CHAPTER 34
A dark storm loomed over Fugaku's head, observing Minato walk ahead of him with deep red, swirling eyes that almost ebbed steam. A subtle miasma of bluish black chakra simmered on the surface of Fugaku's skin. No one dared near him, keeping well out of his way as he glared at the Hokage's back.
They moved into the guard breakroom. The remaining guards stayed outside.
They were inspecting the carnage at the high-risk section of the T . Twenty-one bodies were laid on stretchers on the ground. Their bodies were neatly tucked under white blankets, covering the gruesome wounds they sustained.
Tsunade was with them, squatting beside one of the bodies and gently lifting the blanket to reveal only the head. The throat of the head guard was slit cleanly, severing her throat and scratching a nerve between two bones in her neck. The wound hadn't been cleaned, though the blood was turgid and caked. She glanced the fingertips of her gloved hand over the wound and winced a little, frowning.
"Chakra blade," she declared at once, looking up at the Hokage. "The chakra coating the weapon attacked the chakra in their system. One clean cut to the neck and that's it. A quick death. A full autopsy would tell me more."
"Hm." Minato crossed his arms and nodded, shutting his eyes to reflect on her words.
Once the blood was cleaned from the walls, the crime scene similarly vanished. There were no deep slashing grooves in the walls or holes punctured in the ceiling. All of the attacks met their targets, quickly and efficiently.
"S-rank or not…" Fugaku spoke through gnashed teeth, "How could a facility of jounin and chunin be incapacitated so easily? There should have been more of a struggle." His seething sharingan never once left the back of Minato's head, hands clenched and posture stiff, barely holding back from coiling to strike. Venom oozed from his words as he said, "Did your friend tell you how this happened?"
Tsunade's brow furrowed in confusion, eying Fugaku, then shifting her gaze onto Minato. She didn't know what he was talking about and she wanted to know, waiting for the Hokage to answer Fugaku's question. She placed the blanket back on top of the body and stood up. Minato touched his chin and regarded her for a moment before he nodded to the door.
"Excuse us, please."
The woman's lips tightened into a thin line. She rolled her shoulders and removed her gloves, tossing them into a small biohazard waste container and leaving the room, shutting the door after herself.
Minato exhaled from his mouth and turned around, meeting Fugaku's sharingan without a shred of hesitation or fear. The Uchiha's molten red eyes twitched in their sockets, narrowed in barely bottled rage.
"Let's hear it—"
"You sent us out on a pointless chase. Distracted us in the woods like we were petulant children." Fugaku spat, stepping up to the Hokage, who didn't move away, keeping his hands tucked behind his back. "Three shadow clones, a sack of rice henge'd to look like Kabuto, and a wood release user, right?" if Fugaku had been any closer to the targets they were pursuing, he would have easily recognised the soft blue signature of Minato's chakra. He had seen Minato's chakra since their first spar in the Academy when they were eight years old. He only realised the diversion and trap once the trees started moving, boxing the pursuing ninjas in a maze of living wood, far too late. The Uchiha's face pulled back into a harsh snarl, teeth bared and red eyes shrinking. "You disgraced me, Minato…"
"…I'm sorry about that." Minato's chin was tipped up, keeping his face even. "There was a chance you would ruin our plan."
"To negotiate with a criminal?" Minato cringed at the thin spray of spittle. "I would sooner cut out my eyes—"
"My point exactly," Minato stopped the wave of vitriol calmly. "At least now, we know where Orochimaru and Kakashi are and we have a way to get to them." The part he didn't voice was why he didn't spring at this chance immediately, and that was because the Sannin and the last Hatake were protected by an unknown person with powerful doujutsu, as Sasori described him. Pain. This didn't lessen the killer intent ebbing from Fugaku's pores, roiling off his skin. "We also now know all of the hidden exits."
"Look around you. Our comrades are dead!" Fugaku pointed at the corpses. Minato pursed his lips but didn't look away from his childhood friend. Fugaku's jaw creaked with how hard his teeth were clenched, exhaling smoke from deep in his chest. "You sacrificed their lives, just to make a deal with trash like Sasori. Their blood is on your hands, Minato."
