asuma, at every single one of their comrades who'd devoted Konoha into being a better institution than whatever the hell ROOT wanted to be. The rivalry was well-known, documented on numerous accounts, going back even before Hashirama and Tobirama made their cases against the implementation of an internal security division. Shadows were a ninja's greatest asset, but to be completely derived of the light can make you forget they were part of the land of the living.
Indoctrination, subversion, and desensitization.
The core means of turning a Konoha shinobi into a ROOT agent.
Sometimes far more...debilitating means were enforced. Till by the end whatever was once there, is some morphed clone of who the poor soul was before. Kakashi's father did what he could within the means organization, but even that took a toll on his psyche. Tenzen, too, at one time pretended to be human. Now, though, this "act" was far more useful to him, than indulging in the meagerness of his own mortal ways. Kakashi surmised it had to be because Tenzen was taken in too early, hit too fast with the propaganda injection - a war orphan with not much to go off of, where else to turn to learn how to be a man in this world. All he had before was Danzo and Hatake, and both men had very noticeable limitations.
"Give me updates when Hayate gets to the area," Kakashi informs, removing the headset and backing off; he'd heard nothing on the coms, and there was too much disturbance to reach anyone else. "And tell him once he's there to clear out the damn bugs if he can - can't see a fucking thing."
Kakashi's heart be a mile a minute. Not necessarily out of fear, but agitation. This was another means for Tenzen to stick his dick in the honeypot. Had to be. Why else would he want to block every available source of vision unless he intended to make Kakshi squirm, show Koharu and the rest how he failed to handle the situation. That this was a test as much for him as it was for the kids wasn't lost on him, and if he screwed it up, it could mean a lot more ROOT involvement than Asuma wanted.
For a while there, Akashi wondered why it was ASuma chose him for this job, but now he realized why. Having himself plenty y of experience thrusting a genius into the fire and getting the most out of him, Asuma knew his greatest asset lay in the CopyCat Ninja's ability to suss out calm and authority where it shouldn't be. Even if the situations were the most dire, Kakashi was always the one to be looked toward as a sense of respite in a world hellbent on going every which way.
Back when they were kids.
Back when they were island hopping from the Solomon's, back towards the Volcano Islands, than back home on Kyushu.
Asuma may have had the lineage of leadership in his veins, but even he confided in Kakashi far too much for his own liking. Because scarecrows were never meant to lead from the front, weren't supposed to be source of everyone's strength. His only purpose was to make sure the birds get the hell away, and put the fear in anyone looking to mess around.
That's what he was good for, and why he decked himself in full military dress, today; he'd been cajoled into it, pressed it looked right and necessary, and deep down in his mind he understood it to be true.
People like Tenzen, Danzo, Utatane and even Kaneko needed to visualize in front of them what was in front of them. They were smart, but also put more stock in quantifying strength in appearance. Kakashi had to play it smarter, needed to look the part, lest they'll pick him apart piece-by-piece. He'd seen how the War Cabinet tore itself apart during the final days, what the "Shogunate" forces did to each other - and in turn the people - during the last days. Only a boy, but he marked it well when the older men sharpened their knives and began laying blame on those whom they considered weak.
Or worse, enemies to the state.
And sadly, again, Danzo makes his comments about strategy to a few passerby beside him, Tenzen plays himself off to Koharu and her gaggle, and Kaneko being playfully incompetent as ever; it all feels much the same.
What the hell did you do to me, Asuma, Kakashi laments. Cursing his friend.
All of it felt like a crime novel he never would've dreamed picking up - those made him tense, get nervous, cause him to nitpick all the different aspects characters did which were tactically unsound. This all made him feel the same, but to be the one judging one's own character did little to ease himself. Yet, loyalty anchors him; comrades who abandon their friends are worse than trash. Asuma chose him because he believed he wouldn't, and he won't.
Alls he needed was to put a little more faith in himself and keep these corpse-eaters at bay.
If Tenzen wanted to test his mettle, like his own father tested his while he slaved away to ever compete with the White Fang, overcoming Danzo's expectations at the same time, to? So be it. He had the acumen to prove them wrong.
And he had Naruto.
And nothing was a foregone conclusion when taking him into account.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Supply Depot located at Bunker "X"
9:53 hrs; November 29th, 1963
The living storm pressed around Naruto, the chaotic cloud of insects obscuring his vision and filling the air with their irritating hum. The noise. burrowed into his skull, made it hard for Naruto to even think, let alone strategize. It amplified his growing frustration, and made the urge to want to knock this bastard's goggles right off his face grow hotter with every second.
Gritting his teeth in an impatient snarl, Naruto charges, machete gripped tightly in his hand; he was always one who believed thinking was better done afterwards anyway.
