Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. However, the OCs do belong to me.

Part 1: Nara Shikari

"Thousands of cherry trees dissolve into the night

You will sing, and I will dance

This is a banquet inside a steel jail cell,

So shoot randomly and ceaselessly with your ray gun"

Vocaloid, Senbonzakura

Pinpointing his clone's last known location, it appeared, was harder than he expected. Quite understandable, since the only thing that he could rely upon as a direction was a slowly diminishing memory of his clone's little adventure through what in all honesty was a tenebrous and indistinct land of overgrown vegetation.

His situation brought him both joy and dismay. Joy that his clone was able to infiltrate a formidable enemy's territory whilst wholly suppressing its chakra – leaving little to no trace in its wake; and dismay – dismay that tracking the paths that it had taken became such a nuisance, and that he had to face the probabilities of his clone either became defected enough to let its presence be known, or that he was facing against foes that were able to sense others' presences even when their chakra had been fully suppressed. Neither scenario was preferable.

Shikamaru continued to traverse through the vast expanse of the jungle for the next half-hour. His pace was lax, but steady. His eyes were alert, constantly scanning his surroundings for signs of traps and threats whilst at the same time searching for any distinctive landmark that might have attracted his clone.

It was when Shikamaru was perched atop one of the taller trees that he felt faint presences ahead of him. He was not a sensor ninja; his limited ability to sense chakra was earned through years of grueling experience of being a shinobi. He could not determine their exact number from his current distance – only providing a rough estimation – but he was confident that they were below ten.

After a split-second in which he mulled over whether he should follow them, Shikamaru decided to take a risk and postponed his current objective. Whoever it was that he was sensing, they were moving very fast – as if chasing after something; a trespasser most likely.

Not too long after he started his pursuit, Shikamaru found himself standing in a battleground littered with six death bodies – all of which were warriors of the Senju Clan. One of them was half-submerged in the river – a river which he recognized as the one that he saw in his clone's memory – one was being eaten by a herd of crows, whilst the rest were pierced by multiple weapons in various places.

Shikamaru frowned. His forehead creased in thought.

No wonder his trip was unhindered. The shinobi who were supposed to be on patrols must have been busy with killing their archenemy.

He better saved the remaining Senju then. He owed them at least that much for keeping the patrolling team out of his back.

Shikamaru wasted no time and quickly salvaged a multitude of weapons and equipment from the dead shinobi. He felt slightly bad about it – who knew if their families wanted to keep them as a memento – but as of now Shikamaru was quite desperate. He did not have any proper weapon on his person, prick-sensei made sure of it, and relying on ninjutsu was simply not efficient. It was illogical to sacrifice his limited chakra reserve when he could use free and disposable weapons instead. Not to mention, the surge of chakra would no doubt attract unwanted attention.

As a sign of gratitude, he used a specific type of scroll that he had found, the one that was used to contain the dead body, and sealed each of them within separate scrolls. The least that he could do was ensure that they were returned to their families to receive a proper burial.

Once he was done, he immediately continued his pursuit to save the remaining clansmen. He pumped his chakra into his short legs and pushed them to their limit. Within a short time, he already closed in the considerable distance and getting closer to the lads in distress and their band of stalkers. He followed them as they tread along the border, criss-crossing creeks and meadows alike in a game of cat and mouse.

He then felt the presences dispersed, the pursuer most likely had decided to split up and cornered their target. Before long, the presences had all come to a halt in the no-man's-land ahead of the Uchiha's border – the east one, he concluded – which meant somewhere in the distance would be the Senju's territory, he belatedly realized. He'd better finished his deed quick, he did not want to be caught in whatever tug of war that they were having.

Shikamaru decreased his speed and forego running altogether, opting for a stealthier approach. His steps were light, producing no sound as he silently danced around the trees, tiptoeing beneath the protective cover of the shadow with practiced ease. His chakra was cloaked under chakra disguise. If anyone were to detect him, they would sense a squirrel instead. He then sneaked as close as he could to his targets, hiding behind a tree trunk and assessed his situation.

There were five hostiles, Uchiha insignia was proudly emblazoned on the back of their attires. They were not decked in armor, but they were heavily armed. Shikamaru slipped his hand into his pilfered weapon pouch, his eyes were trained to his enemies and surrounding whilst his hands worked to prepare his weapons.

Shikamaru could not see the Senju clearly, but he could hear him panting from exhaustion. He sounded young.

