Transmission #4-4-0-0; Designate: Ensemble

North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"; Genin Dormitory Compound

Plan of attack on Library complex; suspected insurgent meeting on State grounds

01:00 hrs; December 5, 1963

"Good! Now that we have introductions out of the way, down to business." Mizuki leans against the curled, slumped trunk of an oak, arms crosed and smirking. The moonlight filtering through the mouth of the cave casts him in a pale glow.

Naruto is unimpressed.

When Mizuki messaged him for a "team meeting", Naruto didn't think it was literal. And looking over the crusty group of ragtags gathered before him, he prayed somewhere there were more hidden away somewhere. Surely, there had to be. If this mission was as important as Bridge Builder said it was, if the fate of the Village, his friends, the World was at stake; why in all the hells did half the group gathered seem to have one foot already in the grave. Even Mizuki.

One look at him, and Naruto knew could tell man wasn't well - pale skin drawn tight, dark circles looker even worse than before, pale stubble which hadn't been there before. Mizuki looked to have not eaten in days, but that even taking in a little but would cause his stomach to burst with exertion. Even as he catches himself landing down from the branch, he sways with unease. Almost needing Tsubaki to prop him up.

But unfortunately for Naruto he wasn't the worst looker of them all.

Tazuna stands a little off to the side, the light catching the gray streaks in his unkempt hair. He looks like he'd been dragged straight from his workshop—a short, stout carpenter man in a patched-up tunic, with rough hands that seemed more accustomed to sawing wood than handling anything remotely stealthy. A rolled-up blueprint was tucked under his arm, like he'd mistaken this meeting for a construction project. He doesn't say much, just squints at everyone, gauging whether they were worth his time.

Next to him was Kosuke, a man so old Naruto half-expected him to crumble into dust if the wind blew too hard. His hunched frame was wrapped in faded shinobi gear from another century, the kind that looked like it had seen more wars than Naruto had seen bowls of ramen. His eyes were sharp, though, darting out of his thick bearskin vest and hat as if reading everyone's movements, breaths, and twitches. A long pipe dangles from his lips. With the aroma of faint, sweet-smelling smoke curling into the air. After all these years Naruto wasn't sure if the man was completely senile or simply lucky to have made it so long.

Irregardless, he doesn't inspire much confidence.

Then there was Bekko. A slouching, pugnacious little man whom Naruto had a history with worth forgetting. He had an expression that screamed he'd rather be anywhere but here. A vitriolic sort of contempt which seemed to almost pour out of him; he looks pained, burdened almost, and makes himself small as he crosses his arms. Rough features hardened by years of experience—or just years of bad luck—fidgeted as scarred hands nervously handle a cigarette which had long since burned out. The middling chunin was someone who didn't trust easily, and judging from the way he eyed Naruto, the feeling was mutual. When their eyes met, Bekko snorts and looked away, muttering something under his breath.

Naruto's fists clenched at his sides when he turns to Mizuki, voice louder than intended. " Really? Them? This is your big team meeting? Tazuna can't even walk straight without his sake, Kosuke looks like he belongs in a museum, and Bekko—" He jabbed a finger at the older shinobi. "—looks like he hasn't smiled since the Warring States Era! How the hell are they supposed to help us get into the Konoha Library?"

"If you knew what's good for you, 外人, keep your opinions to yourself, and your mouth shut about things you know nothing about." Bekko snorts out, folding his arms.

"To be fair, more of a whiskey man myself." Tazuna moves over to a cut down stump beside them. He kneels, and sets down the small kerosene lamp he carries under his arm. The crack of a striking match lights up the dark glass, though Tazuna makes sure to turn the handle to dim its glow. "On behalf of my crew at the yard, I'd like to thank you for retrieving that last bottle for us. Your excursions across The Wall must be tough on you."

"They know about us?!" Naruto looks over to Mizuki accusingly, but it's Tsubaki who speaks, telling Naruto to keep his voice down.

"Not everything." Mizuki shrugs, amused. "Just you and I mean to steal the worst kept secret in Konoha, smuggle it out of here using our super cool ninja skills, hand it over to our mysterious backer, and be back before you can say 'dattebayo'."

Naruto's cheeks flush red with anger, annoyance, an agitating gnawing sort of feeling clawing inside his stomach. Could be the indigestion, or the want of better food, but nothing made him feel easy. Save, for maybe clocking Mizuki right in his smug, stupid face. Just one punch - all he needed. Yes, Naruto was doing this of his own free will - he would;t be here if that weren't;t the case. bridge Builder dangled the one carrot infant of his face that could motivate him. But damn it all, Naruto would appreciate a little more care in choosing his support; yeah, the risk of death was a sure-as-shit ultimatum for all of them. But, fuck, like everything else in the North, the method here was "quantity over quality."

Or more correctly, "whatever the hell is around is good enough."

"You don't have to like 'em, or trust them. Frankly, I don't either. But that's not important." Mizuki says, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Bridge Builder does: they're vetted, vouched for, and your best shot for getting into the Library in one piece. And leaving - in one piece - with the Scroll. Experts are the ones who don't get caught, and these guys fly so low under the radar, might as well be underground."

