Transmission #2-4-1-0; Addendum "Making Waves"
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"/ Secure Zone "Fujin"- ROOT Protection Services
*Subject marked for further surveillance after dubious contacted affiliations
Threat Level: Priority
Life was nothing more than a series of mistakes to learn and live by. Tazuna weathered the storm of his many errors over a lifetime he thought was too long for its own good, and amazingly came out still standing on the other side. Some might call him lucky for that, but not him. Fortune and he were never consummate lovers. With age comes the knowledge "luck" is merely the beginning of a cruel joke played at your expense. And Tazuna's unfortunately played out with his sick grandson.
The mornings were manageable, the days hit-or-miss, but the nights were always the hardest.
That morning, Inari's fever had just broken. His brave grandson had put up a fight all through the night, but now his body - weakened from months of no sleep and malnutrition - barely had enough energy to eat. And when he could stomach something down, then came the infernal coughing. It sounded like he were trying to expel his lungs out from his throat. Tsunami, the boy's mother, was a nervous wreck with a bloodied towel in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other. It was all she could do to help. That, and along with the small orange capsule of pills off on the nightstand.
One morning Tazuna had gone over and inspected them; they'd looked familiar, and for good reason - he remembered them from his army days.
"These are vitamin pills, Tsunami...These won't do anything for him." He tells his daughter one day a little after dawn.
The weight of a sleepless night and constant worry causes Tsunami's shoulders to sag. Running on little less than three hours of sleep, his dutiful daughter was already readying herself to head out the door; the wood stall needed someone to manage it. Long days working the mill for Tazuna took its toll, and he wasn't one for the grind any longer. Not during the winter months, at least. It was too cold. And Tsunami ever worried for him.
"If something were to happen to you...I don't know how we'll manage, father." Tsunami says, voice slumping in defeat. "Please, just stay by Inari's side. At least, till noon. I'll be back in time of you to clock into your shift, don't worry. But, please, don't push yourself."
"There has to be something more we can do," Tazuna presses. He knows it a futile thing arguing with his daughter, but he was used to fighting losing battles. Call it stubbornness, or due to the slavish indoctrination branded into him after years fighting for the Emperor's Army, but Tazuna still had that "dog" in him which didn't quit. He couldn't afford to, not as long there was breath in his body.
He'd keep fighting for Inari, for his daughter - for all of them if he could.
If only his knees and back could agree, too.
"If it'll make you feel better, I'll take Inari back to the hospital." She says, trying her best to sound hopeful. "...Comrade-Doctor Yokosuka says he's seen some improvement."
"Bah! Yokosuka's a prick - said that the last time we were there. What does he know about nothing."
"What other options do I have!" Tsunami's body shakes, trying to hold back tears.
This is true, sadly.
Tsunami knows it, even if she was a strong woman; stronger than Tazuna ever could be. For she was patient like her mother, like a stone wall weathering all manner of storms. She would crack, she could chip, she'd have centuries tear away at her. But she would never fall. A good quality to have as a person, as a former kunouchi, but Tazuna knew well the price she paid for such resilience.
Romance came to Tsunami early, as it always did for father's daughters. It hit her like a shooting star across the face, but still he woefully misjudged how much grief this love would cause his girl in the long-run. His first mistake was if he'd known then what he did now, perhaps things could've been so different.
Tsunami's husband, Inari's father, was the son of one of his former Army mate's. They were thick as thieves back in Korea, and it saddened Tazuna when he found out how ill his friend became. When the man passed, Tazuna only thought it right to take it upon himself to make sure his boy was looked after. So he did: one day removed from the funeral, he put the boy to work as a laborer in his lumberyard. The lad was an exuberant little shit, but a hard worker. He never complained, made only a few mistakes here or there, but he always did as he was told. He wouldn't say no to any task put in front of him, especially not to an invite to Tazuna's house for a nice home-cooked meal. That's when it happened. After a particularly long day at the mill, soon as he crossed his threshold, Tsunami saw his smiling, reddened face plastered with sawdust and sweat.
Tazuna's second mistake.
Then came the moment they smacked him upside the head with their "good new". He remembers that day vividly. Tsunami came to him giddy with excitement, but he shaking like a kitten brought in from the rain. Tazuna should've known something was up soon as they sat him down and cooked his favorite meal. It was hearty bowl of gyudon with rice, beef strips, and plenty of green onions. Plum sake, too, to boot! He asks what's the occasion, and his daughter smiled so brightly. She tells him they were celebrating. "Oh," Tazuna asks. "What for?" His eyes never leave the trembling figure of his ward, sitting opposite his table, sake spilling out of his cup as he couldn't keep his hand still.
