Y26AC: Routine Assignment 26-SR331-CR1227

THE SHADOWS STRETCHED LONG and wrong across the corridor walls, distorted by the red glare that flickered in sickly pulses.

Wei had thought she was alone in this section of the ship — had been certain of it — until she rounded the corner and saw him.

He stood motionless in the darkness, a towering figure wrapped in white and black that seemed to ripple like smoke. But it was his eyes that made her blood freeze in her veins: twin points of burning crimson that pierced the gloom like hot coals, leaving trailing afterimages as they fixed upon her. The light they cast painted the corridor's metal surfaces in what seemed to be shades of rust and dried blood.

Her heel struck the floor with a hollow clang as she stumbled backward. The sound echoed through the space between them, and the figure's head tilted ever so slightly, those terrible eyes tracking her movement with predatory intensity.

"Please," she whispered, though she wasn't sure what she was pleading for.

He took a step forward.

The emergency lights stuttered, and in that fractional darkness, his eyes burned brighter, seeming to float disembodied in the void. When he spoke, his voice was deep, resonating in ways that made the metal walls seem to vibrate.

"Ma'am, if you could just—"

A whimper tore from her throat. The walls were closing in, the corridor stretching impossibly long behind her, and those eyes, those terrible eyes boring into her very soul, stripping away layers of flesh and bone to see whatever lay beneath—

"Toru." Another voice cut through the horror, sharp and exasperated. "Your eyes are doing the thing again."

The crimson-eyed demon blinked. "My — Oh." He raised a hand to his face, appearing almost confused. "Oh no, I'm so sorry." He squeezed his eyes shut, brow furrowing in concentration. When he opened them again, they were still that unnatural red, though perhaps a shade dimmer. "I can't seem to... Well, I guess it's been a while since..."

He turned to his partner, looking helpless. "Karin, if you could...?"

Wei was already running, taking advantage of their distraction to bolt down the corridor, her footsteps echoing off the walls like panicked heartbeats. Behind her, she heard the man's — seemingly — mortified voice.

"I swear there used to be an off switch for this..."

"You know," Karin said, watching the woman flee around the corner, "I thought Naruto only meant it jokingly. But we've been on board for what, ten minutes? And your luck has already caught up to us."

"I'm trying," Toru muttered, blinking furiously. The crimson light dimmed slightly, then flared back stronger. "It's like... you know when you forget how to manually breathe?"

"Thanks for the reminder," Karin grumbled. "I can't sense anything. Anti-chakra wards?"

Toru shrugged. "I guess. Can't see any chakra myself. Probably why I'm having trouble with my eyes. They're still active, but I can't control them."

"I don't get why you even turned them on in the first place…" Old habits renewed, likely. "Okay, look. Close your eyes for the time being."

"Close my eyes," Toru repeated flatly, though he did so anyway. "I've fought in real wars, Karin. These eyes see the darkness already."

"And these eyes apparently forgot how to do the most basic—" She stopped as a voice crackled over their comms, and brought a hand to her ear.

"Team B331YK, status report?" Commander Ryuuzaki's tone was crisp, and professional. As always. Even though the two of them weren't quite here on the very formal sort of business.

"We've successfully boarded the vessel," Karin reported, before glancing at Toru, who still had his eyes squeezed shut. "Currently experiencing some… minor technical difficulties. And we cannot reach them or locate the two missing men, either."

"Understood," Ryuuzaki said. "Be advised we're detecting unusual energy signatures from the ship's recreational deck. Exercise caution."

"Acknowledged," Karin replied, then thumbed off the comm. "Toru, I swear, if you don't figure out how to dim those things before we find them..."

"And now?" Toru opened his eyes hopefully. They blazed like twin supernovas.

"Never mind," Karin decided. "Let's try not to look directly at anyone with the devil's eyes, then. And maybe we should avoid the passenger areas altogether."

"Almost certain that there's a maintenance corridor two sections over," Toru offered, pointing in that direction — and casting long, blood-red shadows across the alleyway. "Though we might want to hurry. I think I hear shouting."

"That's probably because of you," Karin muttered.

"I know — Can't you just turn it off for me?"

"I would have, if I knew how. It's not a regular Sharingan." Karin paused, then brightened. "Try Sakura's thing?"

Toru turned his hellfire gaze on her, expression deadpan. "You're not serious."

"Look, it always worked for her. And for Sarada. And for Sasuke's younger brother. And his sons. And yours."

"That's just—" He stopped, shoulders slumping. More shouts echoed from somewhere in the ship. "Fine."

He cleared his throat, looking like he'd rather face the god of gods than say the words. "Sharing-on..." he muttered, barely audible.

Karin crossed her arms, but a glint of mirth was shining through. "You have to say both parts. Louder."