"I know…" Minato shook his head, sighing. "It had to be done. Sasori had someone observing the facility from outside. A colleague of his. The jailbreak and the pursuit needed to be convincing."
"We've now been turned into actors in your heartless play."
Minato rubbed his temple. "That's not it—"
The rush of singed words poured from the normally stoic Uchiha, "This didn't need to happen. There had to have been another way. That boy has ulterior motives. He poured poison into your ears, and the result is you letting this happen—"
"Fugaku," Minato snapped, finally losing his patience, "Your pride is not at risk." The Hokage jabbed his thumb into his chest. "It's mine. When people start blaming the facility's security for failing, my name will be raised much louder than yours." He pressed his thumb harder into his chest, emphasising each word with a painful jab at himself. "I have to be the one to break the news to the families, comfort them, and promise there will be justice." The Hokage fought back a frown, standing up against the glowering Uchiha with clenched hands. A sheen of emotion glazed his eyes at the wells of sadness and grief frothing underneath the surface, somewhat dulling the Uchiha's anger. "Me."
It wasn't an enviable position.
"Now…" Minato withdrew a bit with a slow, soothing inhale, blinking away the subtle tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. "We need to show a united front. We need to clean out our house and plug up the last holes in our defences. Reassure the people that they are safe."
Fugaku's head lowered a little, staring at a point on Minato's chin, so hard that he prayed that the man felt the stab of the head. The final embers of his wrath. "Yes…"
"Have you found the holes in your clan?"
"…Many."
A brief smile flicked over Minato's face. "Have you cleaned them out?"
Fugaku blinked his eyes, deactivating them so only his dark eyes remained. He looked to the Hokage's blue eyes, serene and patient, while he was abyssal and glassy, a mere hairbreadth away from shattering and unleashing the endless roaring emotions he locked at the pit of his stomach.
"Yes."
Minato's hands came up and he set them on his old friend's shoulders, keeping his eyes trained on Fugaku's. "Good." The Hokage half-frowned. "Remember our goal."
Fugaku's jaw hardened and his lips screwed into a deep frown. "Remove the rot. Save Konoha. Yes…"
"Remove the rot. Save Konoha," Minato repeated with a waning expression.
Fugaku's hands slowly closed into fists and he harshly pulled away from Minato. "Remind me again how our dead comrades are rot." Minato breathed in quietly, lips thin and eyes showing his displeasure. "Making deals with criminals, turning our defences into a farce, endangering the village, and sacrificing the lives of twenty-one respected shinobi for a charade." He spelt out his accusations in no uncertain words, fearlessly staring daggers at the Hokage. Minato simply stood there, hands tucked at his back and frowning subtly. "From where I'm standing, you are the rot, Minato."
He left the room with brisk steps, leaving Minato alone with his thoughts.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Since his raid on Orochimaru's lab in Konoha, the scene was seared into his brain. The sight, the smell, and the stab of cold that draped his body. His sharingan carved the horrors behind his eyelids; he saw it when he slept. He saw it when he blinked.
He saw it when he looked at his wife, the mother of his child and the woman he loved.
He saw it when he looked at his son, his pride.
Fugaku isolated himself in a remote training ground, sitting at the edge of a muddy lake as his mind tumbled back to the day he lost faith in Konoha.
Flashback: The Raid
The stench of antiseptic pierced his nose, so thick in the air that it made him slightly woozy. Every surface was shined clean with not so much as a speck of dirt on the black and white tiled floor. A fluorescent light attached to the wall mutely observed Fugaku and his subordinate as they entered. The only sound he heard was the dull drone of an air-conditioner, pouring deep cold into the room and leaking out of the door they had entered.
It was a storage room. There was a wide, metal shelf opposite the door and a filing cabinet on the adjacent wall, also made of polished metal.
On the shelf were jars filled with eyes. Sharingan, byakugan, and normal eyes of all shades and colours sat immobile in jars of preservative liquid. Fugaku felt like they stared at him as they entered, looking unblinkingly at the horrified man at the door. Dead to the world. The jar of sharingan eyes considerably more than even those of normal eyes. There were two brains at the top of the shelf, one fully intact, greyish and floating in a jar, while the other was split apart, not unlike an orange, festering with a watery black mass at the centre. The opened brain wallowed at the bottom of the jar, a sickly shade of green.
