A/N: Yo, peeps
Hope everyone had a merry Christmas and a chill holiday; mine was very good, but hope yours was better. Either way, before I hit y'all with the latest chapter to close out the year, wanted to just say this: Go fuck yourselves...
Nah, I joke.
In reality, I want to wish you all a very heartfelt thank you. My friends and I are getting a kick seeing people respond to our escapades. Our only hope is you're getting at least a small modicum of enjoyment reading, as we are playing.
I know I've said that before, but don't make it any less true.
And speaking of friends, if any of you are interested, two from my group actually decided writing up a story of their own. You can find it here on my account - to avoid confusion, I let them post here. Figured it's easier having having multiple stories set in the same universe to be in one place, as opposed to like having multiple
Transmission #0413479; Adde(U$(#$
North Side the Wall, Tokyo # )!)$; Hidden Vil #!ge: "! #$ )"
Konoha ! # #($
『F』『i』『n』『d』 『m』『e』『F』『i』『n』『d』 『m』『e』『F』『i』『n』『d』 『m』『e』
...When am I going to see you again...
The question hits like a cement block across the face, and he's no idea how to answer.
Asuma stands upon the hardened grass of the funeral ground. It stretches on fifty yards in either direction from the memorial stone, its shining onyx reflecting the forlorn candles held amidst the large gathering. The entirety of the Village has come together around the small, guttering flame, ever flickering against the darkening horizon. Pyres meticulously arranged stand like grim sentinels, the air thick with the smoke of burning offerings and grief.
Asuma stands among his people, stiff and still, eyes betraying nothing of the tempest inside him. Twenty seven. The number repeats in his head over and over like the toll of a church bell.
Yet, one strikes him particularly hard.
The woman before him cuts a dark silhouette against the burning fires. She quivers like a reed in a storm, and fights back a sob. Asuma wants nothing more to let her know it's okay to relinquish that pain she holds inside. It's a lot easier letting go, then holding on to knows this all too well, but he says nothing. They all say nothing.
Out of respect.
Which is flimsy word to throw around now, but what else can they give? Hayate, their comrade, their friend, now lies forever shrouded in silence.
Religion did not play a big factor in the North anymore, not since the Noble One decried the institution of faith a destabilizing and corruptible aspect, but even so old habits are hard to die. Asuma says a small prayer, much as he imagines everyone else.
From a young age all in Asuma's generation were taught death was a matter of acceptance: shinobi - like all else in this impermanent world- die. Friends, lovers, allies - all court the shadows, and some may never walk away from them. Instead, they become a part of the universal blanket which mankind ever cloaks himself with as he sleeps, and dreams, and looks up into the stars. Death, life, sacrifice - people search for reasons why such things occur. Those within the Hidden Villages, Asuma and many others, were taught it was for the sake of a glorious deed.
But is that what Hayate died for?
When they were fighting in the jungles, the beaches, those hundred nameless, thankless islands in the South Pacific; they did so for an Emperor's sake. After, while they bled in the cities, the airstrips, and the mountain bunkers; it was for the Noble One and his Noble Cause. For the people, for the country, for The State. But Hayate didn't die for any of those things. No, he was he torn apart, put together piecemeal, and thrown about like some slab of flesh to be burned like so many of the others beside him.
Yugao wanted to think so much better of him, but she was smart. Smart enough, too, to keep her mouth quiet. As did Asuma. Because, Hayate was no hero - he never wanted to be. Nor was he one simply because others claimed him so. No, not at all.
He was simply another casualty to go with the rest. Calling them anything else was being woefully ignorant of the facts.
Yugao trembles in both grief and anger. Asuma knows she's ready to cleave anyone in two just for looking at her the wrong way. Much like how she was back when they were younger. Back then, Hayate was the only one to talk her down from such moods. Now, Asuma's hand shakes as it hovers over her shoulder, uncertain. He's afraid, wondering if she blames him just as some others are starting to around the Village.
The flames roar, consuming the bodies, memories, and unspoken words of the living and the dead. Asuma is silent, heart heavy and mind racing in an endless torrent. Again, he feels uncomfortable in these robes, meant more for ceremony than anything practical. It kills him now it's simply appearance which will calm his naysayers down, from both within and without.
"The villagers need to see you. Now more than ever," Genma tells him, placing the hat in his hands. "We need you strong and proud and safe - that's the only way we get out of this in one piece."
"Safe, eh? What's that?" Asuma is careful not to be too loud; a ROOT detail has been on him ever since the attack. On entering Konoha, the Sendai 5th Motorized watched him like a pack of vultures. Leas by a turnstile of commissar lieutenants, the Third Hokage has practically been on 24/7 surveillance.