"Sharin-gone," he finished with a grunt, voice dripping with self-loathing. His eyes continued to burn with undiminished intensity. "There. Happy? Can we please find a less populated route now?"

"You have to mean it," Karin insisted, failing to completely hide her amusement. "Sakura says the intent matters."

"Sakura just loves to fuck with other people," Toru growled. "Nothing more."

"Well, that's not entirely wrong but — Please try it."

"Once was already too much. I intend to never speak of this again," Toru said. "Ever."

A new sound joined the distant shouts — running footsteps, getting closer. Multiple sets.

"Maintenance corridor. Now." He pressed his hand against a seemingly random section of wall, which slid open with a soft hiss. "Ladies first."

"Such a gentleman," Karin said glibly, ducking into the narrow passage. "My husband would never."

"Please don't compare me to that guy. The only thing on his mind is the Breeding Games."

Karin laughed as she went. Toru's burning eyes actually proved useful, illuminating the access panel and the inside of the passage in crimson light.

"Security teams?" Karin asked, keeping watch behind him.

Toru, however, had some limited sight through walls — nothing like the Byakugan, of course, especially without any chakra to be perceived, but it was there.

"Worse." The hatch slid close with a pneumatic hiss. "A scared, angry mob."

"Oh, no. Pitchforks?"

"Not that I can see. But I'm coming in, just so we can avoid having an unpleasant conversation."

He squeezed into the narrow maintenance corridor just as voices rounded the corner:

"—swear I saw it, like something out of a horror—"

"—cybernetic eyes—"

"—sent by the Tiānzhōu Empire for sure—"

The hatch sealed behind them with a soft click, muffling the chatter. The maintenance corridor was even darker than the main one, though that hardly mattered with Toru serving as an unwilling human flashlight.

"You know," Karin said, trying to find a comfortable position in the cramped space, "these are always conveniently large."

Toru just grunted in answer, chest brushing against hers as he shifted.

"Just big enough for two people, really." Karin's grin was visible even in the red-tinted shadows. "Romance movies have started for less. You should ask my wife about this."

"…I hate you fucks."

"You say that," Karin said, ducking under a low-hanging pipe, and starting to crawl into the tighter passage. "But here we are. Very intimate, isn't it?"

"Here we are," Toru echoed, "hunting down our missing men on a Sunday. While I light the way with my malfunctioning eyes. I don't see the intimacy here, I'm afraid. Also, you should probably know I'm married too."

"Why are you staring at my ass, then? Burning it into memory with your fancy eyeballs?"

"I'm not—!" Karin laughed, and he huffed. "Oh, you're very funny."

A distant thud echoed through the metal walls, followed by what might have been laughter.

"Did you hear that?" Karin stopped.

"If you say it sounds romantic, I'm leaving you here."

"No, it sounded like—" She paused, tilting her head. "Is that... music?"

Now that she mentioned it, there was a faint bass vibrating through the walls, getting stronger as they moved forward. It had the rhythmic pulse of music, though muffled by layers of metal and insulation.

"The recreational deck is just ahead," Toru said slowly. "You don't think..."

"Only one way to find out." Karin moved toward the sound, then stopped and looked back at him. "Unless you'd rather stay here, in the tunnel of love?"

Toru grunted. "Tunnel of love? Is this some weird metaphor I can't see?"

"Only in the worst novels."

"Then I'm good, really," Toru said with a grunt, but he couldn't hide his slight grin as he followed her anyway.

"You know," Karin whispered as they neared another hatch, "maybe you should close your eyes after all."

"I'll do that whenever we meet people," Toru said.

"Good. They might make peaceful talk a bit tricky. I'm sure that Sakura thinks that terrifying everyone in sight is a solid diplomatic strategy, but…"

"Just knowing she's not here makes me feel better already."

Karin crouched by another hatch, pressing her ear against the cold metal.

"Sounds busy," she murmured. "I have no idea what they're up to, out there."

"I'll take your word for it. I can't hear shit without chakra."

"And with it?"

Toru snorted. "Whatever you say, Hanabi."

She laughed. "Wow, rude."

The assignment sounded pretty simple: warp in, assess the situation, sneak in if necessary, and retrieve the two missing Amatsubito.

"Amatsubito," Naruto had once mused aloud.

The name, he said, rolled off his tongue with a weight that did not sit right. It was too grand, too self-important, he had said — too much. In spite of his personal distaste (or possibly because of it, if the theory that Sakura played a part in it getting adopted by her former student, the King, held any truth), it had, unfortunately, become the official designation. And soon, as was Naruto's nature, he had been grumbling about how bureaucracies had a way of cementing bad naming conventions — a dislike for bureaucracies Yoisen shared, although for different reasons. That, in turn, led Sasuke to dryly ask which part of the Rings felt like a bureaucracy, exactly, and Hanabi to question when Naruto had ever shown good taste in naming anything.

