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

Part 1: Nara Shikari

"But I didn't understand then. That I could hurt somebody so badly she would never recover. That a person can, just by living, damage another human being beyond repair."

Haruki Murakami

"How are you, girl?"

Hotaru tilted her head, looking perfectly at ease with the chain that adorned her wrists and ankles. She seemed quite spirited for someone who was supposed to be dead for more than two years, ghastly appearance and all.

To answer Hotaru's question, Shikamaru definitely was not fine. He had woken up far too early in the morning. He had gone to the barrack, had been ogled like a circus exhibition, and had gotten into a fight with overeager punks who did not know how to yield. Even when he had planned to have a break, he had ended up investigating why his clone had gone AWOL to the Uchiha domain. Per his non-existent luck, Shikamaru, naturally, had gone sidetracked and instead had gone to save a mini-warmonger who had gotten himself in a sticky situation.

It did not get any better after that.

Shikamaru had met an Uchiha minion. The boy seemed somewhat familiar, but Shikamaru could not quite put his finger on it. It was not until that they sat side by side that Shikamaru truly observed him – from the shape of his dark eyes, his thin brows, his seemingly ever-present scowl, to the way he passionately spoke about his belief – and Shikamaru was (rightfully) horrified to find out that the boy was unmistakably Uchiha Madara.

He tried to deny his own deduction, he even tried to get a rise out of him so that he could feel the brief spike of his chakra. And boy, Shikamaru did feel it. It was unmistakably the suffocating and foul chakra that only one Uchiha Madara possessed.

Shikamaru then acted on impulse. Mimicking the skill that he learned from the genin who participated in the Chūnin Exam he proctored, he almost blocked one of the pressure points in the boy's heart. It was going to be a quick process, in theory the boy would only experience a brief chest pain before he descended into cardiac arrest.

However, before Shikamaru could finish the deed, the logical side of him quickly took over and reminded him that he could not dispose of the boy without facing the adverse consequences. Madara was one of Konoha's founding fathers. The village might never be formed if the boy did not reach adulthood, and consequently so did the other four Great Shinobi Villages. Sure, Black Zetsu's plan to revive Kaguya would be postponed; however, not only that the Warring States Period might never end – which was simply unacceptable – any knowledge and variables that he could control might no longer be valid.

Shikamaru quickly undid what would have become his greatest headache and retracted his hand. The boy would feel some unpleasant side effects, but he would survive. That was more than what could be said about the thousands of people that would suffer should he convert into the dark side. Shikamaru quickly made a tactical retreat after bidding the boy an awkward goodbye, inwardly hoping that he would not realize what had happened, however unlikely it was.

Now, sitting here in front of his thought-to-be-dead-bane-of-existence that was never actually deceased in the first place, being incredibly sleep deprived whilst nursing one hell of a migraine after receiving sudden influx of memories from his clone, Shikamaru knew that he was making a right decision by allowing the boy to live. Even the smallest stone made a ripple in the water, even the simplest action could cause unforeseen consequences. He would not gamble and ruin the future for the sake of petty revenge. He could wait, could bid his time until the moment was right. He would be damned if he let his second chance go to waste.

Returning his attention to the woman before him, Shikamaru forced a smile, his words sugary sweet. "I am well, of course, especially now that my favorite teacher is here!" He jutted his bottom lip, attempting to look cute though his eyes were dead. "I miss you, sensei."

Shikadai coughed in the background, unsubtly reminding him why he was speaking with the woman in the first place.

Hotaru, being the troublesome woman that she was, had refused to talk to anyone but him. Perhaps she thought he would not be able to coax anything out of her, or perhaps she simply wanted him to become her verbal punching bag, who knew. Shikadai himself seemed inclined to keep the woman's reappearance quiet, at least until they had acquired more information, since he had not called for any backup or report back to his superior.

Hotaru giggled, her eyes bright with contempt. "So am I, dear, so am I – so much that I feel like emptying my stomach if I spend one more second looking at your face."

"Trust me. The sentiment is mutual," Shikamaru assured with a grin. "Though I do have to wonder, where have you been all of this time? Did you run away?" Hotaru looked rather amused. It was a no then. "Fake your death?" A flicker of surprise crossed her face. It appeared she was not aware of her deceased status. "Were you captured?"