Made Asuma laugh at the irony: for a Village hidden in the Leaves, there weren't many places one can hide.
Least, not while he was wearing the stupid hat.
Asuma made his theough the theobg to say a few words. Not for posterity - no cameras here today. But because as Genma said, the people needed to see him, hear him, let them know despite what misgivings they feel due to fear, mistrust, and ignorance; he still would be there. Leading them as has for the past ten years. Big, lumbering, noticeable for all to see; Asuma's as big a target here as ever, and Genma and the Guard Platoon are on alert.
All eyes were on him when he speaks. People he'd grew up with, fought with, stare with a sense of loss he knew he could never fully heal. Least of which with their meager supplies, but also because so many have been force fed the story over and over again. Endure; shinobi ever endure. This formed the basis of Jiritsu, the mantra of what the State expected; a hard-nosed, nose to the grind, mindset compelling its followers to rage onward. In the face of all loss, the collective will continue, is what he says to his people.
A shameful thing, especially when he looks toward his own Team 10 standing front-and-center.
He wonders if ROOT's newly minted acting Director had anything to do with that.
Asuma says all the pretty things he's meant to, but in reality Choji won't hear any of it; the boy's inconsolable as he breaks down, his mother cradling him in her arms before Choza's picture. Ino and Shikamaru are by his side. They look terrible for wear, too. Shikamaru's dark circles under his eyes are pronounced and give him a more gaunt appearance. Ino leans against Choji, hugging him tight.
...I worry almost every day about you - none of this sounds good, why can't you see it's not safe?!...
"Everything is going to be fine."
The three stand in a narrow corridor of Tree Leaf, the sterile scent of cleaning agent and antiseptic mixing with the faint aroma of the bouquet Ino clutches. Asuma feels foolish standing before them, his broad shoulders slightly slumped, after taking them to see their fathers.
Choji opted to stay behind.
Shikaku was managing, while Inoichi...Well, Inoichi is a tough man; being as close to the blast as he was, majority of his body was burnt to cinder, whereas a falling water pipe from the collapsing tower turned his knee into dust.
"They're going to be fine," he says, voice steady but hollow, a practiced reassurance which is a fragile bridge over a very precarious drop. Asuma hates himself for it, telling the small lie wrapped in good intentions. SHikamaru and Ino are sharp, too sharp to believe him entirely, but they let him speak because they need something to hold onto. Even if it's a fraying thread.
Ino breaks her silence first. "It's not enough," she says bluntly, blue eyes brimming with unshed tears. "There's not enough to go around, Comrade-Sensei. There's not enough to help all of them."
"Yes, there is, Ino," Asuma responds, tone gentle, but with the weight of those words sinking in stomach like a bag of rocks. She's right, resources are stretched, and every shinobi's life is hanging in then balance. Men like Inoichi and SHikaku will receive the best of care, yet how many more will be left off. Comrade-Doctor Kawada can only do so much, he says, and they've begun to implement triage standards to assuage the shortages.
"Would you be even be able to tell us any different?" Shikamaru's voice cuts through next, sharper and more bitter than usual. He doesn't look Asuma in the eye as he speaks, instead his gaze shifts down to the cracked tiles on the floor. "So," he goes, malcontent padded with resentment. "Take it with ROOT being everywhere, you're all going to get to the bottom of who's behind this, right?"
Asuma sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well...with any luck, yes."
Shikamaru's head snaps up, dark eyes blazing with frustration. "You're all just going off 'luck'?"
"We're all going off all available information we have," Asuma says slowly, sternly, his words a balancing act between honesty and discretion; he knows even with Izumo and Kotetsu flanking behind him, untoward ears are close.
"Which is?"
"None of your concern, Shikamaru," Asuma replies.
"Is that what we're supposed to tell Choji, then?"
"Comrade-Nara!" Both of his students flinch when Asuma raises his voice.
Normally, he's not one to get angry; Asuma always liked being the calm, "cool" sensei everyone bragged saying they wish they had. But for the Sarutobi's, their priority was ever the close working relationship cultivated with the Ino-Shika-Cho trio going all the way since Nobunaga was in diapers. Asuma knew his charge one day - whether he'd be Hokage or not - was to foster the next scions of said families. Tradition dictated it. Was the same for him, as it was for his own father when he trained Shikaka, Inoichi, and Choza in kind.
Asuma takes a moment to calm himself, then places his hands on Shikamaru's and Ino's shoulders. His grip is firm, letting them know he's there with them. "No," he says softly. "You're going to tell Choji we're doing everything we can. Because we are. Choji's father saved more people than if he hadn't have acted when the tower collapsed. Choza deserves the honest truth. They all do. So, trust me: I'll get to the bottom of this."
