Location: ?
Subject Matter: ?
November 29th, 1963
Chaos is a poison.
It seeps into the bloodstream of its subject, shutting downiest most mundane of functionings.
Tissues, organs, cells cease when they begin to break down; enzymes and receptors are blocked, cut off, or cauterized. The passage of messages from one end of the body to the next is disrupted as the slow rot begins to take hold and a fever sets in. This is overcorrection of the immune system, a last ditch attempt to stave off whatever's threatening it. This play is predictable, expected, and by then usually too late; it's the fever which weakens you further. Turns your body into an oven, and cooks you from the inside out.
A final diagnosis?
Fatal.
He took a deep breath of the wet stillness about him, the dank scent of the bunker mingling with the sterile aroma of freshly cleaned machinery; the dust gave him fits, and if there was one thing he hated more, it was the uncontrollable waste of time a sneeze brings. Still, he thinks as he leans back in his chair, scribbling notes hurriedly on the myriad notecards before him, he'd grown to appreciate this sturdy refuge. Despite its spartan aesthetic, it was a stark contrast to the tumultuous world beyond. As played out on the monitors before him.
Disorder, confusion, a complex tapestry of human frailty; revealing the fallible nature of the inner workings of the State. Much like these generators and furnaces abounding with pipes and and vents all around him, the State operated like a well-timed machine. If a piece of it fell into disrepair, though, if the timing of its executions were off, the entire operation blunders on the verge of failure.
"Are you sure?" He asks through his headset, deft fingers weaving calculation after calculation as the pencil furiously unfurls the endless hypotheses running through his mind. "Complete shutdown of the grid built around the testing area is, regrettably, unfeasible. My prior evaluations...are incomplete. All that we have is predicated on the availability of time." The pencil stops - he looks down at the silver pocket watch nearest him on the desk. "An hour; that's how long you'll have before word reaches from Ginza station. Assumedly. You best be sure and double-check if you're going to be so cavalier."
His strategy was methodical, etched into his mind like a carefully drawn blueprint. Like a well-drawn magic trick, everything relied entirely on cloak-and-dagger proficiency. Look over there, so as to not see this; believe in something so hard, you miss all else. Like Moses and the burning bush, faith needed a little spark to bear fruit. And with it, the blindness which turns one's more sensible behavior into fretful zeal. The Copycat Ninja was an apt piece; fine-tuned, reliable, and careful.
Experience would tell Kakashi something is off, the hackles on the back his neck would rise; he only needed one pass before seeing the combination in its entirety, and act accordingly.
They would only have on shot before the body's immune response would kick in. The antibodies would rise, defenses would rally, and the opportunity for the decisive strike will slip away.
A faint drip, drip, drip sounds off behind him, followed by the screeching of a metal door, and roughshod boots drag across the floor as they drag in another box. He doesn't turn his head to acknowledge "the help", the lumbering oaf who's sole function was to assist and lift and drop, but always mind to leave him alone. For he had more important things to worry for, more intelligent operators to manage; despite the impressive physique - over 192.3 cm tall, 108.8 kg, a brooding visage sculpted as if by a Renaissance master - his batch failed to meet expectations.
Timing, was what used to excuse the mishap. All of it needed more time.
This is true, but Juugo was one of the lucky ones.
Deemed "least" useless of the bunch, he was spared liquidation. Because, however minimally, he had exhibited some scant signs of intelligence that warranted further inspection. His silences one extrapolated an inquisitive nature, one that not only would notice the flowers in the crack of concrete, or the bird singing its song, but muse upon them. Sometimes, even poetically. However childish it was.
Calmed by the sedatives pumped into his system, keeping his more "manageable" personality in check, Juugo shuffles out of the room to continue the menial chores tasked to him.
"Confirmation: Alpha 0-1-9," he spoke into his recorder, voice steady. "Procedure has played out with minimal delays. Isolation and containment is now in effect, with coordinated efforts to quarter Subjects 9, 27, 40, and 13." He paused, eyes flickering between the screens, each displaying surveillance from the feeds. "40 and 27 are proceeding as calculated, yet outside stimuli will test their respective temperaments. 13 is still our highlighted target, but..."
Abruptly, his attention shift to one specific monitor. A figure struggles through the itch underbrush, anguish etched across his features. Despite the evident pain, the subject valiantly assists his fallen comrades, an act of desperation and loyalty. He nods his head, watching closely; he knew the limitations of the shadow clone technique. They were not designed for long-term use. Tobirama Senju, the progenitor of the jutsu, could only sustain a small number for merely an hour before exhaustion would claim him.
The science and strain it put on the body was indefatigably interesting - he could spend days, if not weeks learning about the composition of said clones, their biology, what went into the creating one, what exactly from the "host" it took, and the strain it put on one's psyche...
Many had surmised THIS is how Tobirama went mad in the end.
Perhaps.
Further observation is needed, thought not many were able to keep clones out long enough for any sort of dissection to be implemented.
Until now.
"Remarkable," he murmurs. "Subject 9's chakra control has always piqued our interest." He leans closer to the screen, fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk. "Given his genetic makeup, it's not surprising: his mother was the prime candidate for the splicer trials, which were - regrettably - cut short."
Frustration bubbles beneath the surface as he reflects on lost opportunities for exploration and advancement. If only their experiments had not been so brutally interrupted. Scientific discovery thrived on patience, but as the world outside crumbled, patience was a luxury they no longer could afford. The War Cabinet, in their desperation for the "honorable end", demanded results. Yet they were blind to the reality of their situation: their enemy was at the door, they too had lost patience, and they unfortunately found the answer to put an end to the Japanese war effort once and for all..
"There is potential here," he says with hungry determination. "An untapped resource that can shift the tides of the conflict. Mayhaps. Subject 9's unique biology presents a unique opportunity we may be remiss if we do not explore further. He is raw - very raw, but if cultivated his material could be put to good use. KGB designate Kira Alyoshka Kuznetsov's, "Kushina", candidacy was decided on a number of factors carefully considered before testing began. She represents a... missed opportunity. "Outside" variables complicated our work, and hers. But after all these years, it seems we may still yet have time to salvage past data."
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Sector 8G
10:18 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Sasuke leaves because he had no choice.
He had to, she tells herself.
He had to clean up another of Naruto's messes he'd gotten them all into, because as usual Sasuke was the only one who could get them out.
Been a recurring theme for Team 7 for a while, actually.
Sweat pooled along Naruto's forehead, neath his pits, drenched his hands; suddenly his fever spiked, and his pulse nearly pounded past his jugular. Naruto tried forcing himself to go a another step, before she forcefully tugged him down and told him to "Stop!" He only listened because he was too weak to put up a fight before he collapsed on the ground clutching his chest. All while the troubled cries still call out to them.
They grew familiar the closer they got, though Sakura pushed the bile back down her throat as worry threatened to make her wretch. Ino was going to be okay, she clung to that belief despite her worry, tending to Naruto, pulsing chakra into his diaphragm to ease the passage of oxygen. She has to be - they won't hurt her.