Her eyes shifted then, there was a brief crack on her demeanor. Her posture subconsciously turned defensive before she could conceal her reaction. Shikamaru waited for her denial.

"Yes I was," Hotaru stated instead with a thin smile.

Shikamaru blinked, a bit surprised, but not entirely perplexed by her honesty. It was a sign of good behavior after all, a sign that she was willing to cooperate.

"By whom?"

Hotaru avoided his eyes, opting to examine her uneven nails instead – eyeing them with distaste. "Oh you know, those red-eyed bastards."

Shikamaru felt his eyebrows rise. Was that why his clone had gone to the Uchiha territory, because it had seen Hotaru escape?

"Uchiha?" Shikadai interjected, moving to stand beside Shikamaru. "We don't have any business with them. Why would they suddenly enter our border and risk the status quo just to capture you?"

"Do you really?" Hotaru gave them a half-smile. "I clearly remember them using the so-called Yamanaka's secret technique to make an army of sleeper agents."

Shikamaru leaned closer, intrigued.

"How do we know that you aren't a sleeper agent?" Shikadai pointed out. "You haven't exactly explained how you arrived at our border, have you? Even if we somehow believe you, how can you recognize the technique when you yourself are a civilian?"

"Because it is rightfully mine," Hotaru replied matter-of-factly, as if it explained everything. "It's not my fault that everyone is too dimwitted to remember it."

"You're delusional," Shikadai rebutted.

"And you, my dear, are an unwanted child."

"You–"

"Shikadai-sama," Shikamaru interrupted calmly, "a moment, please?"

Shikadai pursed his lips in disagreement, but led him into the other side of the dungeon nevertheless. The boy then motioned him to talk.

Shikamaru lowered his voice. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, sir, but you shouldn't antagonize her. I know that she can be quite troublesome, but we can't afford her acting mute again."

"I know, I apologize for that." Shikadai massaged the bridge of his nose. "However, this new… issue... she has roused is very unsettling. I know that this could be just a rather elaborate attempt to cause dissection in our ranks, but I can't exactly ignore the possibility that there might be a traitor in our people. It's certainly not impossible."

Shikadai briefly glanced at his prisoner, she stared back at him with that disconcerting smile of hers.

The woman seemed to be willing to confide in the girl, obviously because Shikari was young and lacked the necessary training and experience as an interrogator. It was a risky gamble to let the girl question the prisoner in the first place (or a complete waste of time), since brawling and delving into the intricate maze that was the human mind was a completely different matter. Not that he was an ideal choice either, since he had never actually interrogated someone before. But Shikadai supposed it would not hurt to try. They still had an hour or two before their shift was over. After that, he could just deliver the woman straight to sir – err… father – and then she would no longer be his problem.

"You know what, you go talk to her," Shikadai blurted out. "She will feel safer confiding in you anyway."

Shikari could interrogate the woman whilst he took a short nap upstairs. It would not make that much difference anyway, since the two of them were equally incompetent at interrogation. Besides, what was the use of underlings if he had to do all the work himself?

Shikadai slid his hand into his weapon pouch and fetched a kunai. He took the girl's hand and wrapped her fingers around the handle, the soft skin was a stark contrast against his calloused one. "You know what to do should she misbehave, don't you?"

If the worst came to the worst – perhaps the girl got herself killed; perhaps the prisoner somehow, managed to free herself – Shikadai would be waiting for her upstairs. The only way for her to escape was to get through him first.

The girl nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good girl," he awkwardly patted her head like one would to an obedient child. That was how one was supposed to give a child encouragement, right? "I'll return in an hour."

Shikamaru waited until the boy was no longer within the hearing range before he returned his attention to his prisoner. The woman was looking at him with a sly smirk plastered on her face.

"What?" He asked flatly.

"Nothing." Hotaru smiled mischievously.

"Right," Shikamaru muttered dryly.

He settled comfortably on his chair and with the flick of his hand, impaled the knife into the wooden table – close enough to Hotaru's chained hands, but still beyond her fingers' reach – giving her a promise of freedom should she provide him with something good.

"Can we talk now?" Shikamaru asked bluntly. "Before we start, I will remind you that it really is within your best interest to tell me everything, as my supervisor most likely will let you go." It was unlikely, but he would wager on it anyway. "But if not, some Yamanaka will definitely take my place and screw with your mind until your brain is nothing more than a jelly – and I can assure you, then you will truly be really dead."

