Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Masashi Kishimoto. However, the OCs do belong to me.
Part 2: The Wandering Miko
Chapter 2: KA-BU-KI
Shikamaru felt his hand drifted down towards his pocket; reaching for what he did not know. Perhaps a box of cigarettes, a particular shade of purple nail polish, or even a not-yet-invented bag of barbecue chips. His hand almost reached to scratch the goatee that was no longer there. Shikamaru was not sure why, but he had developed some sort of complex where he unconsciously imitated the daily habit of the dead people around him.
My elder brother has recently passed away.
Shikamaru inwardly wondered if it was the reason why he had taken such a liking towards gardening. It might not be a spur at the moment, after all; perhaps it never was. Perhaps it was a cosmic sign after all, of how badly he had messed up and inadvertently caused the death of the man that would one day unite the shinobi clans in the Land of Fire, which in turn would lay foundation for the formation of other hidden villages, and subsequently started a period of peace – however momentarily – in the elemental nation.
Feeling his headache mounting, Shikamaru shifted his hand to the small of his back, pretending to be deep in thought when in reality his right fingers was wrangling his willowy wrist and simply squeezed – as if by doing so he could grind himself away to dust.
I find myself in need of guidance.
Where did it go wrong, he wondered? Was saving one brother meant sacrificing the other? Though lazy as he was, Shikamaru knew that the name Senju Itama was only mentioned in passing in the history book; it would not be illogical to assume that the boy died young.
Shikamaru could almost feel his mother's presence behind him, menacingly brandishing a knife and a frying pan, ready to bash his head in.
Look at what you've done, you fool! You condemn everyone to live in a world without the God of Shinobi and the Legendary Slug Princess! How are you going to fix this?!
His gaze turned faraway, for a moment simply wallowing in self-pity whilst his brain absorbed the sheer amount of shit that he had put himself and the rest of the elemental nation in, before acceptance and rational thoughts quickly settled in, replacing the useless thoughts. There was no use lamenting about what had happened. He was not omnipotent, he had no knowledge on how to revive the dead - it would be for the best to simply move on. Even if he was given the option to turn back the time, Shikamaru knew what he stood for; he could not in good conscience let a child be slaughtered by five grownups.
Shikamaru cleared his throat, garnering the attention of the future Nidaime – or was it Shodai now? – who had been watching him for quite some time now, politely waiting for Shikamaru to break out of his stupor whilst carefully cataloging every information that he could deduct from his person. The boy was not exactly discreet, but he certainly did it with more subtlety than other soldiers his age, which Shikamaru applauded.
"It's getting a bit hot, don't you think? Why don't we talk inside?" he said, "I don't think the sun is good for our complexion."
The boy nodded, his face betrayed nothing. "I suppose you will need to bind my eyes then…?"
Shikamaru shook his head. "That would be the most logical course of action, but no... Just keep your eyes closed until I tell you otherwise. You said that you come in peace, thus I shall treat you with courtesy and expect you to do the same."
Wordlessly, those red orbs fluttered shut, allowing long lashes to drape over the contrasting shadows beneath the boy's eyes. He had not been sleeping, Shikamaru noted.
Shikamaru murmured a quick thanks and wound his arm around the Senju's back – who reflexively tensed but quickly loosen up at Shikamaru's quiet assurance – before flickering inside the grassland. He then flickered again for few times in quick succession in order to confuse his companion, not that it would do him any good if the Senju sensor was as good as the history book painted him to be, but Shikamaru acquiesced the fact that he had at least made an effort to try. Now feeling a bit nauseous, Shikamaru came to a halt near his pseudo-farm, where he was greeted by the baleful stare and miserable moan of his cow.
Shikamaru stepped away from Tobirama and dragged him to his small cabin by his fingers instead. He gently ushered the boy to sit on the dining chair and told him to open his eyes. He could feel the Nidaime's eyes digging into his back as he stalled their impending conversation by serving two cups of fresh milk whilst he gathered his thoughts.
Tobirama nodded his head in thanks and took a sip from his cup, allowing Shikamaru to speak first. Shikamaru sat on the remaining chair and laced his fingers together. He started with an idle chit chat.
"How's Itama?"
