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Chapter 10

if I could, maybe I'd give you my world

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64年3月

"Iwagakure and Konohagakure are engaged in discussions for a ceasefire."

Fuguki does not roll his eyes at Lord Third's annoyed tone. If Konohagakure and Iwagakure were to agree on a truce, the end of the war would be near— and that is certainly a welcoming change. Kiri is spread thin enough as it is with their infighting. Just the other day, he saw three shinobi kill each other over the shitty rewards of a single mission.

Not that these bloodthirsty bastards have the sense to see it that way. No. Instead, they're already mourning the end of this needless bloodshed.

Well, not that Kiri goes for long without any.

He locks eyes with Ao, the man clearly sharing his line of thinking, and then sighs when that bastard Munashi and Kushimaru once again leak killing intent like a pair of faulty blades, all edge and no precision. Those two, he thinks, are enjoying the war too much. Heartless Pair, they are called. A liability even among comrades. He reminds himself once again to keep a healthy distance from them at all times.

"Calm yourselves," Lord Third says. He sounds vaguely amused, the corner of his wrinkled mouth tugging into a smirk. Sadistic old man. Hijiki Isui is in his early seventies, and it shows. Gone is the young man from the framed picture watching over the office, with his black eyes, long, silky black hair and regal air. He sits before them, now old and wrinkly, with short grey hair, age spots, and blinded by power and privilege. "Naturally, such discussions shall remain precisely that— mere discussions."

Kushimaru crackles with delight.

Even Ameyuri is eyeing him critically now. Fuguki sighs and leans against the wall in the back of the office, right next to the door— as far away from Lord Third as he can get without arousing suspicion.

It's a large office, of course, and lavishly furnished. An expensive rug (large enough to cover most of the room) imported from Tea Country lies in the middle of it, embroidered with elegant seals— of real silver thread—that keep it clean and protected from the constant wear and tear. The massive desk at the far end of the room, was carved from a single block of mahogany, its surface inlaid with mother-of-pearl shimmering like rippling water. Behind it looms a high-back chair upholstered with a deep purple, same colour as the rug. The desk is an organised chaos of documents sealed with wax stamps, scrolls tied with silken cords, and a jade paperweight shaped like a coiled dragon.

On the wall to his right stands a massive bookshelf, taller than even him; so tall it needs a ladder for the average-sized human to reach the top row. Made from the same expensive wood as the desk, of course. Filled with expensive tomes imported from all over the world— though this collection has been growing since Founding, he supposes— but also swords mounted on display racks, gleaming in the sunlight with their jewel-encrusted hilts, ceremonial masks, and scrolls sealed in lacquered tubes. It even smells expensive in here: rich, woody, and sharp. The incense burns from a small brazier shaped like a leaping koi fish.

"My informants tell me that Team Ino-Shika-Chō is to meet Iwagakure delegates at the Wind-River-Rain border. They are to negotiate peace, standing in for their kage, and exchange prepared scrolls of their respective terms." A faint, humourless smile tugs at his lips. "Though, one assumes Konohagakure's list will be considerably… longer." He taps the chair once, twice, as though analysing a shōgi board only he can see. Then, his eyes scan the room.

All of his Seven Swordsmen colleagues are here. Akebino Jinin, Biwa Jūzō— for once without his little menace of an apprentice— Kuriarare Kushimaru, Ringo Ameyuri— with her freak of an apprentice Raiga— Munashi Jinpachi and Kinkan Ibuki, as well as Fuguki's own apprentice, Kisame. The strongest generation, they are called.

He thinks it got to some of their heads.

Aside from them, Ao is in the office as well— poor man always is— standing at attention behind Lord Third's left. On Lord Third's right are his Anbu and Jōnin Commanders, Hijiki Hideaki and Hōzuki Ryūgetsu, respectively.

All important people.

Fuguki knows exactly where Lord Third is going to go with this meeting.

He sighs again— he has done that a lot recently, actually. He is just glad Nanami and Akuto aren't nearly as wont to drive him insane as Lord Third. Yet. He's got a feeling their innocence— if you can still call it that— won't last long. Still. Gods know he fears the day Nanami starts bringing boys home and whatever it was that happened to Akuto in Suiiki. He has been quite jumpy since their return.

Though, most of this will only be a cause of concern if Lord Third doesn't drive him into an early grave beforehand.