"Of course, of course." Hotaru smirked, entirely unperturbed by his words. "Where do you want me to begin?"

Shikamaru rested his chin on his palm. "Why don't you start with how you escape your jailer?"

Cold winds blew on his face, brushing the longer strands of his hair against his cheek. Dark clouds were starting to gather in the sky, obscuring the moon. Flashes of lightning appeared in the distance, their bright colors illuminated the atmosphere. It was going to rain soon,

But still, his little brother had not come home.

He shifted his weight to his right foot, crunching the dried leaves beneath it. He tightened the white fur on his shoulders and rubbed his palms together, a puff of cold air escaped his lips.

He had been standing in front of the gate for what felt like hours, patiently waiting for his brother to return. Others would have given up already. It would not have been illogical after all, it had been too long since his team supposed ETA. But not him. He knew that his brother was still out there, somewhere, on his way home. He could still feel him. His chakra signature was dim, probably low on chakra, but he was alive and well. Tobirama was sure of it.

Tobirama crouched on the ground and pressed his finger against the soil. His brother's chakra was still somewhere on the eastern side of their stronghold, unmoving from its spot. There were no other chakra signatures near him, not even that of their clansmen. He was completely alone.

Tobirama estimated that his brother was somewhere near the creek which Hashirama usually visited whenever he felt like moping and brooding on a particularly bad day. It was possible that Itama needed some alone time, especially since everyone on his team likely had fallen in battle. Everyone had their own coping mechanism after all, thus Tobirama had to respect the boy's privacy if he chose to grief in solitude. However, more than a solid hour had already passed and Itama still showed no sign of coming home. He probably had not eaten anything, Tobirama mused. He could be shivering, alone and lost on his own thoughts. His grief would definitely affect his performance and he would be unaware if hostile parties approached him.

Tobirama was not exactly sure when he had decided that he had done enough waiting and decided to fetch the boy himself. By the time he registered what he was doing, he had already pumped his feet with chakra and leaped into the trees. A thin layer of chakra had already coated his skin and clothes, instantly repelling droplets of water that managed to sneak through the tree canopies.

Once he arrived at the creek, instead of the sight of his brother lying on the pool of his own blown, or the sight of the boy slowly drowning and suffocating to death and other multitudes of terrible scenarios that his mind had conjured, what greeted him instead was the sight of his brother fervently scrubbing his skin and shirt like his life depended on it. Once a while he would sniff his arms, grimacing at the smell, and started scrubbing again.

Now, Tobirama always prided himself as being the most mature and level-headed out of his brothers. Growing up as a shinobi, he had faced, endured, and triumphed various hardships and losses. As far as he knew, nothing could really faze him anymore. However, to know that he waited and worried sick for hours simply because the boy had decided to have an impromptu bath in the middle of the night…

Tobirama's hand moved in its own accord as it lashed out on the tree on his right, cleaving the trunk into a half, startling his brother who instinctively scurried for his weapons and armor as it plummeted straight into the middle of the creek.

Itama took a double take at him – his jaw hung agape when he realized that the 'hostile party' was actually his own brother – and started hollering. "Are you kidding me?! I almost got a heart attack!"

Tobirama crossed his arms and snarled back. "Isn't that supposed to be my line? What are you doing out here? You're supposed to be home hours ago!"

Itama at least had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sorry. You must have been worried."

"No, I don't," Tobirama fumed.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, brother," Itama dismissed his claim. "Anyway, long story short, I got the map, but my team was ambushed on our way out. They all died." Itama clenched his fists, his bloodshot eyes were burning with fury. "I would have died too if not for that boy…"

"Who is he? Did you see his clan's insignia? What's his level of threat?" Tobirama asked. He knew better than to ask about the boy's feelings and brought forth unwanted memories. What Itama needed was a distraction, not condolence or pity. A shinobi did not need to be coddled.

"He didn't tell me his name. I didn't see any clan insignia on him either, but I'm pretty sure that he wore a standard clan issue armor. He could have stolen it though, so who knows," Itama trailed off, feeling unsure himself. "I'm not exactly sure just how strong he really is, but he's certainly crafty. He easily took down five adult Uchiha with only using needles and flash bombs."