"Grieving," Tobirama said, "but alive. I suppose we have you to thank for that."
The wordless 'How much do I owe you?' almost made Shikamaru roll his eyes.
"Let me guess, you guys think I'm a mercenary?"
Tobirama blinked innocently.
"Figures," Shikamaru muttered under his breath. "I was simply passing by, if you must know. I heard sounds of fighting and decided to assist the losing side; nothing less, nothing more. I expect nothing in return."
Tobirama pushed a small, nondescript scroll into the center of the table, near the tips of Shikamaru's fingers. "Consider this a gift then, a token of gratitude for my brother's savior. Nothing less, nothing more"
Shikamaru grimaced. The boy wouldn't be so gracious if he had known how Shikamaru had played a hand in screwing his elder brother's life. Perhaps he did know and was simply trying to kill him with his 'gift'.
"…Thank you, I suppose."
"I will also take a look at your security seal, if you would allow me. It appears to be an old model, but I am quite familiar with the glyphs and their inner workings. It would be a good practice for me."
Shikamaru shrugged. "Sure, whatever you want. I don't really have the money and the expertise to deal with it anyway."
Tobirama put down his cup. "Be that as it may, I have heard a few things from my acquaintance, things that you're capable of. Rumor has it you are quite gifted in the healing arts."
Shikamaru racked his brain for the identity of anyone in this timeline that had ever seen him perform any medical feat. He could only come up with one. "Does this… acquaintance… happens to be one Uchiha Madara?"
Tobirama, in an instant, went from blank-faced into having the scandalous expression of a man who was caught in an affair by his sociopath wife who would gladly skin him and eat his flesh for dinner.
"It's not like that!" he said.
Shikamaru inwardly wondered what warranted such a fervent denial, it wasn't as if fraternizing with an Uchiha was a crime punishable by death.
"…okay," he said.
"Our meeting was a coincidence."
"If you say so…" Shikamaru quickly held up his hand to stop another rebuff, "Please, hear me out first. I honestly don't care. Kill him, befriend him, whatever... It's none of my business. I don't want to know what you're up to, I'm simply asking for clarification."
Tobirama coughed awkwardly. "My apologies," he murmured. "But yes, you are correct."
"As I've thought," Shikamaru said.
"I'm aware that the final choice is ultimately yours, but whatever you do, please remember to always be careful. If you want to kill him, do it before he reaches his prime. Once you do, make sure that he stays dead and incinerate everything. DO NOT leave any genetic material. If killing him is not feasible, then try to at least get on his good side and slowly destroy him from within. Best case scenario, he will succumb into despair and kill himself."
From what I've read, it will not take much to push an Uchiha over the edge.
Shikamaru tightened his grip against his cup as he called forth a memory from a long time ago – a memory a thick tome filled with numerous researches, personally written by the boy that now sat before him.
As a Hokage, Shikamaru could access just about anything that was dumped inside the hidden storage in the Hokage's office, from the invaluable Scroll of Seals and the countless studies and paperwork done by his predecessors, to personal belongings such as the Sandaime's extensive collection of erotica, the Godaime's stock of expensive sakes, and the Yondaime's infamous three-pronged kunai. Shikamaru had never been more grateful for those sleepless nights when he decided to be productive and sort through his predecessors' junk. It appeared his insomnia had some merits other than just giving him a painful headache and double vision.
"The Uchiha," he continued, "particularly the powerful ones like him, have a rather… extreme response towards negative emotion. The anguish and despair that proceeds from experiencing loss causes their brains to release a special kind of chakra that affects their optic nerves..."
Tobirama nodded gravely. "Forming the Sharingan."
"Correct. Subsequent painful experiences may cause it to evolve, sometimes into the next level – the Mangekyō Sharingan – which are capable of massive destruction," Shikamaru muttered. "The Susanoo are the real stuff of nightmare, but I would be damned if I said that they weren't badass."
"Susanoo?"
"Uh-uh. He with the ability to help by all means. You'll see it if you live long enough to piss off the correct Uchiha."
The boy's red eyes darkened, though his lips were stretched into a wide smile. "Is that a threat?"
