A/N: no spoilers... things are happening.

Chapter 39. An Act of War

Next day.

It was already late evening, and Niwamachi lay enveloped in a brisk, cool breeze that carried the lingering scent of recent rains. The damp earth exhaled a freshness that mingled with the faint traces of wood smoke drifting from the town's hearths. The streets, usually alive with merchants and villagers bustling about their business, were unusually quiet—save for the occasional murmur of distant voices or the clatter of a cart as it rolled over the cobblestone roads, its wheels creaking with every turn. A sense of unease lingered in the air, though no one could yet place its source.

Inside the makeshift infirmary, the air was thick with a different kind of tension—one of urgency, of desperation. The flickering lamplight cast long shadows against the worn wooden walls, dancing with every breath of wind that slipped through the cracks in the building. The scent of antiseptic and fresh herbs mingled with the dampness, creating an aroma both soothing and oppressive. The room was crowded, filled with low groans and whispered reassurances as the injured lay on straw mats, their bandages stark against their skin.

Sachi and Sakura moved with practiced precision, their hands steady as they worked through the steady stream of wounded. Travelers and villagers from the east had arrived in waves throughout the evening, their bodies bearing fresh wounds—a grim testament to the latest bandit attacks that had ravaged the countryside. Some bore deep gashes from blades, others ugly bruises from heavy-handed assaults, and a few carried burns, their flesh seared from torches that had set their homes ablaze.

"Pass me the bandages," Sakura instructed, her voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable authority. She was stitching up a deep gash on the arm of an elderly man, her hands steady as she maneuvered the needle through his skin. The man winced but remained silent, too exhausted to protest. Sachi moved swiftly, handing her the clean linen strips with practiced ease.

"I'm going to fetch more fresh water," Sachi said, wiping her hands on the front of her apron. Her movements were quick, but there was a weariness to her that hadn't been there earlier in the day. She glanced toward the barrels near the entrance of the infirmary. "We're running low."

"Be quick, Sachi," Sakura replied without looking up, already turning her attention to the next patient. Her voice was steady, but there was a tension in the air, a sense of an ever-approaching storm.

Outside the infirmary, the two guards stood watch, their postures alert but relaxed. Keisuke and Kagami scanned the surrounding area, their eyes sharp, each movement a calculated effort to remain vigilant. Kagami, leaning slightly on his spear, looked out over the quiet street, his youthful face serious but not overly tense. "You'd think the bandits would follow their victims here," he muttered, his voice low, barely rising above the wind's soft whistle.

"Stay sharp," Keisuke replied curtly, his gaze flicking toward a shadow near the edge of the building. His eyes narrowed slightly, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he watched the movement for a moment longer. Satisfied that it was nothing more than a trick of the light, he dismissed it with a subtle shake of his head.

Unbeknownst to the guards, however, a far more sinister presence lurked in the narrow alley behind the infirmary. Orochimaru's movements were as silent as a shadow, his pale skin blending unnaturally with the dimming light of the late afternoon. His eyes, dark and calculating, gleamed with a predatory hunger as he watched from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His presence was unsettling, like the quiet before a storm, and he had been waiting patiently for hours, studying the rhythm of the guards and the ebb and flow of the infirmary's activity.

Inside the infirmary, Sachi knelt beside the water barrels, her hands moving automatically as she scooped the last of the fresh water into a large clay jug. The rhythmic sound of the water splashing echoed softly in the quiet room, but Sachi's mind was elsewhere, momentarily lost in thoughts of Yoshiro. The memory of the previous evening's unexpected joy, the promise of something new and unspoken between them, brought a small, wistful smile to her lips. She didn't notice the danger until it was too late.

A cold, sharp blade pressed against her throat, its edge biting into her skin with terrifying precision. A hand, pale and strong, clamped over her mouth, stifling the scream that lodged in her chest. Sachi froze, her heart pounding violently in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. The world seemed to narrow, the sound of her blood rushing in her ears drowning out everything else.