There was a foetus in another jar at the very bottom of the shelf, curled inwards inside the tight jar. Its skin was purplish red and its small digits sheepishly grasped nothing.
The police officer Fugaku came with covered his mouth when he felt bile race up from his stomach. Some throw-up spilled out between his fingers and he swore, hurrying out of the room to collect himself.
Fugaku wasn't sure when he had sheathed his katana, but he did, wondering semi-senselessly to the cabinet, unable to look anymore at the gore on the shelf. The cabinet was alphabetised. His shaky, sweaty hands pulled a drawer labelled 'R—W' and reached in. His fingers flipped through the files and his heart sank when he found what he was looking for.
The file labelled 'Uchiha'.
His stomach twisted into a tight knot and his chest tightened, squeezing his lungs till he fought to breathe. His sharingan turned, imprinting the words in the file to memory, as well as the pictures attached. He recognised nearly all of the names and faces in the file. Some were direct family, some were childhood neighbours and friends he used to play with, some were clan comrades he went on missions with, and some were close acquaintances.
Most had gone missing during the war.
Some were exhumed from their graves. The Uchiha didn't know how, but they were taken from the Uchiha clan cemetery, which was protected around the clock by his clan mates. Their graves were dug up and their bodies were stolen, and desecrated beyond forgiveness.
Sorrow tapered the flames of rage roaring in his chest, leaving the man weak. Slouched and wilting at what he had discovered. This wasn't a flesh wound or a forgettable scar.
A knife had been plunged into the pride of his clan. Their pride.
An Uchiha was nothing without their pride. Their clan was founded on raw, unnegotiable pride. The first Uchiha didn't entertain playing second fiddle to his brother and he fought back accordingly. That was what being an Uchiha meant. Their sharingan and their chakra might as well be ornamental if they didn't have that fiery pride to back up their actions.
Every Uchiha was taught strength and power, loyalty and honour, the value of family, and the sharingan. They were the pillars for which the clan stood, without which they would have been torn apart centuries ago. But the very foundation for all of this pride. It added legitimacy to their clan's pillars.
Now, seeing the faces and names of people he came across just some years ago, he couldn't take pride in his clan's ability to protect their own people. He couldn't take pride in the years he and his father-in-law spent fortifying their clan, politically and physically. He couldn't take pride in the defences of his clan compound. He couldn't take pride in the selfishness of the traitors that allowed this abomination to happen.
"Blood traitors…" the words simmered hotly under his breath, staring burning daggers at the file in his hands. The man felt uneven, standing before the cabinet, forcing his eyes shut and collecting what little of himself he had left. His centre of gravity flipped upside down and he struggled to stay upright. The foundation of his beliefs had been struck, hard, and now there was a chunk of his spirit that was missing.
He gnashed his teeth.
He hated Orochimaru for doing this, though worst of all, he hated the blood traitors that let the Orochimaru stab their pride.
He swore, to himself and the universe, "There will be recompense."
Soon, he would find other hidden rooms under that same laboratory, and even worse atrocities. Blood spilt down the streets of the Uchiha clan compound that very evening, and due to Konoha's founding charter, the Hokage, the council, and the other clans didn't interfere.
Flashback End
Fugaku's legs were crossed and his hands were set on his knees, forcing his eyes to stay on a family of geese leisurely bobbing on the surface of the lake. They quacked amongst themselves, occasionally dipping their heads underwater and wading.
Tough, tall grass sprang up around the lake, with a broken dock decaying inside the dirty water. The place still was a training ground, albeit it had not seen frequent activity in years. Nature had reclaimed the land entirely, with mosquitoes noisily loitering in the bushes, wild guinea fowl stalking through the grass on the other side of the lake, and the forgettable drone of toads croaking in the background. Supposedly, Sakumo Hatake used this training ground as a secret fishing spot.