"Fuguki," Lord Third says, and Fuguki regrets ever showing up to the meeting.

He wills his voice to sound both unbothered and absolutely bored. Sadly, he hasn't quite learned to control his voice the way Hiyu can. "Yes, Lord Mizukage?"

"I trust you to assemble your team, travel to the rendezvous point, and ensure that these discussions fail."

Sabotage. Naturally. He inclines his head. "Understood." Already he is planning the route, the supplies, and the time he'll be away from home.

Inwardly, Fuguki sighs again. It'll be quite a while; longer still if nothing goes according to plan. Maybe he'll buy some coffee on the way home. Gods know they need it, with Nanami recently having acquired a taste for it as well.

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64年3月21日

Akuto's been training and going on missions non-stop since… then.

All of the missions are from the pile Okan graciously gave him, and all of them he either did on his own or with Hoshigaki in tow (Not-Uzumaki's as fond of missions as he is of sparring). Nanami is mostly out with Mei— she's been a bit twitchy lately. But everyone is, what with the war coming to a close.

Fuguki-oji left on a mission two weeks ago and has since not returned. High-priority, from the Mizukage himself.

He worries.

Anyway. His own missions have been going well, nothing noteworthy having happened; pretty much how you'd expect a standard mission to go. Predictable. Boring. But Akuto's glad for boring. Boring is survivable— he's had more than enough excitement already, thank you very much.

Most of the missions were standard intel missions, quickly delivering scrolls from Intel to border stations and/or from border stations to Intel, or from border station to border station. A few of the missions were capture and kills— bandits, specifically. While civilians in Kiri don't really hire shinobi, some outside do, when threats eventually become too dangerous to deal with, or too much of a nuisance to bear.

Killing them wasn't easy. (Bulging eyes. Trembling chin. Rasping breaths— Sour bile— ) Even after he talked to the affected villagers, and heard them jabbering among themselves, boasting of the heinous things they'd done. But they were still humans— if despicable ones— and who is he to play God?

Who is Akuto to decide their lives are allowed to be taken while others aren't?

Where do you draw the lines?

(The looks of grim satisfaction on the faces of the villagers do ease his consciousness a bit, but the question still stands.)

But all those missions mean that Akuto accumulated quite a bit of money— his own, to use as he pleases, as Okan said. She and Fuguki-oji will continue to pay for rent and food and other necessities with their money. And don't ya dare think about moving out until you're at least sixteen, Fuguki-oji added.

So, here Akuto is, roaming through the markets, searching for snacks and food. Since Fuguki-oji's on a mission, Akuto's been tasked with doing the shopping and Nanami's stuck doing the dishes. Great success, he thinks giddily, already imagining the way she'll grumble about it later.

As he haggles over the price of rice with a cranky vendor, something catches his eye. A small crowd has gathered near one of the alleys. Whispering, pointing, gawking. Akuto's first instinct is to ignore it— crowds mean trouble, and trouble is the last thing he needs right now.

But then he hears it: a sharp, pained cry.

His grip on the bag tightens. For a moment, he doesn't move. The memory creeps in, uninvited: the Tawdry Three's laughter, Hijiki's beady eyes, the sound of his ribs cracking, the sharp sting flaring through his nose bridge where there is a scar now.

He didn't have the energy to heal himself, then.

If it wasn't for Aneki…

He shakes his head, grits his teeth, and forces his feet to move.

The crowd parts as he approaches, their gazes darting to his headband and the ninjatō strapped to his belt. The alley is narrow and dimly lit, but he can see a small figure slumped against the wall, their clothes torn and bloody. For a heartbeat, he thinks it's just another injured kid— just another tragedy in Kiri's endless string of them.

But then the child stirs, and he sees the mole on the tip of their nose, the shaved head, the way they tilt their face upward just slightly, just enough for recognition to strike like a punch to the gut.

"Kiri-cchi?"

The child blinks, their one un-swollen eye widening in recognition. "Nii-san…?" His voice is hoarse, trembling, and it breaks something inside him.

Akuto is on his knees at once. "What happened?"

He carefully examines the cuts and bruises on Kiri's arms and face. His stomach twists at the sight. Nothing life-threatening, but the gash on his arm looks deep, and the bruising across his ribs makes him frown. He presses a clean cloth to the worst wound— good thing he carries a medical kit with him at all times— but Kiri winces, trembling.