A lie; they absolutely would hurt her. No worse than the first time they'd trekked through these forsaken trees, and they were children before. Young, naive, precocious and barely even potty-trained pups when they were thrown to the wolves. Comrade-Sensei Kakashi told them the first time was always a doozy - her hair had been singed, her body covered with cuts and scrapes and bruising which took weeks to heal, and she didn't feel comfortable sleeping with the lights turned off for days...
That was the only time she appreciated her father's jokes; Kizashi eased his daughter's pain that time, never leaving her side despite his own condition, finally seeking out a smile when he asked her what the highest rank was in the popcorn army...?
"A kernel! Ha! Get it! Come on that's a good one!"
No it wasn't, but it made her laugh either way.
"Usarakontachi, get back on your feet." Sasuke says, impatient. Though, with a small bit of concern, too. She heard it, it was there.
Maybe.
She looks up into his face, and sees he's angry - more than usual. She didn't blame, of course, she never could; being ANBU probably made this a lot harder for him to deal with them. ANBU ops trained themselves like a wolfpack to become more than the usual run-of-the-mill ninja or kunoichi. Everything had an hierarchy, a pecking order; one all were expected to understand. No one questions the Alpha, regardless of proclivities or hang-ups: orders were to be followed, commitment was never to be questioned, and weakness forced out. For ANBU were more than a weapon, but a relentless force who's sole occupation was the destruction of Konoha's enemies. Weakness not only slowed them down, but gave their enemies a perception of strength.
And for Sasuke at times - though she'd never tell him outright, it was this outward perception by others which ever dictated his actions.
Sakura could understand this, for she felt the same way at times. "A good girl," she was called, like a pet dog; "a hard worker," as unremarkable a complement one could expect in the Sapporo apparatus; "billboard brow", "ugly", "scrunch face", the usual fair of schoolyard bullies. She'd nothing to live up to, save for the voice in her head telling her to be more, to be better, to not be so "useless"...
She may not have had a name "Uchiha" to live up to, but that voice was just as debilitating as all the rest. Reminding her always of what she wasn't doing, what she can't be doing, what she should be doing.
"Annoying," is what the reflection would say back to her in the mirror. An image of herself like hers, but not so much, either. In the mirror her features were...longer. She was softer looking, more beautiful, or, more striking was more accurate. Sakura never knew if this was the image she concocted for herself in her head, or if this face truly resided within. Didn't make her feel any better - thinking a more aesthetically pleasing aspect of herself hid inside, while everyone else saw, well, something else.
"His fever's spiking - I need to try and cool him down." She says up towards Sasuke, hands gripping tightly along his utility belt; the screams never stopped, and she knew he'd recognized the voice, too. "Naruto can't move - quit kicking him!"
Sasuke freezes, Sakura's tone coming out a hit more harsh than he'd expected; she felt sorry for that, she shouldn't have yelled at him. "The pills - maybe if you give them to him." He says, rummaging through his pack yet again. But Sakura shakes her head.
"Those won't work on him; they're not going to bring down his fever, and for what it's worth, you need them more." She says.
"No I don't, I feel fine," He lies, because she's seen the way he still played at his turtleneck. Pain, she never liked seeing it on his face, even if he tried hiding it. Sasuke wasn't a good liar - not being good enough with words, even when trying to act tough his face betrayed him. "If I don't think on it, it's not a bother. I just slept wrong this morning - I told you half the time-"
"Half the time is becoming a lot more than it was before!" She says to him forcefully - By the Noble One, what's gotten into her. Focusing her chakra into the points of her fingernail, Sakura makes a careful incision at the base of Naruto's jugular - a direct flow of chakra may help control his breathing and open the pathways. "He's having a hard time breathing, Sasuke; something must've happened."
"The shadow clone," Sasuke murmurs; more an indictment against Naruto, than it was an observation. "Either not must've broken, or he's done something foolish. Again. Making us have to clean up his mess."
"He only wanted to help, Sasuke...Like, always." A small trickle of blood flows from below the tip of her pointer - she's careful not to knick the artery, but she'd thankfully aced most of her field medical training; first aid was a prerequisite for most shinobi, though, not all were particularly good. Sakura, on the other hand, ever made it a point to throw herself into medical soon as openings came up.
Tree Leaf Hospital was grateful for her assistance.
"The attack came so fast, I can't imagine anything would be different if we were sent anywhere else. You know this," she tells Sasuke, who looked to be tightening the straps of his gear; Sakura knew what he was thinking, and it killed her to know it be him alone. Again. That's not what she wanted. But Ino needed their help, as did Naruto now. "Maybe this is is good training for what it'll be when..." Reason told her it was foolish for Naruto to jeopardize their position simply to save "one" of their own.
Because this was a trap.
Sasuke and Sakura knew this.
Naruto probably did, too. But that wasn't important to him: the right thing would be to go and help. No matter what. Same reason why he relented in dispelling the shadow clone. Sasuke-kun didn't care about those who were left behind; they would be fine - worrying about them in a training exercise was stupid. She knew this entire simulation was meant to evaluate them. How they would act under pressure, what they would so, how they would overcome. If they can. Casualties were expected; it wa sup tp them to forge past that fear and worry, and complete the mission at hand.
It's what Comrade-Sensei Kakashi would've wanted.
But, also, he would've wanted them to help Ino, too. Despite herself, Sakura knew Ino was a far better asset with them than without.
"I've got the goods, billboard brow," Ino would ever chide with Sakura during one of their petty Sasuke pissing contests. More for show than anything. Still, Ino never relented wanted to tell everyone and anyone who was willing to listen how much of a "chosen one" her family propped her up to be. "Fortieth in line for becoming head of the family, and the best living prodigy we've seen since my grandfather's time. Who else would he choose but me?"
Who else, huh?
Sakura had a score pf reasons why Sasuke wouldn't choose her bitch of a frenemy, though it still irked to see Sasuke run to her rescue. "You ought to stay with Naruto." He tells her, causing a slight pang hit her heart. "He needs help; you're his best chance. Once I take care of this, I'll come right back. I won't be long."
He turns his back on her, and it kills her to see it; she said she didn't want to be a burden for him, and she did everything in her power not to. When he confided in her what he was going through, what he needed to help, she was elated. Not that he was suffering - of course, not that! But that he saw in her someone he could rely on, trust to know he wasn't feeling one-hundred percent. That despite all his obsessions of what others perceived of him, he was willing to open up and tell Sakura the truth.
"I-I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun," she says after him, before he takes in a breath and hurries away. "As soon as I'm finished here, I'll come to you. If I can get Naruto down to a good temperature, then I-"
"Not necessary." He tells her in not so harsh a tone. He looks back, wincing as he turns his neck. A faint smile hits her. A charming little thing. It doesn't make her heart flutter, so much as it says she'll be all right. They're all going to be all right. "The bastard is annoying, but fuck it all, he's our friend. However shitty a one he is. So take care of him, Sakura. I know you will."