The man observed the small family of birds, the frown and disapproving groves on his face etched so deep they mirrored the displeasure in his heart. His wife sometimes joked that he was born with his scowl. That he had chastised his mother for crying and snapped at the doctor for his bad posture.
He never smiled. Always scowling.
Fugaku wasn't born happy. He knew that.
He didn't know his father and his mother stayed indoors, crippled by social anxiety all her life. He wondered how his father managed with her until he went off and died on a mission. A flimsy, forgettable mission.
The man's brow twitched and he fought down a growl.
He fumbled for a pocket on his jounin vest and took out a picture, letting his eyes settle on it. A gentle breeze ruffled his dark hair and the deep lines under his eyes lightened. The steep frown on his expression reduced as his expression smoothed a little, not completely rid of his skin-deep scowl but the closest to peace he had ever been.
It was Mikoto and Itachi in the picture, taken some months ago when they were on a family outing. Fugaku had excused himself away from the camera, not liking to have his picture taken, and the subtle disappointment on his wife's face showed, with her smile respectable and polite, and Itachi nearly as emotionless as his mother.
He didn't know what she saw in him.
He was private, temperamental, and prone to rashness. In his youth, he had built a stony façade of scowls and palpable disapproval, scaring friends and adults alike, enjoying the privacy of training by himself. Then he met her, attached to her by her father, the then clan head, to help evolve her sharingan, and he was introduced to a world of inconveniences. And enjoyments.
He would have felt emasculated when she proposed marriage, if not for the practical side of him wanting to settle down and start a family with her, rather than starting afresh with someone else. That would be too tedious and time-wasting, taking away his attention from other important things.
The scowl lines carved deeper into his face.
Regardless of his practicality, he would do anything for Mikoto. Anything and everything. So much so that he didn't put up a fuss when she refused to send Itachi to the Academy early, even with the boy's remarkable intelligence. He shoved away the Third Hokage when the man wanted Itachi enrolled in the ninja school. Fugaku also went out of his way during missions to collect exotic leaves to give the boy, since he enjoyed pointlessly rummaging around in the dirt, calling it gardening, of all things.
They were expecting a second child in some months, and Fugaku expected to treat them much the same way. Their little family was Fugaku's whole world.
When he made Itachi happy, Mikoto was pleased, and in turn, Fugaku was content.
He inhaled slowly, letting the glimmer of emotion sitting in his chest reach into the picture, feeling its warmth. He breathed out. He let the tranquillity of the wild training ground and his family picture soothe him.
As an Officer of the Law, a sworn protector of Konoha, and a member of the council, he could not oppose Minato without it turning into something entirely unmanageable…
But…
He could not, in good conscience, continue to freely associate with someone that treated his comrades like bothersome children, and so flimsily allowed his own people to die.
He couldn't.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
At the same time
Uzumaki-Namikaze household
Naruto clambered into the guest room window and tumbled on the ground, panting and slumped messily underneath the window. He rubbed his eyelids after a brief moment and opened his eyes, stilling when they met a pair of dark eyes.
Itachi, he reminded himself. Mikoto's kid.
The boy was sitting on the floor by his duffle bag, which was formerly shoved under the bed and was now being rapidly searched. Itachi stopped. The boy's eyes were marginally wide, frozen like a deer in headlights as Naruto's brow creased in confusion. Itachi's hand was inside Naruto's travel bag, literally and figuratively caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Naruto blinked once. Twice.
Itachi's mouth opened a little, a winded sound wheezing from his mouth, trying and failing to grasp a single string of coherent words to explain why he was ransacking a guest's bag, before he abruptly shook his head, returning his attention to Naruto's bag, messily and carelessly rummaging through it. Naruto saw some of his things spilled out around Itachi; two shirts and two pants, a set of underwear, a pair of socks he didn't remember packing, a headband he also didn't remember packing, a beanie, his sneakers, a few reading scrolls, several rolls of ryu notes, and his weapons.