"Here, this'll help," Akuto murmurs, placing his palm just above Kiri's forearm. His chakra flares to life, the faint the faint blue glow of the Diagnostic Jutsu casting a soft light between them.

The technique pulses, and quick, fragmented images flash through his mind— shallow abrasions, a strained wrist, and bruising along the ribs, though nothing's broken. The gash on his arm is the most pressing. (You can save anyone—) He exhales, willing his chakra to steady itself. I can do this.

Switching seamlessly to the Mystical Palm Jutsu, his hand glows green, the light faint and unsteady first. He focuses on the gash. Lets the chakra flow into the wound as the torn skin slowly knits itself together.

Kiri stares, wide-eyed, at the faint green glow. "Woah, that's so cool," he whispers, excited.

Akuto snorts softly. "Not that impressive." The cut is gone now, but a scar remains faintly visible. He pulls his hand back, flexing his fingers to shake off the chakra. "Bruised ribs, that's all," he adds, standing and brushing off his bare knees. "You'll live. Just try not to get into more stupid fights, yeah?"

Kiri smiles weakly. "Thanks, Nii-san!"

Akuto clicks his tongue, ruffling Kiri's shaved head with a sigh. "C'mon," he says, slinging his satchel back over his shoulder. "We're leavin'."

"Where're we goin'?" Kiri asks, trailing after him as he steps out of the alley.

"The market. You need food. So does Saigawa."

Kiri's steps falter slightly, and Akuto glances back to see him biting his lip. "We can really get food?"

He frowns. "What d'you think I'm sayin'?"

"I dunno," Kiri says, his voice small but hopeful. "It just doesn't happen much."

Akuto doesn't respond right away. His grip tightens on the strap of his bag as he looks back at Kiri, the dirt smudged across his face, the too-big clothes hanging loosely off his skinny shoulders.

"Yeah," he says finally. "It's now. Let's move."

Kiri clings to Akuto's side as they weave through the bustling marketplace, his tiny hand gripping the hem of his shirt. His good eye darts from stall to stall, wide with wonder.

"Nii-san, look!" Kiri chirps, pointing at a cart piled high with bright red apples. "They're so shiny!"

"Mm-hmm," Akuto mutters distractedly. His focus lies on a vendor up ahead selling rice.

Kiri tugs at his shirt. "Can we get one? Please?"

"No," Akuto replies automatically, not even sparing the apples a glance.

The vendor starts rattling off a price, one Akuto immediately knows is too high. He glares at the man, crossing his arms, and after a tense moment, the vendor grumbles and knocks the price down. Satisfied, Akuto hands over the coins and seals the sacks of rice into a scroll.

Kiri pouts, but his attention doesn't stay on the apples for long. A few stalls later, his good eye lights up again. "Nii-san, can we get candy?"

Akuto sighs, finally looking down at him. Kiri's face is streaked with dirt, his clothes still ragged, but the way he stares longingly at the small bags of candy twists something in his chest.

He clicks his tongue. "Fine."

Kiri's face lights up as the vendor hands over the bag, and he clutches it tightly to his chest. "Thanks, Nii-san! You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah," Akuto mutters, pulling him along toward the next stall.

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At the grain vendor, Akuto seals sacks of flour into a scroll, the faint shimmer of chakra glowing briefly before fading. Kiri watches in awe, clutching his bag of candies tightly.

"Nii-san, can I learn how to do that?"

"Maybe when you're older," Akuto replies.

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At a stall selling bottled water, Akuto stacks [many, many] heavy jugs in front of the vendor. The main raises a brow.

"What's all that for? Gonna water the whole village?" the vendor jokes.

Akuto's reply is curt. "Sure. Somethin' like that."

Kiri peers at the jugs, tilting his head. "Why do we need so much water?"

"You'll see," Akuto says, sealing the bottles into another scroll.

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At the dried goods stall, Kiri's eyes wander to the neat rows of packaged jerky and bags of dried vegetables. Akuto picks out a generous amount of both, then catches Kiri's gaze lingering on a bundle of sweet-smelling herbs.

"You like those?" Akuto asks.

Kiri shrugs, suddenly shy. "They smell really nice."

Akuto sighs and grabs the bundle, tossing it onto the pile. "Fine. We'll take it."

Kiri beams up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah, yeah," Akuto mutters, turning back to the vendor. "Not for you. It's for Fuguki-oji."