"Yeah 'cus they all look dead. Including you. What's going on, you look terrible?"

"Oh, you're so nice for noticing...Aw, jeez, enough! Don't gimme that look. I'm fine. It's the fucking dog meat I had the other day."

Bekko walks heavy past them, eyeballing Mizuki the entire way. The silver haired man pays it no mind, though Naruto clocks it. Sure as Tsubaki gives her fiancée a concerned look. She squeezes his arm gently, telling gim they should hurry. You shouldn't be too long in the cold, she says.

But veggie she can lead Mizuki away, Naruto reaches out to grab hold of his arm. Tsubaki forcefully tells Naruto to let him go, but oddly Mizuki obliges; the man doesn't shrug him off, nor hit him with a snide comment. Instead, theres a look of almost genuine concern etched on his face.

Must be the light of the moon playing tricks.

"Whats up, kid?" Mizuki asks, telling Tsubaki to relax. "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours. What's on your mind?"

What's on his mind?

Too much.

I'm up most nights because I'm being interrogated in my own nightmares. Every time I close my eyes I'm flooded by memories, thoughts, feelings which aren't mine - and I'm told they're not mine. I'm not me any longer, but someone else. Someone who knows more than he should, and is being hounded by some phantasmal figment from my imagination. Or, maybe he's not a part of my imagination. I think he's real. And I think he's looking for something inside me. Deep inside...He wants answers, and so do I.

Am I going insane?

Am I who I'm supposed to be?

Am I going to be all right?

This is what he wants to say, should've said, but doesn't.

Instead the words catch in his throat, so that when he swallows them down it's like gulping shards of glass swallows them down. He tells Mizuki in the end it's nothing.

Not a thing.

That's a lie, but honestly, Naruto figures it's safer to stay quiet.

At Inogawa Foundry he'd fought a ROOT guard, and wounded them. The sentry's blood was still wet on his kunai when he added it to the Shinigami Map. And the name culled up map's surface practically sent the air from his lungs.

For a while, Naruto wondered if he was under some kind of genjutsu. A trick of the mind ever since Aokigahara. Unlikely, though - Sakura-chan always said his head was thicker than the faces on the Heroes Mount for genjutsu to work on him. Partially true; during his Academy days, genjutsu was never his forte. And deep down he knew wear he saw upon the Shinigami Map wasn't a trick, or a lapse of tired eyes.

It was there - SHE was there.

However impossible that was.

And no matter what else flitted through his mind, he knew she would never leave his sight now. Making him wonder how much further her ghostly image would continue walking in his footsteps before he was finally willing to acknowledge she existed.

Or, more unsettling, he was following in hers. Which unsettled him, considering he didn't think she herself found a happy ending.

"We're looking at double, maybe triple the guard set up outside the business district's perimeter now. Normally, you'd think this is an issue - however, believe it or not. This is a good thing. We have the element of a surprise now, because everyone's attention is going to bee too anal in worrying over a routine shift change for the Library's security." Mizuki says, bending over to look at Tazuna's sketches. Naruto had shambled over once he was finally done regaining what little compose he could in this ball-freezing cold. He looks over to the old Kosuke in his nice fitting bearskin vest and heavy winter hakama with envy. Mizuki's breath comes in billowing gusts, as the frigid air turns every exhale into a puffing chimney spout. "Any chance we'd be able to use the service tunnel running from the Foundry the east-side basement, old man?"

"Again with the 'old man' shit," Tazuna grumbles, removing a pencil from behind his ear. He draws a straight line from the Foundry to the Library, marking every other inch with a noticeable "x". "No chance - that service tunnel has been closed off for fifteen years. Every iron brace within ten yards of each other has been damaged beyond repair every time the rock under the Village shifts."

"Shifts?" Bekko asks, leaning over Mizuki's shoulder. "What's the supposed to mean; the ground underneath us is moving? Impossible."

"Fuji is an active volcano; I can assure you, the rock moves. And it happens more than you think." Tazuna nods, circling four points around the Library's base. "When I worked on the foundations, first thing I looked into was how far each support beam could go without the entire structure collapsing in on itself. Fuji's magma chamber is approximately twenty kilometers down - so we cut roughly six miles into the rock to form a foundation, while at the same time not compromising the Library's structure due to the heat. After that, we got to working on the floor design for each level."

Tazuna passes his hands over the blueprint, detailing the specifics for each floor and denoting the civilians sectors for each; Tobirama wanted to make sure the public wouldn't be harmed accidentally should they venture onto a wrong platform. While at the same time keeping more classified sections of his ANBU corps private and quartered off from outside guests. Because what Tazuna was instructed to design, as Tobirama Senju intended, was for the Library to be built like a fortress.