The ROOT guy - Shino or whatever the hell his name was - stood still, calmly, like a bluff watching an oncoming wave crash against the rock face. No movement need be wasted, nothing needed be forced, his reactions - as they were trained, honed, perfect after years of torturous field testing - would be deliberate, prepared, and focused. As Naruto closed the distance, the machete swung with a violent arch, but the blade sliced through nothing. Shino evaded the strike with effortless grace, body weaving to the side with inches to spare.
Pinches of stings and bites grazed across his skin, but Naruto channeled himself to the spot; the link between he and his "other" was becoming strained, but he willed himself onward. As the exchange increased its pace, his breathing becoming steadier, his mind slowed; the series of punches and kicks, though not landing, were becoming effortless as he dipped into this "runner's high". Sakura explained the science behind it once, something to do with cannabinoids or whatever.
"Our doctors would tell you it's endorphins passing the blood-brain barrier, but that's not true," She told him while dabbing an alcohol swab on a particularly bad cut of his one day; dog -walking was never his specialty. "Something else are brain releases, a chemical mimicking what one would feel if they smoked mairjuana. Why it's called a cannabinoid."
"So you're saying I can get high by just working out?" Naruto asks.
"Not exactly."
Shino dances around his blows, each punch and kick flying by harmlessly past. But Naruto is pushing him back, making sure he doesn't let him get away, even with his little friends be an ever present nuisance as they flew into his hair, his eyes, again trying to get into his mouth. Naruto twirled with the roundhouse kick which missed, but uses the speed to bring the tanto in his hand around; the ROOT agent tucks in his torso, the attack missing by the smallest margin. "Spirited, but clearly undisciplined." Shino says, dodging another punch. "I've learned more about you in five seconds, than I'll ever need in a lifetime."
"Oh, blow me!"
Naruto's punch seemingly connects with Shino's face. He smiles, but only for a moment; soon what used to be a jawline, what did for a moment feel like skin, and bone, and the slight beginnings of a five 'o' clock shadow, soon deteriorate away into a black mess. The pigment of his skin, the hair on his head - all of it falls away as a band of wasps cling around his hand. With a fright, as any sensible person would feel if they were accosted by a gang of flying bugs, Naruto does the only sensible thing which comes to his mind: he screams.
And with a newfound resolve, waves his hand emphatically up and down to rid himself of the infernal things. Scraping his hand away with the tanto, he succeeds in disengaging and falls away; the bug clone evaporates, with Shino Aburame slouched over a stone a few feet away.
"I've no intention of doing such a despicable act in the midst of a fight, and for you to even broach it only proves the caliber of man you are."
"I don't mean it literally, you idiot." Naruto calls out. "You're probably terrible at them anyway; bet you got mandibles or whatever the hell they are all up in your mouthpiece stuffs!"
"I can assure you my jaw is in no way, shape, or form nearly as stout or heavily sclerotized as the common vespidae specimen; I'm very much human."
"Sure, say whatever the shit you want. Still guarandammtee you're as freakish as I peg you for, fuckin' weirdo!"
A low-tactic that Naruto ever relied on, and certainly knew how to use it when warranted. When you don't do nearly as well in your "ninja" studies as needed, whose fingers fumbled over doing even the most basic jutsu, whose mind moved too fast for tactics or strategy as some of his classmates, and really only liked getting down and dirty by throwing hands. Fists were honest and drew out the only thing which mattered between two opposing forces: respect. At times, it could be shlog; Sasuke sent him on his back plenty of times, and broke a few more bones too boot.
But when your body failed you, your arms lower; if your mouth was still running, words can never be blocked.
And as impervious as this ass was, Naruto noted his flinch.
"Throwing out accusations without knowledge is the height of human arrogance?" Shino gets back to his feet, and takers a menacing step; Naruto positions himself accordingly. "Freak? Wonder if the mouse thinks the same of a cat who corners it, the fox of the hound - any prey, really, which sees itself lacking in the face of a superior being?"
"One more step to the right 'superior being' and prove it then."
"Insolent wastrel."
Naruto smirks; he counted on the man to not take in his steps, account each wayward swing lobbed as the means of some amateur. Good, all the better. Sasuke dealt with Naruto much in the same manner, never took him seriously and always let his arrogance get the better of him. Allowed for small, uncertain details to be missed Naruto was all too ready to use for his advantage.
A sudden hiss, a split second whizz, and a fire rips up through the rock underneath Shino's feet; Naruto had ripped the metal wire across the fuse of three explosive tags hidden under the dozens of scattered and misshapen river rocks. It was hard for him to be patient, biting his tongue, hoping to bait Shino Aburame till he was in perfect position. It was until he aligned perfectly in the center did Naruto call his shot.