A small truth in a sea of uncertainties, but it's all Asuma has to offer his people. Ino blinks away tears in the crowd, while he can see Shikamaru exhales heavily, frustration still simmering but tempered by the unspoken trust they share. Goes without saying, it's the same for all who look toward Asuma now as he finishes. The words he speak were highly choreographed and edited -they were written by the ROOT agent Samui, who advised it best he go on script to avoid confusion. But it's enough to keep all here standing upright.
For now.
...You act like you're the only one who has to take it all by themselves, but you don't! I'm here - I can help. Please!...
"There's nothing I trust you to do, that I'm not able to oversee myself." Asuma says
"I'm only following orders, Lord Third. The Noble One himself called for the Presidium, and a quorum has been reached. Konoha will be under strict supervision till the situation has been assessed."
You mean till you get what you're all after.
"Assessed?" Asuma gets up from his chair, and looks past the window in his office. Evenings normally find Konoha in a restful state despite the goings-on here. You'd never think underneath the flickering torchlight, the dim bulbs of storefront signs with barely enough chakra to keep them going, was a city held hostage.
"This needn't ge as difficult as you're making it - you're not the pnly one who experienced loss here." Goes the Chikuma Koshiro.
"Those pyres were for my people, Conrade Director."
"Our people. Or did you forget I, too, once called this place home."
Clad in a black, sleeveless kusode with a netted shirt, tucked into black hakama; Koshiro now was unassuming head of Sapporo's security division.
Guileless, tactless, blunt as a club; the man only took to Tenzen because his late foster father trained him like an obedient dog. A man far removed from the polished and composed former Director, Chikuma Koshiro is rough-edged, a man shaped by warship rather than diplomacy.
Asuma's office is cloaked in dim light from the feeble chakra candelabras on the wall, those faux-Victorian constructs with the weird, jutting out handles and curved, brass piping. They do little to make the drab wallpaper seem any more warm, or the room itself for that matter; everything is cold now. The buildings heating system has been shut off to conserve and divert power into other parts of the Village. Konoha's water plant currently is being "assessed", as well. Along with most of the gasoline meant for their generators. Now, most of their grid ran on old chakra batteries, and firewood.
In the meantime, Third Hokage is trying his best to keep it all together; a cigarette smolders in the ashtray, forgotten for a moment as Asuma keeps his frustration in check.
"I can admit when I don't have control, but why are you so reluctant in in relinquishing it?" Koshiro accuses, voice low but firm.
"Control?" Asuma narrows his eyes. "Control doesn't mean withholding supplies necessary to the Village."
"It means we are going to do everything in our power to ensure Konoha is secured," Koshiro counters.
"You mean more like under siege." Asuma rocks back on his feet, the disdain apparent in his face. "The people don't need to suffer for my sake - the smuggling ring is in no way shape or form a reason to hold everyone here complicit in its going on."
"The only way any sort of explosive equipment could've found it's way here is through those means, Comrade-Hokage."
"Is that the story the State is spinning, bargaining for a pound of flesh too rich for their own blood." Asuma spits out. "They're not the ones paying rhe bill, 'Comrade-Director', but the people of Konoha."
"Or yours..."
Ah, and there it is.
He wondered what the going rate for a Hokage was in comparison. A ROOT Director, a head organizer of the Ministry of Information and Domestic Policy, a Defense Minister, and a Southern traitor? Seems they checked off all the boxes, truly making Asuma feel all the more alone. And at a loss: all the major culrpits have been wiped off the board, leaving only Asuma.
"Repeated attempts to contact The Noble One have gone unanswered, yes?" Koshiro asks, his delivery awkward and clumsy like a caveman fumblinf wirh a rock. "The radio lines out of Konoha are cut or are being monitored. The other Hidden Villages have gone dark, despite your SOS signal being sent out with an emergency callsign. You dont understand how much its taken me to corral all restless elements in the Presidium calling dor your head."
"And so they expect you to claim it for them and call it due process. Think you're able?"
A clattering laughter is heard off in the corner, but Asuma's eyes are fixed to Koshiro. Scratching his unruly hair, his five o clock scruff, and and the back of his neck; Koshiro fidgets in his seat. "This is a matter of State security," he goes adamantly. "A terrorist action has compromised Konoha. Sapporo needs for the Village Hidden kn the Leaves to remain untouched at all costs." Koshiro says flatly, mechanically, almost like he was reading this off a script.
Perhaps, Comrade Samui had written it for him.
"A bit disrespectful talking about 'cost' considering what we're all experiencing now?" Asuma asks icily, the weight of his glare able to make lesser men falter.