"Not a word," a smooth, venomous whisper breathed in her ear. The voice sent a cold shiver down her spine, the familiarity of it mingling with an unshakable sense of dread. Orochimaru's presence was suffocating, like a poison in the air. "You're coming with me."

Every muscle in Sachi's body tensed, but she didn't dare move. The blade pressed harder against her skin, and the hand covering her mouth tightened, reminding her just how easily her life could be taken. Time seemed to stand still as she remained frozen, the taste of fear sharp in her throat.

Minutes passed, and a prickling unease settled in Sakura's chest. Sachi had been gone longer than expected. The steady rhythm of the infirmary had continued, but now, with each passing second, Sakura felt a growing sense of dread. Wiping her hands on a clean cloth, she stood abruptly and called out, her voice carrying through the room.

"Keisuke, Kagami, have you seen Sachi?"

Keisuke turned from his post, his brows furrowing slightly. "She went to fetch water. She should be nearby."

Frowning, Sakura swiftly made her way toward the back of the infirmary. The dimly lit corridor stretched before her, and a damp chill clung to the air. Something felt wrong. The moment she stepped into the narrow hall leading to the water barrels, she stopped short.

Her breath hitched.

"Sachi!" she gasped.

Before her, Orochimaru loomed, his tall, serpentine frame partially shrouded in shadow. His pale fingers twisted into Sachi's hair, yanking her head back at an unnatural angle. In his other hand, a thin, gleaming blade pressed against her throat, its edge biting just enough to draw a trembling bead of blood. Sachi's face was ashen, her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Sakura in silent desperation.

"Let her go," Sakura said, forcing her voice to remain steady, though her heart pounded like a war drum in her chest. Anger and fear coiled within her like a tightening vice, but she refused to let them consume her.

Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed with amusement, his thin lips curving into a sinister smirk. He tilted his head slightly, his forked tongue flicking out in a slow, deliberate motion. "You're in no position to make demands, Uchiha Sakura," he murmured, his voice smooth as silk yet laced with venom.

Sakura's hands curled into fists at her sides. Every instinct screamed at her to act, to lunge forward and rip Sachi from his grasp, but she knew better. One wrong move, and Orochimaru wouldn't hesitate to spill Sachi's blood.

"What do you want?" she asked, keeping her voice measured.

A dark chuckle rumbled from Orochimaru's throat. "You," he said simply. His fingers tightened in Sachi's hair, eliciting a small, strangled whimper. "Surrender yourself to me, and I'll let this one go. Otherwise…" He pressed the knife a fraction deeper against Sachi's throat, and another thin line of crimson blossomed against her pale skin.

"No!" Sachi cried, her voice cracking. "Don't do it, Sakura! He's lying!"

Sakura inhaled sharply, her gaze locked onto Orochimaru's, searching for any sign of deception. But he was unreadable, a master of manipulation.

"Sachi, it's okay," she said softly, her tone calm despite the fury roiling within her. "I'll do whatever you want. But she goes free."

Orochimaru's smile widened. "Good girl," he purred. "Now, hands where I can see them."

Sakura slowly raised her hands. "Let her go first."

Orochimaru let out a low, amused hum. "Oh, Sakura… you should know better than to try bargaining with me." With a deliberate, almost lazy motion, he shifted Sachi slightly, drawing her attention to the coil of rope lying nearby. His golden eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.

"Tie her up," he ordered, his voice smooth yet laced with unmistakable menace.

Sachi stared at the rope as if it were a live snake, her hands trembling. "No… I can't…"

"You can, and you will," Orochimaru said darkly, yanking her head back further. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer a slit throat?"

A sharp sob escaped Sachi, but with no other choice, she reached for the rope. Her hands trembled as she looped it around Sakura's wrists, the knots shaky but secure.

"Sachi," Sakura murmured, her voice gentle. "It's okay. Just do as he says."

The moment the last knot was tied, Orochimaru shoved Sachi aside, but his grip on her arm remained firm.

"Now, little one," he murmured, his voice almost affectionate. "Sleep."

Before Sachi could react, his fingers struck the pressure point at her neck with deadly precision. She let out a soft gasp before crumpling like a discarded doll, her body slumping to the cold floor.