Successive shots ring out like the sound of firecrackers reeling across the dirt, springing up sharp sediment to fly out and cut up anything unfortunately caught in the wake. Would it have killed? Maybe. Naruto's brain didn't go further than feeling now, as his attention elsewhere touched his concern. The clone struggled to maintain its presence, while far off his main self hurried off somewhere. Flared images of racing foliage flew past, the feel of splattering mist, of anger, too, welling inside.
No, Naruto moves quickly through the dust, tanto blade at the ready. He didn't have time to worry, didn't have need for it. Bastard's still standing!. He grits his teeth, and adrenaline courses in. It tells him to attack, ever attack, press the opening the explosion gives; the thousand tiny and torn rocks became little missiles, tearing through the ranks of now flailing wasps.
Instincts ever told him to attack, even if a voice inside his head advised him to think, wait; this wouldn't be as easy as all that. Sounded like Iruka, Kakashi, Sasuke and Sakura all churned into one. Ever telling him off, ever doubting him; reminding him the only way to be was to follow protocol. "Victory was in staying the course, every fight dictated by intense training and forethought into your next moves." The State predicated its doctrine on repetition, like a hammer beating itself into the nail. But Naruto was no hammer, and Shino was no nail. And if either were to see victory, breaking conditioning was what was needed.
The machete whistles through the air - strike with the flat of the blade, knock the jaw, force of the strike would - or should - knock him down. Or out cold. Wishful thinking, yes, but Naruto was ever a believer. Always had been. The black iron goes; Naruto notes the torn and dusted clothing of Shino's uniform as the dust clears. Black, acrid smoke stills stings his eyes, but he feels his opponent's presence. Senses his weight near him, and...something else.
Immediately, with a split second to spare, he breaks off. Any longer, and Naruto face would've been shorn right off. The large, bone-like appendage is black as hate and reaches around Shino's body. It clangs against the tanto as Naruto blocks the strike. He reels for a second, whilst another lashes out. Spinning out of its reach, a loud thud is dug into t he dirt as it impales the spot he was just in.
"Impressive," Shino notes. Naruto sweats drop as the black tendril is drawn back. Dust and confusion settle upon these fretful seconds, as Shino removes himself from the blast zone. "Rarely do my friends miss registering my opponent's tricks." He pats the debris from his shoulders. His expression remains unchanged, his posture shifting only slightly; a few cuts and scrapes along the parts of his cheeks which were uncovered, but for the most part, he seemed untroubled. "The fog, you see...I told her it was too much; no one ever listens to me. Placing the tags under the rocks whilst you attacked, goading me with your insults to draw me in - I should've known better.
"I could say the same," Naruto's heart skips.
He and his friends used to talk much over the mad science projects ROOT operators put themselves through. Of course, none it came through the proper channels; morsels came through upper brass gossip, drunken jonin teachers, old wives-tales passed around cold nights and warm hearths. Konoha shinobi, it was said, were made for the people of Japan; whereas ROOT agents, on the other hand, were made for something else. Fashioned from a darker time, from a darker mettle; a place where the State believed in a higher cause, and sacrificed anything in order to reach it.
Spindly appendages sprout behind Shino's back; two over the shoulder, another two coming up from underneath his arms. They twitch in an unnatural manner, chittering in anticipation like greyhounds stuck at a gate. Naruto wondered if it was Shino who made them do that, or if they simply moved of their own accord. "Humoring you was a costly mistake," He says, voice steady as if they were merely discussing the weather. "A lot of my friends died because of my arrogance. I don't intend for that to happen again."
Oh, shit, Naruto takes the remaining wire and wraps it around his hand. Three of the explosive tags were gone, but he'd three more. Four flash bangs dangled on a bandolier at his hips, and his kunai were stashed in his back pouch.
Hardly a hefty arsenal, but he wasn't defenseless.
In and out, in and out; his chest rose as he concentrates on breathing. The pathways needed to stay open lest the clone dissipate. Naruto couldn't afford for that to happen
With predatory precision, Shino lunges forward. Naruto found himself on the defensive, struggling to maintain his footing against the relentless assault. With four more limbs acting as a buffer, Shino had the advantage and knew how to capitalize. Silent, steady, never advancing more than he needed; the ROOT man was a professional, and didn't have to overextend himself. Instincts were screaming for Naruto to get away, knowing the clone could only withstand so much punishment before pain would overwhelm this body.
Shino thrust with deadly accuracy, the appendages dating in and out, each stripe aimed to exploit an opening. All the while his calm demeanor unsettled and unnerved Naruto, noting how the "man" (as on closer look, Aburame seemed almost no older than him) was immune to pressure. Reminded him of Sasuke, actually. Ever so confident things would go according to the battle playing out in their heads; everything based around their capacity to outthink and outsmart their enemies.