A slight smile came to Naruto's lips and he drew his legs close, crossing them and leaning back against the wall, still on the ground. The boy didn't acknowledge this shift, muttering something and pulling out Naruto's winter parka from the bag, tossing it over his shoulder and diving back into the seemingly bottomless bag. And when everything was taken out of Naruto's bag and the boy had upturned the bag over his head for good measure, Itachi started poking through the pockets of Naruto's clothes, looking again at each roll of money, and finding Naruto's wallet, peering intently at the multiple business cards inside; people currying favour with his organisation tended to give him their contact details if when they wanted his business.
A full minute passed and Naruto rubbed his nose, shaking his head in exasperation. He pulled out a notepad and a pencil from his shirt sleeve.
[What are you looking for?]
Itachi flicked his eyes up from one of Naruto's reading scrolls—a topographical map of Fire Country's terrain—then dipped his gaze back down to the map. "Mommy says you're a bad person. Auntie Kushina says you're a good person. I want to know which."
Naruto hummed; his shoulders lifted a bit. [And?]
"I can't find anything." The boy was in a huff, messily moving about Naruto's belongings on the floor.
Naruto smirked. His pale eyes brimmed with amusement.
Suddenly, Itachi's eyes glanced at Naruto and he asked, "What are you? Good or bad?"
Naruto pursed his lips and inhaled slowly, mulling the question in his head, until he flipped to a new page and scribbled in his notepad. [Sometimes good. Sometimes bad. Most times, neither.]
Itachi's eyebrow furrowed, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "I don't understand."
Naruto smiled, almost dismissing the younger boy's concerns, but he stopped himself. He saw the strong stare Itachi levelled him with, and the subtly clenched fists.
Naruto sighed.
[I am what I need to be.]
Itachi frowned, his small hands opening and closing again, visibly more anxious, even though his impassive face didn't express it fully. His face scrunched in dissatisfaction, murmuring, "That doesn't make any sense."
Naruto breathily chuckled, heaving as he pushed to his feet and approached the boy, deftly writing in his notepad. His eyes softened a fraction at the frustration on childish Itachi's face, wanting to understand but not fully grasping the situation. He bent down and plucked the scroll from the boy's hand, tossing it into his bag and showing Itachi his message. [Believe me. You'll understand when you're older.]
Itachi's frown deepened, but he didn't argue further. Instead, he sat back on his heels and observed Naruto as he carefully arranged his weapons into his bag; many holstered kunai and shuriken, a katana and a tanto, a collapsed bow staff, a disassembled windmill shuriken as big as Itachi's head that was stored inside a sleeve of leather, several pouches of needles, a roll of ninja wire, and a short red scroll that clearly had the word 'Bombs'.
Itachi's mind mostly dwelled on Naruto's blades, frozen stiff when Naruto pulled out the blade of his katana from the sheath and looked at the weapon, sheathing it with a neat click when he was satisfied that the weapon was undamaged. He stuffed it into his bag. The little boy, blinked, hiding his gulp as he blurted out, "Why do you have so many sharp things?"
Naruto laughed silently, his shoulders lifting and falling as he crossed his legs and brought out his kunai holster, retrieving a blade. He fanned it out, revealing it to be five kunai, then he collapsed the kunai and, much to Itachi's amazement, it returned to a single ninja blade. Naruto grinned crookedly and shook his head, shrugging and holding up his bandaged hands, motioning to his neck. His answer was cryptic.
[Self-defence.]
Itachi eyed him cautiously, though he didn't move away.
Naruto scoffed and flipped to another page, writing. [What are you really looking for?]
Itachi hesitated, his small hands finding Naruto's winter coat and squeezing it. His cool, dark eyes darted around the room before finally landing back on Naruto's face. He said in a soft voice, "A clue."
Naruto blinked, momentarily surprised, and he arched his eyebrow in silent question.
"A clue on if you're good or bad," Itachi admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Naruto's stare stayed on the boy for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Itachi stirred uncomfortably under the guest's vacant, pale stare. Finally, he reached out and ruffled Itachi's hair, ignoring the indignant huff the boy let out. Naruto half-smiled and went to his notepad. [Let's see what you found.]