"Sachi!" Sakura shouted, instinctively struggling against her restraints, but the knots held firm.

Orochimaru let out a sigh of mock exasperation before swiftly gagging her, silencing any further protests.

"Quiet," he snapped, his sharp nails biting into her arm as he yanked her forward. His grip was unyielding, his touch cold. The dim light of the alley flickered against the sharp gleam of his teeth as he leaned in, a wicked grin curling on his lips.

"We have a long journey ahead of us."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, bathing the infirmary grounds in a fiery orange glow. Shadows stretched long across the dirt, deepening the unease that had settled over the group.

Keisuke crouched beside Sachi's unconscious form, his fingers gently patting her cheek in an urgent attempt to rouse her. "Sachi-san! Wake up!" His voice, usually composed, carried an edge of desperation. "Come on, you're stronger than this."

Nearby, Kagami paced in restless agitation, his grip white-knuckled around the hilt of his sword. His sharp eyes scanned the surrounding area, every shift in the breeze or rustling leaf putting him further on edge.

A soft groan escaped Sachi's lips. Her eyelashes fluttered as she stirred, her breathing shallow and uneven. The world swam in and out of focus before Keisuke's face sharpened into view, his concern plain.

"Sakura…" she rasped, her throat raw. Her sluggish mind caught up with reality in a sudden, sickening rush. "Where's Sakura?"

Keisuke and Kagami exchanged a grim, knowing look.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Keisuke said carefully. "We found you unconscious. What happened?"

Panic gripped Sachi as the memories crashed over her like a breaking wave. She reached up, fingers pressing against her throat—no deep wound, only a faint scratch. But the phantom sensation of cold steel lingered.

She pushed herself upright with Keisuke's help, sucking in ragged breaths as she fought past the dizziness. "It was the white serpent," she said, voice trembling but steady. "He ambushed me… had a knife… Sakura came looking for me, and—"

"And?" Kagami's voice was sharp, his muscles taut.

Sachi's hands clenched into fists. "She gave herself up to save me." Her voice broke on the last words. "He made me tie her hands, then he—he knocked me out and took her. We have to go after them. Now."

Keisuke laid a firm hand on her shoulder, grounding her. "Breathe, Sachi. We'll get her back. But we need a plan."

"No!" Sachi snapped, her breath hitching. "Every second we waste, he's taking her farther away!"

Kagami stepped forward, his face dark with determination. "She's right, but we can't charge in blind. We need backup. That means heading to Hamachi and informing Itachi and the others."

Sachi hesitated, her heart pounding. She hated it—standing here, talking, waiting—but she knew Kagami was right. Charging in alone meant death, and she couldn't afford to lose Sakura, not like this.

"Fine," she said at last, her voice unsteady but resolute. "But we leave now. Every second counts."

Keisuke nodded. "Agreed."

With hurried efficiency, they gathered their belongings and mounted their horses. Sachi took the lead, her pulse thudding in her ears as she kicked her steed forward. The wind whipped against her face, but she barely noticed.

As they rode hard toward Hamachi, the fire inside her solidified into something sharper—something unyielding.

Sakura had saved her. And Sachi would do whatever it took to bring her back.

The moon hung low over Hamachi, its silver glow shimmering across the dark canals that veined the city. Lanterns bobbed on passing boats, their flickering light casting eerie reflections on the water. From the deck of a modest merchant vessel, Kabuto Yakushi crouched low, his hood drawn over his face. His disguise was hastily assembled—a threadbare kimono draped over his slight frame—but despite its shortcomings, it allowed him to slip unnoticed into the thrumming heart of the nighttime trade.

He stepped onto the dock, blending into the ebb and flow of merchants and dockworkers. The air was thick with the scent of river musk and the tang of fresh fish, but beneath it, Kabuto could taste something else. His pale fingers twitched at his sides, brushing the concealed blade hidden beneath his cloak. Every instinct screamed that he was being watched. Turning a corner into the labyrinthine alleys of Hamachi, he stopped short. A figure blocked his path, bathed in moonlight.