She wants to tell him to be careful, but that would've sounded insulting to him. She would've told him Naruto was going to be fine, that he didn't really need her to stay back, that she wanted to go with him. But that would've been a lie, and Sasuke would never have allowed it. Naruto was their friend - spending so much time worrying for him, only to let the poor bastard lose himself in the midst of this wood?
No, would've been a grand waste of their time and effort trying to keep him out of trouble.
Which, Naruto most definitely was. In more ways Sakura was loath to admit; the schoolgirl side of her ever derided him for being the third wheel derailing any traction she'd get the man she cared for most. Annoying didn't come close to how Naruto could be. Even if when Sasuke leaves, his black, sleek form flying up into the treetops, chasing after Ino's anguish, and Sakura hoping he'd get there in time and come back in one piece...
Her eyes go directly back to Naruto, her finger gently pumping chakra into the crook of his neck. She cups the other side of his face, carefully propping him up, cradling him in her lap. She brings him in close to make him comfortable, to make sure she's got a good angle to apply more pressure if needed. The fever doesn't go down, but his breathing at least slowed. His eyes flutter slightly - good, he's not totally gone. A small relief; better for him to stay conscious.
She couldn't bet on being able to wake him up if he slipped away from them now.
"You big, dumb idiot." She whispers softly. "Calm your breathing - easy. In and out. Listen to me just this once." She can practically feel the pounding of his heartbeat, but Naruto - amazingly - listens.
He steadies himself, matches the rhythm of her own breathing, as she runs her hand down his chest. A green aura emanates beneath his t-shirt as she eases the pace of his heart. He feels like a furnace, her fingers already drenched in sweat. Fever to run through the poison, she thinks. He needs to get this under control now or he'll soon be dehydrated." Luckily, their canteens were full; two should be enough to get him through. But so long as the clone is out, and his pain receptors are open...
You'll go into shock if you keep fighting. What's the point? Why? There's nothing for you to prove.
"Just let go," She says on repeat; whatever messages his clone receives is being relayed back to him, stymieing his ability to recover, pushing his body into overdrive.
Naruto's breath is heavy and hot against her, and mumbles words she can't make out. "Bunker..." she thinks he whimpers."...Tunnels." She shushes him down, though, and tells him to feel the movements of her chest. Match me, she instructs. "Feel my chest. Do as I do. In, out, in, out - rest. I got you."
Sakura's words wash over him, and she senses his muscles gradually relax. Slowly, he mimics her breaths, exhaling softly through his mouth. Naruto continued to spout nonsensical babbling, but thankfully, Sakura soon watches his panic features find a semblance of peace. "Stay with me, Naruto," she whispered, voice steady and reassuring. "You're going to be okay. Just breathe." All she gets in response is more garble: numbers, dates, names she didn't recognize - but all that wasn't important.
Naruto didn't make sense when he was awake and coherent anyways, so why pay now attention to his fever addled mind.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Retreat into Sector 8G
10:31 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Stumbling through the underbrush, Naruto had to battle against each step as fatigue coursed through his pained husk of a shell. The riverbed where the bunker was hidden, was just within reach, a glimmer gleaming just past the tree line. Black wasps still flitted around him, but their movements had grown sluggish, confused, tired. Crawling about with less intensity and vim as before, at first Naruto took it as a sign Aburame Shino was down and out for the count.
"Don't count on that," he mutters to himself, a nervous laugh escaping his chapped lips.
The incessant itch crawling up his neck constantly reminded him danger still lingered close. He glances over his shoulder, thinks to see things moving in the mist which mayor may not be there. Every creak and twitch of a tree bough or a branch puts his rattled psyche on edge, where Naruto knows any further and he was bound to fall off that cliff.
Was making a another shadow clone a mistake? Under better circumstances, no: his own super-effective, super smash, deadly "Uzumaki Rendan" attack called for multiple shadow clones to be used. However, they never stayed longer than a few seconds. And usually Naruto dissipated them without needing to blow one up by attaching an explosive tag to its chest.
For future reference: not a great feeling. Ten-out-of-ten would not recommend. Exploding a bomb right on top of yourself seemed cool in theory, but as the heat radiates from his chest, the pain surges and intensifies with every heartbeat, and under his tattered shirt he knows the skin has grown hot and began to bubble; earnestly, he'll think twice about it next time. Because what looks and feels like a terrible sunburn now, for a split second before nearly felt like his chest was bound to burst out his skin.
His heart would explode.
Chunks would be sent flying against the dirt, the trees, the moss.
He'd explode in a puff of smoke, and he'd go back.
Or...perhaps not.
Perhaps, this was his real body all along. Or maybe his original body back wherever was dead, too, and he was the only one left? Was that possible? Could it be possible? Could his clone replicate himself, turn themself into a new whole, BECOME the real Uzumaki Naruto from here on out?
Made sense to him, and all the other thoughts and memories and feelings and perceptions flooding through as he struggled. Fleeting images filed past him, where suddenly he no longer felt he was in Aokigahara, but in a pristine, yet decrepit hallway. Mold stunk up the joint, the lights above flickering rhythmically, yet sadly; they weren't long for this place, which had definitely seen better days.
Naruto walks along, feet echoing against puddles of water which streaked along cracked tiled floors. He tries to call out, but words don't escape him; for he has no mouth to use. Nor do his legs move of their own accord - there are none. He's simply floating along sprightly passed these empty rooms, broken glass and lab equipment riven about, large blocky consoles of old computers teetering off on their sides.
"0413479..." A voice he indescribably thinks is him, but not him, says. "0413479..."
Repeating like a broken record, it draws his eyes - which weren't there - to look upon case files stashed in separate cubbies along a wall. He finds himself in a large auditorium, a half-circle where rows of desks climb up to walkway of broken and twisted metal. The lights continue to flicker, igniting sparks of another vision where faintly he sees the room filled. Men and women in all manner of dress - some in suits, others in dresses. some with labcoats, while a good many whore the uniforms of soldiers.
"0413479..."
The recording goes, distant and uncaring, unafraid of the flashing red alarms sounding out.
Naruto's hand reaches out where the case folder would be located along the wall, yet finds nothing. Nothing save for an equation written upon the chalkboard next to him. Even if he tried for a hundred years, none of this could ever make sense to him: numbers were a terrible experience for him, and if you added letters into it, forget it. But with each turn of the lights, more and more of the equation is filled out.
And a woman is there jotting it down.
She's there only for a moment; less than a moment. Perhaps, a millisecond. But Naruto sees her clearly, senses her form as he did all others in the room. They look upon her adamantly - Naruto thought it was only because she was beautiful: red lips, clear skin, blonde hair; a full-figure which clings tight to the flannel patterned pant suit she wears. Not a surprise all eyes would be on her; she's gorgeous. But Naruto sees how all nod their heads, take their notes, talk amongst one another as she concludes her theory.
"0413479..."
A laboratory set in one of the seven circles of hell - for it had to be, what else could explain this chaotic unfolding before him, sends staff pell-mell through the rows and rows of computers and desks and overturned burners. "Oshima! Oshima! Hurry up and take these two!" A man hurriedly yells to him; without even registering he once again has a form to move, to control, to feel, he leans down to grab one of the rolled up plastic sacks on the floor. The seal is haphazardly thrown shut, the zip-lock barely closed, but it didn't matter - the alarm was sounding.