Some had taken to calling the Ring's denizens Ringheads, of course, though the term carried a slightly snarky edge. Naruto wasn't sure which term he disliked more.

Ino, ever the pragmatist, had simply reminded him that playing at god often came with consequences.

"And you should count yourself lucky our kind are usually so benign these days," she had pointed out once, rubbing her pregnant belly with a meaningful look.

Karin, of course, favored Ringhead — but that was beside the point.

The real topic of today's discussion was something different.

"—They're quite behind schedule, and we lost contact. I think it's very important that one of us retrieve them," Karin said now, voice even but laced with a distinct or else. She paused only when she caught Sakura's too-eager grin. Her expression flattened. "...Preferably without causing a diplomatic incident. The Invitation hasn't been extended yet. The two of them just went to assess the world in person."

"Retrieve them…?" Naruto tilted his head, amused. "Before their partners realize they likely did something stupid and got themselves detained in a cell from which they cannot contact us?"

Karin sighed. "That, yes. Preferably so that everyone's back home in time for tonight's celebration."

"But they're still within mission parameters. And the life signals said they're fine, didn't they?" he asked. "And if it were serious, they'd have sent a distress signal. Or it would have sent on its own."

"Yes, but…"

"Why not trust them? They're both competent."

"Because you never know."

Naruto opened his mouth to answer, but the gaggle of children surrounding him pulled him back into their game. Some clung to his sleeves, others tugged at his hands, a relentless sort of impatient enthusiasm. He made a great show of struggling against them before waving Karin off in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding particularly sorry at all. "But I think that they're fine and that the people who will be sent — if needed — can manage this situation easily. As you can see…" he gestured toward the children still hanging off him, "truly important matters are waiting for me — such as the lands Sakura holds. I can't make it."

Sakura folded her arm across her chest, keeping her cards hidden, and she continued to glare at the board set on the table. "You're also powerless."

"Yes, yes. But powerless," Naruto conceded easily, casting a glance at Yoisen. She immediately reddened and looked away, as if she had known what was coming. "Does not mean impotent."

Yūshirō groaned. "Are you for real, Dad?"

"What does it mean, Yū?" Kasumi asked, peering up at her older brother over her cards (two were held upside down) with wide, expectant eyes.

Yūshirō shot their father a look of pure exasperation. "You explain it."

Naruto tapped his chin, considering it. "Well, you see—"

"No," Ino cut in, shaking her head. "Absolutely not."

The kids booed in loud protest, but Naruto, who had fully expected this, only grinned. "See?" he said, gesturing vaguely at the chaos around him. "Important matters." His amusement did not falter even when another child — Toru's, this time — tugged at his sleeve, eyes gleaming with stubborn curiosity.

Sasuke looked as distinctly unimpressed as Toru.

"I'll go," Hanabi cut in, already pulling her hair back into a tight knot. "That moron, at least, is probably in over his head. In fact" — she rolled her shoulders, stretching, and Karin gave her an appreciative glance — "I'll get it done so quickly I'll be back before the game even ends."

"Mom!" Minori whined. "You promised to help me win against Kaizen."

"That was before you decided to waste three turns to bolster your military when I told you it was a bad idea—"

Kaizen whipped around. "I thought you were helping me!"

Hanabi shrugged, completely unrepentant. "Survival of the fittest. Don't blame me for playing both sides, when you're both going to do what you want anyway."

Sakura grinned. "Cold, Hanabi. Even for you."

Toru, watching this unfold with obvious amusement, chortled. "Better if you don't go. With your current lack of control over your powers, what happens if you make eye contact with anyone?"

Satoshi perked up. "Oh, that's a good point, maybe I can go—"

"Absolutely… not," Hanabi said, arms crossed. She glared at Toru. "And I'm just fine, thank you, red-eyes."

Satoshi groaned. "But I'm a Warrior—"

"In training, Satoshi," Hanabi corrected, not missing a beat.

"Kinji said I was ready!"

"I'm sure you're strong enough," Naruto stepped in before Hanabi could start listing all the reasons Satoshi was not ready. Kaizen, after all, got his bluntness from somewhere (and there were many possible somewheres). "But there's more to being a Warrior than just strength."

Satoshi turned to him, intrigued. The other children fell silent, as though Naruto was about to reveal the secret of the universe.

"Like what, Uncle?" Hiro — Toru's son — asked.

Naruto grinned. "Well, most good Warriors have a signature weapon."

Satoshi nodded, eager, and the (gaudy) rings on his fingers gleamed. "I knew it! Like Yū! Like a legendary sword or a mystical spear?"

"Why not both?" Naruto offered. "And of course, you have to have a signature move. Or more."