Countless years of persecutions under the Oda regime, and the Iga gathered all of the remaining ninja schools across Japan. Here, hundreds upon thousands of texts, treatises, histories, scrolls, and other storied teachings were meant to be stored and housed in this Village. Prior, most of that knowledge was kept in the Hokage Tower. But once the Scroll of Seals came into to the Hidden Leaf in 1945, the Senju made for a twenty-four reverse story building going straight down into volcano's base. More were planned on the way - Hashirama intended to install more with his Mokuton. But he died before that came to fruition. Shame; Hashirama readily enjoyed creating red oak. A good working material - hard, sturdy. Supple enough to be worked in any which way."

"As fascinating as that all is-" Mizuki interrupts, waving his mittened hand to get Tazuna to move-along. "But before I freeze my balls off, explain a little more about these twenty -five floors."

"Twenty-four." Tazuna corrects.

"Ah, there you go - Now, c'mon."

"Each level." Tazuna goes, his glasses falling down the bridge of his nose, as he shoots a look past them towards Mizuki. " Is designed to move in accordance to the shifts in Fuji's bedrock. Every time heat or gas is emitted from the volcano's crater, it triggers a pulley system which swaps out each floor, and shuffles them back into a random order. You're never guaranteed to encounter the same stage more than once."

"Thirteen floors...By the kami, how many different combinations can one get with that number?" Tsubaki asks, awed by the sheer scope of what they were facing.

"Mathematically, give or take looking at a little more than ten trillion different sets you're bound to encounter. And that's being generous."

"Generous, right..." Naruto exhales, looking over at the blueprint. It's all made up of white lines, numbers, and angles he couldn't possibly understand. "Not all levels can possibly be booby-trapped, right? I mean, you did say there are civilian sections. Is it possible to shuffle the floors in an order where can descend and not have to deal with the traps at all? Or, what about as they're shifting, we stop a trapped floor from inserting itself back into the order?"

"Safeguards were put in place to make sure THAT exact thing doesn't happen - Ever. The pulley mechanism is designed to store build up gas on a timer. Once it reaches a certain point, the reshuffling starts up again. In case repairs need to be made, yes, the floor shifts can be stopped from a manual control panel located in the main lobby here." Tazuna circles the top right hand corner of the blueprint. "But for how long? I don't know. Depends, I guess. Could be minutes, an hour. No one's ever called me in for repairs. And the only one who ever knew of the combination was Tobirama himself. And we all know what a mistrusting bastard he was before Hashirama passed. But after? Forget about it."

Mizuki nods his head, nose getting redder by the second, as he tells Tazuna that's not a problem. "We got the combination sequence for the floors. That won't be an issue."

"You do?" Tazuna's head shoots right up.

"We do?" Naruto goes, before Mizuki elbows hims slightly in the blinks in confusion, until his mind goes back to the meeting he had with the mysterious Bridge Builder. His mind drifts back to the meeting in Aokigahara, to the big, broad shouldered man, right before Mizuki leveled him in the chest with a shotgun slug. "9-31-8-106-7-207-15," Naruto rattles off the numbers in quick succession, the order spilling from his lips like a reflex as the remembrance scroll comes back to memory.

Mizuki hits Naruto with a knowing smile, and hits him good job; a rarity considering Mizuki never complemented many on anything.

"How? And are you sure it's right?" Tazuna asks, eyes quirked up in surprise. "I don't wanna tell you what happens when the wrong sequence gets input."

"It's the right one - don't worry. We got it from a good source." Mizuki says.

"And who is this source?" Bekko sounds almost accusing when he asks this..

"Wouldn't you like to know, Bekks." Mizuki hits the perturbed man with the usual shit-eating smirk - though it is wain, and lacking its normal verve. "He's got it from good information. It's the real deal."

A moment of tenseness passes; Bekko still seems unsure to humor this as anything more than a charade, and Tazuna is unamused. The only one who keeps his mouth shut is Kosuke. Who it feels like is stealing glances more and more towards Naruto's way.

"Okay, so, we can stop the floor shifts for a time. Now what?" Mizuki asks.

"Then you have to figure a means of getting past all the traps." Tazuna rifles through a few more scattered notes; he pulls out a ruler, and ticks off a few hushed whispers as he flits through calculations in his head. He stops counting when he angles the floor plan at a ninety-degree curve. "Each floor was modeled after your average shinobi team: three 'genin', three 'chunin' levels, and three 'jonin'. The genin and chunin stages are pretty standard. Chakra wire, alarm bells, fake floors, explosive tags. But the jonin floors are designed to be nasty. I've only a rough idea of what they are; Lord Second kept the secret of what they were mainly to himself. All we did was put the frames in place, and after that he took care of the rest. Didn't stop him, though, from nearly killing every laborer on my team on job's completion. For the integrity of the defense, as he put it."

Bekko chews on the stub of his cigarette, face darkened by the shadows. "The Village was surrounded by enemies; Nidaime had his reasons."

"The Akatsuki, Bekks?" Mizuki says.

The man snorts again, before spitting out his cigarette onto the grass; Bekko tries to pretend he didn't hear what Mizuki said, and keeps his gaze looking down at the floor plans.

"But he spared you in the end?" Naruto asks, cutting through the tension.

"Spare us, sure..." Tazuna pulls a flask from his belt, and takes a long swig. When he finishes, he then opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. Three stark black lines are tattooed there, followed by two broken in near the tip.