"Simply one of the possibilities," Shikamaru said. "Though young, your brother was an ace, and with time and the right training had a possibility to become the most powerful of us all. You too, have a potential to be great, Senju Tobirama; although… if you truly believe that you have what it takes to live up to Hashirama's legacy, you will not come here to rope me into helping you revive your brother, will you?"
Tobirama rested his chin against his knuckles, his brows furrowed into a genuine curiosity. "How is it that someone whom I never met could read my intention so well? Aren't you going to call me mad for wanting such preposterous and unnatural notion?"
Shikamaru held back a smile and contemplatively tapped his chin. "Hmm… How, I wonder? Perhaps I'm your kindhearted neighbor from the future."
The boy smirked. "Unlikely. My senses told me that it was because you're a Yamanaka, though you certainly feel more like a Nara."
"Ah, the joy of being a sensor…" Shikamaru lamented. "And no, no ideas are too ridiculous for me. The human mind is a fascinating thing that's capable of many great feats. Who am I to say that something is impossible when I haven't even tried? The only thing that makes something impossible is the fear of failure." Shikamaru had already had a lifetime of those, it didn't even bother him anymore.
Tobirama took another sip from his cup. "Does that mean you agree to help me then?"
"With one condition."
"Which is?"
"Be my student," Shikamaru said.
He did not know how strong the Nidaime was in his prime, but without Hashirama around, there were too many events that could be altered and there was a possibility Tobirama might not survive into adulthood. Someone had to keep Uchiha Madara in check and Tobirama was his best bet. Shikamaru could not watch over him all the time, but he could make sure that the boy was prepared to face everything.
Besides, he had to pass on Tsunade's knowledge to someone who could make a difference. The Shodaime's regenerative ability was a stuff of legend and Tsunade seemed to be the only one that had managed to achieve a similar feat. Tobirama would less likely die if he was able to heal himself. The least that he could do for indirectly causing Shodaime's untimely death was making sure that his remaining brothers survived adulthood.
Tobirama looked at him strangely. "I'm a bit worried by your eagerness to share your knowledge to a complete stranger, but sure, I'll be your student… I cannot promise to meet you frequently though, I have other responsibilities as well."
Shikamaru shrugged. "We can easily remedy that. Ever heard of Shadow Clone Technique?"
Tobirama stiffened. "Wait, that's my– How do you know about THAT?! Stop plucking things from my head without my permission! That's just rude. Besides, the technique is still in its premature stage and still isn't stable enough for practical use."
Shikamaru finished his milk in one go and straightened to his full height. "Then let's fix it. I'm free until sunset. You're a fast learner, aren't you? Come on, get up. There are many things that I want to teach you."
"Wait, now?"
"No, next year!" Shikamaru hollered from the front door. "Chop, chop. Don't make me sic Kaguya on you."
"Who?"
"My cow!"
They left town before dawn, trembling a little in the cold night air, clutching their cloaks to them.
"This shall be the place," said Tokubei.
They embraced in the forest clearing. Ohatsu pulled off her outer robe to reveal her finest kimono. Although she was no virgin, she was still a modest girl.
"Better get on with it, darling," she said. "Hurry up and kill me."
Tokubei stabbed out with his dagger and drove his knife deep into his lover's throat, twisting and pulling it free as her blood pulsed out. He dared not look in her eyes lest he saw regret.
"Let's draw our last breaths together," he said to her still-warm body.
He reversed the knife and drove it deep into his own throat so hard that the blade almost snapped. His head slumped, his eyes grew dim, and then nothing stirred in the forest clearing.
The lovers' bodies lie still on the stage, frozen in the moments of their final agonies.
There were sobs and sniffs from the audience as young girls dabbed at the tears on their cheeks.
PFFT…
Feigning a cough, Shikamaru tried to stifle his giggles.
"The performance is not up to your standard, good sir?"
Shikamaru glanced at his target, a finely dressed man in his forties. Gleaming gold rings decorated his chubby hands, which were missing its ring fingers.
He smiled. "My apology, I didn't mean to insult. I'm Asahi Abe. I came from the capital, you see, and I have heard so much about this city. To be honest, I was expecting something a little more… daring… Something befitting its reputation."