"Nothing interesting," Itachi said, shoulders slumped in defeat. Naruto's lips pursed, hiding his smile, jokingly pushing Itachi and pointing at his messy things. He leaned forward and started folding his clothes, and Itachi begrudgingly followed his cue, picking up Naruto's socks and rolling them into a ball, passing them to Naruto to arrange into his bag.
Naruto spared a quick look at him, eyebrow raised with a niggling question. [What were you looking for? Specifically.]
This was his third time asking that question, and Itachi looked frustrated. Maybe the older boy was mocking him. Itachi's cheeks coloured stubbornly and he looked down, finding a headband and rolling it as well. "I don't know. Something…bad…or good."
Naruto lilted, collecting his pants from the boy when Itachi struggled to fold them. [That's fair, I guess.]
Itachi clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath. Naruto hummed, looking at Itachi with a heavy sigh and pursed lips. Itachi interpreted this as impatience, and his face coloured a deep shade of red, speaking quietly with his gaze firmly fixed down, passing Naruto his reading scrolls and rolls of cash, "I'm sorry for being a bother."
The older boy smiled faintly and nodded his head, accepting Itachi's apology.
When they finished putting his things into his bag, the only thing left on the ground were two packets of sunflower seeds.
Itachi's face twisted in confusion, unable to remember ever finding the seeds in Naruto's bag during his search as well as not seeing them in his second and third look-over. His mind raced for an explanation, sitting back on his knees and holding the seeds in his small hands, until he met Naruto's face. The boy was looking away, whistling tunelessly and trying to seem unassuming as he zipped his duffle bag and shoved it back under his bed.
"When did you…?" Itachi faltered, sitting forward and holding up the seeds in Naruto's face. He didn't even remember seeing Naruto dropping them. It was no longer alarm that something had happened under his nose, or frustration on how to process the trick. He gaped, mouth opening and closing without a coherent word coming out, impressed and amazed more than anything as he blubbered, "Why did you…?"
Naruto wiggled the fingers of his right hand in front of his face, flipping back a few pages to the very start of their interaction…the previous day, at Itachi's makeshift garden.
[Magic.]
Itachi's mouth just hung open, eyes bugged and looking between the seeds and Naruto. A tinge of a smile touched his pallid, inexpressive face. He had never seen sleight of hand this close up before. Awe sparkled in the young boy's eyes, lifting his face to the older boy and whispering, "That's so cool…" he stared at the seed packets, holding them tightly in shaky hands. "Thank you." Some logical part of the boy's mind visibly kicked him and he recoiled, reeling back and holding the seeds close to his chest, looking at Naruto with hesitant eyes. He was hardly aware he was doing it. Naruto smiled, more so when the boy asked, "Can I please have them?"
Naruto threw up a thumbs up and wrote in the notepad. [Saw you trying to grow something in the backyard.] Naruto wrote, reluctant and giving the boy his most encouraging smile. [You have the passion, but not the technique.]
The little boy pouted a little, cheeks dusted with red at being caught. He defended himself in a soft voice, testing his words hesitantly. "I was just…experimenting."
Partly impressed that the five-year-old boy knew how to pronounce multiple syllables, Naruto gently placated the boy with a chipper thumbs up. [Wanna learn how to do it properly?]
Itachi's brow furrowed, unsure if this was a genuine offer or some kind of joke. "Why?" he asked, staring at Naruto as if trying to read something deeper in his pale eyes.
Naruto stopped mid-stroke, ready with a pun to lighten the mood, but he shook his head and turned to another page, He wrote his message and turned it to Itachi. [Why not?]
For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint rustle of the seed packets in Itachi's hands. Finally, the boy looked away, his voice so quiet Naruto almost didn't catch it, "…Okay."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
In stark contrast to the warmth and hope that swelled in the Hokage's household, the beginnings of a lifelong friendship, on the opposite side of the village, there was only heartbreak and pain.
Rin sobbed quietly into Obito's hand, surrounded by a small team of nurses and a doctor, who watched, helpless as the girl cried. Her shoulders trembled and her pallid face smeared with tears, pressing Obito's hand to her forehead and searching for the warmth she had felt so many times before.
His head was covered under thick bandages and a blanket, hiding the irreparable mess of bone and soft tissue it had become due to his injuries.