Satoshi gasped. "Like a special technique?"

"Exactly!" Naruto said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Something flashy, something grand. Something that makes people sh—" Ino cleared her throat loudly "—recognize you immediately."

The kids murmured excitedly.

Satoshi clenched his fists, practically vibrating with determination. "I need one. I need one right now."

It was the sort of determination that made Toru glance at him warily. Karin, who grinned, could imagine what he was thinking.

Naruto spread his arms dramatically. "Then go for it! Think of something unique!" He paused, then shrugged. "Or, you know, just steal someone's move and improve on it."

Sasuke, who had been quietly observing, raised an eyebrow. "Really?" He glanced at Toru. "Why are you saying nothing?"

Toru didn't want to be a part of this discussion.

Naruto frowned at Sasuke. "What? It worked for at least three generations of teachers and students. What's one more?"

"In any case…" Sakura hummed, unimpressed. "About this… rescue. I can do it the fastest—"

"You are," Karin cut in swiftly, "our last resort."

Sakura gasped. "Rude!"

"But accurate," Sasuke muttered at the same time Riku said, "But true."

Sakura elbowed them both — in Sasuke's case, hard enough to make Hinata wince in sympathy (but not enough to intervene).

Minori, who had been watching this exchange with growing impatience, finally intervened. "Okay, but none of this helps me beat Kaizen."

"You just have to be patient," Nori said. "Kaizen has a pattern. He always—"

"Moves counterclockwise, favors expanding the realms he holds to fortifying," Riku finished. "They know that already."

Aoi arched an eyebrow. "We did not know that."

Kaizen turned to Ino's two sons with palpable outrage. "Guys!"

Riku winced. "Uh… sorry?"

Minori processed this. Then: "Oh. Ohhhhh."

"That's bad manners," Satoshi mumbled.

"And I'm so proud," Sakura said with a satisfied nod.

A sharp chime rang out. The children fell silent almost instantly, their attention snapping toward the source.

"Who's at the door?" Karin asked, though she already knew the answer. She was just waiting to see who would speak first.

Or rather, the usual mess of children talking over one another excitedly; Sakura rubbing her temple because of it.

Karin didn't stick around to listen. Two people were still very possibly trapped in diplomatic hell, and with Ino too pregnant (again) to go herself — and some of them too chakraless to make the trip — it fell to someone reasonable to handle it. Ever eager, Toru volunteered to join her, despite only recently recovering his own power.

Yūshirō, of course, would have gone himself, but Mitsuki had all but forced him to take some leave. Something about Sundays and having gone on too many assignments recently.

Naruto, observing all this from his comfortable, child-surrounded position, sighed in satisfaction. "See? It always works itself out."

"You're the worst," Yugito decided.

"And yet," Naruto said, lazily reaching to ruffle Yūshirō's hair, ignoring his protests, "you naive fools love me."

Sasuke just sighed. "It's amazing you've survived this long."

"It's the power of delegation, brother dear," Naruto said, sage-like though not sagely. "And luck."

Karin had already turned toward the door, not even bothering to look back as heard Akemi's amused mutter, "Mostly luck."

Yes, it all sounded pretty simple.

"Hand me the binoculars," Toru said.

"The binoculars?" Karin asked amusedly. "What is this, the Warring States era? Here — your lens array."

She flicked the sleek, silver device at him.

"Careful, though," she said glibly, "there's a non-zero chance they will magnify that red glare into an actual laser beam."

"Won't happen," Toru said.

They were crouched on the lower observation deck of the Red Dragon, a colossal sky junk drifting through the uppermost reaches of the cloud sea.

The ship's pagoda-stacked superstructure loomed above them, glowing with neon filigree that traced the edges of its floating architecture. Below, mist churned and twisted, obscuring the industrial leviathans that prowled the depths of the storm.

Toru activated the lens array. A cascade of data streamed across his vision, fed directly from the Celestial Ring's intelligence report. Limited as it was, in this realm.

Cybernetic Guardians patrolled the upper courtyard, their green-plated limbs gleaming under the bioluminescent lanterns swaying in the artificial breeze.

"Jade Sentinels, I think," he muttered. "Old models, but those energy regulators mean they'll still pack a decent punch if we get too close."

"Old models? You know these things?" Karin asked.

"The alloy they used is—" He noticed Karin's raised eyebrow. "I read the report before going?"

"So did I, but..." She paused. "Duh. Sharingan stuff. Of course you'd remember."

"Sharingan stuff," he confirmed. "This is a low-energy world — don't know how they even stumbled upon chakra-suppressing fields."

"Luck? Unintended side-effect?" Karin shrugged. "In any case, I can break through, if you need me to."

"I'm aware," Toru muttered. "I can too, but let's not. That would certainly draw too much attention. Better to rely on what little still works, for now."