There were five seconds of silence before one of Uchiha suddenly moved, flicking his kunai to the cornered shinobi. Shikamaru sprang into action and deftly threw the needles in his hands. One deflected the kunai's trajectory, one hit an Uchiha dead in the neck – rendering him unconscious – whilst the others missed their targets entirely. They still served their purpose nevertheless, which was to attract the hostiles' attention.

Taking advantage of human's natural instinct to look towards disturbance, Shikamaru started his assault by sending two flash bombs towards them, temporarily blinding their sharingan. Knowing that they would rely on their other senses, Shikamaru sent another barrage of needles that were tied with bells as a cover.

What transpired next could only be described as a needle shower, literally.

Shikamaru threw barrage upon barrage of needles to his opponents from his position at the top of the tree, some were laced with sedative (or was it poison? He did not have the time to check). Knowing that their eyes would enable them to predict the needles' movements, he threw another batch of flash bombs towards them. Not giving them a chance to recover, Shikamaru pulled the strings that were attached to the bells on the previous barrage of needles and rang them from unexpected positions, distracting his opponents long enough for him to rain them with needles again. The fact that they gave a false pretense about his actual number and location did not hurt either.

Shikamaru only stopped once the shouts of threats and curses had stopped, once he had heard the thuds of all the bodies hitting the ground. He might have gone overboard with his approach, but he did not want to take any risk with using ninjutsu. Who knew if one of them was a sensor? It was better to stay anonymous.

Shikamaru was about to come out of his hiding place when he heard someone groan.

Earlier, he had decided to use needles because he preferred not to kill anyone. However, since he had to protect his own eyes from the bombs, he had no option but to throw them blind (even his ears were useless; he could detect their position, but he could not 'see' the body parts that he should aim), thus he had to rely on their quantity instead. Now his needle supply was pretty much gone.

Troublesome.

Shikamaru darted his eyes to the surrounding branches, searching for something that could be used as an impromptu weapon. He glanced up and down, left and right. Oh, there!

As quick as lighting, he immediately plucked the gruff looking mammal that was perching by the branch in his right, and hurtled it towards the last man standing. Shikamaru regretted it a second later when he realized that his target was actually the Senju shinobi that he was supposed to save.

Too bad for him, the Senju was too disoriented to dodge the oncoming missile. The black and white mammal hit him square in the abdomen before it bounced off of his green armor. Shikamaru grimaced when the skunk suddenly turned, barring its behind to the world and sprayed the poor guy.

Thankfully the boy still had enough sense to protect his head from the full onslaught, although he did look like he was torn between bursting into tears and quenching his urge to vomit.

The boy could not be older than ten, probably around eight or nine. His appearance was a bit strange. His hair consisted of two-toned hair, with one side being black and the other half being white with matching eyebrows. Shikamaru might not have an in-depth knowledge in genetics, but he knew enough that hereditary simply did not work like – well… that.

Honestly, he kind of looked like a skunk. Who knew, perhaps the skunk had sprayed him because it thought the boy was another skunk who was trespassing its territory. Even better, the skunk might have been trying to court the boy because it thought the boy made an attractive skunk.

Oh well…

Banishing the ridiculous thought from his mind, Shikamaru swiftly created a clone and tossed it the scrolls that contained the Senju corpses. He was willing to help, but there was no way that he would move an inch closer to the skunk boy. His clone would be enough.

The clone applied a transformation technique to alter its appearance as per its creator's standard protocol before it jumped to the ground, shuffling slightly at the grass beneath its feet.

Skunk boy tensed.

"Peace," the clone stated. It held its hands up in what it believed to be a non-threatening gesture. "I simply want to help." It gestured to the needles that nicked the boy's left leg.

"But I smell horrible, like really stink." The boy sniffled. His nose was scrunched up as he suffered from the abuse to his olfactory system.

"Don't worry," it assured, "I've smelt worse."

The boy nodded tersely, offering no further answer.

The clone came closer and knelt beside the boy. He handed it a first aid kit from his pouch. The clone gestured for the boy to extend his leg.

"What's your name?" the clone asked conversably as it applied pressure around the needle before it plucked out the needle with its gloved hand.

Skunk boy winced. "Itama. What's yours?"

"My name is not important." It plucked another needle. "The real question is what are you doing here? You're far from home."

"That's none of your business. What are you – ouch, careful there! – What are you doing here?"

"I was exploring the land, but I got lost." The clone rolled the boy's pants and fishnet up before it applied pressures to the wounds with a clean cloth. "Somewhere along the way I found the battlefield with your dead clansmen in it. I felt your presence, and them," it gestured to the unconscious bodies beside them, "and I decided to help."