But Koshiro is not a lesser man.
He straightens to his full height, his shaggy black hair framing a face that seems carved from stone. For a moment, Asuma's mind flashes back to the stories he's heard - a boy found in the ruins of Hiroshima, raised and molded by the State to be the man standing before him. A relic of old wars and pain, weiledde now as a weapon of control.
"What we are doing is necessary for the preservation of the Democratic People's Republic, Asuma-sama." Koshiro begins, voice carrying an edge which almost makes Asuma's hand twitch for a kunai that's not there. "Konoha, at one time, believed in that just as much as any other in the North. Has it lost it's will of fire, or have you?"
Asuma's jaw stiffens, body tensing. "Tell me straight: you really believe Konoha's safety depends on stripping it of everything that makes it worth protecting?"
Koshiro tells Asuma it's not up to ROOT or The State to decide what is right or wrong for Konoha to do.
It is up to him.
"I know what's being kept hidden here. It's for you to decide what's the best course moving forward. To do what's right for The Noble One's State and the people you claim to cherish. Or, like your father, face teh consequences of your choices."
From within his robes, Koshiro pulls a photograph and tosses it onto the desk. It slides across the wood, stopping near the ashtray. Asuma's eyes flick to it, and his stomach twists at the sight. The babe's face is contorted in pain, with Asuma almost being sble to hear its pained screams.
"One for the many, isn't that right? Time for you to live up to those words." Koshiro says this statement like how a caveman swings a club.
Asuma curses softly, and rubs at his temples. "Little shit," he mutters under his breath, biting his lips as he stares at the picture. Koshiro leans in slightly, tone almost mocking now as he makes his ultimatum: the Scroll of Seals, or the boy.
"Out of respect, I'll give you time to decide. But evey day you relent, your people will suffer. And in the end afterwards we'll take what's left." Koshiro gestures down to the picture of the screaming, before turning to leave.
Off in the corner, the ROOT officer who had been cloaked in the candlelight's shadow stirs; Asuma had noted the young man for some time - a commissar agent from the rectory in Fukushima. The stylized symbol for the city on the man's lapel gives him away. A dark enough place, where most of the ROOT and State camaraderie go for joint training. A ninja affiliate school for Konoha is also there for outreach purposes, yet they'd stopped recruiting from that location for some time. "Unhealthy" rumors began to sprout from such a site, and judging by the arrogant youth, Asuma figured shutting down that pipeline was for the best.
He wasn't in the business of training zealots.
...Otou-san - Dad - please! What's the point of telling me all this if I you're not going to let me do anything about it...
"Know your place," Asuma stands before gathered captains and team leaders as the midnight oil burned away. Again he wears these stupid robes. Again, because Genma says it's important for his people to know who it was they were talking to. "We're all comrades here. All of us - this remains a constant now, then, and after."
"Some of us more than others." Goes the dour Ibiki Morino off to the side.
"You can say that again." Bekko chimes.
"Blow me, Bekko." Mizuki snorts off in the back. "You're just upset because all your kiss-assing didn't snag you the cushy night shift at the Library."
"What was that!?"
This had been a normal enough occurrence between what was left of Konoha's forces.
At its height, the Leaf boasted a defense reserve equaling almost two battalions according to old IJA standard: twenty-two hundred men, with a quarter number of support staff. Including logistics, radio-men, two hundred commissars funded directly from Hokkaido, a medical unit, and a small "cavalry"squad comprised entirely of four Yoshimitsu motor cycles.
That was back in '52.
After Tobirama's death, subsequent years depleted those numbers from entire regiments to now three paltry companies. Totaling only a little over four hundred, Asuma prioritized a small, highly experienced force. He'd taken pride in his jonin, as many had trained, fought, and killed with him during the war. During trying times their leadership provided a bulwark he could lean on, and others could look to. But after the Watchtower, twelve names including Hayate's were etched on the stone. A clan head and a main financial banker in the Presidium was gone. And Kakashi was incapacitated for who knows how long. Asuma now had to work with what remained.
Bekko clenches his fists, unable to contain himself any longer. "They're treating us like second-class citizens. In our own home! Hokage-sama, this is unconstitutional! This is unconscionable! It's-"
"Unfuckingbelievable they let you out this late."
"Why you!"
The air was electric with tension, but the white robes shine out in the dark to let everyone see they were in the respect of a title worth respecting; they would behave. If not out of respect for Asuma, but for themselves.
"Enough!" Asuma roars.
Quieting down all at once, the shinobi gathered solemnly look on to their Chief. Genma and Raido stand behind him, faces stern and expecting, reminding everyone the Hokage Guard Unit is still on guard, and will keep order if necessary.