Otafuku City was the complete opposite of Shikamaru's current residence in every sense of words. Where Nichijō was the home of lowly peasants, Otafuku was the notorious nexus of pleasure quarters. Its rise to power was mainly due to its infamous theaters – rumor had it the performers were actually using their performances to advertise their sexual services, forming the largest chain of prostitution in the Land of Fire. Theater performance was becoming an entire subculture of entertainment and consumption, with it as the centerpiece for tea houses, taverns, and brothels.
The streets of Otafuku were lined by inns, hot springs, and many other entertainment venues. It was the place where one could find just about anything that money could buy – be it weapons, exotic animals, illicit drugs, and even slaves. Though not an industrialized society, the city was notably self-sufficient and thriving. The literacy was high, and popular culture was a vibrant whirl. The city contributed so much income that even Daimyō turned a blind eye to it. In other words, it was a perfect place to earn some cash.
Shikamaru had already dispersed his disguised clones around the town before visiting the theater, each equipped with handcrafted pipe sets – the kind that would remain popular among the rich even a hundred years later – with the objective of offering samples of his product towards patrons in the high-end district of the town. Normally, it would be hard to enter such establishments unless one had an exclusive membership, but a few bribes here and there could open doors everywhere. It would not be long before he finally had enough money to ensure the legitimacy of his ownership and officially make the land his.
Whilst his clones ensnared some customers, Shikamaru busied himself with making new acquaintances. His current target was a fairly wealthy merchant who also happened to be a well-known gambler and drinker – a good place to start for those who were looking for the nastier side of the city, as Shikamaru needed to acquire a number of items from the black market before he could exterminate Uchiha Tajima's merry band of sleeper agents. He absolutely refused to let the Nara, the Yamanaka, or the Akimichi get caught in the Uchiha-Senju feuds, and/or Kaguya and her shitshows. Removing Hitoshi Yamanaka's tie with the Uchiha patriarch was the first step towards realigning the timeline to be as identical as it could to its original condition.
Damn the Nidaime for giving him another thing to worry about.
"Well sir, if the theater does not really fit into your liking, perhaps you should visit our dancers instead. Quite an eccentric hipster, those are."
Shikamaru put on a look of disdain. "I bought one into my chamber last night – made me bored out of my mind. Absolutely no thrill."
The man smirked. "You are a hard man to please."
"Tell my wife about it," Shikamaru muttered. "I mean, what's the point of vacation if there's nothing exhilarating in it? I want to see savages! I want to see blood being spilled! What's life without a bit of danger anyway?"
The man laughed. "What a fated meeting. I am glad to find another man with similar, fine taste. Tell you what, why don't we get out of here? There's an establishment that could cater to your particular needs. It's just a few streets away."
"Lead the way, good sir."
True to the man's words, it did not take long for them to reach their destination. It was a fancy inn with red colored walls, bright lanterns, and a large entrance hall. His tour guide waved the three bulky men that were guarding its entrance, signifying his status as a regular. Inside, Shikamaru was greeted by an open courtyard with a square pagoda in the middle, where one of his clones was lounging on the tatami mat with other patrons, smoking opium whilst enjoying a dance performance.
Resisting the urge to facepalm, Shikamaru quietly followed his target further down the hallway, where they passed by a bar and a gambling area.
They came to a halt in front of a nondescript door, in its hinges were carved the characters that were usually found in silencing seals. Shikamaru steadied his feet into a battle ready position.
His target knocked the door on a specific pattern. A red-haired woman immediately slid open the door and bowed politely to them, her painted lips stretched into a big smile. Her eyes flickered towards Shikamaru before returning to the man before her. "Greetings, Nakamura-sama and his companion."
"Himari-chan, you're beautiful as always."
"Ah, you flatter me too much," she answered with a flirtatious giggle. "Come, you're just in time for the first match."
Shikamaru raised his eyebrow questioningly towards Nakamura.
"See it for yourself, Abe-san. And don't worry, tonight's fee is on me. I have a feeling that we're going to be the best of friends~"
Tobirama rubbed his wet hair with the fluffy – most likely stolen – towel that his host had lent him and let out a pleased noise. The droplets of cold water that dribbled down his neck was nothing short of sublime. He put on his spare clothes and hung the wet towel along with his washed clothes on a nearby tree branch.