The clone slipped its free hand into its pocket and tossed the scrolls in his pocket to the boy's lap. "Here."

"Are these...?" Itama trailed off. His eyes flickered back and forth between the stranger and the all-too-familiar scrolls.

"Yeah, they should return to their family. But I kind of scavenge their weapons to save you, so yeah, sorry about that," the clone continued sheepishly.

"Oh wow… I– I don't know what to say. That's… that's very kind of you. Sometimes they don't even return, but when they do…" Itama smiled ruefully, blinking back his tears at the memory. "Kawarama, he came back in pieces..." the boy muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

The clone shifted uncomfortably.

Itama cleared his throat. "Anyway, you can keep the weapons. You'll need them to defend yourself. The Uchiha are over there." He jutted his chin to the forest behind them. "They're ruthless. It's the least that we can give you."

"Thank you."

Itama nodded. "No problem." He averted his gaze away from the clone. "You were really cool back then – a bit crazy, but still… all of them down within ten seconds." He laughed bitterly. "I wish I was that strong."

"Hey, a kid against five grown men is not a fair fight. The fact that they went after you proves that they think of you as someone powerful." The clone smiled warmly, the gesture seemed to ease the boy a bit. "Um, do you happen to know the thing that coats the needles? I got them from the guy with a scar in his cheek. There's a possibility that you might be poisoned," it warned.

"Yeah, that's Akio-san," Itama smiled thinly, "and it's hemlock," he said. "But I'm already immune to it."

The clone nodded its head, cataloguing the information it had acquired. Hemlock, it echoed inside its mind. The other thing that he noticed was the fact that the boy said already, which meant his immunity towards the poison was built up with time, not as the part of his innate immune system. Boss might be interested in it.

Then there was the matter of the needles themselves. It was unclear whether they were sterile or not, thus there was a possibility that the skunk boy would suffer from tetanus. The lack of vaccines in this era was concerning. However, Boss did not give any further instructions on how to deal with it.

"Okay… But do you have the antidote? Just in case," the clone inquired as it swiped a bit of alcohol around the wounds for precaution. It then wrapped the boy's leg with a bandage before it rolled down the boy's pants and fishnet to their earlier position.

"I'll do it at home," Itama answered briskly.

The clone almost chuckled at the misleading answer. It would bet its imaginary money that the boy had the antidote in his person, but refused to reveal its existence, probably to prevent Boss from using his own clansman's weapon against him. Rule number one on utilizing poison as a weapon was to always have the antidote, no matter what.

The boy was already at a disadvantage as it was, he knew that he was not in the position to strike a bargain – he even let Boss kept those weapons just to appease him – thus he would hold onto the only bargaining chip he had, which was an antidote that would be ready to use in case Boss suffered from the effect of the hemlock.

Boss was not an amateur though, and he was definitely not reckless enough to accidentally poison himself, but the clone indulged the skunk boy anyway. "Of course," the clone said with a smile.

The clone then stood and extended its hand to help the boy. "Can you find your own way home?"

Itama tightly gripped the shorter boy's hand and pulled himself up. He moved his toes and stretched his legs, he seemed to be good to go. "Yep, definitely."

The clone nodded. "I'm going to be very honest with you. You smell awful, absolutely awful, and you will remain so for the next few days, a week even. So if you have even a shred of sympathy towards your family, you will shower at somewhere secluded. Don't do it at the river though, keep that whiff of hell to yourself."

Itama groaned, but a hint of genuine smile touched his lips. "Ugh, don't remind me, I'm traumatized enough. It's your fault anyway."

"Still better than being dead."

Itama waved his hands. The disgusting and noxious odor clung around him like a second skin. "Aren't I already?"

"Don't be dramatic." The clone rolled its eyes good-naturedly. "Just use tomato. It won't completely remove the stench, but at least you won't smell as vile."

"I hate tomatoes. It's gross."

The clone shrugged. "If you want to stay that way then be my guest."

Skunk boy bit his lower lip. "Let's just say I'm willing to try it, so how should I do it?"

The clone tilted its head. "Well, have someone pour tomato juice all over your skin while you stand in the bath. What doesn't stick to your skin will drain into the bath water. So sit down and soak yourself in it for another 15 or 20 minutes. Use as little water as possible – but still covers you completely – because you want the tomato juice's concentration to be as high as possible. Oh, and don't forget to rinse it through your hair a couple of times too. You have to do it until the smell wears off." It paused. "I think that's pretty much it."