They needed to hurry.
"Bring them down to removal, and hurry back. We need to get out!"
"ноль-четыре-один-три-четыре-Семь-девять"
His feet don't nearly go as fast as his pacing heart, unfortunately; the stairs were a bitch, and with no one there to help, it taxed him worse than it should've. Stalin's cock, he wasn't supposed to be here doing this - he was a physicist. What more could be accounted for by him now that the world was going to shit, and the fires of hell will burn all their work to nothing.
All those years...
Wasted.
All his time here...
Wasted.
All these people...
The bodies flop down into the cold cellar as he fights back the sake he'd had for breakfast. A burning reminder of how he'd let himself go these past few weeks. He'd let his body go, because he ostensibly was let go, as the War Cabinet decided it was time for the end hailed as the "first step to victory" to commence. Heh, victory? Victory at the end of all the abominable things committed for the sake of science, to clear their conscience of the sins they'd okayed. How east it was for them to sign a piece of paper, and write off a human life.
Oshima you're an idealist. Oshima you're a fool. Oshima you will never see achieve anything in your field, because you cloak yourself with conscience. Limit you capabilities. Waste your potential because of...What? A few dead mice? A few dissected monkey - for what else were the Chinese mongrels, cowards, sycophants; those selfish waifs who'd surrendered with indignity. They were not good men, and needn't be treated as such...
But was Oshima a good man? Were any of his compatriots, who ran around like chickens with their heads cut off? Did any of them feel the same as he, whilst they burned years of research, liquidated mountains of data, did away with "test subjects" given the green light for the tests. Oshima pauses to look at the long row of bodies lining the hallway to the lab. Water pools around each of the nine or so bodies - the water tank had burst, causing buckets now to rush towards the generators.
"Они пытались найти меня."
There was little time to maneuver now; they'd pushed too far. He knew it, because it wasn't meant to be like this. Gunshots are heard firing around there corner, a scream, another wave of nausea. Naruto, "Oshima", Security Clearance #320Alpha, runs through the nearly deserted corridors now. I need to find her, he thinks towards the doctor. She was the sole link to project - we can start again, begin anew. They saw her now - They saw US! We can't afford to stop!
"Wirst du mich finden? Ich bin noch nicht so weit. Finde mich. Suchen Sie weiter. Gehen Sie tiefer."
"0413479..."
Oh, gods! Where could she be!
"0413479..."
The deeper Naruto went, the more confused he became; things felt familiar to him, but not so. Faces circled past he recognized, but the alarm was pounding through his head. He's running down the hall, and finds the doctor at Chamber 9. She's pulled the bathysphere from the tank. Energy bounces off the enclosed cell as arms of electricity lash out, reaching for the heavens as scars of red were scraped along the interior walls. Double-shielded windows meant to be bullet-proof crack under the pressure - they won't hold.
He tells Frau Doktor they need to leave.
But she just stands there, watching with her light brown eyes, transfixed to the unfurling storm. Yes, he knows she was brought here for this. All of them were brought together to facilitate her life's work, ensure it would come to fruition. They were on the cusp of a new era, with the myths springing anew, and the old gods taking their place once more. She'd explained this to Sanzo and the Rule Assistance Association before smuggling her out of a Siberian gulag. "Doktor!" he pulls at her shoulder. She doesn't budge; she's strong. Unnaturally, so.
Rumors said she was a product of her own experiments back in Berlin. Back when her human trials ran through all viable subjects, and so with nowhere to turn, opted for herself. A scary thought, and something he couldn't believe. Yes, she's a veritable stone dung in the earth: hard, immovable, who hid much neath that pretty face of hers.
But in all the nights they shared, he'd never witnessed that side of hers. The one described as slavish, obsessive, almost compulsive. No, Naruto never saw that...
Nor the pistol she holds in her hand when she turns. The shot rings out. A ball of fire tears into the center of his chest.
"0413479...0413479...彼は彼女を見つけた...Она нашла меня...Я тебя вижу..."
Naruto can hear himself talking to himself, feels the surge of chakra come through and wash away this fever melting his brain. He can feel the mist on his skin, smell the damp musk of the trees around him; his feet wobble on the uneven steps leading up from the entrance of the bunker. Shaking the cobwebs from his vision, he looks behind him and notices the two figures leaning unconscious against the walls.
"Matsuri...? Mikoshi...?" Stumbling over towards his classmates, Naruto's stunned. Wasp stings swelled the spots of their skin which became mottled and red. Bites and cuts were noticeable along their faces, and Mikoshi's glasses were cracked. But for the most part they appeared fine. "Shit..." He must've dragged them down here while he was lost in his stupor, but how's that even possible? Muscles felt like mush, fatigue weighed heavily, and his head spun as he struggled to comprehend anything he'd just seen. The feel of its memory coming and going like the recollection of a bad nightmare.
The feeling was real enough, but he could he tell you what it all meant.
Nothing made him at ease. Save, maybe, for the small, meager warmth lingering on his neck - the only thing keeping him on his feet.
"Sakura-chan," he whispered, fingers brushing against the spot where he felt the pulse of chakra. It had to be her - her must be the one supplying him with whatever small amount energy to keep him moving. Perhaps, even dragging him back to reality. "I got you guys now. Breathe, rest easy, I'm here..." The words slip from his lips before he could think, a soft promise that felt oddly distant, as if echoing from a place far, far away. It was soothing, calming; grounding him form the haunting whispers still plaguing his mind.
As yet another voice sounded off in his thoughts.
At least, Naruto felt another voice calling out, reaching, touching.
Odd...The more eh tried to hone in on it, to try and make it out, it became more an inkling. As if it was an unsettling presence fading in and out of the eerie quiet of the bunker. He shakes his head: you're tired, you're hurting, and you're delirious. Nothing had to make sense right now, he thinks to himself; he was too far gone physically to worry about the whispers of madness.
Not with all the commotion intensifying above ground.
An inhuman screech pierces through the walls of the complex. The telltale buzzing grew louder, accompanied by the chittering which sent shivers down his spine. Heavy thuds thrash against the steel door, threatening to cave it in as Shino tried to break through.
Panic surges through Naruto.
"Goddamn motherfucking son of a bitch freak bastard!" Naruto urges himself on as the adrenaline once more kicks into him. He looks down at Matsuri and Mikoshi - useless. But not worth abandoning; he didn't go through all this shit, just to up and leave these two to this jackass. Not when he had a whole weapons crate at his disposal.
He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the small bell; the message with the coordinate was within. Even being passed out, Naruto knew he was shit with numbers; forget reading a map - soon as things went beyond "1,2,3" might as well be speaking another language. "Might seem like a pretty big ask of you guys considering our current predicament, however I'd appreciate it if you hang on to this for me." Naruto carefully places the gleaming little ball in Matsuri's hand, fingers lingering for just a moment.