Tobirama walked back into the cabin, carrying his rucksack with one hand and a freshly caught fish with the other one. He smiled politely towards a clone that was engaged in a heated match of shōgi with his teacher's clone, not at all minding the harsh glare of the afternoon sun, not that it paid him any heed either since it was pouring nearly all of its attention towards the latter's economic lecture.
The girl could make just about any boring topics interesting, using relatable examples to make sure he understood the core concepts and then discussing real life cases in which they could be applied and asking him how he would improve the original concepts. She encouraged him to draw conclusions from evidence and reasoning rather than making him memorize explicit statements, stimulating parts of his knowledge that were not mentioned in the information presented to him and adding those inferences to his own understanding. All in all, she overturned his initial expectations and provided him with a very fulfilling learning experience. She really was a good teacher.
Tobirama glanced around the modest kitchen, searching for the correct apparatus, and then prepped the fish and cooked it until it was nicely brown. He then added a sauce that he had brought from his own house and steamed the fish with a precise combination of water and fire technique before serving it on a plate with some stewed vegetables. He let the dishes cool down for a few minutes before taking a tentative bite on the fish, savoring its soft texture and taste, marveling at the sauce that was both sweet and spicy.
A clone came through the door, carrying a container full of sticky brown paste in its waist. He greeted it with a polite nod. The other day his teacher had instructed him to identify the plants that grew in the valley and their properties – their textures, smells, and tastes; could they kill or could they be used as medicines – and a particular plant caught his attention the most. Amazed by how knowledgeable and brilliant she was, Tobirama often forgot that his teacher was a penniless opium farmer.
It had been a little more than a week since she took him under his tutelage and all that he had done to repay her was fixing the protection seal – which honestly did not count as a job at all because he thoroughly enjoyed tweaking and improving it. He made a mental note to bring her some food during his next visit; she was a growing girl, after all. With the resources that he had, it would just be plain embarrassing if his teacher were to die from something as ridiculous as malnutrition.
Speaking of his teacher… he turned towards the clone. "Ano… do you happen to know what sensei is doing downstairs?"
It paused in front of the metal trapdoor that Nara-san had explicitly forbidden him from entering, a door which led into her personal underground lodging.
The clone tilted its head. "I think Boss is preparing a cadaver for your next lesson."
Tobirama sat up straighter. "Really?"
So far, what they had been doing was covering the basis of medical techniques and other supplementary topics that were deemed important for him to learn. He was also given sets of training regiments to improve his speed, agility, coordination, and chakra control. She refused to bulge when it came to chakra control, it had to be perfect, which was a difficult thing to achieve for someone with his chakra reserves.
Thankfully, his clones were there to provide him with feedback and make his training more efficient. His chakra control was now by no means perfect, but it had definitely improved considerably from his previously advanced level. With improved chakra control, his ninjutsu and genjutsu had also improved by leaps and bounds, becoming more potent and requiring less chakra.
Tobirama was excited to hear that he would soon progress into the next step of his training, since most of his medical knowledge only covered the administration of emergency first aid. His clan wanted him to be a formidable warrior, not a healer, which in hindsight was a bit silly because the combination of the two could make someone virtually untouchable in battlefields. This way, he thought, this way I can protect Itama better.
As if sensing his excitement, faint sounds of mechanical whirring resonated through the kitchen and the trapdoor was pushed open. Black locks that were haphazardly tied into a messy bun appeared first, followed by his teacher's bruised, bored face. Her yukata was worn loosely, showing her bandaged shoulder and arm. Her eyes roamed the room, skipping past him and settling onto his food.
Tobirama pushed the plate away as a silent offering.
She murmured a quick thanks before diving into the food.
"So…" Tobirama trailed off, noting another bandage on her ankle, "you got into a fight?"
"Fights, on underground cage fights. It was easy money. I simply bet on myself. People love the underdog. Just don't forget to get hit once or twice for extra drama."