"They were with child." Tsunami tells him happily.
Right then and there he should've throttled the boy. But he didn't, he couldn't; not after seeing how genuinely happy Tsunami was. She hadn't smiled like that since her mother had passed. So, Tazuna relented. And instead of splitting the boy in half with an axe, he gives them his blessing.
His third mistake.
But for a while, he believed that would be the end of it. Inari was born, work at the yard was good, and dare he say it everyone was happy. Perhaps, his fourth mistake was believing these good feelings, these good times could last.
Or maybe it was The Noble One's.
The conflict between the newly christened Democratic People's Republic of Japan and the remnants of the IJA, later known as the New Dawn Insurgency, was a bitter, deeply symbolic struggle. If think after years of tumultuous violence, shesding more blood wpuld be rhe last thing kn everyone's minds, but the newly formed State Politburo in Hokkaido deemed the "rebel elements" within Aokigahara an: "[e]stablished and preeminent threat built on the ideals of imperlialist legacies and militaristic doctrines of the old Empire, which stands in direct opposition the vision of unity, equality, and communal held by our benevolent leader, The Noble One Nosaka Sanzo."
"Lies! Lies, lies, all lies! Covered in hot, stinking, dribbling wet goat shit! All of it! And not the good kind of shit, either, Tazuna! You know the type I mean. The kind you use for gardens and fertilizer. No! This goat is sick. It's disgusting - should've been put down a long time ago. Instead, it sits about in a 'special chair', bleating about Noble One this, or State that! Bah!"
The lumber yard booms with the big man's boisterous voice. He's large - almost the size of two bulls, and equally as muscular. Despite the cold of the later afternoon the man dons nothing but a baggy kosode which leaves his arms bare for all to marvel at. And they are worthy of it, too. As thick and round as the some of the trunks they fell, Gyōbu Kasumi strikes an imposing figure. More so, when the man is in one of his rages.
"And this is why we don't let Gyōbu drink on the job."
"This is exactly why you let Gyōbu drink on the job, because Gyōbu is the only one with the balls to tell it like it is." Gyobu fires, beer bottle in his hand; was a customary thing for Tazuna to buy the lads beer every last shift at the end of the week. It was expensive, but it was worth the price to liven up spirits during these hard days. "I was there, Saemon. I know the truth - they just don't want to say it."
"We all were there, Gyobu. And we'd all rather talk about any other thing, please." Saemon says.
"That's the problem - everyone wants to keep their mouths shut! And the goats keep bleating, and we The People have to sit and listen!"
The ever level-headed Saemon Kisaragi huffs into his beer. The former IJN marine was as steady as the tides, and returned to the lumber yard after the war. Until a little black-booted commissar began rounding up recruits to send into Aokigahara. There he gave Saemon two choices: prove his loyalty to The State, or have his newly minted genin sister Okoi take his place on the frontline. The decision was easy - Saemon hadn't hesitate for a second. But before he left, he pulled Tazuna aside. "Keep her safe," was all he asked his foreman, and Tazuna honored that promise.
He gave Okoi Saemon's spot on the crew, a decision that wasn't met without grumbles from the old hands. She was young, brash, and fiery, with a sharp tongue that could carve harder than any axe. But she proved herself quickly, matching the men swing for swing, her laughter cutting through the drudgery of the long days. Gyobu, the loudest voice of dissent at first, had softened in a week, and before long, Okoi was holding court with the best of them. The girl carved out a space among the crew, hands as rough as theirs, and her spirit twice as tough.
"C'mon, big guy, don't be so surprised," Okoi says over to Gyobu with dirty overalls and sunburnt face. "It's the way of the world. They shit, we shovel."
"Hmph, you can say that again, girlie..." Gyobu takes a long draught, and wuickly finishes the bottle. He grabs another. It will be his sixth. "Way of the world? I knew some of those men hiding down there. Fought with them from Indochina to Saipan. There's no 'way' they understand except forward. But everyone was lost those damned tunnels. Everyone."