There was little chance he had of defending them - not the way he was feeling. Every inch of him felt burnt out, but still, Naruto had to defend them.
Didn't matter if Matsuri wasn't all that close to him, and Mikoshi had the personality of a forgettable side character in one of those outlawed Southern radio shows he'd sometimes listen to. The right thing would be to do for them as much as anyone else should.
And wasn't that what the Noble One expected of them? Wasn't that the ideal he wrote of in his memoirs, about the Revolution, the People, and Communism as a whole?
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"
ROOT ID: #88912
10:39 hrs; November 29th, 1963
The realization had hit him like a punch in the gut.
Or, like an explosive tag in the face.
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have missed that?
A clone. He'd been chasing a clone. The entire time his bugs couldn't detect that because of the fog, because no one ever listened to him, because he should've been better but he wasn't. This thought, along with a thousand others, pollute his mind and cloud Shino's thinking.
"Pain! Pain! Hurt - need heal! Fix hive, fix hive! Hurt! Pain! Find! Find! No bell! Find!" The fragmented cries ring about his ears like the tinnitus threatening to cloud off all sound, as the collective groans in anguish. Complex thoughts were hard to formulate now that he was healing, now that they were trying to fix what was broken; as Shino's "body bug" took over", the more "linear" aspect of his character comes to the forefront. Allowing him to sit back, recover, as his mind went into autopilot and the other consciousness took the wheel.
The blast wasn't fatal - thankfully, explosive tags didn't come in larger sizes, but being so close to the detonation left its mark. A flash of light, searing fire, and then the deafening boom. These all played on repeat for him like broken record in his head as he tried to process what had happened. Or, what was left in his head; course, he didn't have time to look, but there definitely was a more noticeable braze coming through the right side of his face. It was easier to breath through his nose, but, summarily, talking became a lot hard.
His jaw, you see, didn't feel all that...Attached.
Still was able to wail, though. That was easy.
Naturally, the body bug was furious. An Aburame had no need for such. fierce response unless significant injuries were incurred. The insect, bound to his nervous system from when he was a young child, absorbed the brunt of the damage. Shino felt sorry it had bore the brunt of the damage on his account. As now like a wounded animal it lashed out at anything it came in contact with as it scoured the forest floor, searching for the trail left behind by Uzumaki Naruto.
It wanted to find him, it wanted to hurt him - the army he commanded cried for blood, even though Shino told them that wasn't their mission. Indeed, he was ashamed his family had to be killed on his account. On orders given to them by the Director himself. But Tenzen had his reasons, and Shino wasn't one to question; workers don't demand anything from the upper tier.
They were expendable.
They were the soldiers.
Centuries the Aburame had done nothing but keep their heads down, dutifully fulfilling the roles given to them by the powers that be. It has given their clan longevity, where others have failed. Because they did the jobs required of them.
"Find...Find the fool..." Something guttural lurches out from him.
He flies through the trees possessed, the walking legs of the "body bug" propelling him through Aokigahara. The forest blurs around him, a chaotic backdrop to a singular goal. The buzzing of his wasps merged with the sound of his heartbeat as they repaired the tissues, fixed the tendons, mended the broken bits of bone. They worked tirelessly for him, and the lease the could do was reward them with a little bit of revenge.
As he spears the door, relentlessly trying to knock it off its hinges, their voices still clinging to his body. "Pain!" They still scream out. "Fix! Find!". Shino's arms are burned and lifeless, the few bits of uniform still clinging to his form ravished in the worst possible way. The fine pressed black was now charred, the red trim turned ashen with soot; all Shino could feel from his personal other was a pained anger as it clawed relentless against the bunker hatch.
A little more, Shino felt, just a bit more.
The ends of his walking legs, these sharpened spears, pry open the door little by little; rust and time have made this heavy relic a damning thing. But gnarled grunts and screeches and chattering doesn't stop them - they will have theirs no matter what. The rage was blinding as he became subsumed by the creature, whose sole existence lived to protect him. And to do that, they had to do away with Uzumaki Naruto.
Tenzen had not blacklisted his name.
Perhaps then...he could be disposed of?
What would be the issue? People have died in this forest before, what would another body matter to Tenzen? Uzumaki Naruto was an asset, but not the priority. There were others here who were more useful. No one noticed Shino, so then there was a good chance they wouldn't notice here. They wouldn't care when he rips open this door, breaks apart the hinges and tosses it back as his claws rake against metal. They wouldn't care if for just this one time he goes a little harder than normal, lets loose; Akeginu always says he should just unwind a little more. Well, no better time than now, right?
With a violent crash, Shino Aburame tore apart the bunker door, his form twisting and writhing its way through. The narrow hallway is lit only by the light of a dim red flare; he'd foregone his eyes years ago, but he navigated the darkness with an instinctual awareness born from years of merging with his swarm. As he advances, the Karada no conchu pokes its head from the jagged remains of his mouth, its antennae twitching as it sense the air around them. The moment it caught sight of Naruto standing defiantly in the stairwell, a flicker of fear causes it to instinctively retract.
"Ignoble fool!" Shino's guttural voice fills the space, though it comes out strained and disjointed; the Karada had taken hold of his voice box, as one of its carapaces protected it from the blast before.
Naruto remains silent, though a a creeping glimmer runs across his face.
Tilting his head back, he spits out a thick, burning liquid from the mouth, igniting as it met the air. It sends a stream of fire cascading into the dark confines, and the Karada screeches in terror, the flames licking at Shino and searing what remained of his already damaged body. What was there hung loosely by a thread, and now that thread was on fire.
"Pain! Hurt! We find, we find!" All the voices cried out.
In a frenzy of spiraling legs and frantic claws, Shino retreats flames clinging to him like a shroud. The burning sensation driving him more to an animalistic abandon, desperately doing whatever he could to douse the fire.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Bunker X
Subject 9
10:46 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Naruto was relentless as he followed up the stairs, gripping tightly one of the PPSh submachine gun in his hand, determined to press the opening. Shino looked rough; the damage was evident - along with a few more unsightly things, and Naruto figured he couldn't possibly withstand much more. If he could just push a little further, he thought. he might find a way to regain the situation.
"I got you now, you fucking bastard!" Naruto burst into the riverbed, prepared to pepper the son of a bitch with all 71 of the anti-personnel rounds so graciously given to the Konoha rookies by the State of Sapporo.
But as he gets to the top, Naruto's met by an unsettling emptiness. Nothing is evident around him; no sights of a flailing bug-man-thing, no opportunity to say something badass over his down opponent. Just the sounds of the cracks and breaks of branches. Fucker's still on the move, Naruto swivels the gun around, training kicking in. State offices primarily didn't allow for Konoha to utilize its reserve weapons caches, but Asuma had ever made it a point to train his people with every available tool to help fight the Imperialists.
Funny now that the first time Naruto would use this in earnest would be against the the very people he believed were on his side.