Tsubaki's eyes go wide with shock. "An eradication seal..."

Most all were silent - From what Comrade-Proctor Iruka had told them once in class, Naruto knew only the bare-minimum of the technique. It was old - that much he did know. An archaic practice used by Jomon priests to ensure their shamanistic rituals stayed safe. Fairly simplistic in its implementation, yet the curse exhibited a good deal of control. "Paralysis or death," Iruka explained, strutting about the class in his slick parade uniform that day. "Your tongue goes blue, the blood vessels in your neck become constricted; you'll find it hard to breath as the muscles in your jaw and face tense about your windpipe. It'll feel like your entire head is being constricted by an anaconda. It's a fairly barbaric measure to ensure State secrets indeed stay secret. Which is why The Noble One disbarred its use after 1955..."

On certain occasions, of course; Iruka did also mention the technique's implementation was still called on for the most dire of necessities. However, those were few and far between. Plus, one caveat toward the curse and its dissolution made it an untenable means for security.

"I though the seal dissolved once the person who administered the mark is gone? Tobirama is dead. So...?"

"Lord Second wasn't the one who gave us the seal." Tazuna looks at Naruto with a grim look, and shrugs his tired shoulders. "It was Danzo Shimura."

"Impossible!" Bekko blurts, spitting out the cigarette in his mouth. Reeling like he'd been punched in the gut, he balls up his fists in anger as he stares daggers towards Tazuna. "I was there at the Watchtower when the explosion happened - I saw with my own eyes Shimura Danzo dead center in the blast. " The man looks anxious, his pug face scrunching up as the wheel in his brain turns as fast as the little hamster there was able. Looked like it hurt. "If that's a true eradication seal, then why haven't you dropped dead telling us all this. By The Noble One's holy name, you're lying to us, carpenter."

Tazuna shrugs his shoulders, making it clear he doesn't care what Bekko thinks. Nor if the curse seal didn't work when it should've. He was too old for this shit, and said as much before taking another swig from his flask. But for Mizuki, apparently this all confirms what he'd been thinking for some time now.

"Danzo is still alive. Somewhere. And the State, ROOT, know about it and are lying to cover their tracks."

"But what for?" Tsubaki asks, pulling the hem of her parka closer - a biting wind rips through the trees, sending a shiver through all of them. "They wanted to get rid of Danzo, sure. Considering his history here, I can wrap my head around someone wanting him dead. What happened at the Tower, though, hurt the North far worse by comparison."

She was right; even if Bekko looks shook at the prospect another member of State would go to such lengths.

Choza Akimichi, Koharu Utatane, Homura Mitokada, Tenzen Yakushiji, and a slew of other Presidium higher ups and members of the State Politburo present at the Watchtower. Let alone the jonin and military personnel taken out of commission, as well. The suggestion of revenge on "one" feels paltry. Comical, even. However, for Mizuki, the collateral damage hits home what the Bridge Builder had been alluding to prior: allpresent were the alleged targets. By a third party whose identity and dealings are yet unknown.

Naruto frowns; the further they all go, the more he's starting to feel like the fly on the wall. Save, the benefit of listening in only eludes towards the inextricably damning web threatening to ensnare him if he wasn't careful. He doesn't see the spider, but Naruto can't help but feel its presence. It's watching, waiting for the perfect moment. It can afford to be patient, let the flies make their mistakes. So far, it's capitalized on the confusion. And now Naruto feels like no matter what they did, it's all going according to plan.

But not theirs.

This feeling of dread, a sickening, venomous type of anxiety which puts a dark mark on his mind, makes him almost relate to the Nidaime why he fashioned the Library as he did. Paranoia. Grief. Maybe even guilt. All culiminating in a ruthlessness which made him a a polarizing figure among State records. Where Hashirama was the idealist, a dreamer, someone who believed in the strength of unity and diplomacy. Tobirama was a realist: cynical, selfish, whose obsession became consumed with the idea the Village's survival depended on his ability to anticipate and thwart EVERY threat.

Foreign powers to the south, rogue shinobi from the remnants of warring clans, even factions within Konoha itself. Tobirama saw threats everywhere, and the Library - a storehouse of all the accumulated wealth of knowledge of Konoha's history - had the potential weapon of becoming a weapon in the hands of the wrong people. Causing him to alienate allies after his brother's death, conflate cruelty with security, and become a warlord in everything but name.

When news of Lord Second's death spread, Naruto was a young boy.

He remembered the shock of it, but he also didn't remember that time being a period of mourning, either.

"Well, on the off-chance we all wouldn't like to join Danzo - maybe - in the afterlife, all you gather round. If this eradication seal decides to work, no idea how long I have to blurt this all out." Tazuna offers his silvered flask to any who wish to take a drought before he opens Pandora's box. None take him up on his offer, which was fine by him; he downs the remaining contents, before flipping through more pages. With a stubby finger, he then taps to a floor plan of a jonin level. "This I managed to pilfer right before the site was completed; this first line of defense doesn't appear to be physical, but psychological. These corridors here-" Tazuna marks the lanes between book shelves with his pencil. "These shift using seals that manipulate chakra signatures. They change direction depending on the intruder's movements. One step forward, and suddenly the hallway extends for miles. One wrong turn, and you're back at the entrance—or worse, trapped in an endless loop."