"That's worrying. He might become a threat to us should we ever stand on opposite sides," Tobirama noted. But how come they never heard of him? "Did he mention anything about his allegiance, about why he–" Tobirama paused when a peculiar odor entered his nostrils. His nose scrunched up in disgust. "Itama, do you smell that?"

Itama grimaced. "That's actually what I want to talk about with you."

Tobirama beckoned his brother. "Go on then."

"Do you remember what you said about not startling other shinobi?" Tobirama narrowed his eyes, feeling suspicious, but nodded his head nonetheless. Itama continued his ramble. "Well, once he stopped his assault, I kind of – you know, moved – 'cause let me tell you, those needles hurt like hell. He heard me, but I think he mistook me for one of the Uchiha, so he kind of threw a skunk–"

"Wait a second, is that why you're here?" Tobirama asked incredulously. "Because a skunk sprayed you?"

Itama averted his head away, his cheeks turned pink in embarrassment. "Yeah…"

Tobirama sighed heavily. "You're unbelievable."

Was a penchant of being ridiculous something that ran in the family? He started to wonder if he was, in fact, an adopted child. It seemed he was the only one who was blessed with some semblance of sanity.

"Look, I know that it sounds stupid, but that kind of things do happen, okay?!" Itama protested. "And I can't exactly just waltz home, can I?! The whole barrack would have stunk like crazy the very second I step in it," Itama grumbled.

Tobirama resisted the urge to rub his forehead in exasperation.

"What happened next?" Tobirama inquired softly, already dreading whatever it was that would come out of his brother's mouth.

"Like I said, I was sprayed by a skunk. The boy said that I could remove the stench with tomato, which you know I am allergic to. But he said that his employer, the one who made him scout the Uchiha's territory, is willing to make an instant remedy for a price."

"Which is?"

Itama rubbed the back of his neck. "A map."

"A map," Tobirama murmured, tasting the curious method of payment on his tongue.

The white-haired boy flickered his gaze to his brother. The boy fidgeted under his blank stare. His fingers fiddled restlessly with the hem of his trousers. Itama only did that whenever he was feeling–

"Wait…" Tobirama backtracked. "You're not seriously considering handing over that map to him, do you?"

Itama only winced, not bothering to deny his accusation.

"Are you out of your mind?! Even if we don't need it to free our clansmen from that godforsaken prison, six good men still lost their lives today just so that we can acquire it. Trust me, that drug of his does not worth their sacrifices."

"I know that! But think about it for a second," Itama pleaded. "Do you remember what you lectured me the other day, about using others for your own gain?"

"What about it?" Tobirama asked tersely.

"Well, I've given a lot of thoughts about it and I was thinking that instead of attacking the prison ourselves, why don't we just let others do it for us? 'Cause let me tell you, there're tons of chakra in there – like, a lot – so much that even a non-sensor like me can feel it. It isn't just the Senju who is being locked in there, there are other people too. Their families must have been worried sick looking for them. They'll be eager to free their people if given the chance. The Uchiha won't stand a chance if they're attacked from all sides."

"Shit…" Tobirama muttered under his breath. "That's actually a really great idea," he admitted. "No one will believe us if we tell them that we are willing to share the layout of our archenemy's stronghold with them. They will immediately assume that we are only leading them to their deaths, which is not entirely false. However, if it is sold to them by a third party, they will not dismiss it right away. Whatever decision they make will be entirely up to them. Supposing anything went wrong, the blame could and would not be placed on us. Either way, whether they succeed in their endeavors or not, our clan will be the one who is affected the least."

"Err… that's not exactly what I have in mind," Itama chimed. "I'm actually thinking about giving the map away so that his employer can circulate it around."

"That isn't how mercenaries work, Itama."

"We don't even know if they are mercenaries," Itama countered. "Maybe his employer collects maps for fun, just like how anija likes to collect plants. Besides… even if they are mercenaries, I'm not really sure that they'll be willing to sell the map." Itama scratched the back of his neck.

"And that's because…" Tobirama trailed off.