"Bekko's right." Asuma begins, voice rough but resolute, as he passes a garish Songhai sculpture gifted once by the Village Hidden in the Clouds;. "Our home is under attack, and I've no good answer to give any of you on how to proceed. Except this: we are shinobi, and we obey orders. But more importantly..." Asuma holds everyone with a hard look. It is a challenge demanding strength and resolve, as they are surrounded by the Village's past
Tobirama's fan from the Sengoku Jidai period rests in one corner, Hashirama's personal headband gleams in the next. The iron Tiger Claw Asuma took from his time campaigning in China, the tattered remnants of a Koumintang flag, a white lotus pendant taken from a man Danzo had fought in the outskirts of Hong Kong.
All artifactsof a man he longer recognized in himself, but with any luck they might.
"We obey orders, and you will follow mine:" Asuma says.
The doubt on all their faces was palpable, cutting deeper than any kunai. Sasuke Uchiha stood among them, too, his inscrutable expression a glaring reminder of the precarious balance Asuma struggled to maintain. Rank no longer mattered - Sasuke was one if the more powerful assets still remaining to Asuma. And he would bot let the boy succumb to ROOT's clutches.
Or anything elses's for that matter.
Kakashi made him swear it.
He motions for Comrade-Proctor Iruka to step forward. The man looks troubled as he carries a large stack of box folders in his arms. The man plops them onto Asuma's desk. Asuma reaches in and pulls out a random file, and reads off a name. He does so againa and again, toll half the box is emptied.
"Each and every name here is a student who'd participated in the Forest of Death examinations. All mean to be sent abroad to the mission in Saigon."
"They can't possibly be going ahead with this still, Hokage-sama." Comrade-Proctor Suzumd pushes her thin rimmed glasses up her nose. "The students are not ready! It took me days to help coax Ms. Yamanaka back to speaking again since the ordeal. And don't get me started on Mr. Mikoshi's state after dealing with that Aburame's 'bugs'. Those Proctors were meant to kill our children, and now they want to send them into a war?"
Comrade-Proctor Suzume's genuine concern for her class does her credit. Much like Iruka's. But as Asuma reiterates: shinobi obey orders.
"The People's Republic needs for the American blockade to end, Suzume. Their price? Our kids. Simple as that."
"Can't we send more experienced ninja to go? Why does it have to be them?"
"We strip Konoha of any more experienced personnel, we'll be left compxletely defenseless against ROOT." Iruka speaks out.
Suzume chokes back a slight sob, her nerves clearly being wrecked. "You talk as if ROOT's supposed to be our enemy, comrade."
"As of right now, anyone not in this office technically I consider to be so." Silence follows as Asuma's shadow weighs over all. For a moment, he allows himself to meet Sasuke's gaze, and the boy's dark eyes betray nothing. Nothing save for a mild contempt that was so relative to the Uchiha scion. "From a young age we've been taught time for us in the life is not to be taken for granted. So the key to our survival depends on who follows in our footsteps. To carry the Will of Fire onward."
The plan is simple: whatever pull he has left, Asuma will use that influence to shield the one commodity the State and ROOT mean to exploit: the Hidden Leaf's next generation. Mixing them among the units to help facilitate this G.I.J.O.E. force, ROOT won't try anything with the numbers game out of their favor.
"You mean to give them over to the capitalists, sir?" Comrade Morino growls the question more than he asks.
"I mean to keep them safe."
Away from Koshiro. Away from Konoha. And most importantly away from me.
Many had questions. Asuma ran the risk of drawing more of Sapporo's ire. True, but what of it; the worse already was happening. DPRJ units stationed outside the Fuji green zone food stopping food, medical supplies, water, heating units, and other basic essentials being detained?
Tension in the office carries over till he dismisses the captains, lingers like the tell-tale smoke from Asuma's smoldering ash tray. Sasuke lags behind, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. The boy's eyes are colder and more distant than usual. His posture's straight, chin slightly raised, but the aura of confidence he once carried seeming hollow.
"Follow orders, then?" Sasuke's voice was quiet, almost detached. His gaze is fixed on a point past Asuma, as though looking through the man like he wasn't there. "I've never given anyone any reason to doubt my loyalties, Hokage-sama."
"I know that, Sasuke; I know," Asuma replied, tone soft. He pushes off the desk and steps closer, trying to bridge the gap which had even been between these two. Kakashi may have said he hated kids, but he had a helluva good run reaching out to this one. Not many could tell Sasuke who and what to be, let alone institute commands. With he CopyCat gone, it only made Asuma feel more uneasy talking with a boy with so much bad blood running in his veins. "I know what it must feel like to live up to a name. My own is...not easy to handle. We carry a legacy, one that ties you to this village in ways most people can't understand. And that...I can relate to."