Itama shuddered, as if the thought of bathing in the red fruit physically pained him. Was it because the color reminded him of blood? "Don't you have any other alternative?"

"Of course, I have. It's an instant one, in fact." Not even a skunk's spray could stand in the way of hydrogen peroxide and baking soda. "But my employee is the one that can make it, so you have to buy it." Because there was no way that Boss would be willing to synthesize the former for free, especially since they were stuck in this backwater era, but he might be with the right incentive.

"How much?"

The clone shrugged. "He doesn't need money, he prefers information instead."

"About what?"

"Normally, who's friends with whom, who their enemies are – boring sort of things. But currently he's interested in geography, especially that of the Land of Fire, so you can probably barter the potion with a map."

"A map, huh?" Itama nibbled his lip. "Is he the one who sent you to… what did you call it, explore, the enemy's territory in the middle of the night?"

"Yeah." The clone scratched the back of its head, acting bashful. "He makes bizarre requests most of the time, but he's alright. He gives me food and shelter, teaches me how to defend myself… that's more than what anyone else would give me. So yeah, I'll happily explore the enemy's territory for him."

Itama stared at the clone. Myriad of emotions flickered through his eyes, ranging from sympathy, understanding, sadness, and the most profound of all – respect.

The clone felt like a scum.

"I'll consult with my brothers first before I make any decision, but I... I'll definitely think about it."

The clone smiled, its expression betrayed nothing. "Well… if you're interested, tomorrow you can come to the civilian village just a few miles south-east of here." A clone could sneak out and deliver the skunk remedy potion in Boss' stead. "You better hurry before you accidentally kill someone with your stench though," it jested as an afterthought.

Itama laughed, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "I don't know how you haven't gotten fired yet, but you're an awful merchant."

The clone gasped dramatically, clutching its chest. "How could you?! You wound my fragile heart."

Itama managed to stifle his laugh, but he failed to keep the smile off of his face. "Stop it." The clone made a stupid face. "Kami, you're ridiculous." The boy shook his head. "I'll never return home if you keep on making stupid jokes."

"They make you laugh, don't they?"

"Yes… yes, they do." Itama smiled softly. "Thank you for that, and for saving my life."

The clone grinned. "No problem. We, child soldiers, always keep each other's back."

The boy gave him one last smile before he turned on his heels and disappeared into the tree line.

The clone tilted its head. It waited until it could no longer sense the boy's presence.

"Mission accomplished…" it muttered under its breath before it dispelled itself.

Shikamaru opened his eyes when the influx of chakra and memories entered him. It was nice of the clone to try to cheer the boy up. However, the rest of their conversation, baring the identity of the poison, pretty much went over his head.

Hemlock was a nasty plant. In sufficient doses it acted as a paralyzer to the centers of motion, perfect to immobilize someone. However, overdose could lead to respiratory depression (central depression was also a possibility), which in turn could lead to asphyxia, and eventually – death. The scariest part was the fact that the mind remained unaffected until the last.

Whilst his clone was conversing with the young Senju, Shikamaru had been keeping tabs on his victims, making sure that he had not accidentally offended them. So far he had not, but the chance that none of them were hit by poisonous needles was minuscule at best, and Shikamaru refused to be held responsible for making angry Uchiha storming at his home turf. The Senju could have them all for themselves, Shikamaru couldn't care less.

Shikamaru jumped into the ground and supervised his practice targets. One man was unconscious. The other four were still conscious, but paralyzed. He hovered over the paralyzed men, checking their breathing. One had a particularly shallow breathing, he was very pale.

Shikamaru knelt down beside him, putting a kind smile on his face. "Hey there, just hang on a bit. I'm going to help you, okay?"

Only a stare greeted him. The man's pupils were blown wide.

Shikamaru slid his hand into his back pocket where he kept his first aid kit and unseal a bag valve mask. (Nara Clan might not be the primary choice when it came to guerrilla warfare and the likes, but when it came to the field of medicine, they would always be the most advanced.) However, just as he was about to position the mask, he heard the crunching of dry twigs from his left. He masked his frown when he did not sense anything.

Shikamaru sighed. "You do realize that there's no point in hiding anymore, do you? I know you're there."

No response.

"Look, I still have four other people to attend to. So instead of being a creepy stalker, why don't you just help me with them instead?"

The stranger came closer. Shikamaru looked up.

"I don't know what your problem is, but normal people won't hurt others just to heal them again."