"Well…" Itama began. "You know how heavily guarded that place is, right? My team barely found any opening to infiltrate it and even then we only had a very limited time to find its layout – if it's even documented in the first place. Long story short, we were running out of time. We were about to go home empty-handed when we passed by this woman's cell. She begged me to free her – she looked really sad and I couldn't help myself – so I did. At first Akio-san was unwilling to bring her with us, but the woman said that she could give us the map of the part of the prison that she had visited. She drew us the map and we escaped just in time. But then we got separated halfway and the rest is history."

"So the map is useless," Tobirama deadpanned.

"It's legit!" Itama proclaimed. "She really knows what she's doing."

"Uh-uh."

"I mean it! Just see it for yourself." Itama rummaged through his weapon pouch and fished a scroll. "Here." Itama pulled his arm back and threw the rolled parchment across the creek.

Tobirama deftly caught the small nondescript scroll, opting to dangle it on the tip of his finger with a chakra string once he registered the unpleasant scent that accompanied it. He would take a look at it first thing in the morning. Hopefully its smell would have dissipated a bit by then.

"Just so that you know, I don't expect much out of it. Even it's exterior already smells like disappointment."

"You're so mean." Itama sulked.

"I don't care," Tobirama declared. "Quickly dry yourself and return home. I'll try to find some old clothes and sleeping bags for you to use. You're not allowed to set a foot inside the compound before you get that nasty smell off of you."

"Oh, come on!"

"…six men are dead, four are in a critical condition, twelve are injured, and three are permanently incapacitated. Six men still have not returned, including your son. Madara-sama is scheduled to patrol in the east border tonight. It is very likely that he is currently aiding our trackers to pursue the Senju–"

"What about the prison?" Tajima interjected, his tone subdued from the aftermath of the battle. "Are there any missing captives?"

"None of the prisoners are missing, despite the lack of guards. Your strategy is a success, sir. It appears the infiltrators have entered an entirely different place – your decoy prison."

"We have our ally to thank for that," Tajima stated, giving credit where it was due. "Are any of the prison guards injured?"

"No, sir. The security–"

Knocking sounds resounded from the door.

"–in the decoy prison has been doubled as you ordered. The infiltrators did not stand a chance against them."

"That is good to hear," the clan head muttered under his breath. "You may return now, Yashiro. Rest well, we will have a long day ahead of us. Bring me an update from the infirmary tomorrow," Tajima ordered. "Please send that person in on your way out."

"Yes, sir." Yashiro bowed respectfully and exited the room.

Madara poked his head in not a second later. His eyes immediately zoomed into the heavy bandage that covered one side of his father's face. Madara forced himself not to stare.

"You are late," Tajima scolded. "We've been attacked, in case you do not know. They had an incessant tree-making freak with them."

Madara strode inside. "I've heard about it, not about the freak part though." He made a face. "I'm sure you handle it just fine." He held his palms up when his father narrowed his visible eye in warning. Right . . . a sore topic then. "For the record, I was taking a detour to check on our mutual friends after dragging five unconscious men to the infirmary. I've also taken care of your minions–"

"Stop talking in riddles, boy. You're terrible in it," Tajima grouched. "They," he gestured to his hidden personal guards, "know about my side project. Speak plainly and spare both of us the embarrassment."

"Why don't you just say so…?" Madara grumbled. "As I have said before, I've taken care of the guards, no one shall remember a thing about any unusual things they saw in there. But… one woman is missing – subject number 38, if I am not wrong – the one who was locked in solitary confinement."

"The one who resists our influence, isn't it?"

Madara nodded. "Correct. The chakra residue from the cell suggests that it was the Senju who broke her out."

Why her? Tajima inwardly wondered. The woman's chakra did not feel like a Senju, thus she could not possibly be one of them. It was possible that she was their spy, perhaps a member of one of their allies. However, that woman only showed her rebellious attitude recently, after the administration of the technique. His ally had explicitly stated that it was not perfect, thus her behavior could very well be caused by a technical failure. It still did not explain why the Senju freed her though…

"Assemble a task force," Tajima ordered his bodyguards, "we need to relocate the subjects–"

"That won't be necessary," Madara interrupted, already knowing what the man was thinking. "The woman is not with them, so the others won't be compromised. Six out of the seven infiltrators are dead and the one who manage to escape is a mere boy, she was not with him. You don't need to hunt her down either, I've…" however unintentional it was, he thought, "I've taken care of it."

"How?" his father asked.