"Genjutsu?" Tsubaki asks, her eyes narrowing.

Tazuna shook his head. "No; Tobirama hated relying on genjutsu—too unreliable if someone could counter it. This was real. Physical. The seals can warp space itself. And then there are the water traps. Some sections we designed to flood at will. Pressure-controlled locks at these points can seal intruders inside. Drowning them slowly unless they counteract the pressure points with precise chakra control. And that ain't even the worst of it," Tazuna said grimly, flipping to another page. "Here: the 'Silent Kill' chambers."

All lean in to study the diagram of small, confined rooms lined up together on a single floor. There were no visible exits, no visible lanes or avenues out. Everything within was trapped in an air-tight space meant to suppress all sound and chakra once inside. Here, the intruder would be forced to fight not only the environment but their own senses. "Tobirama called it the ultimate test of a shinobi's mind," Tazuna explains. "No light, no sound, no way to feel. Just you and the weight of your own fear. Intent was you'd have to go insane before finding your way out. If you didn't in time, well…" Tazuna trails off, before tapping the faint outline of pressure plates rigged to release spikes from the walls.

"All right, old man, I get it. But show me where the money is." Mizuki's bloodshot eyes don't leave the faded white and blue markings, voice intent like a hungry wolf; Naruto can feel the palpable tension coiling in the man next to him. Bordering on excitement, as the pot of gold at the end of this rainbow called to him.

Tazuna flashes a grumbled look, mutters a thing under his breath, and gives a solemn answer. "This bit here," the weathered soul says, showing the last page of a simple square with little to show for it. At first, Naruto thought this was some joke, but Tazuna explained this was due to Tobirama crafting this last one himself. "All in secret. He made sure no one - not even his own brother while he lived - knew the details. All I had to go off were the dimensions he asked me to fashion for the room, and that's it. Trap here is called the 'Shinigami's Edge' - whatever the hells that means. But this is where you'll find the Scroll of Seals; Tobirama moved it here right before he was killed."

"How fortuitous for us." Mizuki clears his throat of phlegm - a hacking, bloody kind of thing, before swallowing it with an audible gulp. He stands to hos full height, audible pops coming from his aching joints. He crosses his arms, and smirks looking at sll if them "Here's the thing: first step is getting inside."

Bekko snorts out a laugh. "Oh shit, really? Well good to have figured that out. Wouldn't know where to if not for you."

"My shift!" Mizuki goes, hitting Bekko with a hard stare before continuing. "Starts at the Library two days from tonight. It's graveyard time, so I'll be assuming not much activity is going on there. Save for the checkpoint I sign into —commissar is there on duty, and he's backed by his little genin goon squad. They'll be watching me come in. Which, normally would be a bad thing. However with the right disguises, I'd imagine all if us beinf able to walk right in. No problems."

"No, actually, big problem." Tazuna shakes his head. "The entire Library is rigged to uncover chakra signatures. Dampeners at the front entrance prevent any jutsu meant to disguise your appearance, and dispel it once you get inside the lobby. And once that happens, a Shishienjin barrier goes up and the entire complex is put in lockdown."

"Meant to keep those inside locked in-"

"And everyone else out." Naruto goes, following along Mizuki's logic. "Until the barrier is broken."

"But the only one with the know-how to dispel a Four Flames barrier jutsu is...?" Mizuki asks.

"The Hokage." Kosuke answers from where he's seated.

"Exactly." Mizuki is still smiling even when Bekko throws in again his two cents - any more and the man was bound to reach a dollar.

"Okay, fine: we all get in then. How are we then all supposed to get out? We'll be fish in a barrel by the time Asuma comes. And by that point who knows if we'll even get to the Scroll."

"Oh ye of little faith." Mizuki gestures at the blueprints, tracing the network of service tunnels he pointed out earlier beneath the Library's center. Dozens of lines trace out from the bankig district, up to snake themsevles up and around the Village. Some lead iff towards the Heroes Mount. Another veers south abd towards Konoha's gate. And one seemingly tracks for miles off towards the west. "We use these. The old, unmaintained, unserviced, bound to collapse at any moment service tunnels. They lead out of the compound. Once we get the Scroll, we ewcape through any one of 'em to cover our tracks."

Tazuna shakes his head, visibly uneasy. "I told you those tunnels are death traps. They've been abandoned for decades—one wrong move, and they're bound to collapse on you."

"Or them if we play our cards right." Mizuki notes with a strained chuckle.

And Naruto, for lack of a better reason, had to agree: it was their best, and seemingly, only other method of escape. Lest they'd all fancy a final showdown fighting past the front entrance. As it was noted, the guards on duty would be increased. The genin have been [icking up their patrols as of late, the ROOT commissars doing enough to attract more and more youthful recruits. All with the promise of good food, new uniforms, and a newfound swagger that'll keep most of them warm in the winter. Not to mention, also, the masked attacker Naruto contended with the other night...