When he went on a patrol tonight, Madara did not expect for anything peculiar to happen in his daily routine. He had woken up early in the morning, he had trained, and then he had showered and studied before he returned to tinker with the seal that he had been working on. So far he had made little to no progress with it. He still had not figured out how to bypass the energy issue.

Although his last few days had been nothing but an endless headache and frustration, Madara still refused to give up. His pride would not let him admit defeat. However, as much as he liked to think of himself as an optimist, he was not blind enough as to not acknowledge the fact that he was going nowhere, thus he decided to take a break and do patrol instead. There was always something interesting happening in the forest, and if he were to do something productive, he might as well amuse himself.

Madara patrolled around the border. On his way he had witnessed a trespasser exploding to pieces after the idiot had idiotically steeped into a mine. He had lingered for a while, unsure about what he should do. He eventually walked away when he realized that he did not care. He then had found a couple making out beneath a tree, they looked like an average Uchiha – Madara was pretty sure that they were siblings – it was gross, and he hoped they got struck by lightning, despite the chance that it happened was rather unlikely. His patrol went more mundane after that, there were no trespassers, nothing interesting happened either.

That was, until he found the explorer.

The explorer was small. He was also young, younger than Izuna. For a while Madara had entertained the idea that the boy was lost – since he was only walking around like he did not even know his own destination – but the strange boy quickly proved that he was, in fact, exploring.

He would check the soil, the trees, the fruits – anything that he could touch. It appeared the boy was not even aware that he was in the enemy's territory (perhaps he didn't care). However, what made Madara wary of him was the fact that he could not sense him, at all, even when he could definitely confirm with his own two eyes that he existed and was not just the part of an elaborate illusion his mind had conjured. Madara then had sneaked up on him, intending to discover his identity. But when Madara pushed him into a tree – perhaps a bit too roughly – the explorer simply disappeared in a poof of smoke.

It was weird.

Madara continued to patrol about an hour or so after that, hunting small animals and just walking around in boredom since nothing interesting had occurred. He was about to go home when he heard shouting nearby. He suppressed his chakra and broke into a run. He hid behind a tree and arrived just in time to witness his clansmen being attacked by a barrage of needles. He stayed put of course, because someone had to assess the level of threat for future intel.

What happened next was very strange. Senju boy was sprayed by a skunk (Madara almost cackled when he saw it), then the assailants revealed themselves as an assailant – a very small assailant which also turned out to be the explorer. Madara watched as he (She? It?) patched up the Senju boy and sent him away, before he disappeared again. Then another explorer – were they the same person? – dropped down from the tree and moved closer to his clansmen. She (the face was too feminine to be a boy – but then again, some boys did have a feminine faces, so it was debatable) unsealed a weird contraption and brought it closer to the man. In his hurry to take a closer look, Madara unknowingly stepped on dry twigs and gave away his position.

He knew of course that there was no point in hiding anymore, so he revealed himself. He had prepared himself for a fight – almost craving for it, in fact. However, as usual, things didn't go as planned. One thing led to another, and now he was obediently sitting on the ground, holding the mask to Isamu-san's face whilst the explorer's earth clone pumped air into his lungs. The explorer herself was tending to the other four.

"How are they?" the boy inquired curiously.

Shikamaru looked up.

"This guy," Shikamaru gestured to the man that he had struck in the neck, a bandage wrapped around his neck, "will need one week to recover. He may look dead, but he's actually not, so don't accidentally bury him. They on the other hand," Shikamaru nodded to the three men he had just finished tending to, "should be fine in a few hours. The poison mostly affects the skeletal muscle and some, but their heartbeat and breathing are fine. I've put them to sleep to let them rest."

He also had sent a controlled burst of chakra into their brain stem to replace their recollection of him and his clone with that of a complete stranger, but the boy did not need to know that.

Shikamaru averted his gaze to the man that was lying a few feet away from him. "Has his breathing improved?" The man was hit by the poisonous needles in various places, most likely because he took the brunt of them for his teammates.

The boy pursed his lips, he looked worried. "He regains his color back, but I don't think he's even breathing on his own anymore."

Shikamaru checked his pulse. Too slow, he thought. "Alright. He's getting worse. I'll have to extract the poison."

Madara glared at the girl. "And it never occurs to you to do that before he's dying?!"

"This poison doesn't have a median lethal dose, I don't know how each person is going to react to it. It usually takes 3 hours to kill, but this guy is already dying within thirty. The treatment is also symptomatic, so yeah, I have to wait until the symptoms show. If I took any action before that, I might make his condition worse." Shikamaru explained calmly. "I'm going to be honest with you though. The procedure that I'm going to do is extremely pain–"

"Just fix him already!" the boy snapped.