But the one thing working towards Naruto's advantage, though, was Sasuke had the Sharingan.
Shino didn't.
And if the fog was as bad as he says...
Two of Shino's appendages shoot down towards grim, aiming for his deltoids and clavicle, a lethal combination that would've seen him easily bleed out without proper medical attention. Fucker's not playing around, Naruto thinks, just before evading the strike at the last moment, narrowly escaping the damning spears. Shino - quick to adapt - retracts and prepares for another assault, but his wasps buzz around confused, angry, visibly troubled. They're not as in sync as before, have grown sluggish. They don't relay the message quick enough for Shino to notice the jingle of two empty pins dangling at the ends of his tarsus's claws.
The explosion magnesium as disorienting, the air thick with a metallic stench as the flash bangs erupt in a blinding burst of light and sound. Naruto squeezed his eyes shut, but the flash sears past his eyelids all the same. The deafening blast left him momentarily stunned, the ringing in his ears drawing out all others. His limbs felt like jelly as he staggered away, instinct taking over as he takes one large breath and pushes chakra into his legs muscles. A large jump sees him clear into the trees.
As he ran, he felt the pressure building up around his chest, running down into his stomach, sitting there like a tumor sapping him of his strength. Fatigue, he felt so, so tired. He wasn't sure if his feet would even stick to the sides of the tree trunks as he ran across them. But he bit hard on his tongue, scraped his palms with his fingernails, churned his body to think of anything else. Not the pain, not his blurred vision; only the directive of pinning this fucker down long enough for his friends to double back.
I need to give them time, Naruto's breath is haggard, his mind clouded in a haze. They need time...I have to give it to them, or else...
Naruto wouldn't think of the plight of his classmates taken down by Shino if he couldn't do anything for them. As much as anyone would tell him it would be foolish to keep fighting, Naruto couldn't let them alone. They needed his help, he had to ge them to safety. If only he could get them inside the bunker, but for that he needed an extra pair of hands.
There was only him, against practically a thousand and one.
He needed to even the odds at least a little if they were going to stand a chance.
All while he still heard the voices of his comrade-sensei's, his teammates, clatter about telling him he was being foolish.
"Even now you're thinking about everyone else, but yourself, aren't you?", another calls to him.
The ROOT operator, seemingly unbothered by the flash bangs, was hot on his trail. Shino's spider-like legs following after effortlessly, keeping pace like a hunter cornering its wounded prey. Son of a bitch, Naruto gritted the curse past his fear; again, he'd only one shot at this. And hopefully, Shino was as arrogant as Sasuke can be.
"I would be remiss in not telling you this type of behavior will go down in my after-action report; soldiers sacrifice for the sake of victory, not to play the hero. The State Committee may have use for people like that, but such are liabilities in battle. Heroes are a hindrance to logistics."
Naruto's fingers were tight, a cold sweat came over as he pulls out the flint igniter from his kunai pouch; he felt his heart rate drop because of the strain, and it makes him almost gasp with regret. Maybe he should've thought twice. No matter, though, as he tightens his mind, priming the igniter. He hesitates, not knowing how this was going to go, how it was going to feel - a part of him was curious, though granted, it's not like he'd never felt it before. A quick cut to black, a surge of sensation flooding through, and a feeling like he'd been kicked in the nuts.
He'd be lying if he told you it felt good. The jolts of electricity alighting along his nerve endings could sometimes keep him fidgeting for days if the experience was too much to handle. Tsubaki had warned him shadow clones were a deadly thing if not managed properly. Which is why he'd simply have to bank Sakura would take care of himself on the other side to make sure his heart didn't explode.
Naruto takes cover behind the large trunk of a towering pine. Shino's close, very close; good. Every muscle in his body tenses at the ready. Dampness clung to his kin, amplifying the anxiousness as Shino propels himself up; the ROOT agent moved with an eerie graces, and as he looms overhead, Naruto can see his own fearful visage reflecting in the goggles he wears.
"You look sick," Shino says, closing the distance between them with predatory calmness. The chill in the air intensifies as Naruto was drenched in sweat. The cold mist wraps around him like a shroud, and he shivers as Shino gets in close. "Again, impressive," he goes, Naruto noting the sickly, pale pallor of his own skin - for a moment, he swears he sees something moving underneath; has to be his own addled imagination. But also foolish. Considering you're state, you should've run. Instead, you ran your mouth. Look where that's go you."
Naruto mustered a weak smile, trying to mask his fear. "Running away...isn't really...my style. You eight-legged freak."