Then a flicker of movement, a stench of burning alcohol, and the sight of fiery spark in the gray causes Naruto to fire in that direction. A loud ring of shots bounce off the trees and the rocks, hit dead center of a burning shirt carried by a small company of black wasps. Motherfuck! A decoy! Naruto's eyes open wide when he's caught off-guard. Falling flat on his back, at the last second he moves his face out the way of a sharpened stake aimed directly for his face. It embeds itself into the dirt, as then another comes crashing down. Naruto's pinned to the ground, unable to move as Shino's hovering form shakes unsteadily atop him.
Naruto's taken aback by the nightmarish figure: the lower half of Shino Aburame's face is nothing but a mess of red, blackened soot, and the residue of gunpowder. His hair is burned off, as is his nose, and the entirety of there right side is melted away to reveal...holes? Fucking holes in his cheek bones. And not just there, but everywhere. Cavities and crevices riddled the now "outside" parts of Shino's body, as wasps crawled all about. Reminded Naruto of an upturned stone he'd uncovered once. Sakura and he nearly gagged out their rations at that sight, too.
"You...hurt...me." A voice which sounded like Shino's comes out. "You...hurt...us."
Naruto looks away as a larger inesectoid thing, or whatever, pushes past the lower part of Shino's jaw. Poking its head out, Naruto stares defiantly at a mouth of mandibles and six eyes, and too many little moving parts to make this sight pretty. "No worse than what I do to myself, pal. The Noble One wants us to share the pain, yeah?"
"Noble...One..." The submachine gun is knocked form Naruto's hands, as another spear-like tendon pokes at him. "You are...not...noble. Hurt...me." Shino - or whatever the thing which wanted to pretend it was Shino - brings itself right down close to Naruto's face. The parasite stares at him; unblinking, uncaring, attempting to read Naruto as he tries to struggle underneath. Its intense gaze seems to only grow with interest as it gets closer.
Until it stops.
"No...you are...not...noble...You are...not normal." It says with an emphatic curiosity, though Naruto does everything in his power to turn his head away; he doesn't want to stare at it - it's just too fucking ugly. Being this close to it makes him want to vomit. "You are...like...me..a parasite."
At that moment thunder tears through the world. Naruto feels a sudden splash of hot, slick slime spray all over his face. He coughs up a bitter taste of blood and...and...honey? It freezes him in a moment of confusion, and he blinks, trying to recall if he'd seen the shotgun just out of the corner of his sight. Obvious, Shino hadn't. His crumpled heap falls atop Naruto, a mess of bug legs and bug things which he cringed to touch, Naruto struggles out from under it.
Mizuki doesn't help him. He's more than content to hover above, a hard looked etched on his features, as he reloads the spent shell. Naruto knows this look, the one Mizuki had whenever he had something important to tell him. Made him look more of an asshole than usual. Naruto curses; grateful for his fucking timing, but hating what his presence here must mean.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Watchtower 12 Command Center
11:32 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Seconds were passing by at an alarming clip, giving Kakashi little reprieve as he routinely checks his stopwatch, logging every five minutes or so the delay: Hayate's marker blipped on the map, motionless, stopping a klick or so form the riverbed. Every attempt at reaching him went unanswered, every radio drop getting nothing but silence and white noise. Kakashi puts the watch away, and paces.
The room is a blur to him, a raucous array of sound and motion; everyone and no one knows what to do. As the State trained them all in routine. Delegation of orders would fall from teh higher ranks and filter downward. Contact would be made - which in this instance it wasn't or can't; orders will pass to the ground officers to assess teh situation; those evaluations would then be relayed back up through the hierarchy, so that Party Management - not necessarily military command - can determine the right course to take. Here in this cramped little watchtower both the military brass and State higher-ups mingled into one organic mass of ineptitude. Tenzen was too busy hamming it up and playing the gallant comrade to Utatane's ilk, Hoimura stayed with the military higher ups, practically pushed out the room due to the press of personnel and interviewers. And Kaneko dithers; Kakashi was asked by a concerned staffer of his how much longer would the daimyo be expected to be present. "Mornings can get to be quite long for him without his nap, and the excitement today has overstimulated him."
"Fuck," Kakashi mutters neath the mask; these were the people who kept heir apparatus going. And he was right here riding along with them. Felt like being in one of those old Sikorsky jeeps sitting outside. "Comrade Gecko's in a blindspot, sir. The wasps's chakra signatures, sir, they're clouding all transmissions. The fog as well" A staffer tells him as he paces the command pit, trying to spy anything along the monitors; vision is still clouded, the wasps haven't gone away. "Give me the numbers of the other three closest in that sector?"
"Shinobi's 012161, 027811, 059914, Comrade."
"Send 161 and 914 to the riverbed, 811 down to fetch Hayate. Set up moving patrols in the sectors to make sure we don't have any more "blindspots". And tell them to disperse those damn wasps." Kakashi orders.
"My man won't appreciate that, Comrade." Tenzen's voice booms over the din; of course the bastard would still be able to hear them. "The Aburame are particular about who handles their insects besides them."
"Shibi's sacrifice will be noted, Comrade; he can send me a bill afterward if it pleases him." Kakashi says calmly, carefully, hiding the tension in his voice. "In the meantime, I'm thankful for the opportunity to test my abilities against his family's acumen; no doubt, this experience will be useful when we make contact with the enemy."
"Naturally, of course."
Tenzen's smirk doesn't hide the barb which bit at him; Kakashi didn't have to trust the man so long as he was in his sights. Kakashi goes back busying himself pacing the rows as communique is passed back and forth. Messages and data scrolls are printed as fast as the information is being processed, the pitter patter of type machines knocking at an uneven pace while they relay in snippets what the CCTV cameras picked up.
Some were able to break through the gray mess, giving Kakashi a few details to work with. Not much, but enough to paint the full-picture into view.
The kids were broken in the ambush, sent into disarray and confusion as they chased headlong into the forest; not the best tactic, but really the only option available to them. Priorities were the supply dumps, which ROOT naturally would have all sighted. Conditions were extreme, but expected; Kakashi noted the signs, recognized Akeginu's work from the outset. They both worked together in Kyushu during the invasion, back when she was only good enough to create a coastal mist. Danzo was the one who assigned both their respective teams to defend the sector.
"She's improved much since then," Danzo notes when Kakashi passes him; hard as it was to avoid the man, he had this knack of ever seeming to get in his way. "If Akeginu-san was this proficient back in the war, we could've halted the attack on the beaches cold. Perhaps, even have coated our entire island in fog. Hidden between the mists, like a real-life Avalon tucked away from the rest of the world."
A peculiarly poetic observation from a man like him. "Cloud cover would've been beneficial, I'm sure." Kakashi says passively, walking over to the command table; from what Kakashi read, a few of the teens went east away from the riverbed, an unknown score south - probably hoping to work their way back to Aokigahara's entrance, and a scant few west. Not a good showing for potential prospects toward military action.
Danzo agreed.
The command pit buzzed with an electric tension, a good cover for the old geezer to hound Kakashi's steps and talk freely. The last thing that Kakashi wished for; he'd heard enough from the former Director to satisfy himself for two lifetimes, and doubly so from his own father whilst he lived. But as the monitors flickered, casting ghostly reflections on the stoic faces of the shinobi present, Danzo shadowed the him like a relentless specter.