Madara was not sure how he should explain it, since it involved touching what was considered to be a very sensitive issue for both of them. They never broach the subject, let alone openly discussing it.

He straightened himself and decided to just be done with it.

"Remember how big brother killed himself?"

"So let me get this straight," Shikamaru surmised. "You drew them the map – which accuracy is logically questionable – and they still agreed to bring you with them? Even if they were very desperate, the hassle from bringing a civilian with them clearly outweighs that map's worth. How come they didn't see you as a liability – or better yet, just kill you once have the map?"

He definitely would have done the latter.

"Because I am not a liability," Hotaru replied shortly, seemingly certain that it was the reason why she was still breathing. "They must have known, at the very least, the basic layout of that place to be able to infiltrate it. Perhaps my map fits in." she shrugged.

"But how?" Shikamaru pressed in. "You said you were captured. Didn't they lock you up?"

"No," Hotaru shook her head, "they let us roam free, at least in our prison level. Loath am to admit it, that bastard Tajima really has an ingenious method to turn all of those people into his dogs."

Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

Hotaru took a deep breath and started explaining. "The women he caught were at the bottom of the social hierarchy. They were slaves, prostitutes, war orphans, and street urchins. He gives them food and shelter, showers them with kindness. He gives them hope and purpose, makes them believe that they are a part of something bigger. In return, they give him their loyalty – their utter devotion. Loyal to him and him only. It doesn't even matter that they are isolated inside this giant prison. He is God in their eyes. Their lives belong solely to him and nothing, nothing, can convince them otherwise."

Brainwashing aside, Shikamaru thought, it was clever of the man to use women for his cause. They were not seen as threats, at least not in the current trend of warfare with all-male army. They could easily infiltrate many places and integrate themselves into new societies without being suspected by noisy busybodies. With the right training they could work not only as spies, but also directly engage in war – from posing as male soldiers, to seducing secrets out of politicians and generals, to operating as couriers and diplomats – and turn the tide of war.

He definitely had to keep an eye on this Tajima person.

"How did you break free then? Did they manage to affect you in the first place?" The knowledge would be invaluable should he ever encounter those spies in the future.

"They did." Hotaru pressed her lips together, looking genuinely uncomfortable and disturbed by the fact. "I don't know why, but I had no recollection of anything when I woke up. I didn't know my name, my age, where I came from – anything that might explain who I was. I was gullible, foolishly trusting the people who took me in. Then that bastard moved into the next step of his plan and started burying those needles into our brains, sealing our memories of being sleeper agents."

"Fortunately for me, somehow by unexpected sheer luck, my old memories returned as well when he canceled the technique. And I knew, I knew at that very second that it was my family technique. The ones who are supposed to know it are only the Yamanaka and I, the price for my assimilation," Hotaru spat out the word, "into the clan. Imagine my surprise when I find it on someone else's possession."

Shikamaru recognized that particular technique. It was the Memory-Concealing Manipulative Sand Technique, also known as the Sand Brainwash Technique. It was the technique which Sasori would have used in the future to plant his spies and cause havoc in Elemental Nation. He did not know of its precise origin, but he was very certain that the Yamanaka never possessed it in his own timeline. Sasori would not be able to plant his spies in Konoha otherwise.

Exactly what kind of disaster had his existence caused?

"So you're the Land of the Wind's gal, huh?" He asked instead – trying to distract his mind from that line of thought – nodding to Hotaru's now sandy-brown hair. The strands used to be much darker two years ago, not matching their lighter roots. "How on earth did you end up in the Fire Country of all places?"

"Well… the Uchiha slaughtered my clan for starter," Hotaru replied blasély, as if she was talking about the weather instead of a genocide. "I escaped in time and literally crawled my way to the Land of Rivers. I met your grandfather and uncles there. The old coot tended my wounds and brought me here. Then life went on, yada, yada, and now I am here."

"Is that how you met my mother?" Shikamaru asked curiously. "What exactly do you see in her that makes you so infatuated?"

"Aren't you supposed to question me instead of gossiping?"

"I'm bored," Shikamaru admitted. "Aren't you?"

Hotaru considered his question. She nodded her head when she did not find any hidden motive behind it.

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of time for interrogation later," he quickly assured her when he saw her pinched expression. "There's nothing wrong with having a normal conversation, is there? After everything you've been through, talking with familiar faces surely helps."