Sasuke Uchiha stood motionless, arms crossed, his katana gleaming at his hip. The soft rustle of the wind did nothing to dull the weight of his presence. Sasuke's dark eyes locked onto him, cold and cutting, and in that instant, recognition flared between them.

"Well, well," Sasuke murmured, his voice like a blade sliding from its sheath. "Look at this… a snake from Grass has slithered its way into our city."

Kabuto's lips curled into a practiced smile, though his fingers tensed at his sides. "You must be mistaken, young lord. I'm just a humble merchant—"

Sasuke's hand snapped to his sword, drawing it halfway. The polished steel caught the moonlight like liquid silver.

"Don't waste my time," he said, his voice sharp as broken glass. "I never forget a face… especially one responsible for the massacre in Kusamachi."

Before Kabuto could respond, another presence slipped from the shadows like a specter.

Shisui Uchiha.

His stance was casual, but his eyes burned with quiet fury.

"And even if he didn't recognize you," Shisui said, his voice a low growl, "I do." His gaze pinned Kabuto in place, unwavering. "It's been a long time, Yakushi Kabuto—the Weasel of Fire Country. You made a mistake coming here tonight."

Kabuto stiffened, but Shisui wasn't finished.

"You'll pay for the Yamanaka fire as will the masters you serve."

A slow, twisted smile spread across Kabuto's face. He let the weight of the moment stretch, watching the tension coil in their muscles. Then, with a voice laced with malice, he said,

"Too bad you saved your wife from that hellfire… she was supposed to die, too. No one stands against Shimura."

The words had barely left his mouth before he spun on his heel, vanishing into the crowded streets.

"He's heading for the eastern gate!" Sasuke barked.

The city erupted into chaos. Bells tolled from the watchtowers, their sharp clangs splitting the night. Lanterns flared to life as guards shouted orders, their boots pounding against stone. The hunt was on.

Kabuto moved like a phantom through the twisting alleys, slipping past merchants and startled passersby. Near the eastern gate, where the massive wooden doors stood ajar, an opportunity presented itself.

Sachi, Keisuke, and Kagami had just returned from Niwamachi, their horses trotting through the entrance, oblivious to the storm brewing behind them.

Kabuto didn't hesitate.

With a burst of speed, he vaulted onto an unguarded horse, his hands yanking the reins as he dug his heels into its flanks. The beast reared with a startled whinny before launching forward in a wild gallop.

"Stop him!" Sachi's voice rang out, sharp with alarm. She recognized him from the descriptions.

Keisuke and Kagami unsheathed their weapons, but it was already too late—the fugitive was slipping through their fingers.

"I'll handle this."

The voice was calm, yet resolute.

Shisui.

Already astride his own horse, he spurred the powerful steed forward, muscles coiling as the animal surged into a relentless gallop. Wind whipped at his cloak, his katana gleaming at his side, as he bore down on his target with the precision of a hunter closing in on its prey.

As they galloped beyond the city walls, the towering silhouette of Hamachi faded into the distance, swallowed by the creeping embrace of the woodlands. The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, and the rhythmic pounding of hooves against the dirt path echoed through the ancient trees.

Kabuto risked a glance over his shoulder, cursing under his breath as he saw Shisui closing the gap. The Uchiha's form was steady in the saddle, his black cloak billowing behind him like the shadow of death itself. Kabuto yanked the reins sharply, veering off the road and plunging into the dense undergrowth of the forest. The narrow paths twisted and wound like a serpent's spine, moonlight barely filtering through the thick canopy above. Shadows stretched and flickered, cast by the erratic dance of swaying branches.

Shisui followed without hesitation, his focus honed to a razor's edge. The world around him sharpened—every rustle of leaves, every thunderous beat of hooves, every breathless shift in Kabuto's posture as he reached into his cloak.

A glint of steel.

Kabuto flung a handful of caltrops onto the path, the jagged spikes scattering like malevolent stars. Shisui's horse let out a sharp whinny, its hooves skidding against the treacherous ground. For a heartbeat, the world tilted, but Shisui tightened his grip on the reins, shifting his weight expertly. His horse staggered but recovered, the momentary stumble costing him precious seconds.