"There's a reason I left, you know," he remarked, voice cutting through the din; Kakashi moved amongst the frantic activity looking for an opening. A tough go considering everything was an orchestra of chaos where once there'd been harmony. "Partly was because of all this." Danzo remarks upon it.
"Funny, coming from you. Guess you think your own leaving here had nothing to do with your betrayal - handing out names to save your own skin, Comrade Director?"
"I wasn't a 'comrade' back then. Neither were you. We were ALL in Konoha when the Senju brothers came from the North. ALL still servants to the Emperor. It was only when the color of our flag changed did I see what was in store for me. How easy it was to forget we were all once fighting not he same side, only to then be labeled a 'war criminal' when I was following orders."
"Orders you vindictively carried out and dictated when the war was over."
"And is the war over? Look around you," Danzo remarks.
Kakashi didn't need to be lectured - he saw the hustle of moving uniforms back and forth between the rows. Armed guards watching fretfully, keeping fingers on their triggers, waiting for a reason to feel uneasy; girls and boys too young to know what's good for them, and not smart enough to think for themselves. But ever at the ready to pick a fight. Prickly as starved dogs surviving off the meager rations given daily, trained up in the mechanism of paranoia where truth was dangerous, and possibility damning. Hope was a cross too heavy for them to bare. With many willing to go along with what Sapporo expected of them, simply because it was easier to understand the devils you know.
Being born into war, having lost loved ones and friends, living with its constant specter over their shoulders; this poison seeped into the well which they all partook from. Even Kakashi. Because peace - the enemies peace, an American peace - left them parched and wanting more. More than the accumulated suffering and pain those years caused countless families.
If all it meant for them to have a little self-respect afterwards was to change uniforms, the fine; Kakashi saw no big deal in it. Even if his becoming jaded had already turned his hair prematurely gray.
"Puzzles within games, within schemes, within this controlled mess; passing off a perception you're all busy little bees working civilly with one another. A well-oiled machine. When in reality you're cogs jostling in an abattoir, clawing to keep yourselves from being at the front of the line. I saw that. As did your father." Danzo says.
"Second time you've mentioned my father in my presence, Comrade Minister, is there something you wish to say to me?" If he did, Kakashi wasn't sure he cared to hear; Sakumo's ghost hung around Kakashi enough without needing Danzo Shimura to dredge him up. A man who'd done nothing but tear the White Fang down, even after helping him. Even after he plunged the tanto into his stomach and pulled. "I don't care what pretenses brought you back across the 53rd parallel, but I promise you talking like that amongst your enemies is a good way to get you killed"
"It nearly killed me when they were my allies." Danzo replied somberly.
A second longer and maybe Kakashi would;'ve seen the flicker of vulnerability showing itself in Danzo's bravado, a chink in the armor he'd fashioned for himself against all who tried to end his life. And to that end, Kakashi knew there were many. The old, scarred one outlived many assassination attempts since the end of the war, and the division of their nation. A perverse joke history liked to play on him and his would-be killers; the uniforms may have switched, allegiances changed, and the flags turned, but the cycle ever repeats itself.
Did the war end in '45?
No.
Not for Kakashi, Danzo, Asuma, or anyone else here.
And for a moment Kakashi wonders if it's only because Sapporo couldn't afford for there to be peace.
Then, amidst the tension, a message arrives - one that sends a ripple of urgency through him. A hawk from Asuma himself. A contingency plan, on of the many they'd planned together in the few hours sequestered away from prying eyes. The State had their secrets born from whispered conversations in the shadows, and so did they; secrecy was their legacy after all. They were ninja
Climbing to the rookery, Kakashi is shocked by the feel of cold air. Like cold steel does it press into him, chilling the medals upon his breast, and there were many; the Cross of Camaraderie given to him in '47 after the Metro raid, the Medal of Undying Honor from his jobs in Manilla, the Torchbearer Emblem given after a successful stint in Eastern Europe. Their jingle gives the large, imperious bird a start when it sees him make his way towards it. Dark, unyielding eyes strong enough to navigate through the fog lock into his. It's a summons - Kakashi knows it isn't real. But the message it carries is heavy, making Kakashi clutch the parchment tightly till his knuckles go white.
The hasty scribbles read out: 7.207.15
To anyone else this would all be gibberish - of course it would be; no one would understand Kakashi's penchant for reading smut novels to the extent the Hokage did. That he knew how much Kakashi had read the banned Icha Icha series to the point every quote on every page, mannerism and quirk to each character, were committed to memory. For Kakashi the meaning of the code is clear, along with the danger which was very, very real.
His breathing quickens, his heart rate climbs, and quickly Kakashi feels the world beneath him begin to suddenly break apart.
North Side the Wall, Tokyo Urban; Hidden Village: "Leaf"
Training Course Delta; "Bell Test"; Sector 8G
Subject 13
12:01 hrs; November 29th, 1963
Rage was a potent painkiller.
It blocked off all his senses, all his thoughts; nothing registered as Sasuke crashed through the trees, fending off the senbon needles sent his way, the auditory pulses meant to hinder and immobilize. A burning poker dug into his neck, bubbling and searing his flesh, while the poisonous urge seeped into the bloodstream. A dark veil clouded his eyes, masking even the Sharingan's ability to pierce the fog. "Tch," he curses, crunching down more of the pain pills Sakura smuggled for him.
Koshiro Chikuma.
The name sounded familiar to Sasuke.
Or maybe it didn't - he never quite cared for the names of people inconsequential to him.
But there was a time once, when he'd just been promoted to being ANBU, Sakura, Naruto and he perused through Konoha's library of ANBU records; Naruto's idea. Again. For research purposes, he told them. "Who knew what kind of crazy shit they must be hiding in there, right? Don't tell me you aint interested." Sakura was vehemently against it, but she relented when Sasuke admittedly was curious, too.
She always did that. Annoying, he thought.
And as they made their way hunting through the files - Naruto on his UFO/extraterrestrial kick (ridiculous; they were no such things as aliens), and Sakura reading up on the lives of Sanzo Nosaka's many mistresses (scandalous, and as Sasuke surmised, quite sad; there was only one reason why these women's name were written down in a bingo book), Sasuke came across a list of names taken from Hidden Leaf Village.
All with designation "根" next to each of their profiles.
Sasuke never accounted for the deep-state security forces of the Presidium, Sapporo's personal guard designated for S-rank missions primarily situated in the homeland. To him they were an uninteresting prospect, bogeymen who lived off reputation alone. "There's nothing special about hiding in the shadows. Just means you're too much of a coward to show your face in the light."
Kakashi breathed a sigh of relief when Sasuke told him this. Was after Team 7 was found out by Comrade Morino who'd caught them in the library after-hours. Sakura was ready to blame Naruto for the entire fiasco, though, Sasuke took the ass-chewing on the chin: technically, being ANBU, he outranked Comrade Morino. Yes, only on reputation. But even then, there was little one could do to an Uchiha.