His heart quickened at the thought of encountering the figure once more, knuckles cracking in frustration. Their name stands at the forefront of his mind, goading him onward, begging to rip off that mask and look the truth right in its face. And once he does, finding all the willpower he could muster to drive a pointy object directly into its mouth. No more talking - Naruto was tired of talking. He wouldn't let whoever it was behind the mask attempt to lie to him, trick his mind; Sakura-chan had always said he was too dense to sometimes be so eloquent.

But in that moment, all he could picture was bashing something so hard till it was ugly...

Which was unlike him.

Why was he feeling this heat again - this anger? It stirs him up inside, and twists his innards into knots. Worse than drinking a carton of curdled milk, Naruto suddenly has an urge to vomit, and despite the almost freezing temperature of the night, sweat begins to pool along his forehead. Calm down, just calm down. He says to himself. Stop it - stay focused. Not out here, and not right now.

Не борись с этим...

Naruto grabs hold of his chest, fighting hard to keep his breathing down and in check. No one seems to see him, no one seems to hear. Except for Kosuke, who reaches out with a mittened glove and rests it on Naruto's shoulder. At first, Naruto wants to lash out and tell him to get clear. Rip out that man's eyes, and shove them down his throat. But he doesn't, as fights down the urge to vomit up all these bad intentions bubbling in his stomach. Despite the pain still stinging him as his better senses cool him off.

彼はもう長くはないだろう...Das tun sie alle nicht; Du hast das gesehen...Except you...You were meant to last... Right, kid?

"What?" Naruto stifles his surprise when he turns over towards Mizuki, who hits him with a fixed stare; another concerned look, another question of "Are you ok?" never leaving his lips. instead, Mizuki repeats the plan he figured would be a good idea for coverage up-top while they all were inside. doesn't leave

"You'll have a shadow clone covered in the park, looking over the outskirts of the Library to make sure nothing gets the drop on us. Soon as you see anything suspicious coming our way, dismiss the clone, and relay all that you saw. Savvy?"

Naruto throws a thumbs up, trying to act normal all the while fighting the voice in his head. He stamps down the fire which beats through his veins, a heat which makes him feel like a furnace. Anger dissipates into panic, which comes down into calm, that Naruto now buries with his silence. A silence only he and Kosuke are able to share.

"Timing will be everything - no telling how long we have from when we disable the floors moving, till when back-up will arrive once the alarms sound - which I'm sure they will, correct?" Bekko asks over to Tazuna, who merely nods his head in the affirmative. "We need to be fast getting through all these damned traps to even be able to sniff the Scroll. And when we do, make it out fast as possible before anyone catches wind of who we are. My family is gone - I got nothing and no one to worry over. But all of you? Sure it's understood what'll happen to our people if we get caught.

"Exactly, which is to say: last chance, old man." Mizuki says over towards Tazuna, the only real person who does have people tied inextricably to him. "No reason for you to stick around if you don't want. You did good by us showing the Library's plan. If you want out, my backer is willing to hold up his end of the bargain for what you did."

"Save it. I don't wanna hear it." Tazuna shoulders off the goodwill. He didn't need it when he was treading along those foxholes back in Saipan, or lost in the jungles of the Solomons. Manilla was a meat grinder he managed to survive through, too. And not because he was lucky - he was a good soldier, a loyal soldier; who vowed to see the mission through till the end. These fools would get the first thing wrong and off themselves if he didn't go in with them.

Plus, if Mizuki died, how the hell was the Bridge Builder going to make well on his promise getting Inari and Tsunami out of Konoha and to the South.

Bekko is beside himself when he hears this treachery. Traitors, he says under his breath. Non-believers. What on earth do you think they're going to do you for there, that we can't provide for everyone here. "This is only a problem that needs fixing, carpenter man. We get rid of the cancer, we save The Village. Keep everyone safe."

"Keeping everyone safe is not the same as staying fed now is it?" Tazuna raises his voice, and not his fists. Thank goodness - the man carries mallets and not hands. Bekko pales backward, because he was a believer still, and couldn't fathom how any could abandon this place which they called home.

He was the only one here, though, who thought so.

Well, except for Naruto.

Konoha was his home.

But this was not about the Village - the ACTUAL Village, but those residing within. His friends, the people he loved and loved back; all those who made this at least a warm enough existence for himself. to keep him going in this frigid cold, to tell him he's not only one of them, but a part...

He sighs.

Because that's the orphan talking in him.

The lonely kid who was still on that swing set.

Mizuki told him once to quit being selfish, and he was right; constantly comparing him to that little kid was not the manner in which a man grows up. He wasn't going to be tied to that part of him, see himself as a child, but a person who's qualified to say "I know what I mean to myself". And hopefully others can see that, too. Comrade-Sensei Kakashi, Comrade Iruka, Sakura-chan, Shikamaru, Ino, Matsuri...Sasuke.

And the Bridge Builder.