Sasuke's lip twitches upwards, the closest thing to a smile Asuma had seen from him in days. It was bitter, almost mocking. "Can you?" Sasuke asks.
"I do," Asuma tells him. "Names carry burdens, Sasuke. Mine has followed me my entire time being Hokage. Just as yours has followed you your entire life. I know what it's like to live under impossible expectations."
"If you don't have all the answers," Sasuke said, tone ice cold like the frost in the early morning cavern walls. "Then don't deign give any you're not qualified to speak for."
Asuma stares in quiet tension for a moment, annoyance bubbling inside, but he keeps his composure. Exhaling through his noise, he picks up the vigarretxin the ashtray before giving it a quick puff. The nicotine does not do this job this time; it feels bitter and burns slightly at his lips. Looking out to the darkness, the Village generators past his windows growing fainter as time went on, only harkens to more to the reality Asuma faces.
"Everything I've been told," Sasuke continues, "was for the bettering of Konoha. For the State. I am shinobi - we obey orders. Like you, Comrade-sensei Kakashi, and your father..."
The Hokage freezes, jaw tightening as he hears the hint of the accusation settling in. For a long moment, both say nothing, the room filled only by the faint creak of the wooden floor beneath their feet and the distant murmur of the wind blowing from the cave entrance.
"My father...made his choice." Asuma says, becoming apprehensive.
"And I've had to live with the consequences of others making choices and following orders for most of my life. I'm tired of it, Hokage-sama. One man decided to plunge us into six years of war that killed millions. Another decided to press a button and dropped hell onto my entire world. Danzo made a choice, too. And your brother died because your father followed orders. I don't want to constantly second-guess if the decisions I make are right or wrong."
"And you won't, Sasuke." His arm reaches out to grab the boy's shoulder, to ground him from chasing after the ghosts which hounded him all these years. Asuma did his best to ignore his own, put them far from his mind - the boy in the corner has haunted for years, yet Asuma refuses to let him dictate his life. For the dead have a bad habit of manipulating the living and clouding their judgement. "I know the pain you carry. I feel it, too. Everyday." He says as the ghost minds him, watches him, silently questioning with that ghastly expression. "Before you felt what made you strong is this need to uphold your family's name, but thats not it Sasuke. What you and I truly feel, want, is to protect those we have left around us. You're no avenger, you're a protector. As much as we can. Your friends are here - your life is here. And as long as you keep those close to your heart, never doubt what it is you're doing."
A silence falls between the two for a long while. Sasuke looks to become a bit more whole considering Asuma's words. Color returns to his face, and it looks to be that Sasuke becomes a little more human. Finally, suddenly, Sasuke turns on his heels and makes for the door. "I won't betray this village," he goes over his shoulder. "As you say, my friends are here. They're... my only family I have left. So, I'll lead them - in Vietnam, here, anywhere. I'll protect them, and make sure we're all on the right side when this all goes to hell."
And then he was gone, leaving Asuma alone in the quiet room, surrounded by fading trophies of and the ghosts of decisions he could never appease.
...Mirai, I promise you - I PROMISE you - I will see you and your mother again soon. I just needs finish up a few things over here. So, c'mon, have some faith in your old man. They didn't give me this funny hat because I look so good in it...
...Sigh, dad...
...Remember what I always tell you, Ladybug...
...Yeah, I know...
...Okay, then say it?...
...Sigh, why?...
...Because it'll bring me good luck, and that's what I need right now, right?...
...Sigh, okay okay; 'all for one'...
...And you're all to me...
...By this pinky swear, you will see...
...That I speak true...
...When I say how much I love you...
The jewel orb was one of the few things Asuma was able to hide away when ROOT decided to take over a part of his security detail; Genma made the case it was always traditional that Hokage's Guards were more than sufficient in keeping close to Asuma, but if they wanted to tag along, they'd best stay out of their way. The professionalism between both sides was apparent the night they came to Asuma's door. Koshiro and the arrogant ROOT commissar from before tailing behind. Asuma had just finished dispensing of the Tomegane no Jutsu before they arrived - it was far past Mirai's bedtime, and Asuma knew Kurenai wouldn't appreciate him talking to her now.
The risk and danger was far too great.
For Asuma, and his daughter.
If a man like Koshiro or ROOT ever found out...
"Come, Lord Third. The Library awaits."
The cold was a living thing, and crept into every crevice of Konoha, wrapping itself around the bones of its people. Asuma, cloaked in a heavy overcoat, pulled the fabric tight against his body as the frost on the cave walls glistened in the torchlight. The village, deep within Mount Fuji's caverns, became a frozen shell of its former self. Every breath was a cloud, every step a muffled crunch against the thin layer of frost blanketing the cobblestones.