His jaw tightened. Enough of this.

"Give up, Kabuto!" Shisui's voice rang through the trees, cutting through the night air.

Kabuto did not answer. He did not need to. His only reply was the desperate pounding of his horse's hooves against the forest floor. But Shisui had already decided—this was no longer a chase. This was a reckoning.

His fingers brushed against the smooth wood of his bow. In a single, practiced motion, he freed it from its holder, nocked an arrow, and drew back the string. The tension whispered through his fingers as he exhaled, steady and controlled.

A heartbeat. A release.

The arrow sliced through the night, swift and silent. Kabuto barely had time to react before the shaft buried itself into his shoulder. The impact wrenched him back in the saddle, his body twisting from the force of the blow. He let out a strangled cry as his grip on the reins failed. His horse reared violently, and in the next instant, he was tumbling.

The world blurred—sky, branches, dirt—before his back slammed against the unyielding earth.

Pain exploded through his body as he rolled, his wounded shoulder searing with agony. He barely managed to scramble to his feet before he heard the soft thud of boots hitting the ground.

Shisui stood before him, the moonlight gleaming off the edge of his katana as he drew it in one seamless motion. His stance was poised, unwavering, his muscles coiled with deadly precision.

Kabuto pressed a bloodied hand to his shoulder, lips curling into a bitter smirk. "Well done," he sneered, his breath uneven. "But you'll have to do better than that."

Without another word, he lunged. His blade carved through the air in a deadly arc, aiming to cleave through Shisui's defense. But Shisui was faster.

Steel met steel with a resounding clash, sparks flaring as their swords locked.

The battle erupted in a violent blur of motion. Kabuto fought like a cornered animal, his strikes desperate yet tempered by skill. But Shisui was something else entirely—a warrior of ruthless precision. His movements were fluid, each parry executed with near-effortless grace. He read Kabuto's attacks before they fully formed, his instincts honed by years of battle.

The forest became their battleground. Leaves trembled from the force of their movements, the wind carrying the sharp ring of clashing steel. Kabuto pressed forward with relentless fury, but Shisui dictated the rhythm of the fight. A sidestep here, a swift counter there—he controlled the flow with deadly efficiency.

Kabuto's breath turned ragged, his movements growing sluggish as blood seeped from his wound. Still, his grip on his sword did not waver. "You're good," he panted, his voice laced with both admiration and frustration. "I'll give you that. But it won't be enough."

With a snarl, he feinted left before twisting into a vicious downward strike, aiming for Shisui's exposed side.

But Shisui had already seen it.

He pivoted smoothly, sidestepping the blow, and in the same motion, drove his katana deep into Kabuto's stomach, just below the ribs.

The world seemed to slow.

Kabuto's eyes widened in shock, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as cold steel tore through flesh. Blood bubbled at the corner of his mouth. His grip on his sword slackened, and the weapon slipped from his fingers, clattering to the ground. His knees buckled. His body crumpled forward as if his own mortality had suddenly become too heavy to bear.

Shisui withdrew his blade with a practiced motion, his breath steady despite the ferocity of the battle. Kabuto slumped onto the earth, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven gasps. His once-defiant glare had dimmed, his strength unraveling.

"You had your chance," Shisui said quietly, his voice edged with finality. "But you chose this path."

Kabuto's lips parted, his voice barely a whisper. "Finish it…"

Shisui's expression remained unreadable. For the briefest moment, something flickered in his dark eyes—regret, perhaps, or the ghost of something that had once been compassion. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by cold resolve.

The katana rose. A single, decisive stroke.

Kabuto's body jerked once. Then all was still.

Shisui stood motionless, his blade dripping with crimson. The air around him was silent save for the whisper of the wind through the trees.