"That's what I was thinking. Anything else?"

"Backup cores are operational," Toru said. "The design's solid. Force fields are still intact, probably because of wind debris. I don't see any of them, even in the holding cells. But maybe the vision's too obscured for that. Let's go through the ship, floor by floor."

"How do we get up?" Karin asked. "Did you take the grappling hook?"

"What grappling hook?"

"Seriously?"

"Why would I be carrying a grappling hook? And why aren't you?"

"Because I—" Karin trailed off. "…assumed you would." She shook her head. "No matter. We don't even know where they are. We can take the slow and scenic way."

"Any news from them? Signal still jammed?"

"No, and yes."

Toru sighed. "So, worst case? We take out the Guardians and make a run for it. Best case? We find a better way."

"Give me the binoculars back," Karin said. "I'll find that better way right now."

"The what?" Toru asked amusedly. "The lens array, you mean?"

"…Oh, whatever. Gimme."

And then, footsteps. Toru lowered the lens array before guards appeared, moving with synchronized precision.

Emerald light blazed as a squad of Jade Sentinels emerged from behind the deck's ornate pillars, all augmented limbs and stored energy. Behind them came their human handlers — security officers in black and gold uniforms, their faces obscured by crimson visors.

"Hands where we can see them!" the lead officer barked, his voice distorted by his helmet's filter. "You're in a restricted area!"

"Our bad," Karin said. "We are leaving, as we simply didn't know…"

"We know who you are, Ringheads. By order of the Xing Authority, you are detained under suspicion of ideological contamination."

Karin exhaled slowly. "Oh, wonderful. And what ideology might that be?"

Toru cleared his throat — a little too deliberately. The sound was dangerously close to "pick one."

The officer's optic lenses flared as he stepped closer. "You carry the stink of your ruleless homeworld. You speak our language, but do not belong. Your technology reeks of excess, as do your garments speak of opulence. And more importantly—" He tilted his head in an almost unnerving motion. "—your very presence disrupts the natural order."

"Excess…?" Toru shifted his weight, keeping his eyes closed. "Being post-scarcity isn't an ideology."

"Denial is to be expected," another guard intoned, his rifle locking into a ready position. "Commonsworn often refuse to acknowledge their transgressions."

The translator picked up the specific word used, and gave an approximation of its meaning.

Karin blinked. "Communists?" She turned to Toru. "…Are we?"

Toru shrugged. "Naruto did take my money."

The lead guard did not hesitate. "We have heard it. Your people seek to dismantle struggle, to exist outside the cycle of merit and hardship. You advocate for a society where wealth is meaningless, where suffering has no purpose."

"I mean," Karin mused, "when you say it like that—"

"Alluring," the officer said, "at first glance. Without hierarchy, there is no discipline. Without discipline, there is no strength. Your kind apparently believes in abundance for all, at no cost. Such thinking corrupts. Weakens. It is an infection."

Toru frowned. "I swear, I have had this exact conversation with the clan elders."

The guards took another synchronized step forward, and so did the mechanical Sentinels. The movement was precise... mechanical.

Toru started to raise his hands as a peace offering, and he made the mistake of opening his eyes, too.

"He's got augmented optics!" another guard shouted.

"No, I don't," Toru said. "Those are my eyes." He paused. "Or Shisui's…?"

"Plug and play," Karin said offhandedly.

"Commonsworn spies," another spat. "Here to steal industrial secrets, no doubt. Just like your comrades."

Karin shot Toru a sidelong glance. "Our... comrades?"

"Don't play dumb," the officer growled. "We've got your fellow agents detained. They claimed they were here for the gambling night." He gestured with his rifle. "In the ship's secure military facility!"

"Gambling?" Toru muttered under his breath. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Quiet!" The officer's rifle hummed ominously. "The Tiānzhōu Empire's reach ends at the storm wall. Your cybernetic advantages won't help you here either."

Karin slowly moved her hands away from her sides. "I assure you, we're not with any empire." She paused. "…Well, no, maybe that's not true. But we're just here to retrieve our colleagues."

"Your red-eyed friend says otherwise," another guard cut in. "Those are military-grade optic mods. No civilian has access to that kind of tech, even in Tiānzhōu."

Toru sighed heavily. "They're not mods, they're—" He caught himself. "Actually, never mind. You wouldn't believe me anyway."

The Jade Sentinels took a synchronized step forward, their actuators whirring. The sound of their movement echoed off the hangar's vaulted ceiling, mixing with the distant thrum of the ship's engines.

"Last chance," the lead officer warned. "Identify yourselves fully. Submit for processing. Or be neutralized."

"What exactly does that entail?" Karin asked.

No answer came.

"Fine," Karin said, stretching lazily. "Just one question before we die. What happened to the other detainees?"