Koshiro, walked ahead, his unassuming kusode and black hakama rippling in the biting wind. The man was juxtaposed terribly against the gaudy commissar trailing him—a slick-haired, grinning fanatic whose polished boots and splendid uniform gleamed even in the low light. Asuma didn't need an introduction to recognize him. Monsters like him were easy to spot, especially when ROOT seemed intent on producing them en masse.
"You've more important dealings tonight, Hokage-sama," Koshiro said without looking back, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Asuma didn't respond, his focus shifting to Genma and the rest of his guard unit. The tension was palpable. His men bristled at the presence of ROOT and Sendai troops in the security detail, their irritation manifesting in tight formations and clipped movements.
Genma, always the perfectionist, barked corrections to the riflemen as they marched. "Spacing is key! If you screw up the Flying Thunder God formation, I'm not taking responsibility for friendly fire!"
"Ease up," Asuma muttered, his voice low but firm. Still, he could see the resentment in their eyes, their pride wounded by the intrusion of outsiders.
The village reflected their mood. Konoha, battered by the blockade, felt like a ghost town. Houses were dark, their occupants conserving what little fuel they had. The hum of generators filled the silence, providing meager warmth to those who could afford it. There were no vagrants or merchants—strict curfews had emptied the streets—but young genin and chunin patrolled with a sense of purpose that both inspired and disturbed Asuma.
He watched them skulk through the alleys, eager eyes scanning for signs of the terrorist who had attacked their home. ROOT commissars directed their movements, barking orders and adjusting patrols with calculated efficiency. The young shinobi seemed proud, chests puffed out as they worked alongside seasoned officers. They didn't yet realize they were pawns in a larger game, their innocence exploited for propaganda.
Asuma's stomach churned. He recognized the fervor in their eyes, the pride in their forced salutes. Konoha had taught them well—too well. The Noble One's ideology had taken root, turning these children into obedient tools of the State. They were starving for purpose, for recognition, for food.
Good food, Asuma thought bitterly, catching the tantalizing aroma wafting from a distant mess hall. A cruel tease in a village on the brink of famine.
Finally, they reached the Library district. The compound loomed before them, transformed into an armed camp. Watchtowers bristling with machine guns and patrols with snapping dogs dominated the landscape. Every shadow felt hostile, every movement scrutinized.
"I want to save the formalities," Koshiro said as they approached the Library's imposing doors. "We know the Scroll of Seals is hidden in the sanctum."
"Congratulations," Asuma replied curtly, his voice flat.
If Koshiro noticed the sarcasm, he gave no sign. "The problem lies in the security measures. Lord Second was a meticulous man. He didn't trust anyone."
As you say," Asuma muttered, his jaw tightening.
The Library's grand doors swung open, revealing a spacious lobby lined with towering shelves and labyrinthine corridors. The air inside was warmer, but not by much, and the faint hum of chakra-infused seals added a subtle vibration to the space.
Above, the glass ceiling revealed the bioluminescent veins of Mount Fuji, their greens, purples, and pinks casting an ethereal glow on the cavern walls. The sight was beautiful, almost mesmerizing, but Asuma's attention was drawn downward.
Beneath their feet lay the true depths of the Library. No one knew how far the ancient Iga ninja had dug when they first constructed the supply depot, but the additions made by Hashirama and Tobirama were legendary. The deeper levels were a maze of secrets and traps, each layer more treacherous than the last.
"Tobirama ensured that intruders wouldn't get far," Koshiro said, his voice tinged with admiration.
"And neither will you," Asuma thought grimly, though he kept the words to himself. He stepped forward, his boots echoing in the vast chamber as he prepared to confront whatever schemes ROOT had in store.
The lights reflected faintly off the polished wood of the towering bookshelves that stretched endlessly into the depths, a testament to Hashirama's unparalleled mastery of Wood Release.
The Library's foundations were older still, built by the Iga ninja before Konoha's founding. Rumors persisted that the original architects had dug so deep, the final levels touched the root of the earth itself. When Tobirama inherited the site, he turned it into something more: a fortress of knowledge, its vast archives protected by his signature blend of engineering brilliance and unrelenting paranoia.
"It's not simply the prospect of death which has put a damper on our search, Lord Third," Koshiro said, his tone casual but edged with underlying tension. "Much of what we've encountered states Tobirama implemented a safeguard for any trap sprung."
Leaning against the railing, Asuma peers into the cavern's depths. Far below, scaffolds bristle with ROOT's people, their lanterns casting shifting shadows across the walls as they worked. The faint murmur of activity rose from the floors beneath them—commands shouted, mechanisms creaking, the occasional bark of a guard dog echoing through the space.