The broad-shouldered, white-haired man whose presence loomed larger now than ever before. He was a far-cry of what he imagined the man to be like - frankly, in his head he imagined someone more like Tazuna instead. Gray, weathered, a hardened soul weighed down by years of toil and regret. But instead what he saw in the Forest of Death was warm. Sincere. A person who possessed resolve, yet not weighed down by his responsibility, but carried it with a kind of effortless grace Naruto was sort of jealous over.

Bridge Builder didn't wear his burdens like a chain; didn't feel like a man who dealt in half-truths. Instead, what he offered to Naruto - and evidently everyone else here, was the one thing he'd always wanted. Needed. It wasn't the State. Not The Cause. Or the Noble One. Not even the Will of Fire could keep him warm when the heat in his dorm goes out, when the people around here continue to struggle, trudge on despite all the lies, the games, and pointless soap-box lectures.

What instead was offered was hope.

And for just a moment, the cold out here didn't seem quite so sharp.

The cave winds howl like hungry spirits, cutting through their clothing and chilling them to the core; in wintertime the cave entrance had a bad habit of turning to a wind tunnel. Frostbite was a real threat if they lingered too long out. Mizuki pushes himself forward, hands stuffed into his coat pockets. His face wore a half-smile, shaky but resolute, as he scans the group, taking in their pale blue faces warmed only by their shared risks. Tazuna, the grizzled and steadfast veteran; Bekko, his pug-like features twisted to grim resolve for want of doing the right thing; Kosuke, this crazy mother effer, who opted to be here because of a forlorn promise. And then to Tsubaki, eyes alight with hope that this was all going to be over soon.

Mizuki clears his throat, his voice steady despite the cold. "Listen. You're all here for a reason. And I know what some of you are thinking—that this is all because of me. Let me stop you right there." He looked them each in the eye, his smile fading. "That shit doesn't fly. Why? Because you all hate me. Let's not pretend otherwise."

Naruto blinked, caught off guard by Mizuki's bluntness. The man chuckled dryly, his breath visible in the frosty air.

"Yeah, you hate me," Mizuki continued. "Heh, that's fine. Join the club. But here's the thing—like me or hate me, you need me. Don't kid yourselves, because I'm not bullshitting me neither, we're not heroes. Heroes suck dick, and die first. What you all will accomplish if we pull this off will not heroic in the slightest. In fact, in some people's eyes what we're doing is straight up betrayal. No matter the reasons...No, what we're doing here isn't meant to make a statement, won't make no waves, ain't nothing to nobody. The day after we get the Scroll outta here, people everywhere in Japan will go about their fucking routines not knowing what you did. And that's fine. Because truth is we're fucking badasses who don't need no laurels, nor stupid little platitudes written on our headstones. That's not what you, even though that's what they kept feeding us. Nah. We all know what we want. So take it, and rub everyone's faces in it afterwards."

Mizuki knows the figure he strikes now gets less and less than the man who started on this path. When it began he was only a boy with a lost cause, and no money in his pockets. He sacrificed a lot in those dark places. Kept on keeping on with what little there was to a name. Sure, he got by. With a certain type of hate that calcified into something cancerous inside him. S'fine. Because every day spent in Konoha felt like a betrayal to what he was, and the more he breathed this air, the longer he had to listen to assholes like Bekko or any of the other piss-ant jerks coming in to plaster some poster on a wall, it made him sick. Sooner than not, he felt himself becoming a footnote in this place. Another spoke turning ceaselessly on its wheel.

But now before the end, Naruto can see for some unknown aspect to this man's character, Mizuki is willing to stand up for something again.

The Naruto hears more voices - in the distance a large company catches their attention. It's not Comrade Morino once more performing his nightly duties walking the grounds, a large group is seen heading towards the dormitory compound. Kosuke turns his head from Naruto, and lifts his chin slightly into the wind. Better than most, his eyes can make out the platoon of armed infantry, twenty or so, moving quick in good order. "Peppermint, soil, boot oil, too. Waishou commissar in the lead." He informs them all. "Black uniform. "

ROOT.

Wait...'Waishou?' Naruto shoots a quick glance to Kosuke - that's Southern slang. And not a common one, either. Least not common on this side of The Wall. The connotations for it means 'stunted', 'imp', or 'shortie. It's a JSDF dig making fun of the smaller stature of the North Japanese. Chalk it up to no nutrition and poor diet. A side-effect of jiritsu living. But not something a person around here would use to describe another.

Naruto tries to spy what Kosuke sees, but the black veil is thick tonight. All he can make out are a few sparks of light from the sentry house outside the dorms. There, a shortened figure comes into the light, its billowing winter coat hunched over its diminutive form, standing in contrast to the assortment of officer's caps and winter capes making up the majority of the rank and file behind it. It was like an entire detachment of officers were sent to investigate tonight.

"Time's up - we've overstayed. We should move, and you need to get back." Kosuke says over to Naruto. Standing up with surprising agility, he motions he'll escort and provide cover for him till he reaches the compound wall.

"What? No, it's fine - I can make it on my own." Naruto tells him.