Shikamaru scowled. "Jeez, fine." Shikamaru removed his gloves and started cutting the man's shirt in the middle, muttering under his breath about an unruly brat who did not respect his elder as he did so. "There's no need to shout, you troublesome boy…"

Shikamaru glanced up and addressed his clone. "Keep me updated with his vitals. Make sure he's breathing." His eyes flickered to the boy. "Once I remove the poison, he'll start to regain his muscle control back and start struggling. Can you make one or two clones to restrain him?"

The boy nodded. "Just tell me when to make them."

Shikamaru nodded curtly. He channeled chakra into his hands, and they both glowed green.

"Boss… he's having a seizure. His heartbeat is elevating very fast."

"…."

"Boss!"

"Just hold on for a second, I'm almost done!"

The boy's clone scrambled to hold the man down.

"No, don't stop his movement! Just let it happen!"

.

.

.

"Wow…"

"What is it now?"

"Shit, no wonder he's dying. I'm surprised he survives this long. He has dextrocardia, probably situs inversus too."

"What do those even mean? Speak clearly!"

"It means the apex of his heart is located on the right side of his body, as opposed to the left side – where it normally is."

"That needle hit him in the heart?!"

.

.

"His heart is not beating!"

"Boss?"

"CPR," he ordered.

Shikamaru pushed his chakra into the man, mending where the poison had affected the heart muscle.

.

.

"It's not working, he's dead…"

"Not yet."

"What do you mean not yet?!"

"Boss, your chakra control is not good enough for it, and we have no defibrillator." Not even electricity.

"We can still do an open cardiac massage."

"A what…?"

"Boss will manually pump his heart, with hi– her hand."

"What?!"

"If it's any consolation, my hand is very small. I don't need a big incision."

"…."

"Uchiha-san, we don't have much time."

"…You're crazy." Madara looked away. "Please save him."

"…I'll try."

"Drink this." Madara shoved the bottle into the crazy girl's face.

The girl blankly eyed the liquid.

Madara sighed and took an exaggerated sip. "See, not poisonous."

The girl took the bottle from him and emptied it in record time. "You got another?"

Madara frowned, but he handed her his spare water anyway. He did not know where she had learned it, or which clan that possessed such knowledge, but the girl had done an amazing feat.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly.

"Like I'm dying." The girl swallowed three ration pills. "How about you? You're not going to puke on me, are you?"

"I'm fine," Madara mumbled, feeling heat creeping up to his neck at the reminder of the incident which they shall never speak about again. "I'm feeling a bit disgusted," the girl snorted, "but mostly fine."

Silence descended between them. The girl shifted and leaned against the tree bark. The moonlight illuminated her dark eyes, those blank canvas devoid of emotion were deep in thought. Madara on the other hand shifted on his feet, unsure whether he should stay or look after his clansmen. Isamu-san was no longer within grave danger, and he, just like the others, was now sleeping. Even if Madara decided to keep an eye on them, he could see his clansmen from here just fine, thus returning there again felt a bit redundant.

"Are you really just going to stand there all night?" The girl broke him out of his reverie. She patted the ground beside her. "Sit. They won't go anywhere, you know."

Madara sat beside her. "I know, it's just… habit, I guess." He picked a small rock and fiddled it.

The girl glanced at him, her brows arched. "How long have you been a shinobi?"

Madara pressed his lips together, but decided not a second later that the question was harmless.

"Five years, I think. I started when I was around your age." Madara inwardly wondered how the girl became a shinobi – if she was even one, she could be lying for all he knew – he had never seen a female shinobi before.

"And you don't get sick of it?"

"Of course I am," Madara admitted. Philosophical discussion was acceptable, he decided. "All of this pointless killing and destruction, the slaughter of countless children..." Madara frowned in disgust. "They always target children first – to lower the clan's morale, making sure they never reach adulthood."

"But that's just what it means to be a shinobi. Death is always knocking at our door. From what I can tell, the only way we can avoid that is to be honest and upfront with the other side, form an alliance with them. Perhaps even, I don't know, live together – coexist in the same place, instead of being so damn suspicious with each other." Madara propelled the rock. It embedded itself on the tree trunk ahead of him with a satisfying thud.