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Finally, at the medical supplies stall, Akuto stocks up on bandages, disinfectants, and basic ointments. The vendor eyes the pile and shakes his head.

"Headed back to the front soon, kid?"

Akuto's expression darkens. "Somethin' like that."

Kiri pipes up, his voice small but curious. "Will they help the kids in Saigawa, Nii-san?"

"They'll help everyone," Akuto says firmly, sealing the last of the supplies.

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The mist thickens as they make their way toward Saigawa. After turning another corner, ramshackle homes come to view. They're stacked on top of each other, their roofs sagged. The rusty metal looks like it barely holds back rain and wind, much less the seeping mist. Narrow alleys twist and turn worse than the streets of Sotogawa— almost like the labyrinth of a forgotten city. The air smells faintly of mildew, damp wood, and smoke.

Wary eyes follow them. Him, specifically. He can see it in the way their movements still when he passes by. In the way conversation hushes and then picks up again when he's out of earshot. For ears not chakra-enhanced, anyway. These people aren't really welcome to outsiders, he guesses. Not many volunteer to come here; this place ripe for disease. A different sort of disease than the village proper, at least.

Kiri walks ahead confidently, utterly at ease. "Don't worry so much," he says, glancing up at Akuto. "I know where to go."

Akuto snorts. Then schools his face and adjusts the strap of his satchel. "Yeah? And when they don't? What then?"

"They trust me." Kiri grins. "And I trust you, so it's okay!"

Akuto frowns but doesn't argue. He follows Kiri deeper into Saigawa, until they reach a group huddled near a broken wall, relatively in the centre of this part. He thinks. It's hard to pinpoint where exactly they are without a map or any knowledge at all. Gaunt faces turn toward them, hollow eyes studying Akuto with suspicion. He stops at the edge of the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the group.

Kiri runs towards them, waving brightly. "It's okay," he says. "Nii-san's here to help!"

Akuto shoots him a sharp look but still doesn't bother correcting him. Instead, he crouches and unseals many of the scrolls in his bag. Sacks of rice and flour, bottles of water, medical supplies, and bundles of dried food like jerky (beef and horse) and tried vegetables.

The murmurs of the crowd grow louder, but no one moves. Finally, an old woman with a weathered face and piercing brown eyes steps forward. Her head is tilted, her eyebrows raised, and she looks vaguely cautious and curious. Approachable.

"Who're you?" she asks, her voice rasping. "What business d'you have here?"

(Grating laughter, beady eyes— You can't save anyone—)

"Akuto," he says simply. Digs his nails into his palms, meets her gaze. "Take these. Use 'em if you need 'em. But keep quiet about it."

Her eyes narrow. "And why should we trust the likes of you?"

"Because I don't have time to argue," Akuto snaps. "If you don't want it, someone else will."

Kiri jumps up and down next to her. "He's tellin' the truth, Chiyomi-baasama! He even healed my arm when I hurt it! He's really nice—even if he doesn't act like it."

Akuto sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You talk too much, Kiri-cchi."

"Fine, then," she says.

Almost like they waited for her permission— approval, rather— slowly, person by person, they step forward and reach for supplies. Water, rice, flour, food. Whatever they need, they take. Some seem to have gone home and brought some containers. With every person he didn't chase away and kill, the crowd grows.

It's then he starts noticing the injuries. A little girl stands by Chiyomi. Her knee is scraped nastily, dirt and dried blood crusted around the edges. He waves her toward him with a soft smile. She looks at Chiyomi— who nods— and then slowly steps closer. Akuto reaches out, cleans it, then carefully heals the wound with chakra.

"That'll do," he says, leaning back. "Try not to scrape it up again."

She nods, wide-eyed, before running back to Chiyomi.

A man with a swollen ankle limps forward next. Akuto presses his palm against the joint, his chakra flowing steadily as the swelling reduces slightly.

"It's not perfect," he says, wrapping the ankle tightly with a clean bandage. "But it'll hold for now. If you want it fixed proper, go to Sumire. Brown house, by the market near here. Tell her I sent you."

The man bows his head quickly. "Thank you."

One by one, more people come forward with all sorts of injuries. Many, he can only clean, or brace, until they see someone better trained than Akuto. He tells them all to go to Sumire as well. By the time Akuto healed about twenty injuries, his chakra reserves start running low. He sits back on his heels, his hands trembling.

"That's it," he says hoarsely. "I'm done for today."