"These aren't ones who'll ask first, shoot later - they're all wound too tight, I can sense it." Kosuke advises. Because there's something different, he goes. His bones tell him so Sendai infantry always traveled in full kit; they were slow, loud, and easy to pinpoint. But this bunch moved too quietly, too efficiently, too much with purpose. "He needs an escort back." Kosuke urges to Mizuki.

"I don't need an escort - ugh!" Naruto bites his tongue as another sharp pang of pain races up from his navel to his neck. "Too many will only slow me down. I can make it better on my own. Really."

For a moment it looks like Mizuki is considering letting Kosuke follow, but in the end he gives in: would be safer for Naruto to get in alone. Because once he goes over, who'll be there to watch for Kosuke. "You look like a damn bear from afar. One look at you, and those assholes will be filling you with lead before you can say, 'Hey, Boo Boo'. Let it go, Kos."

Eventually, he does, though when Naruto leaves Kosuke looks a nervous wreck. It was off-putting. Naruto didn't know Kosuke from anyone. At least, not personally. Professionally, yes, all knew of the man who made being genin a lifelong career choice. Sasuke and Sakura ever teased if Naruto wasn't careful, chances were good he could turn into him. A low-grade ninja with minimal footprint in the Village.

A running opinion among most of the younger shinobi running about.

But the few times Kosuke was brought up in conversation with either Kakashi or Asuma - or any of the older ninja in the Village, they paused. "Be careful of an old man in a young man's job, Naruto." Kakashi told him once. Next time, he goes, look in the eyes. One only had to look into there to see Kosuke, and know. This man had seen much in his lifetime, and figured the only manner he could survive was by an y means available. Survivor's were a commodity in their realm of work. If you lived long enough to still be an active member of the militia, then fact is, you've more than earned respect of most.

And what's more, Kosuke's file only went so far back: from early 1945 he was registered in the books.

Under the guidance of one Sarutobi Hiruzen - The Great Betrayer.

Before long, Naruto retraces his path back to his room. Navigating the old castle required more than just silence; the misshapen floorboards had a habit of betraying the careless, groaning under the weight of even the lightest step. Naruto moved with precision, careful to keep to the edges of the corridor where the wood was less likely to creak. The patterned screens along the walls glowed softly, their candlelight flickering to life as he passed—another trap for the unwary. But he knew where the shadows were deepest, where the angles of the screens cast blind spots against the walls. The castle had its secrets, and Naruto knew how to move among them.

He reaches his hall just as the last footfalls of the soldiers turned the far corner. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he waited—one, two, three beats of his heart—before moving forward, his fists tightening at his sides. The broken door to his dorm stood ajar, the splintered edges framing the mess inside.

His room had been ransacked.

Naruto's stomach twists, but he kept his expression neutral as he goes inside. Clothes and scrolls lay scattered across the floor, drawers upended, sheets torn from his bed. But nothing was smashed, nothing destroyed. Save for the record player and his radio - than God, he'd the good sense to hide his records neath the crawlspace where the loose floorboard was. And, more importantly, his more illicit belongings - the contraband, the coupons he had to Ichiraku mane stand, the shag rags and Icha-Icha novels. And the Shinigami Map, of course.

But of all which catches his sight, his breath hitches and his muscles coil when he notices his mother's box in the center of the mess.

He could see it had been dented, edges scuffed as if someone had tossed it against the wall or kicked across the floor in frustration. A slow exhale leaves him as he crouches beside the small metal container.

They tried.

And failed.

He doesn't touch it. Instead, letting his fingers ghost over the surface, tracing its worn down ridges and edges. He promised himself many a time before her name didn't matter, what she was didn't "make" him any more or any less. But that ROOT tried to come in and take a piece of this from Naruto made him want to tear out his eyes; she was not theirs to take. She wasn't anyone's, for she was long gone. And Naruto would much prefer her stay that way.

Yet it appeared everywhere he looked his mother's presence polluted his time.

The soldiers here had searched, but hadn't found what they were looking for. Which will only mean they would be back. For him or for her, he hadn't a clue.

Naruto inhales deeply, steadying himself. With careful hands, he lifts the box up and places it back where it belonged. Under his upturned bed frame, out of sight and out of mind.

There he knows she can't get to him; Kira - "Kushina" - whatever she wanted to be called was best kept out of sight. Sad to say he just doesn't have it in him tonight to confront her. Because what she was - is - feels less dangerous if his mom stayed a mystery. Why the hell are you so important now of all times, he thinks, letting out a tired sigh.

He holds the Shinigami Map in his hand, clutched tightly to his chest now, unopened. Better it stays that way, though he debates if maybe he should check it one more time. To maybe prove he's not as crazy as he thinks he is...Nah! No way - not for tonight. Whatever the map showed or didn't show, Naruto doesn't want to acknowledge it. Better to pretend it never showed up at all. Hopefully, that could give his mind some peace for get a good night's sleep.

Which is doubtful.

Sleep won't come easy tonight. Nor for the following nights either. For as bad as things seemed now, they were about to get much worse in the coming days.

Much, much worse.