"But that's just a wishful thinking – a crazy and stupid wishful thinking. We're all too proud to allow ourselves to be that vulnerable. I mean, who knows, perhaps the Senju doesn't hate my clan as much as we think. Perhaps peace isn't just a childish dream. Perhaps it's more than just my imagination. I don't know if everlasting peace is something feasible, but every day… Every day I hope that someone will find a way to make it come true."

The girl smiled. Her gaze faraway. "That will be nice, won't it? Not having to constantly worry about your life, being assured that your loved ones are not in danger. Not having to distrust anyone you meet…"

"Not having to withhold your last name," Madara added.

"Exactly! Killing your own friend just because both of your clan opposes each other is truly messed up. I mean, it's not like you ask to be born, right? We've never been given any choice if we'd like to be born rich or poor, if we'd like to be born in a ninja clan or as a regular civilian, if we'd like to be a boy or a girl."

The girl shifted, turning to face him. "Take you for an example. You're just a boy, and you're born in this clan who just happen to loathe this other clan. So you become a shinobi, because of your father's demand I suppose, but do you even know what you're fighting for?"

"I fight for my brother," Madara answered instinctively. "And for my family," he added as an afterthought.

The girl held up her hand. "No, let me rephrase that. From what I understand, the Senju and the Uchiha both originated from the same ancestor–"

"No we don't!" Madara sputtered.

"Yes you are. Then shit happened, and the ancestor's sons fought. It was over something petty, but since humans are emotional and easily manipulated moron–"

"You're a human too, moron," Madara interjected.

"For the sake of the argument, let's pretend I'm a God. Now shut your trap, mortal."

Madara raised his hands in mock surrender.

"As I said earlier, humans are emotional and easily manipulated morons." Cued, pointy glare at him. He flipped her off. "Blinded by hatred and the need for revenge, what started as something petty turned into a full-blown war between both descendants. You kill some of them, then they retaliate and kill some of you, and then the cycle goes on and on until both clans are extinct. You said it yourself. This whole thing is pointless, and I know for a fact that you don't even know why both sides are even fighting in the first place – why you're fighting your own family in the first place." The girl paused and let her words sunk in.

"So young man, let me ask you once again." The girl leaned forward. "What are you fighting for?"

His silence answered it all.

"Nothing," the girl answered in his stead. "You fight for nothing. You train for nothing. You sweat and bleed for nothing. You suffer and weep for nothing. You kill and taint your hands with blood for nothing."

Madara gritted his teeth. The girl had no right to say that. They barely knew each other. Even if they did, she still would not have any right to say anything like that. Yes, Madara was grateful that she saved his clansmen, but that did not mean that she could behave and talk trash to him – she was the one who harmed them in the first place.

And it was not like he had much choice. He was born to be a shinobi, one of the best that his clan could offer. Sparing his enemies would not automatically make them spare his own clansmen. It did not work like that. So what if his battles were pointless? So what if he was very, very, very, distantly related to those Senju bastards? It did not mean a thing now, it never meant a thing. Madara simply wanted his clan to be safe, and he would do anything to make sure of it. If the girl only came to criticize him, then she could go f–

"And that's why your dream of peace is not stupid."

What? Madara was not sure if he heard it right.

The girl gave him a lopsided grin, her dimples showing. "You acknowledge that there's something wrong with this world – with this system – and despite your hatred towards your enemy, you know that fighting will solve nothing, you're willing to give an alliance a chance. You entertain this ridiculously hopeless idea, and that takes guts."

What?

The girl's smile dimmed, her gaze turning distant again. "I myself don't think that a true and everlasting peace is possible. Man seeks peace, yet at the same time yearning for war. Even if we somehow manage to achieve peace, the selfish desire of wanting to maintain peace will cause wars, and then hatred will be born to protect love – and we have not even included human greed in the equation here."

She gazed sadly at him. "Nothing is ever enough. Someone will always wish for something more, and then someone else is going to get hurt in the process. Then there'll be pain, war, and suffering all over again."

"Honestly I want peace, I really do. And despite what everyone might've said, I know that deep down they want it too. They just don't want to be disappointed. They have lived with so much violence in their life that peace becomes something that seems so far-fetched. But that's why you – a dreamer – are here." The girl pressed the tip of her finger against his chest, the action left him with a strange feeling. "To change our mind, to convince us pessimists that peace isn't just a fool's dream, to show us killers that there's another way to live – that we too, deserve happiness. To show me, that you are not just another emotional and easily manipulated moron that can't even think for himself."

Madara stared blankly at the girl, his mouth slightly agape at the sudden turn their conversation had taken.