His bright eyes shone in her mind. His larger-than-life smile covered her memories like a longing embrace.
The doctor came forward and set his hand on her shoulder, but she didn't acknowledge it. She couldn't. All that was in her mind were memories of her time with her friend, when he laughed, cried, joked, danced, and especially when he brought her for a hug. She didn't have the will to plead for him to come back to her, because, as of when he was conscious, he had only been her friend.
It would be cruel to have kept him on life support.
The Uchiha clan head made her see reason.
The trauma to his brain was fatal. His head wasn't just fractured, splintering inwards and peppering his brain, but his brain, which was normally soft and near-liquid, was terribly jarred against the inside of his skull, bounced back and forth till it just about came apart.
Obito had been declared brain-dead for some days. His mind had gone on a final journey to never return, leaving his body in the physical world. The tools, techniques, and skills for performing brain surgery to rectify the issue were both non-existent and impossible.
His body was only kept alive by the many medical machines, but his mind was long gone.
The doctors and nurses left the room, and Tsunade Senju entered, coming in to console her student.
The Sannin sat by Rin and dragged her to her side, holding the weeping girl close and gently easing Rin's hands from Obito's. She didn't say anything because no words could possibly ease the girl's agony; one friend was gone and the other was lost. Probably lost forever too.
Zetsu quietly eased himself out of the room, hurrying to Hidden Rain to deliver the news of Obito's death to Kakashi.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Outside of Konoha's northern gate, Sasori stalked the woods on the left side of the road. He stayed deep in the woods a long distance from the road, expertly weaving through the trees while still maintaining a brisk walk. The shade of the trees obscured him completely, and his easy, swift movement did so much as allow a stray beam of light to glance off his body.
Konoha's northern highway was by far their busiest road, as it connected them to Iron, Snow, Lightning, Waterfall, and Hot Water Countries, and with how the new Hokage was revitalising Konoha's economy, there was a progressive increase in exports and a steady increase in civilians looking for work. Sasori couldn't help but hear Minato's speech, as it was blasted far and wide over all of Hidden Leaf, and he had told them of his broad plans to improve food production in the village, toughen their security, create jobs, update their schools, and boost foreign relations, among other things. His one week in office before his swearing-in had not only torn out the rot from the council but also injected money into the village, which was already being used.
Minato barely held back from promising heaven on earth in Konoha.
The carriages trudging over the asphalt creaked cautiously. There was always the threat of bandits or missing ninjas attacking the civilians. Highway robbery and kidnappings happened every week, despite the efforts of the ninjas watching the road. Hiring guards was only a momentary solution, given that bandits somehow getting their hands on better weaponry and more sophisticated techniques.
The occupants of the carriages were right to watch the forest, staring deep into the left side of the road where the highway dared not touch the trees, fearful of what stalked the darkness.
Still, compared to the blistering warzone that was the northwestern highway to Earth, Grass, and Rain Countries, the northern highway was completely peaceful.
Along the way, the wide road fed into small, thinner roads leading into smaller settlements, like villages, and split apart into medium-sized roads, curving in the direction of a major country. But that wouldn't be for many kilometres.
He still did not have Hiruko, his favoured puppet-shell. He had agreed to collect Hiruko from the boy, and return Shini, this evening in Hot Water Country.
Although Shini was a big help in his mission—incapacitating ninjas with the paralytic gas and killing shinobi with its chakra blades—ultimately, the ghostly puppet was far too costly to maintain. Sasori wondered how Morty did it; the mechanism ebbing the noxious cloud of gas also overheated the interior of the puppet, loosening the joints and starching the robes and veils till they made a bothersome flapping noise when Shini was moved, like sun-dried clothes on a clothesline. Hardened clothes and overly loose joints negated stealth and silent assassination, which Shini was designed to excel in.
Shini had the potential to be a fine puppet, but Morty had a long way to go before Shini could be considered perfected.
Maybe that was why the boy had asked to study Hiruko.
Sasori allowed himself a slight snort.