"Fine." Hotaru sighed in resignation, truthfully not really opposing the idea. "For your information, I don't need therapy, especially not from the likes of you."

"Whatever you say, sensei."

Hotaru ignored the girl's response, opting to formulate the right words to answer the girl's inquiry. She was not sure why she was willing to answer it in the first place. Perhaps for the sake of old times, perhaps out of desperation, or perhaps because the girl looked like the exact replica of her mother and Hotaru had never been able to say no to Etsuko.

Hotaru averted her eyes upward, peering into the darkness of the ceiling, lost in a memory.

"Your mother, Etsuko, is a very complex individual," she began. "To be honest, I don't remember what exactly it is that made me fall for her. Perhaps her smile, her spirit, her courage, who knows." She shrugged. "But being with her makes me feel safe, happy, and complete. At least she used to."

"Used to?"

"Correct. Having no recollection of anything for almost two years does have its merits after all. It gives me a new perspective, a perspective which I used to evaluate my life and sort my thoughts together once I regained my memories back. It took me a while to come to terms with it, but I've realized… I realize that I was never in love with your mother."

Hotaru paused, contemplating whether she should continue or not. She did not know Nara very well and everything she said could very well be used against her. On the other hand, talking about it did help. She could sort through her feelings and remove this heavy weight off of her chest. She owed herself that, at the very least.

"My feelings for her started with that of a respect, respect that she accepted me – an outsider – as if I was her own family. It then grew into friendship, just the two of us against the world. We used to secretly give people nicknames so that only we knew who we were talking about. We could have a whole conversation with just one look – there was no need for explanation, we always knew what the other was thinking. We shared every little detail about every little thing. I could say a total nonsense and Etsuko would respect it anyway, we never got bored with each other's blabber. She was my best friend, and I was hers."

"But then I grew older, not really wiser though," Hotaru chuckled bitterly, "and I became obsessed with the idea of avenging my family. I was hell-bent on joining the ninja force. I trained on my own, day and night, even though everyone told me off. Etsuko, of course, tried to help me in her own way. She begged her old man to help me and he did, he pulled some strings to get me in."

"My training… well, it went badly. Something happened and I was dishonorably discharged. So I returned home. Although I was disheartened, I knew that my best friend would always be there to cheer me up. I didn't know that at the time Etsuko was dealing with her own issue, since we weren't allowed to have contact with the outside world. She was already of age then, and her family kept on pressuring her to get married. Etsuko, of course, didn't take it too well when I started venting my problem on her. That day we had the biggest fight of our life. We said unforgivable things to each other, but we were too stubborn and prideful to apologize. From then on we just..." Hotaru shrugged, "drifted apart."

"I became even more desperate then. I wanted my best friend back but things just kept on getting on my way. The next thing I knew, I had degraded my genuine love for my friend into infatuation. What was supposed to be pure and full of trust turned into obsession and jealousy. What was supposed to be generous turned into something possessive. What was supposed to be real and sincere turned into pathetic delusion and lies and I–" Hotaru looked down on her trembling hands, "I hate myself."

Shikamaru wordlessly took a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed it against the woman's cheeks. He averted his eyes away from her, giving her the privacy which he would certainly ask should their situation be reversed.

"Just let it out. It will make you feel better," he encouraged. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry about what has happened." For a moment he was reminded of Chōji, his oldest friend who readily sacrificed his life for him. The pain he felt from his passing was indescribable. "Losing your best friend sucks. There's this hole in your chest, this bottomless emptiness that's never quite the same without them to fill it in."

Hotaru did not know whether she should laugh or choke. She had half-expected the girl to shower her with sympathy and inspirational quotes after her sob story in hopes of gaining her trust and all, but the girl's effort in it was too transparent – it was nothing short of pathetic. Hotaru shrugged the cheap piece of cotton along with its owner away from her face.

"You know," she mused derisively, "I think I finally understand why I despise you so much. Don't get me wrong, I don't understand what kind of shits that you have been through in your short existence. I certainly do not and will never pretend to care about your well-being, but you are a fucked up child, Nara."