"I-I…"

The girl only smiled kindly, paying no heed to his embarrassing inability to form a coherent answer. "And whatever happens, please don't give up on us, okay?"

Madara was confused. He felt the conversation went over his head. Although what the girl had said was simple and straightforward, he felt as if her words were conveying something different – something deeper, something that he was missing on, something that meant so much more than just not giving up on his ridiculous dream. But what?

Madara met the girl's eyes and whispered, "Okay…"

That was what she wanted to hear, right?

Instead of the smile that he was expecting, the girl's expression hardened. A brief tremor ran through her hand before she forced it to disappear. The girl retracted her hand, and suddenly Madara felt emptiness settled within the small spot where they were briefly connected, as if she had ripped a part of him. A dull ache settled on his sternum, and Madara felt his heartbeat quicken.

Ba-dumb, ba-dumb, ba-dumb.

The girl moved to stand up.

Madara felt his throat clog up, suddenly it was very difficult to breathe.

Ba-dumb, ba-dumb, ba-dumb.

When their eyes met again, Madara almost flinched.

The girl forced a smile, the muscles in her neck visibly tensing up. "It's really nice to meet you and all… but I," she clenched her hands so hard that her knuckles turned white, "I got to go," she finished lamely.

And then she was gone.

Madara drew desperate short breaths, filling his lungs with the much needed air. He closed his eyes and pressed his hand against his chest, feeling his heart thundering against his rib cage.

What was that?

"Where the hell were you?!" an Akimichi, whose name the clone did not even bother to remember, hissed.

"I was taking a shit, if you must know," it answered matter-of-factly.

The clone actually had just finished its patrol round in the west border, as per Shikadai's order. However, judging from the way that the Akimichi had behaved towards it in the short time that they had become acquaintances, explaining what it had done for the past few hours still would not stop Akimichi from belittling it anyway, so why bother?

Akimichi sneered in disgust. "Why are you even here, you trash? If you can't even behave to be anything remotely better than useless, you can at least save everyone's trouble by staying at home and playing with your dresses instead."

The clone cleaned its ear with its small finger, pretending as if it did not hear anything. "You say something?"

Akimichi growled. His eyes narrowed into a slit. "Why, you little–"

"Be quiet, both of two," Shikadai's vassal chided as the teen soundlessly approached them.

The boy was tall, garbed in dark-colored attire which complemented his sharp features. One of his hands rested on the hilt of the katana in his waist whilst the other hovered over the weapon pouch strapped on his pants. His shoulders were relaxed, but his senses were alert, always ready to face and neutralize any oncoming threat. His eyes looked troubled though, which made the clone worry.

"Is there something wrong?"

The boy smiled thinly. "Shikadai-sama requests your presence, Nara-san."

The clone nodded its head, ignoring Akimichi's exclamation about how their team leader was going to chew it out for its unpleasant attitude and misconduct.

It flickered away and appeared in front of their guard post. It walked to the door and rapped its knuckle against the door with a specific pattern. The door opened a few seconds later.

"Shikadai-sama," it greeted.

The taller boy inclined his head in acknowledgment. "Shikari-san, do come in."

The clone ushered inside whilst the preteen locked the door behind him and gestured for the clone to follow him. The clan heir appeared to be somewhat distressed, but the negative emotion fled his eyes just as quickly as it appeared, hidden beneath layers upon layers of indifferent masks the boy adorned.

The clone followed the boy as he walked down the stairs into the basement, where the cells were located, and its demeanor turned serious. "Who is it?"

"You'll see," the boy answered vaguely.

Shikadai led the girl into the first cell near the stair; the lantern in his hand barely illuminated the feature of the prisoner. He gestured for the girl to come closer, "I want you to identify her."

The clone did as it was asked. It crouched down and peered into the darkness, trying to discern the prisoner's feature.

"Delinquent…?"

Oh hell no… is that...?

There was only one person who ever called Boss that – a person who was not even supposed to exist anymore, and that person was…

"Hotaru?" it blurted.

It narrowed its eyes, adjusting them to the darkness. The face was slimmer and gaunt, pale from the lack of sunshine. But those sharp eyes and high cheekbones were unmistakably hers, so did the haughty smile that adorned her lips. It was bitch-sensei, alright.

The clone gulped.

Boss would be pissed.

Thank you for reading this chapter. Thank you for favoriting and following my story. Your reviews, especially, really make my day.

I sincerely want to improve my writing, so all critics are welcomed. If it is possible, please tell me which part you like best and which part you hate, and why.

Check out my other story, "The Black Parade".