Tobirama frowned. That was… unexpected. The girl was not the type of person that was easy to read, but considering her generosity towards him, money did not seem to be the thing that made her tick. Her unclear motivation made him unsure on how to behave appropriately and appeal to her good side. Other people were a lot more transparent and easier to understand. Madara, for example, was like Hashirama in a way – both had a dream of everlasting peace and were fiercely protective of their siblings – if a lot more hostile and a lot less naive. Madara also loved his brother… perhaps a bit too much, thus it was easy to appeal to his good side by taking the role of a pitiful child who had just lost his older brother, even if in reality Tobirama would like nothing more than to carve the flesh of him and his brethren inside out and then fed them to pigs. The girl on the other hand… she did not want anything from him, she simply wanted him to be safe. What kind of subterfuge relied on such selflessness?
"Do you really need money that much?" he asked. "I can lend you money if you want… You can return them later."
As expected, she simply smiled. "No, thanks. I'm good."
Tobirama stared.
She must have seen something pitiful on his face because she then shrugged off the sleeve of her bandaged side, deftly switched the chopsticks into her left hand, and said, "Here, heal me. You've only practiced with animals, don't you? Describe what you find and what you're doing."
Happy that he could be of some use, Tobirama quickly retrieved a thin blade from his utility pouch and washed his hands with a bar of soap. He cleaned the knife with alcohol and then gently peeled the bandage off of her shoulder.
"A ten centimeters gash. The closure incorporates eight simple interrupted sutures and one vertical mattress at the center of the wound. The closure is done using… chakra threads?"
"Correct," she said. "How do you proceed then? Do you have other alternatives?"
Tobirama pursed his lips, the blade was useless. "I will have to cut the threads first… I can use my blade to cut the threads if I enhance it with wind chakra, but with my current skill it will be too risky, thus I'll use Chakra Scalpel instead. I will then assess the depth of the wound to estimate the amount of chakra required to heal the wound using Mystical Palm Technique. However, considering its size, leaving it to heal naturally will not be a problem either."
"You're mostly correct, but since I am conscious, it will be better if I remove the threads on my own. It will lessen the risk of unintentional injury due to Chakra Scalpel."
Tobirama nodded. "Understood."
"Very well. You may now proceed."
"Hai."
Once the threads disappeared, Tobirama quickly assessed the condition of the wound before knitting the skin together with Mystical Palm Technique, pumping an appropriate amount of chakra to accelerate the skin's natural healing, leaving an unblemished skin in its wake. With Nara-san's approval, he then went to heal the deeper gash on her arm and ankle. By the time he was done, she had already finished eating and was looking thoughtfully at him.
Tobirama eyes her expectantly. "Well… what's my verdict?"
She hummed. "Your end results are quite good for superficial injuries. As you can see, there's no scaring. Next time we shall practice on muscle and neural damages, which require finer control. Your chakra control has also improved, so keep up the good work."
Tobirama grinned. "Thank you. So what are we going to do for the rest of the afternoon?"
"I want to see your nature transformation and see what we can improve from there. But…" She folded her arms, seemingly weighing her options. "You know what, let's discuss an S-rank fūinjutsu instead. I initially decided to introduce it to you after you have perfected your chakra control, but I think it will serve as a great motivator."
Tobirama leaned closer, already hooked. "Go on."
Nara-san rested her chin against her folded hands, oozing an aura of mystery, which were ruined by her ridiculous face. "Rumor has it the technique dated back from the Sage of Six Paths era; reputed to be the pinnacle of chakra control–"
"You just love to snub at my chakra control, don't you–"
"Hush, my Padawan–"
"Your what?"
"It's a comic book reference about space pirate–"
"What?"
The girl shoved a drawing of sealing arrays into his hand, effectively silencing him. Tobirama roamed his eyes over the paper, cataloging each stroke – how it contributed to the strength of the seal, and whether it could be replaced with different characters. Looking at the seal, Tobirama was suddenly struck by an idea to use the seal power to open up a dimensional void for a space-time technique.
"By storing a vast amount of chakra over an extended period of time into a specific point on their body, the user creates this seal, which manifests in the form of a rhombus-like marking. When released, the stored chakra will be released into the user's body, not only greatly amplifying the power of their techniques, but also allowing them to perform techniques without any wasted energy. It is known as–"
"The Strength of a Hundred Seal."
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