Was this arrogance? Yes, but it was well-deserved; Sasuke earned this confidence by being the best, by out "besting" the best, and these three ROOT peons were certainly not he best. They were lower rung dregs pulled up to see if Konoha was up to snuff for the endeavor handed to them, strong enough only to assess, but never to compete. To scare and frighten children into letting them think those things which bump in the night as worth being terrified over.
Well he wasn't.
Ino can keep screaming all she wants, but Sasuke knew the only thing keeping her alive, these asshats at bay, was their fear of Sasuke. He felt it, smelled it, like a tiger crashing through the swamps to track a wounded deer. All this time they believed he was being drawn in, when in reality he wanted to run them ragged. Being an Uchiha - the last of a vaunted clan hailed as one of the oldest of Japan, going all the way back to when Susanoo and Amaterasu dipped their swords into the sea and crafted the islands of Japan - meant more than any bit of scribbling someone put on a piece of paper.
"Sasuke-sun! Please help me!"
Sasuke couldn't see Ino through the fog, but he could hear her. Despite that annoying little piss-ant constantly shooting air pressure and sound waves at him; the man's tactics were clearly unremarkable, but his enhancements were interesting. A playful thought of Sasuke breaking off his arms to see just what exactly made them work brought a smile to his face. His friend playing his other flank was equally unsophisticated. Senbon needles were old-fashioned tools; anyone still using them nowadays was either a one-trick pony, or was too obsessed with acupuncture to be taken seriously.
These two Sasuke salivated in doing away with, to tear them to pieces, having their entrails for supper, and hanging whatever else among these trees to let the spirits here know an Uchiha was here.
And that he wasn't to be fucked with.
"You're really getting yourself off on all this, I bet," a voice breaks through Sasuke's anger, past his burning pain; stopping him in his tracks, smiling hungrily as he tries to pinpoint where Koshiro is. "Heh, yeah, course you are. Look at you! If that smile doesn't tell me everything I need to know you, Uchiha Sasuke, I don't figure much else will."
Horse. Serpent. Ram. Monkey. Boar. Horse. Tiger.
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"
A plume of fire races out of Sasuke's mouth, burning brighter and hotter than it ever did before. Moisture clung to the air, and the chill sapped the color from most, yet the surrounding trees burst into flame like funerary pyres, bringing a warmth back to his cheeks. This power, Sasuke thought, coursing in him was toxically invigorating. He didn't want to let go, but relented only a little bit; Koshiro chided him for being weak.
"Don't hide it, kid. You've been wanting to let go for a long, long time now...And there's no better time than here." Koshiro's voice angers him, makes Sasuke want to hang this bastard on a cross. He'll have his head, bring to Tenzen himself, prove to everyone it was one big fucking mistake to mess with him. "Come on, don't pussy out on me. Unleash it, Sasuke - Let it all out. You wanna hurt me, don't you? Kill me? That's the only way you're gonna get the girl, save the day. Be the hero! It's what you need, what you have to be. PROVE IT THEN!"
Senbon needles fly out towards him yet again. More annoying than lethal; Sasuke furiously threatens once he gets his hands on them, he'll enjoy picking out their eyes with those damned things.
Ino's voice cries out yet again. "Help me! Help me!" She screams. Sasuke's heard it all before, and frustration builds up inside him. Yet another cry for help from one unworthy of his time. All clamored for his attention, all looked to him pick up the slack and carry their deadweight. For a victory they didn't earn through the same hardship and sweat as he did. This wasn't about fairness, it was expectation, and he couldn't fathom what sort of future can be won with people who couldn't do it alone.
"Help me! Sasuke, help me!" Ino repeats.
Sasuke chokes down the bile in his heart, tris to clear his mind from those perverse thoughts plaguing him...The pain in his neck was aflame, and stars began to cloud his vision; but he wouldn't allow himself to succumb. Not as he downed more of the pain pills meant to cut off the chakra paths in his body, severing the nerves, and burning them for a while allowing him to think clearly. The Curse Mark - his curse mark - fueled an unrepentant rage all the months of mantras, yogas, pills, and sleep couldn't undo.
That had been Sasuke's main interest for why he went along to pillage the Konoha Libraries that dreary summer night; he needed to know what was being kept from him, why Kakashi was at times hesitant to let him out of his sight. Sasuke never needed a keeper. Sure, maybe a pair of eyes who could watch his back. But even then, Kakashi had one, and that one tended to wander, too. Ever when Sasuke tried to redirect his sensei, the questioning hit a stone wall.
All Kakashi told him, advised him about, was if there was ever aa flare-up; he'd be there for him. Why? Would he be able to calm him down, push away the dreams, fight against all those nightmares. Their memory feeling more real than the last in his waking moments: Sasuke felt the churning inferno melt bones, saw faces like his own get ripped away. Save for one.
One stark visage was brought to him every night like a spell trying to entrance him. It did; because the likeness felt so familiar to Sasuke, who for all his life believed he was alone for most it. This, though, proved he wasn't; real or imagined - it made him feel good. It made him hate harder, strive further, push to be more than that simpering, sentinel waif telling him "he was going to protect him."
Sasuke didn't need protection, he wanted answers.
Answers Kakashi ever shooed away. Instead, telling Sasuke this was more of a reason to not give in to the Curse Mark he bore.
Ino's cries again ring out, her rhythmic "help me, help me" playing as if on a recording. More of the sound waves cloud his ears, nearly knocking him down and making him wretch; but Sasuke sensed the bastard had to be close if he was able to hit him so clean. With a lightning strike, Sasuke slashes. He felt the remise of his strike, the satisfying thud resonating through him, but the moment was cut short by the cessation of Ino's voice mid-scream. Another one cursed loudly - a new presence; most likely one of the two who'd been stalking Sasuke relentlessly. He screams, he shouts; Sasuke can smell the metallic sweetness of blood coursing in him. Pain blossom once more in his neck, the Curse Mark fueling his exhilaration.
"That's it, let the pain take over you." Koshiro's voice urged, darkly seductive. "Become it, seize it; you're an Uchiha aren't you? Prove it to me!" The challenge hun in the air, palpable and intoxicating. Sasuke felt the surge of rage, a primal response eclipsing all rational thought.
The wind picks up around him, swirling with an intensity that matched his rising fury. He could feel it pulling him in, urging him forward as the darkness enveloped him. The Sharingan blazed to life, its seeking out his enemies hidden in the depths of the forest. They were there, lurking, waiting for their moment; Koshiro appears, hand signs already enacting the symbol for the rat. A black cyclone forms ominously before the man's mouth, causing the forest to stir to life.
Sasuke's focus narrows, the world all around fading; he was blind to everything else by the singular desire to destroy the threat before him. So blind he doesn't even register the large explosion which rocked the forest floor. The ground trembles with a force of a thousand bombs, but Sasuke is too consumed by the storm inside him. Because the only thing which mattered was the enemy in front of him, and the promise of power that came with surrendering to the chaos.
It was a dance of destruction, one he was all too eager to lose himself in, and take Koshiro with him.