"Disabling any of these in a manner not according to how Tobirama fashioned is foolish," Asuma replied, his voice low and measured. He knew better than anyone the care Tobirama had poured into his safeguards. Each one was a puzzle, a test of wits and skill designed to repel intruders or obliterate them entirely. The consequences of a misstep were not merely fatal—they could destroy the very knowledge they sought to protect. "The fail-safes will trigger a vinegar composition to release in the vault where the ANBU records are kept. From there, the compound will work through each chamber, dissolving every record kept within—until it hits the Scroll. At that point, it's a race against time trying to protect it."
Koshiro's features tightened, his brows drawing together. His gaze followed Asuma's, lingering on the operatives below. He knows Asuma was aware of the traps, as though Tobirama had laid them before him—seals hidden in plain sight, pressure plates cloaked in layers of genjutsu, and mechanisms so intricate only a Hokage could hope to disarm them. Koshiro pulls a blueprint from within his robes, unfurling it with a practiced motion. "The first three levels seem easy enough to work through," he said, his finger tracing the design. "But the proceeding ones…" His voice trailed off, and his dark eyes flicked to Asuma. "Are fashioned only for a Hokage to handle."
"Obviously," Asuma said dryly, exhaling through his nose in faint disdain. "I'm the only one qualified to get through these puzzles. But even so, all will require time to bypass."
Koshiro's lips pressed into a thin line, and he rubbed his chin. "Time…" he said slowly. "How much of it?"
Asuma shrugged, his voice deliberately nonchalant. "I don't know. Weeks, perhaps. Months if we're unlucky."
Koshiro's nostrils flared, and for a moment, his frustration cracked through his controlled demeanor. He glanced again at the blueprint, as though willing it to offer a simpler solution. Then, he turned back to Asuma, his eyes cold. "Four days," he said, the words heavy with threat. "Retrieve the Scroll in four days. Four days, and for every floor bypassed a portion of supplies will be allowed entry to the Village.
Asuma's gaze hardened. "Four days is not enough time."
"Four days, Hokage-sama. Or else the State will requisition all remaining pertinent material from Konoha for State use," Koshiro replied, his voice chilling in its precision. "And you will be left to answer for it."
The silence which followed that challenge was near as fatal as the blast which took down the Watchtower. A soft, severe tensions runs through all of them like a live-wire ready to burst. An unspoken defiance creeps between the groups, lines forming as the Sendai infantry and Gemma's guards drift into their respective positions. For a split second a divide forms, as hands drifting toward trigger-ready guards and sharpened kunai. Asuma senses this. As does Koshiro, and the ROOT commissar from Fukushima. Who laughs softly, devoid of humor.
Then, the explosion comes.
It rips through the stillness, a deafening roar that shakes the very bones of the Library. Dust and debris rain from the vaulted ceiling, and the faint bioluminescence flickered erratically, casting disorienting shadows above. Orders from outside are heard being shouted as ROOT operatives move frantically into position. The men around Koshiro and Asuma snap to attention, rifles raised, while Genma and the rest of Asuma's men tighten formation around their Hokage.
Koshiro's composure fractures, and his face darkens with anger. "What was that?" he demands, his voice sharp. "Find out what happened!" Koshiro looked at his men, already striding toward the edge of the platform to shout further commands.
Asuma turns to Genma and the rest of his unit. "Stay ready." He orders his men.
The group heads back outside to see a blown, burned out wreck in front of them spill its guts onto the street. Brick and mortar abound, the tell-tale scent of gunpowder apparent. Genin stand to the side shocked, fear plastered on their faces as the firelight burns. Koshiro is livid, and demands to know what the hell is going on. A confounded ROOT officer with a black uniform sputters, informing them they tracked an intruder in the Inogawa Foundry. "They ignited the gundpowder cache in the exhibit down below." The woman says, offering a quick salute before running off to man her post.
Koshiro's fury is unbridled as he starts to bark out orders and accusations in the same breath. He demands to know who was in charge of the patrols tonight, why weren't the rooftops manned as he'd specifically stated, where the hell was Sasori - the man all but guaranteed the area's security, so what the fuck happened. All this, while in the back of Asuma's mind, a haiku comes back to him. "天道虫小さき幸を吾が肩に" - A ladybug brought me a tiny happiness upon my shoulder."
He breathes a sigh of relief, and gives a soft smile; at least now, he can rest easy knowing his message found its way to its designated person. And with any fortune, maybe they'd have the ability to turn his luck around. Till then, Asuma can only pray and do what he can to keep Naruto safe.