"They are undergoing reformation. They will learn to exist within the structure of Xing's divine mandate."

"Brainwashing?" Toru asked.

"Why do you ask?" Karin asked. "Looking for inspiration?"

"No."

The officer's face could have been cut from stone. "Ideological purification."

"Same difference," Toru muttered.

Most of these measures were useless against Ring Core bearers—about as futile as trying to kill someone who had infused their soul with enough chakra to expand it. No matter where they fell, they would simply return to life, just as easily as an ordinary soul revived upon the Ring.

"So, this purification," Toru cut in, his still-glowing eyes casting eerie shadows across his face. "Merit through suffering? The natural order? More lectures about the evils of post-scarcity?"

The officer's visor flashed dangerously. "Your mockery only proves the depth of your corruption."

"Fascinating," Karin mused, her stance shifting ever so slightly. "You know what I find interesting? You keep talking about strength through struggle, but you need overwhelming numbers to feel secure."

One man stepped forward, Jade Sentinels in tow, their servos whirring in perfect mechanical harmony. "It serves the hierarchy. It is earned. Your kind seeks to eliminate the very concept of value."

Toru shrugged. "We didn't eliminate earning or meaning — if that's what you mean by value. We just stopped pretending need was some kind of virtue."

"In any case," Karin said, "I should at least extend an invitation. The Path of the Envoy adepts will be arriving soon, bringing both global and personal offers for each and every citizen. Since you seem so concerned with 'earning' your place somewhere — why not join us?"

"They kinda seem like shitty people," Toru pointed out.

Karin waved his concerns off. "We've had worse — they can reform too."

"Join you?" a guard asked. A flicker of hesitation passed through him. Just a flicker — but she caught it.

"Of course, there would be tests," she continued smoothly. "Life's good, back home. No strict hierarchy aside from the one you choose... and perhaps the King, sometimes. Ranks that only matter for your role. All that's needed is just a simple test to see if you could be a good fit for any of our, well, pretty large realms. That is what you value, isn't it?"

Someone spoke up. "We are not Commonsworn—"

"Enough!" The lead officer's rifle hummed louder. "You will submit for processing, like your fellow agents."

"About them," Karin said, her voice hardening. "Where exactly are they being... processed?"

No answer came.

"Are you finished resisting?" the lead Sentinel asked, pulse rifle locking onto Karin's center mass.

She smiled. "Oh, dear, we haven't even started."

Eight men, sixteen Sentinels. Easy enough, even without chakra, if it came to it. But there was another way: the right glint in the eye, the right tone…

She let her posture soften, shoulders dropping just enough to appear vulnerable. Her scarlet eyes now gleamed, although without chakra.

"…That's it?" Karin asked quietly, voice shaking with emotion. "You're just… accepting this?"

One man blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift. "…What?"

"I was once like you—" Karin began, her voice intimate, confessional. The words formed with practiced precision, the beginning of a speech she had rehearsed countless times in her mind after watching one man do it so effortlessly...

There was a crack overhead, a metallic groan that broke her concentration.

"Oh, come on!" Karin grunted, exasperation cutting through her carefully softened voice.

A hairline fracture splintered across the metal ceiling before it gave way with a violent crunch, showering the room in debris. Two bodies dropped through, limbs twisting mid-air to right themselves.

Nacchan hit the floor first, rolling smoothly to his feet, his breath coming in hard pants. His upper body was bare, wrists marked with deep red imprints from restraints. Gama landed beside him, equally disheveled, but his gaze flicked over the room with practiced ease, already calculating.

None of the two, however, seemed particularly affected by the entire ordeal.

Although she knew Nacchan would hate that fact, the two men's hands came up in tandem — Nacchan with a strangely shaped knife he must have snatched somewhere here, and Gama, making a whipping motion with what seemed like a curved blade of liquid lightning.

There was no hesitation.

"Karin! Toru!" Gama's voice cracked like the lightning dancing between his fingertips. "Get down!"

Not that they needed the warning. Their reflexes had been honed by years of narrowly escaping death.

Gama surged forward, electricity arcing in jagged blue-white tendrils as he lunged, slicing through several mechanical heads at once, and forcing another damaged Sentinel to retreat in a stuttering, jerky dance. The acrid smell of ozone filled the air. Nacchan was already moving like a shadow untethered, weaving past a pulse rifle that swung up a heartbeat too late.

His makeshift blade — that Karin now realized was a shard of metal he might have spent hours sharpening against the cell floor — found the gap between armor plates with surgical precision. He twisted hard, feeling the resistance give way. Sparks cascaded along the edges as the Sentinel spasmed, its servos screeching a mechanical death rattle.

With a savage twist, he tore the knife free.

The Sentinel crumpled, leaking blue-black fluid onto the pristine deck.