"Again with your insults," A spear like tendon shoots out and embeds itself into the bark of the tree; Naruto was too weak to be frightened by that, so he barely flinches. Shino brings his face even closer, and here Naruto definitely notes "things" were moving beneath. "Do they not teach manners at the Ninja Academy anymore, or are you trying to to still goad me? Besides, I have six legs: the Karada no konchu isn't an arachnid," Shino corrected, tone dry and matter-of-fact.
"Yeah, well..." In a swift motion, Naruto lifts his t-shirt to reveal an explosive tag taped to his side. The wick sparks to life, a bright ember flickering dangerously close. Shino's eyes widen in surprise, realizing too late what Naruto intended. "How's this for manners, bug-boy."
"Wait-" Shino began, but the words were swelled by a brilliant flash of fire. The explosion rocks the forest, sending a shockwave reverberating through the trees.
It causes the other clone which had been making its way back to the riverbed clutch its chest. Pain lances through its body, and it fights to shake off the stars clouding its vision. The remnants of its last meal is expelled as he vomits on the ground - an odd thing, considering it wasn't even "this" body which had eaten. But Naruto wasn't one for particulars.
With every ounce of strength he could muster, he staggers back under shaky legs. "Save my friends, get to the bunker, and lock the fucking door, he panted, urgency making his heart race. He knew he bought himself some time, but not a lot of it. A hauntingly inhuman howl shrieks back from where the blast occurred, pushing him ever onward. The fight wasn't over, but for now, he needed to regroup, think, and prepare.
The Aburame was angry now, but he'd be pissed once he realized he no longer had the bell on his person.
Naruto clutched the little thing close in his clammy hand, thankful for all those training sessions he'd had with Sasuke. The ROOT agent made a mistake showing Naruto the bell when they first met; taijutsu was always good practice one's pickpocketing
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Tower B; Lord Third finds it hard to find good help
10:00 hrs; November 29th, 1963
The more and more Asuma paced through the confines of the cramped watchtower, he felt more like a tiger crammed into a cage. The frustration, the nerves, his pent up agitation lashing out with its claws to any who'd even think to console him. "Now's not the time," he told Aoba, threatened Raido, and practically dismissed Genma as all eyes were looking in on him, whereas he could see nothing. The bars of this confining robe and stupid hat, the expectation that the Hokage was more meant now to be a symbol, and not a combatant, pissed him off something fierce.
"This is going too far, Genma. I won't have this!" Asuma tells his second.
Genma shakes his head. "What did you expect this to be like, Hokage-sama? It's all part of the exam - You know this."
The response is cool and measured and pisses Asuma off even more.
"Don't give me that! I'm the Hokage, and they're trying to throw this shit way over my head. No, not on the first damn day! Absolutely, not!"
Asuma's brow furrows in concern. Outside, the forest looms ominously, its treetops sawaying gently in a wind harboring ill-intentions - he can feel them. They were there. It wasn't just his lack of a good smoke, but he could feel it all in his gut. Felt it back when they had tried reaching HQ back in the first sector on their one-way line. The Hokage Guard Unit shifted uncomfortably at their positions, but Genma staunchly refused to leave them. "We are here to protect you, Asuma," He told Asuma firmly. "You're the Hokage, you're not expected to run here-and-there to rescue a bunch of kids."
"Listen to me," Asuma says, voice dropping to a fierce whisper. A gnawing fear grew with each passing moment they didn't act. He'd trained with these men since they were all no older than Shikamaru and the rest out in Aokigahara, so they should feel it, too: something today felt off. "I'm going to find a way to contact Kakashi directly. I need to know what's happening, and I'll be damned to just sit here and twiddly my fucking fingers."
When they'd made contact with the command hub, all they'd receive for an answer was an uppity operator on the other end, insisting Comrade-Join Kakashi had everything under control. "Who the hell are you to be telling me this, and not him?!" As if he could physically reach through the receiver, ASuma gripped the phone like he were strangling this dotard's neck; this had to be one of Tenzen's people - Asuma didn't recognize the voice. When asked to identify themselves, the name given was "Nanashi".
A fucking placeholder.
Asuma knew they'd be short-staffed and a ROOT communications detail was slated to slide in and "assist".
Was he overreacting? A sensible person like Genma would've told him yes, only the first day and his nerves were already shot. He needed to relax, he needed to simply wait and be patient. Nothing would avail scouring the environs of the watchtower, getting word out to the tokubetsu jonin would only hinder their own jobs keeping watch without teh Hokage nagging them constantly. They were good at their jobs, Genma consoled, guiding Asuma along the dusted tiles over to a semi-furnished alcohol cabinet; the sake was old, but good. Asuma would've preferred beer, but Hokages - like beggars - can't be choosers.
Genma takes a swig of the secret stash left behind by some scout, probably to keep himself warm and company in this faraway outpost. Asuma can't even remember when the last detail came out here - the Forest wasn't exactly a hotbed as it once was. When they had the manpower, sure, but now?