A few of the older heads nodded their agreements - Gyobu had ever been their mouthpiece, even if meant much of the alcohol would be gone. They, like he, felt the same when the Presidium dubbed their former brothers "rebels", instigators of the "New Dawn Insurgency". "Akatsuki" more ominously among the people of Konoha and surrounding regions. A calculated propaganda move meant to cast them all as a dying ember for a discredited past. To some, this name symbolized the blood spilled in their violent guerrila campaigns launched from the mountains; for others, an unyielding defiance against perceived tyranny.
If anything old soldiers can respect, it's the alluring romance of a lost cause.
Tazuna was far removed from his soldiering days when the "New Dawn" came. He understood both the horrors of combat and the futility of its aims. His time in Russia, Korea and later the South Pacific taught him well. He sits quietly listening to Gyobu talk of booby traps, suffocating close-quarters combat; of those who ventured into the tunnels returning scarred ans broken. And Tazuna was sick to his stomach knowing he had a hand constructing those tunnels, now serving as sanctuaries for men he might have once called comrades.
Truly, this was his fourth mistake.
"All of you remember what it felt like to come home after so many years. Fighting in cities, on beaches, in jungles of far-off places. To come home in the end, and be told by some little cockatoo it was all for nothing. That what you starved for, murdered for, survived was for nothing. That we were wrong. And to make it right, we had to prove our loyalty once more..."
"My father was a loyal citizen of this village; Konoha is our home. But he didn't pledge allegiance to this Democratic People's Republic, did not bow to the 'Noble' Nosaka, and nor did he give his life for Emperor Taisho. All so his grave can be dishonored by ignorant children in fine, clean little uniforms, who'd done nothing to earn them, being lead by the nose ass-licking jackasses in Sapporo."
At that point, Tazuna wards Gyobu from going any further - the hour was late, the beer practically gone, and as refreshing as it was hearing one speak what they all in the yard kept silent. These thoughts, memories; the guilt which ate at them all did not leave at the last sup of the bottle. It stayed with them for as long as needed. Tazuna hadn't a mind for the drink, instead devoting himself to his work. It kept his head down, his hands busy, and his mouth shut.
A fifth mistake.
He should've said something when Tsunami and his son-in-law answered the State's call. Despite his misgivings and quiet protests, the youth were enraptured by The Noble One's vigorous March South. He emboldened them, said they could make a difference in this world. Only if rhey were willing to fight for the right if their fledgling nation to exist.
A lie told to so many who ventured into that pitiable valley. And those who returned had changed.
Tsunami was a strong woman - she had to be to come out of that hell unscathed. But that was a small consolation; her survival went hand-in-hand with the grief her husband did not. Life after that brought little joy to her, except what she found in Inari. Yet, now he too was at risk of being lost. If it wasn't enough the American embargo stemmed medication getting through to the Village, it was now the encirclement of their own armed forces which cut them off.
That night, at the edge of the small kitchen table, gnarled hands cradle his glasses as Tazuna stares into the half-darkness of their modest home. Inari's strained breathing floats down the hall, every rasp like a dagger in his chest. Tsunami, weary but steadfast, retreated to her corner of the house after thanking her father for dinner—a few meager bowls of soup and sardines that, to his eternal shame, were the best he could muster. Her smile, kind but tired, lingers in his mind.
He doesn't like she does that - she should spit in his face.
Dinner? Tazuna thought bitterly. Is that all I'm good for? A few scraps to keep us moving through another miserable day?
He exhales heavily, the weight of his years settling deep into his shoulders. How could she still be so composed? So… accepting? Tsunami was just like her mother—a woman who could endure any hardship and still find something worth fighting for. But what fight was left in her? What hope could there be when Inari lay in that room, clinging to life while the so-called doctors of Konoha proved less useful than the tools in his shed.
Tazuna knew the real doctors were gone—rounded up by ROOT, and sent to Hokkaido's reeducation camps never to be seen again. What remained were cowards and opportunists, peddling false hope and excuses. It made him clench his fists, his nails digging into his palms anger simmers beneath his despair.
He had to do something or else the people he cherished more than anything were to be taken from him. The Hokage couldn't be relied on; Asuma was practically being held hostage. ROOT security were everywhere, and ran each and every checkpoint like their own recruiting center. Even Tazuna wasn't above such inquiries; a few days earlier, he'd been paid a visit by Comrade Director Chikuma late one evening. Tsunami was busy tending to Inari, so Tazuna took it upon himself to entertain this dubious surprise. Koshiro gruffly apologized for the intrusion, the man lacking the poise and finesse of his predecessor, and asks Tazuna for a favor: the Inigawa Foundry has seen a terrible accident occur. "The blast from the powder magazine has extensively danaged bith the Foundry and Library. The Village is meaning to hire some of your workers for the repairs. ROOT will be in standby for security."