A six-legged puppet lumbered behind him, its pointed hooves stalking through the trees and pushing past the bushes. There was noticeable grace in its steps, noiselessly skittering in the undergrowth, reminiscent of an insect. It was roughly Sasori's height, albeit it moved with a deep squat, with a thin and long centre mass that was scarcely seen in the dim forest. There was no head, or even eyes for that matter. Only a set of legs attached to a small body. A wispy trail of chakra strings leaked from Sasori's right finger, controlling the spindly puppet.
On its back was a broken refrigerator, padlocked shut.
—Sasori walked through a tripwire and the ground vanished beneath his feet, but the puppet master didn't fall.
He looked down at the perilous drop, with the sharp stakes impaled at the very bottom, while he hung in midair by the hand controlling his six-legged puppet. The puppet swiftly clambered onto a tree, keeping Sasori from falling to a messy end. The puppet master slowly shortened the strings connected to the spindly puppet, pulling himself out of the pit and onto firm ground.
Sasori's eyes twitched, flashing with impatience and looking at once to his right.
"Can't blame a guy for tryin'" A voice said, perched on the same tree the six-legged puppet was nestled on. Sasori's neck craned up; his sleepy smile carved deep into his face but his eyes flashed with irritation.
"Kakuzu," Sasori said through locked jaws.
The other S-rank ninja glowered down at the puppet master, his green eyes oozing greed. Pure and undiluted greed that very nearly dripped from the man's being. The man hummed and dropped down, unceremoniously dropping to the forest floor and standing over the shorter man. "Your bounty is very tempting, Sasori."
"Don't test me," Sasori said, voice scathingly low.
Kakuzu hummed again, smirkingly. His hidden face didn't convey the expression, though his gleaming eyes curled up, leaning down a little to meet his comrade's heavy-eyed expression. "Of course not," condescension coiled from his words like snapping vipers. "We're colleagues after all."
Sasori met the man's daring stare, standing tall, daring him right back to make a move. Then Kakuzu stood back with a slight chuckle, shaking his head.
Zetsu had recruited Kakuzu during the Whisper Group auction, which had abruptly ended some days ago. The man had been there to exchange some bounty memorabilia for cash; true to his nature, he didn't bid on a single thing, as tempting as the possible resale value was. He was there purely to make a profit.
Sasori hadn't been able to make it to the auction, regretfully.
The puppet master stiffly pulled his hand up and his spindly puppet leapt off the tree, gracefully landing on the ground in such a way that it adjusted for the other weight on its back, falling with a subtle bump on the damp forest floor.
"This one has no bounty on his head," Sasori said, half-lidded eyes cold and mocking. He saw the hard look Kakuzu gave the broken fridge, and he didn't like it, but that wasn't any of Sasori's business. Not anymore. His tone was frosty, manipulating his puppet to tip the fridge off its back, standing it upright on the ground. "It's in your hands now. Get him to Lord Pain or not, I don't care. I've done my part."
A deep, watery rumble ebbed from Kakuzu's chest, moving his piercing eyes from the fridge to his comrade. His eyes narrowed down at the casual dismissal from the puppet master. "If you're done, leave. I'll decide what to do with him—and whether it's worth the effort."
Sasori had already pushed Kakuzu from his mind, manoeuvring his puppet to him and climbing on top. He hurtled toward Hot Water, to his meeting with Morty, while Kakuzu remained back with the broken fridge.
Contained in the fridge was an unconscious Kabuto Yakushi, and hidden behind his ear, concealed by his silver hair, was a Hirashin seal…
Authors note
That's that about that!
What do you think of this chapter and the story so far? Tell me your thoughts in a review!
We're approaching two massive time skips, and after that…Part 2 of this story…O.o
As a side note, I've been having trouble with the PM feature of this website/app for some weeks now. I've tried replying to messages I've been getting but they haven't been going. Initiating messages has also been problematic. Please, if you would like to chat, you can find me on Discord:
Snooze Button#0170
Even though I've been more like an estranged uncle, disappearing for months and coming back for a few hours with gifts, before vanishing again, I've tried to keep up with messaging you kind people. I know it's a bit inconvenient, I'm sorry about that but don't hesitate to send me a message on Discord.
See you when I see you.
Foy.