"Listen, this place gives me the creeps, too. I don't give a shit how old we are, never liked staking out in the middle of these woods. It...doesn't feel right." Genma says, handing Asuma the bottle. The man removes the long teriyaki stick in his mouth, twirls it some, then proceeds to put it back in. Another one of their particular "bad habits" to go along with the rest, all thanks to this thankless tenure in service to "the people".
"Hashirama and Tobirama said there was a limitless stillness in these woods," Asuma takes a quick swig; it does nothing for his agitation. "I say I should've leveled this entire goddamn area when I had the chance, clear it out and put an end to it once and for all."
"Hawks would never allow it," Genma shakes his head, looking out past one of the misted windows into the thick, unrelenting gray soup; the mist wasn't letting up, and even made it hard to breath. Definitely a jutsu, Aoba mentioned to them in passing, definitely someone wanting to play tricks. "Aokigahara's got a penchant for the romantic - been through a lot these last dozen or so centuries. Last spot where the war ended. For us, anyway. Doing away with it to put up, what? A Shotengai? Ha, never gonna happen."
Never gonna happen.
Words which felt more true now, than they did twenty years ago.
Possibility was a ghost which ever haunted Asuma's steps. Even during his waking moments, ever did he feel a perpetual chill run up and down his spine. Sure, there were things he had which kept him warm beside his cigarettes. Thankfully, he'd fashioned a nice life for himself to remind him he was, indeed, human. And no matter how much Sapporo's hardline can get, Asuma would bend to cherish those few joys that gave him some semblance of peace.
In fact, one of those joys he'd just gotten off the...erm, crystal ball...with.
But even then, that was limited.
"I can only see so much, and that's not enough for me." He tells Genma as they walk back up the top of the tower.
"Shikamaru..?" Genma asks, but Asuma waves it off with a sigh.
"Those wasps have chakra signatures designed to clog up anything and everything able to keep watch over the area. I see him, everyone else? The connection's faint. No, the only reliable means to maintain watch was with the security cameras, which - conveniently - I've been set up with no monitors here to review."
"Lugging all that extra equipment up here to refurbish a seldom used outpost would've been a pain in the ass. Plus, cost of fashioning out the command center back at the entrance nearly drained all we had left in the coffers. Sapporo still hasn't come through with covering our bills for the month. The trade embargoes, they say."
"Do they?"
The air smelled of dust and mold and dried dropping when they entered a side room at the level second to the top. A rookery, in misuse for too long and in desperate need of repair, was left empty and desolate. Only things which had called this roost home for who knows how long were the mice which scattered soon as the screen doors were thrown open. But this was a small thing: Asuma pulls a scroll from within his pocket, bites sharply into the skin of his thumb, and drags it across the kanji circle.
Been a while since he'd used a hawk summon, and for a second Asuma almost forgot how much chakra he'd needed to cull one; too little and you get a pigeon, too much and you could very well end up with a chicken. A large puff of smoke bangs out, and standing in its midst was a compact, mean looking bird staring up at him. He struggles to handle the bird, which clearly didn't appreciate his big, gorilla mitts lunging for him. After a few annoyed pecks and flaps, Asuma tells Genma to take down two messages.
"Two? Red or black tape?" Genma asks; black band meant the message was permissible be opened by anyone who first receives it, red for only one person in particular.
"Red."
Genma gave Asuma a curious look, but obeyed his Hokage's command. Hurriedly he scribbles Asuma's demands, attaching the tiny capsules to the hawk's legs. Tiny, red tassels of tape stream out behind the bird as they lead it to the edge. With a heave, Asuma releases it. The hawk lets out an excited screech as it soared upward, eager to embrace the wind. Genma leans against a. nearby post, his gaze scanning over the fog-shrouded trees. "It'd be a miracle if it finds its way through this mess," he remarks, skepticism apparent.
"It knows the way," Asuma shakes his head, a firm gaze breaking through his worry. "Knows it better than any crony of Sapporo's." He adds, watching the bird disappear into the fog.
Genma comments he should watch his tongue, words like that can sound awfully seditious for one not careful. Asuma asks if Genma was going to rat him out. Genma smiles, tells him he's thought about it once or twice; turning in a Hokage must come with a suitable pay-raise. Maybe a nice spot in the Presidium. Hell, maybe even a car. Asuma can keep the funny pajamas, though.
It was a nice respite of brevity, away from the thoughts of Tenzen and his schemes, his ROOT agents lurking about everywhere in Asuma's backyard. They can play their games, Asuma thought as they turned back inside, bidding Genma off as he once again assumes his post in the privately secluded room atop the tower. The crystal orb sits vacant and silent, the once familiar face which reached out to him before now gone. Asuma runs his hands along the smooth surface, conjuring up another image, though with much duress.