He wiped the blood from his sword with measured precision and sheathed it. He did not spare Kabuto's lifeless form another glance. Instead, he turned, mounted his horse, and rode into the night, leaving the battlefield behind.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed through the quiet streets of Hamachi as Shisui urged his horse forward, his eyes scanning the scene ahead. The town was uncharacteristically still, the usual hum of life replaced with a nervous, tense silence. Smoke from distant fires curled into the sky, carried by an unsettling wind, and the usual bustle of the marketplace had ground to a halt, replaced by hurried whispers and anxious glances.

Shisui's heart quickened. Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones. As he rode closer to the town square, his gaze darted from one shadowed corner to another, searching for any sign of what had happened. Then, as if in answer to his unspoken question, he saw her.

Sachi.

She stood near the edge of the square, her body trembling with visible distress. Her hands were twisted together in an agitated, frantic motion, unable to find stillness. She paced in small, erratic steps, her eyes wide, darting about as if struggling to grasp the overwhelming reality unfolding around her. Her voice came out in quick, breathless bursts, each word tumbling over the last in a frenzied rush.

Itachi, Sasuke, Naruto, Minato, and Tobirama formed a tight, tense circle around her, each of them struck by a shared sense of disbelief and appalled horror at the gravity of the situation.

Sachi's voice cracked as she continued, each word strained with the weight of the truth. "She gave herself up… to save me... she—" Her sentence faltered, breaking off into a raw sob. Her shoulders shook, and her hands trembled as the overwhelming weight of what had happened settled in her bones. The truth was too much to bear.

Sasuke's voice, low and seething, cut through the moment, his words filled with a brother's fury and anguish. "Where is she?"

"We don't know," Sachi answered, her voice ragged and raw.

A heavy silence enveloped the group. The tension was palpable, the air thick with a shared sense of helplessness and rage. Only the distant rush of hurried footsteps and the soft rustling of fabric in the wind broke the stillness.

Shisui's gaze flickered over each of their faces, noting the grim expressions and clenched jaws. Their eyes burned with the same fierce resolve—determination edged with an unmistakable fury. He, too, felt it—the burning need to act, to do whatever it took to bring Sakura back. His chest tightened in that moment, the weight of their collective resolve pressing down on him.

Itachi's jaw clenched, the muscle working beneath his skin as his eyes darkened, cold and steely, with a fury that rivaled Sasuke's. His voice, when it came, was icily controlled, yet laced with a razor-sharp edge. "We leave now. No more delays."

Minato's hand shot up, demanding immediate silence and halting the frantic energy that pulsed through the air. His voice rang out with authority. "We need to move quickly, but we must be strategic. Orochimaru is cunning, and we have no idea what traps he might have set along the road. We need scouts, we need information." His gaze shifted to Tobirama, who met his eyes with a sharp nod, acknowledging the plan.

"I'll dispatch the scouts," Tobirama replied, his voice steady and unflinching. "We'll position men along the main roads, at the outskirts of the mountains, and along the route to Grass. If Orochimaru tries to move her, we'll know."

"Also, we need to consider the Taka Woodlands," Sasuke added, his voice cutting through the tension.

Shisui's heart pounded in his chest, the urgency of the situation sending a cold wave of dread through him. His mind churned with calculations, planning contingencies and strategies, but his body was already in motion, driven by the need to act. Time was slipping away, and there was no room for hesitation.

"Shisui," Itachi's voice sliced through the chaos of his thoughts, sharp and commanding. "Get ready. We need everyone. The moment we know where she is, we move. No hesitation."

Shisui nodded, his fingers tightening around the reins of his horse. His resolve solidified. "We'll get her back," he promised, his voice low but firm, echoing with the weight of his determination.

Sachi looked up at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Beneath the pain, there was a flicker of something fragile—hope. "Please, Shisui," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please bring her back."

The plea hit him like a physical blow, reverberating deep within. He didn't need to say anything more. The promise passed between them, unspoken yet undeniable.

In the distance, the sounds of preparation surged. Soldiers moved with urgency, weapons clinking, orders being shouted and hastily obeyed. The quiet that had filled the square was now replaced by the frenetic buzz of impending action. There was no turning back now. The hunt for Sakura had begun.

Until next time.

-masayume