The crowd murmurs their thanks, some bowing low as they gather their supplies. Kiri stands beside him, grinning from ear to ear.

"You're amazing, Nii-san!" Kiri beams.

Akuto snorts softly, pulling himself to his feet. "Not really. Me—"

"Akuto-nii?" someone says.

Akuto turns around, annoyed, and finds himself facing a determined-looking group of children, all around his age. All looking somewhat fit. Academy students. The one at the front— shaved head, brown eyes, freckles— gulps, then asks, "Can ya show us how to do that healing jutsu?"

"Teach you healing jutsu?" Akuto repeats, eyebrows raised. "No. Medical jutsu's not for everyone."

"Why not? What's the big deal?" another one asks. Insistent.

"'Cause you need chakra control in the 90th percentile just to start," Akuto explains. "If you don't have it, it won't work no matter how hard you try." They deflate. Akuto sighs and softens his tone. "But there's somethin' else. Water Extraction Jutsu. Easier, and still useful."

That way, they don't need to buy overpriced water at the markets. While they could drink the water from the river— it's not polluted— the current's pretty strong and it's a hassle to walk a few miles just to fill a few bottles. Many don't know the jutsu, or feel like walking to the rivers, so they're stuck with the market prices, even the jugs hold ten litres.

They perk up, nodding eagerly.

"Watch close," Akuto says. "Seals are Horse, Dog, Monkey. Focus on pullin' moisture from the air, not splashin' it everywhere. Like this."

He performs the seals quickly, and his palms glow faintly blue as the mist around them condenses into a small pool of water in his hands.

"Now you try."

The children form the seals clumsily, but Akuto moves among them, correcting their forms and offering advice. A few manage small trickles of water, their faces lighting up with pride.

"Keep at it," Akuto adds, folding his arms. "The more you practice, the easier it gets."

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By the time the supplies run out and the crowd disperses, the sun hangs low in the sky. Akuto glances down at Kiri. "Let's get you home."

Kiri grins. "You don't hafta! I know the way."

"Doesn't matter," Akuto says curtly, motioning for him to lead the way.

They walk through the quiet streets of Saigawa, the mist growing thicker and thicker the closer they get to the wall. Kiri walks close to Akuto, one hand holding the hem of his shirt and the other clutching his bag of candies.

"Nii-san?" Kiri asks after a long silence.

"What?"

"Why do you help people like us?"

(Grating laughter, beady eyes— You can't save anyone— Don't you have a family—)

"'Cause no one else will," Akuto says sharply. "Now keep up."

Kiri flinches, then he tilts his head, as if he's considering Akuto's answer. After a moment, he asks, "Can you teach me to heal like you?"

Akuto stops mid-step, glancing down at him with a raised brow. "Heal like me?"

"Yeah," Kiri said, eyes glinting with determination. "If I could heal, I could help! Like you!"

Akuto's lips press into a thin line. "Healing's not for everyone," he says bluntly. "You need precise control— more than most ninja ever manage."

"I could learn!" Kiri says quickly. "I'll practice as much as I need to! I'll try super hard, Nii-san!"

"You're five," Akuto says flatly, but the edges of his voice soften. "It's not about tryin' hard. It takes talent, focus, and time. Most people fail even with all that."

Kiri frowns, but his determination doesn't waver. "You didn't fail."

Akuto blinks, caught off guard.

"And maybe I won't fail too!"

Akuto looks at him again, really looks this time. The determination in his gaze reminds him, uncomfortably, of himself at that age. He sighs. "Fine," he says. "If you're serious, start with control. Stick leaves to your forehead. That kinda thing. Then maybe I'll teach you somethin'."

Kiri beams. "You really mean it?"

"Yeah. But if you slack off, it's done."

They seem to have reached Kiri's place; a run-down hut near the wall, though surrounded by other lived-in huts. Some laundry hangs on a line, and some of Kiri's neighbours are cooking something in the ground.

"I won't!" Kiri grins, skipping a step ahead. "I'm gonna be amazing! Just wait, Nii-san!"

"Stop callin' me that," Akuto says, sighing as they reach the doorway. "Get inside before you catch a somethin'."

Kiri turns, his grin softer now. "Thanks, Nii-san. For believin' in me."

Akuto pauses, the words hitting something deep inside him. He crosses his arms and looks away. "Yeah, yeah. Get to bed. And stay outta trouble, alright?"