More rifles swung toward them, but Gama was faster. A whip of electricity lashed outward, precise and lethal to the machines, searing into exposed joints. The human guards faltered, struggling to recalibrate against the sudden, unrelenting chaos.

Nacchan caught a rifle barrel mid-swing, wrenched it sideways, and drove an elbow into the soldier's visor. There was a sharp crack as the faceplate buckled, and he followed up with a kick that sent the rifle skidding across the floor.

"Hey! You're alright!" Karin's voice cut through the frenzy. "What the fuck?"

Nacchan spun sharply, pulse likely still riding high, ready to lunge — only to register the sheer lack of urgency in her stance.

"Of course we're alright!" he snapped, jerking a thumb toward Gama. "In fact, everything went quite well before this idiot decided to make a fucking joke about gambling. To the soldiers!"

Toru exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "That absolute moron."

Gama hesitated mid-strike, the crackle of his borrowed weapon flickering uncertainly in his palm. "I was trying to break the ice," he half-said, half-asked. "You… had to be there?"

"Is that how you got detained?" Karin asked, absentmindedly hitting the officer who had tried to make use of her distraction with a sharp elbow strike that folded him like wet paper. He was apparently vomiting, too.

"More or less, yeah," Gama admitted, before glancing at Nacchan.

"More or less?"

Nacchan exhaled sharply, glancing toward Gama. "Technically," he gritted out, "although they dampened our connection to the Ring Cores, restricting our ability to actively channel chakra and magic... we were already free. Our physical skills remained intact. Had the whole exit planned out. Would've been clean."

"So they can't actually disable the Cores completely?" Karin asked.

"No," Nacchan said. "Just suppress the connection enough to block most supernatural abilities and the links."

"Define supernatural."

"Take a guess," Nacchan said.

"And then?" Karin prompted, her tone suggesting she already knew the answer would disappoint her.

Gama sighed. "And then Nacchan insisted on doubling back to grab something."

Karin's expression turned flat as the dead ocean. "For real?"

"They took my staff!" Nacchan snapped, vaulting over a railing to avoid a spray of pulse fire.

"We can make those wizard things on the Ring," Gama said, dispatching another Sentinel. "Better ones, probably."

"That's not the same!" Nacchan's voice rose an octave. "It has sentimental value!"

Toru barely spared them a glance as he drove a knee into a soldier's gut with surgical precision, slowly laying him down as the man whimpered in pain like a consideration for good housekeeping. "You absolute morons," he muttered, almost affectionately.

Three Sentinels lunged at him in perfect mechanical synchronicity.

Toru met them head-on, his eyes still ablaze. With or without chakra, his movements were fluid as quicksilver, weaving through the advancing machines with the kind of effortless precision that came only from muscle memory honed through years of battle. Each strike was economical, nothing wasted, nothing for show — except when he wanted to, of course.

Karin, meanwhile, took a more improvisational approach. She ducked under a sweeping blow, twisted behind her opponent, and drove a vicious knee into its cybernetic joint. The metal buckled, and the Sentinel staggered. "So we can go now?" she asked, blowing a strand of hair from her face.

"I'd say so," Toru grunted, narrowly avoiding a reinforced gauntlet aimed at his skull. The air whistled where his head had been a moment before. "And I'd say that you're enjoying yourself."

"A little," she admitted, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Been cooped up too long this week. But we're going to be late, at this rate."

"Late?" Gama asked, frowning as he electrocuted two Sentinels at once.

"Which day is it?" Karin asked pointedly.

Though Nacchan realized it immediately, his face falling like a stone, it took Gama a little while longer. His brow furrowed, then cleared. "...Ah, shit," he muttered, shoulders slumping. "There's a birthday, right?"

"There's a birthday, yes," Karin confirmed with the patience of someone explaining to a child why fire is hot. "A surprise party, in fact."

A sharp chime suddenly rang out through the ship's sound system, followed by a distorted voice.

"Attention all passengers. Please report to your designated sectors. An unauthorized presence has been detected. Security teams are mobilizing. This is not a drill."

Karin made a face. "That's our cue."

Toru stepped back, dodging a last-second swing from a recovering Sentinel with almost insulting ease. "Or we can stay," he said, a rare hint of mischief in his voice. "It's not me that Hebi's going to murder."

"Wait!" Gama said, raising a hand before noticing their unimpressed looks boring into him like drills. "...Nacchan still hasn't recovered his staff."

Nacchan, in fact, seemed slightly surprised.

Karin grunted, shoving a disabled Sentinel aside with her slipper. The metal chassis scraped against the floor, leaving a thin trail of hydraulic fluid. "Fine, let's find that, then. Where is it?"

No answer came. Nacchan suddenly found the ceiling architecture fascinating, studying the interlocking panels with exaggerated interest.