"From the way you speak, to the way you smile, to the way you cry, to the way you lie, to the way you show sympathy and kindness – to the way you do anything in your life – every single thing is always done with a specific intention in mind. Every single thing you do is fake – a mere lie. Forgive my curiosity, but do tell me," she leaned forward, her torso hunched over her shackled fists, "how can you stand yourself?"

"Honestly?" Shikamaru met the woman's sharp gaze head on. "I can't, I really can't. Words cannot describe just how much I loathe myself. But you know what? At least I don't go around and fucking hang myself–"

Hotaru slammed her fists on the table. "How dare you?! Do you honestly think that I would willingly do that to myself? Somebody was trying to kill me, you ignorant fool! I almost lost my life – Kami, I lost my career and my future because of it – so mission accomplished! Someone like you will never understand it," Hotaru sneered, "you are sheltered and pampered your whole life–"

"Do I need to remind you that you and my mother tortured me on a daily basis?" Shikamaru pointed out with a smile. "That you terrify your class into submission and conduct unethical discipline methods? My, my… aren't you a hypocrite–"

Shikamaru rolled out of the way just as Hotaru kicked the table down, Shikadai's kunai glinted dangerously on her shaking hands. "Go on, say that again… I dare you."

He propped his elbows against the floor, his mouth snapped shut. His eyes were focused on a black marking that peeked from the corner of the woman's loose collar, a few inches beneath her left collarbone.

It started to glow amber.

"Don't ignore me!" Hotaru snarled.

Shikamaru remained quiet, his eyes were fixed on the black marking that had glowed brighter – eerily reminded him of explosive tags milliseconds before they went off. How curious, its glow seemed to be perfectly in sync with Hotaru's mounting ire.

His eyes flickered back and forth between the glowing mark and the woman's face, taking note of its intensity in accordance with the woman's breathing pattern and her most likely rapid heartbeat…

Shikamaru stared.

…oh shit.

Shikamaru immediately backed away. "Hotaru, I need you to calm down."

The woman grinned, baring her teeth at him like a predator would to its prey. "Why…? Are you scared of me, by any chance…? Where's your bark now, Shi-ka-ri? You were so sure of yourself earlier."

The mark, no – the seal, Shikamaru realized – was glowing even brighter.

"Please, calm down," he urged. "You're endangering yourself!"

"Endangering myself?" Hotaru mocked. "Oh honey, the only one who is in danger here is you."

Hotaru swung the blade with a roar.

The seal glowed red.

Shikamaru took cover.

…

For a moment everything was bright, then it was dark.

"Remember how big brother killed himself?"

Tajima flinched.

"I… I really don't want anyone else to do that to themselves," Madara quickly elaborated. "I know that it's not my place to decide and I know that it's probably selfish of me, but I've tried to create a seal that's supposed to prevent the branded individuals from taking their own lives. I lacked the necessary knowledge and skill to make what I wanted, I still now, so at the time I settled with something mediocre. It was quite promising, but I barely had any time for my side projects when I was appointed as the new clan heir, so I never tested it out."

"Few days ago, when I was visiting the camp, I saw that number 38 was showing erratic behavior. I thought to myself, why not just test it on her, so I did. If the seal works correctly, it will send an electric shock to her heart if it stops beating – it doesn't, actually. However, by the time I realized why, it's already too late for her."

Madara held his father's gaze. "The seal is faulty, I've made an error in its array. I think instead of sending electric pulse to her heart if it stops beating, it will send jolts of electricity whenever her heart rate is fast. Not only that, my chakra – which powers the seal – is also posing a problem. I didn't really take it into account then, but our chakra as an Uchiha – mine especially – is very potent and that, combined with a faulty seal is a recipe for disaster."

"Are you absolutely sure that the seal works in such a manner?" Tajima asked.

If it indeed worked with that principle, the woman would have died by now – either from electrocution or ventricular fibrillation-induced cardiac arrest. Running to the border alone would have elevated her heartbeat, and in turn caused the seal to repeatedly send electrical shock to her heart. Human body – especially a civilian – would not survive from such torture.

"It's either that..." Madara muttered, "or it explodes…" He made a vague motion with his hand, his father understood him anyway.

"Violently," Tajima finished.

Madara looked away, ashamed. "Yes."

A tentative hand settled on his shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze. "That's my boy."

Madara slowly smiled.

A/N: Anija (兄者/あにじゃ) = older brother.

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