"Makes sense, Comrade-Director. Very dilligent of you." Tazuna nods.
"Problem, though." Koshiro interjects bluntly. "It appears some if the Library's security measures have been activated due to the power of the blast. We're looking to disarm a few of the levels - to ensure safety for those working on the repairs."
"That would be prudent, Comrade-Director."
"You were the head foreman when Tobirama installed the security additions at the Library, correct?" The man then leans in, probably wanting to say this a little less demandingly than it sounds, but Koshiro is far too blunt; even when trying to dangle a carrot before Tazuna, the stick is deadly apparent behind his tone. "Any sort if fooorplan you might have from the job may be useful..."
"Unfortunately, Lord Second ordered all blueprints of the site to be destroyed." Tazuna replies. "For the sake of confidentiality."
"Confidentiality." Koshiro makes it seem like he could wrap his head around that; the Second Hokage was a careful man. But the ROOT Director was a straight-shooter and subtlety was beyond him. If by any chance Tazuna could assist dismantling Tobirama's traps, perhaps as compensation his grandson csn be provided medical assistance. "He's very ill, is he not?"
Of course they'd know - it was there business to know. Just as Tazuna knew well of Tobirama's safety protocols intended to shut down the Second's security. Even if one bypassed the system correctly, there were still checks and back-ups in place to ensure the Library's safety; Tobirama was a paranoid man, just like Tazuna. Which is why he didn't tell Koshiro any of this. Just as Koshiro never elaborated on the price his favor would incur. Being an old and hoary veteran, he knew well the dealings of ROOT and the worth of their bargains. Words were used like a poison, and Tazuna would be mistaken placing trust in any of them.
Yet, it wasn't Koshiro who lingered in Tazuna's thoughts now. The following day, a silver-haired jonin arrived at the lumber yard just after dusk.
"I don't allow non-workers into my saw mill." He tells Mizuki flatly.
Sitting atop a pile of shaved logs, Mizuki shrugs his shoulders and takes a swig from his canteen. "Not technically yours; it's the State's. You oughta be careful who you say that too."
"It's for safety." Tazuna grunts.
"Inviting the ROOT Director in your home is anything but safe, old man."
"Old man? Heh, well, now you're just being insulting: I didn't invite anybody into my house - he let himself in."
"Don't you hate it when he does that?" Mizuki goes, bobbing his head like a bird as he nods.
Tazuna's first instinct was to dismiss the man— if it was Konoha's position to start spying on its own villagers, Mizuki and whoever sent him were wasting their time. Tazuna had nothing to say to the newly vetted ROOT Director. Why Koshiro of all people would come to pay him a visit is a mystery. Mizuki smiles his slippery eel-like smile, not believing a single word. Because he knew exactly why Koshiro made a little house visit last night. "He was trying to hire you. Like I'm about to right now. Only difference is I think you might like me more than him by the end of this."
"I'm not interested in getting to like you, Mizuki." Tazuna moves off from his seat, and looks to clock out with the rest of his crew. All eyes were on their foreman chatting with the impromptu appearance of a tokubetsu jonin in their midst. But before he gets far, Mizuki stops him.
"The Village didn't send me here, Tazuna. Nor did Lord Third." Tazuna stops in his tracks mid-step. He doesn't see it, but Mizuki grins as he takes another drought from his canteen. "The one who did, though, has kept their tabs on you for quite some time. They're aware of what you know, and why ROOT is keen to work with you in case Asuma proves...difficult. Which he has, which is good, because it buys us more time."
"Time for what?" Tazuna slowly turns his bloodshot eyes over to Mizuki. "What the hell are you babbling on about?"
"Time for you to help us bypass the security our crazy, anal retentive Second Hokage devised in the Library, so we can get to the Scrolls of Seals before Koshiro does." Mizuki goes.
"Oh, is that all?" Tazuna snorts disbelievingly; rest of the crew see whats going on, and begin to move over for a closer listen. "You expect me to believe what you're telling me? You? Of all people, you? Heh, mighty big risk you're taking telling me. Even if it's some kinda joke, once I rat you out to the Village, or ROOT, you're dead. Guarantee myself a nice reward for my troubles."