"Nice." Toru nodded to himself, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Nice." His voice was flat but his eyes betrayed a glimmer of mirth. "My godson would have had this entire realm become our ally, by then. Chakra or not."

"Not everyone can be Yūshirō," Gama said with a shrug. "But we tried to do things peacefully anyway."

Nacchan grunted in what could be considered approval. Karin privately thought that whoever had paired a Warrior and an Explorer for this mission should have considered literally any other combination.

Then again, perhaps the Coordinators saw patterns she couldn't. After all, in the last few years, Sakura's teams had caused only three separate incidents — all ultimately fixable, although it took a fair amount of apologizing.

"In any case," Toru said, "I warned Ryuuzaki. We'll be moving a bit before schedule. The Envoys will arrive in about twenty minutes, so please don't make things too complicated for them. Coming to an agreement with these people will likely be hard enough as it is."

"Well, let's get going, then," Karin said, checking the charge on a fallen Sentinel's pulse rifle before tossing it aside with a grimace. Rather backward, that one, and there was not much point in bringing it back home. "We find the missing staff, wreck some political doctrine, and get the hell off this ship, in time for the party."

Gama flicked the last sparks of electricity from his fingertips with a wince, leaving small scorch marks on the metallic wall. He rolled his shoulders, wincing at the pull of overtaxed muscles, and then put the whip at his hip. "Alright. Just making sure we were on the same page."

"Works for me," Nacchan said, flipping his makeshift knife and catching it by the handle with practiced ease. He glanced down the corridor, mentally calculating routes and risks.

"Of course it does," Gama said.

"Shut up, please," Nacchan said, although there was no heat in it. "It's your fault too."

"I think," Gama said, a slow grin spreading across his face as they began moving through the corridor in tight formation, "that you know it's your perfect chance to study the consequences of a world led by the Path of the Liar—"

Toru snorted, taking point as they approached an intersection. He held up a closed fist, and they all stopped, listening to the rhythmic clank of Sentinel patrols passing by. Once the sound receded, he motioned them forward.

"There are no Paths here, moron," Nacchan grunted, slipping through the shadows behind Toru. The knife in his hand caught the dim emergency lighting, reflecting it in dangerous flashes. "…And it's Path of the Orator."

"Same thing," Gama retorted, his voice dropping to a whisper as they approached a security checkpoint. He pressed himself against the wall, counting under his breath. "Politicians, liars..."

Karin rolled her eyes, checking their six. "If you two don't shut up, I'll personally ensure neither of you makes it anywhere except the medical bay."

The corridor ahead branched into three separate paths, each marked with glowing Xing symbols.

Gama glanced at him, a thought suddenly occurring. "Do you really need the Rinne-Sharingan for this place? Seems like overkill."

Karin laughed, the sound bouncing off the narrow walls despite her attempt to keep quiet. Toru merely grunted, "Couldn't turn it off if I wanted to."

"Why don't you try Sarada's trick?" Nacchan suggested, keeping his back to the wall as he edged forward. "Worked for her every time."

"I tried already," Toru muttered, annoyance evident in his clipped tone.

"She said you have to mean it," Nacchan pressed, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "Conviction is key, supposedly."

"I just told you I—" Toru exhaled sharply, shoulders tensing. "Look, why don't I show you?" he asked irritably, stopping mid-stride. "Sharing-on..." He paused, jaw clenching as if the words physically pained him. "Sharin-gone."

To Toru's surprise, the bright red glare suddenly faded from his eyes, returning them to their normal dark state. Karin's laughter rose, echoing down the corridor before she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"...Okay, what the hell?" Toru muttered, blinking rapidly. "That's not... That shouldn't have..."

"Pay attention," Karin said, trying — and failing — to resume seriousness. A distant alarm began to wail, the sound growing louder with each passing second.

"To what?" Toru asked, momentarily disoriented. "I can't see through shit anymore—" His head snapped up, realization dawning. "Ah, got you. Movement at two o'clock."

The security door ahead slid open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing a squad of Sentinels on high alert.

Gama's fingers seized the stolen whip again. His was the calm focus of someone who had done this a thousand times before. "After you," he offered to Nacchan with mock politeness.

"Thanks, frog-boy," Nacchan replied dryly, before launching himself into the fray.

"Wha—" Gama hissed, momentarily frozen as he processed the nickname. His lightning flickered with his concentration. "Hey—Wait—" He dove after Nacchan, narrowly avoiding a pulse blast that scorched the wall where he'd been standing. "Why the hell do you remember that one?"

"By the way," Karin asked amusedly. "Do either of you two happen to carry a grappling hook?"

i/YvLNYA: Toru

i/YvLPhM : Karin

AN: Here's a light one. As happens sometimes, I had the drawings done, so... might as well?