...But I have my own ways, too.
Asuma manages to push through the haze, fight off the impending chakra flow coming in opposite his sight. Powerful stuff, this was; doubtless, Tenzen instructed her to ensure no one was going to pry. Along with the Aburame, everything was intended to cloak the world so as to hide the dagger lurking within. And now it was Asuma's job, and Kakashi's, to ward off this strike if it indeed is coming.
Tenzen was...opprortunistic.
As only one can be operating the urban environment of the northern cities. Asuma had traveled there a few times, and in his visits he saw an envirpoenmtn carefully cultivated to enhance the effective of the State's central security: roads and alleyway placed in specific geometric patterns, natural hideouts dug into the forests and mountains and cold crevices of skyscrapers and government shelters. Essentially, turning every major city into a hunting preserve where suspected enemies cannot hope to escape.
There, ROOT is specifically trained to operate.
But in the far-removed wilds of Aokigahara, here in the untamed nature surrounding Fuji, memories aren't forgotten. This forest was steeped in history, a place where the blood of countless soaked the ground. Memories held here were fierce, entwined with the very essence of the trees and the leaves which whispered secrets. Asuma's expression hardens with conviction: if Tenzen thought he could control that, Asuma would like to see him try. Far-removed from the training grounds of Konoha, the one advantage the Konoha shinobi had was their familiarity with the dangers lurking within the Forest of Death.
The ROOT agents didn't.
Their arrogance was bred from being the apex of the food-chain, but here demanded a healthier respect for what one couldn't see. Asuma didn't need a crystal ball to know that, nor see Tenzen's scheming here. He just hoped Shikamaru would see it, too. Prepare himself, and his teammates (the ones who stuck by him, by any case). Because as much as he'd wanted to, Asuma could do nothing but calculate his own moves. The stage was set in a masterful way to conceal ROOT's moves, and whoever - and whatever - else lurked in the shadows.
Again the shadow returns, watching over his shoulder, yet Asuma doesn't register it. Caught up in his own predicaments, he'd no time to bother with chilling itches, freezing spells, or passing paranoia.
The years had numbed him to the point where scratching feeling of being watched no longer registered.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; half a klick from Bunker "X"
10:04 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Troublesome.
Goddamned, troublesome.
There was no other way to describe this shit-storm they were in. Smarting a bunch of sting marks up and down the length of his arms, lungs afire, and muscles straining after having to book it faster than he'd ever run before; Shikamaru mentally his the shit out of himself for even thinking it was a good idea to get out of bed today.
He didn't need this - didn't want this.
Choji didn't either.
Which made the whole fucking situation a helluva lot worse knowing it was all on his shoulders to motivate the big lug up while they still can.
"Choji!" Shikamaru calls out to his friend; the fog is thick as pyre smoke, and tastes just as acrid. This isn't natural, Shikamaru tells himself. Took him a bit to figure, to sense it, but all this...someone was creating it. "Where are you, Choji!"
Again no answer. Fuck, he was just here with him. Both were able to high-tail it out of the area soon as the ROOT agent made his drop. Ino got lost in the confusion, but Shikamaru had a mind to go back soon as they rallied up enough people. Hard thing, of course. What with the fucking fact he couldn't see five feet in front of his face, damn near breaking his ankles as he tripped over roots and moss covered rocks.
He should've stayed in bed, why the hell did he care so much about this? It was Asuma's fault; if it weren't for his guilt tripping and all that sappy jargon about "being there for one another", Shikamaru would've said deuces and slept in. Not that his father would appreciate it, but fuck it, ji-ji hadn't been home in months. His mother would've given him an earful, but that was a small price if it meant not having to endure this stupid forest yet again.
None of them wanted to be here.
Choji still thought the exam as two days away when he and Ino showed up at his door. Ino busied herself the entire way to the staging area, trying to make herself look good for the only person she ever tried to impress. "Sasuke," she said, "was the guy they needed to stick to. He's definitely got to know his way about being Kakashi's student. You don't think he would've given them some insider knowledge or something? Plus, he's ANBU - you know how tough their training is: Sasuke had to complete a whole week in the Forest by himself just to pass. PLUS! Sure Sakura's going to be frumpy little miss comrade today. But I'm going to show Sasuke what he really ought to be fighting for."
At the time Shikamaru rolled his eyes at that. Now, it made him furious. Not at Ino, but to whom all her concern was for.
When the ROOT proctor struck, everything turned to chaos.
Except for Sasuke.
He turned into a whirlwind of focused aggression, leaving the rest of them to fend for themselves.