"True, very very true; you could. You should. To help get your grandson the help he needs. Because thats what they told they'd do, right? Help Inari. And they might. They'll get him the meds he needs. The meds they got stashed away to bust out and dangle like treats in front of ya. To get you to do what they want. But you won't..."
Tazuna's figure looms over Mizuki, the old soldier culling some old iron inside these creaking bones. "And what makes you think I fucking wouldn't?"
"Inari doesn't just need a cure, he needs a future. What kind do you think he's gonna have sticking around here?"
Suddenly, an itch racing up Tazuna's hand. His axe - he wanted his axe. Needed it. Anything to spare him from hearing more of what this son of a whore had to say. Tazuna didn't trust Mizuki, every word spilling from him oozing with self interest. But he also didn't trust ROOT, the Hokage, or anyone else in this village which had become little more than a prison. His bones ached with the weight of indecision, but in his heart, he knew what Mizuki offered that Koshiro couldn't match: the only chance he had left to save his family.
It pisses him off beyond measure.
Large hands reach out quick as lightning. They snatch at Mizuki's vest and drag him up with surprising ease. A few shouts are heard; the crew comes round, telling their boss to ease up. But Tazuna is too furious to hear them.
"Don't you dare come in here and run your mouth at me, you little shit. You might have everyone else in this Village fooled, but I know exactly who you are and where you came from, Mizuki."
"Exactly why you should listen to me!" Mizuki isn't cowed by his anger - he looks too tired, and too worn out to be intimidated. Like a scarecrow without a brain to know when to quit, he keeps jawing, knowing every sentence uttered is more of the truth Tazuna wants to hear. Much like Gyobu during his drinking fits, or like that of his daughter and Inari's father took no heed in; the edge of Mizuki's words slice deep. " There's point making your grandson healthy, only so he can become another cog in this fucking Village? Is that what you want him to be made into? A tool? Used and abused till you'll have nothing left of him by the end of it, old man."
"Tsubaki has been looking after Inari for months - she knows Yokosuka's been giving him those twelve year old fucking vitamins from the surplus rations. They ain't worked yet, huh? Yeah, course they won't. Because Inari needs actual fucking medicine, from a real fucking doctor. I can get him ALL those things, plus some. Alls you have to do is trust me, and get me what we need!"
It took Gyobu, Saemon and Okoi all to pry his grip off Mizuki. Even now his hands still tremble at the want at beating the fool to a bloody pulp. Yet, the walk home that day is longer than ever before. When he returns and looks into Inari's room, he listens to his grandson's pained gasps. Tsunami's tired smile comes to mind, her quiet resilience, and the ghost which followed her every day. Tazuna considers the possibility he was about to make the greatest mistake of his life, but no matter: people have called him lucky before.
Maybe he could be fortunate again.
As with whatever time he had left, the old soldier makes peace giving whatever he had left to Inari and Tsunami both. For they deserved a chance to be happy. Far, far away from this place if possible.
He places his glasses back on his face and moves over to a lopsided part of the floor; the spot is conspicuous in an abode of a master carpenter. The creak of his knees pop loud in the quiet room as he bends over, and proceeds to pry one the pannelinf apart. Neath the floor is a small wooden box, and inside are blueprints—maps of Konoha's Library and its labyrinthine defenses drawn from memory. They were old, but they would suffice.
And as his fingers brush against the blue parchment and the secrets they held, his heart racing with a spark of resolve, Tazuna knows he's making the right choice. If he could give Inari and Tsunami even a sliver of hope, a chance to escape this broken system, then the risk was worth taking. All Mizuki asked were his help and these blueprints. With ROOT? All they'd promised was more of the same: the same struggle, the same threats, the same wasteful days sitting around waiting for change to come.
No.
Konoha's Will of Fire only burned, and left too many empty chairs in countless houses. For he saw it happening again - all the young, impressionable genin marching along to black uniformed officers. Stern, angry faces looking for any excuse to pull the triggers on their weapons. And Tazuna was too old, too impatient to endure any more of it. The bugger mistake here was wasting whatever faith he had left on this Village, and letting Tsunami and Inari suffer for it.
And he was not going continue a moment longer.
Whatever the cost, he's done waiting for someone else to save his family. It was time to take matters into his own hands. Tomorrow, he would meet Mizuki.