Everyone scattered pellmell into the wood, and now all were separated in this fucking fog. Shikamaru called out again, but his only responses were frantic scurrying he couldn't see, the tell-tale buzz of wasps, and the cry of distant shouts that barely reached his ears.
But then through the silence, he heard it - a charing laugh floating on the wind, womanly and imbued with a sense of maturity as it drew itself along. At first, Shikamaru wondered his brain was just going faster than his reason; a side-effect of what he believed was some undiagnosed medical condition, where his mind would overheat, while his body was stuck in neutral. But the laughter never left him, persisting as he strained to hear it.
Cautiously, he pulls a kunai from his pouch, instinct recognizing danger when he hears it. The laughter was alluring, invoking a boyish longing within him he couldn't quite shake. Echoing around him, through him, and in him. Despite his better judgement, Shikamaru found himself drawn toward it, the sound guiding him through the thick fog until stumbling into a small clearing.
Was it one of the ghost haunting this place?
Maybe.
Did he believe in all those silly stories he and his friends used to tell each other?
Sometimes; every story comes with a bit of truth, even in the Democratic People's Republic of Japan. Ghosts, vengeful spirits, wayward souls still lingering about; not as crazy when you yourself can control the shadows themselves. Which, because of the mist, there were none. Making him doubly on edge. Especially, when he saw a sight in the clearing which stole the breath from his lungs.
A woman...
Whose hair was made of midnight silk, skin bright like starlight, and lips red like cherries. Her eyes, too; Sasuke Uchiha had his own deadly pair, but these shone bright, reminiscent of the final flare of the sun at dusk. Tall she was, and curvaceous even in her stately uniform. Long riding boots, but her blouse unbuttoned and the medals she had upon her chest bursting out. She embodied the kind of beauty Shikamaru always found infuriating. Not because he found them unattractive, but because these kinds of looks only existed to hurt people.
The kind which belonged in old wives' tales and cautionary myths - a lure which promised danger for all who fell upon her sight.
A danger all too evident as he glances to see Choji's neck firmly clasped in her grasps, him struggling against her hold, panic evident in his eyes.
What a fucking drag.
"Let him go," Shikamaru demanded, voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him. "Put him down. Now!"
The woman turned her gaze to him, her expression of mix of amusement and intrigue. "Oho, well well, another one," she purrs. Choji bats at her arm, trying to break her hold, but Shikamaru can see he's too weak. "I half-hoped The Bug would've sent the Uchiha my way, but alas, I get you two. Oh well..."
Shikamaru felt his body almost give in as his mind thought of all the ways in which he could salvage the situation.
There was none.
With the fog pressing on all around him, no shadows at all to work with for his clan's abilities to matter, and most importantly Choji safety to consider, Shikamaru didn't have many options to work with. Save for one; he lets the kunai dangle off his finger, and puts his hands up. "Hey, hey; listen, I don't wanna fight. You win, all right." Slowly, he edges his way over towards her. Her smile never leaves her as those lustrous eyes take him in; his face burns up in a blush, like he was some sort of schoolboy experiencing his first crush on a teacher. "I surrender, okay. There's no need to fight. You win, so put my friend down."
"Put him down?" Her voice like her hair is smooth, and she laughs once more. "Very well, Nara Shikamaru; I will heed your order just this once. But that will end negotiations."
A small click is heard, Choji goes limp in her hands, and she lets him fall away in a heap. Shikamaru's heart raced for a split moment, all the few, and blood, and andrenaline jumping through as all his thoughts go blank, and his eyes wide. She couldn't have...She wouldn't have...
This was supposed to be just a test.
Again comes the chorus of laughter; so sweet and so entrancing Shikamaru is ashamed to still have his heart skip a beat when he hears it.
"ROOT Operative: #005136. Watanabe Akeginu." She says to him, as all around the mist grows heavier. Shikamaru rubs at his eyes, this caustic, almost coppery smell beginning to sting and make it harder for him to breath. He barely sees her as she begins to back away, and doesn't even really notice when she disappears entirely. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, shinobi #012611. Your father's told me many things about you. When this is over, I'll give him your regards when I finish with you."
Again her laughter strikes him hard like a bell, and he fights the urge to rush to Choji's side. But he stops. Because he's too smart for that, for her; in the end, Shikamaru knew that's what she wanted. To draw him in, so as to get him in her clutches, finish him off in the exact same manner as his best friend. Then there'd be no one else to help them afterwards. Because Shikamaru was smart enough to know no one else could.
Or would.
And that was a drag.
Because of course, that would mean it all has to come back to him. Which fucking sucked.
Call it an occupational hazard of being Konoha's resident genius: when you're the smartest person in the room, you tend to become cynical and skeptical of many things
Including yourself, in spite of what Asuma, his friends, and even his father thought.