Chapter 28. Kumadori
The first light of dawn painted the Uchiha compound in muted tones of gold and silver, the frost on the windows catching the faint glow. Inside, all was quiet, the household still wrapped in the deep slumber of winter's cold grip.
A sharp, wet sound broke the stillness—a cough, low and violent.
Sakura stirred at first, not fully awake. Then another cough, louder and more desperate, jolted her upright.
She turned to see Itachi sitting up, his hand pressed to his mouth, his body convulsing with the effort of suppressing whatever was causing the fit. The faint light filtering into the room revealed crimson streaks on his fingers.
"Itachi?" Sakura's voice trembled as she shifted closer. She reached for his hand, gently pulling it away to reveal fresh blood staining his palm. "You're bleeding."
He tried to reply, but another cough racked his frame, cutting off his words. His dark eyes met hers, and for the first time, she saw fear in them.
Pushing down her panic, Sakura slipped into the role she knew best—that of a healer. "Lie back," she instructed softly, her voice calm despite the racing of her heart. "I need to examine you."
Itachi obeyed, leaning back against the pillows. His breathing was shallow, every exhale accompanied by a faint wheeze.
Sakura placed her fingers against his wrist, feeling for his pulse. It was weak, irregular, but not dangerously low—yet. Her hand moved to his forehead, noting the clammy texture of his skin, then to his neck, where his pulse fluttered unevenly beneath her fingertips.
"Where does it hurt?" she asked, her voice steady.
Itachi gestured weakly to his chest, then his throat.
"Any pain elsewhere? Your stomach? Head?"
He shook his head but winced, his body tensing as another cough overtook him. This time, more blood spattered the sleeve of his robe.
Sakura's mind raced. Coughing blood could mean many things—a punctured lung, an illness affecting the respiratory system, or something more insidious.
"Stay here," she murmured, pressing a cloth to his lips to catch the blood. "I'll be right back."
She sprang from the bed, her bare feet cold against the wooden floors as she hurried into the hall. "Sachi! Usagi! Masako! Wake up!" Her voice was urgent but steady, commanding attention. "Bring clean water and towels—quickly!"
Within moments, Sachi appeared, her hair tousled from sleep. "What's going on?"
"Itachi's coughing up blood," Sakura replied, her words sharp with panic. "I need supplies to figure out what's wrong."
Sachi's eyes widened with alarm, and without another word, she dashed off to gather what was needed.
Sakura returned to Itachi's side, gently easing him forward to check his back for any signs of injury or bruising, but found nothing. Her eyes scanned his lips, noting the pale, almost bluish tint that sent a chill through her.
When Sachi returned with a basin of water and towels, Sakura quickly soaked one and began wiping the blood from Itachi's mouth and chin, her movements swift yet careful.
"Help me," she said to Sachi. "Hold his shoulders while I examine his chest."
Sachi complied, her young face pale but determined. Sakura pressed her ear to Itachi's chest, listening intently. His breathing was uneven, with a faint crackling sound beneath it.
It wasn't until she wiped the blood-streaked cloth against his mouth again that she noticed something unusual—a faint, metallic scent mixed with the iron tang of blood.
Her heart sank.
No. Please, no.
"Did you eat or drink anything unusual last night?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.
Itachi shook his head slightly, his energy waning.
Sakura's hands trembled as she set the cloth aside. Poison. It had to be. But what kind? And how had it reached him?
Sachi must have sensed her shift in focus. "What is it?" she asked, her voice tinged with fear.
Sakura hesitated before answering. "I think... it may be poison," she admitted softly. "But I don't know what kind yet."
Sachi gasped, her grip tightening on Itachi's shoulder. "Poison? How?"
"I don't know," Sakura said, frustration and fear battling within her. "We need to act fast. He doesn't have much time."
She turned to Sachi, her expression resolute. "Fetch Aoi. Tell her to search the compound for anything unusual—anyone missing, anything out of place. And get me Masako and Usagi!"
Sachi nodded and ran off, leaving Sakura alone with Itachi.
"Itachi," she murmured, her hands brushing his hair back from his damp forehead. "Stay with me. I'll find out what's wrong. I promise."
He tried to respond, but his words were lost in another fit of coughing. Blood dripped onto the pristine white sheets, stark and accusatory.
Aoi entered the Uchiha compound with the quiet precision of a seasoned warrior, her steps measured but swift as she made her way through the corridor. The wooden door swung open with a soft creak, revealing the tense, grim scene that awaited her inside. The faint smell of blood lingered in the air, and as Aoi's sharp gaze swept over the room, she took in every detail—Sakura kneeling beside Itachi, her brow furrowed with anxiety, and the bloodstained towels scattered across the floor.
Sakura didn't need to look up to know who had entered; she could feel Aoi's presence, her quiet authority filling the space like a weighty cloak. Without a word, Aoi stepped into the room, her eyes immediately locking on the pale, stricken form of Itachi. The warrior's gaze was cold and calculating, quickly assessing the situation before she spoke, her voice low but commanding.
Aoi's voice cut through the air, sharp and filled with urgency. "Sakura, the servants…Usagi and Mariko are missing."
Sakura's heart sank, her worry escalating as she moved quickly to check on Itachi, her hands trembling slightly. Masako was at her side now, assisting with fresh towels and helping to clean the blood from Itachi's mouth, but Sakura's focus was elsewhere.
"We need to find them," Sakura said, her voice tight with a mixture of fear and resolve. "One of them may have answers."
Aoi nodded, her expression unwavering, but the weight of the situation hung heavy in the air as she glanced briefly at the bloodstained towels. With a final nod, she strode from the room, her presence alone bringing a palpable sense of authority and purpose that set the air vibrating with tension. Her sharp eyes missed nothing—she took in the grim scene in seconds, the blood-soaked linens, Sakura's anxious posture, and the severity of the moment.
"Don't worry about this—I'll investigate. I'll take care of it. You just focus on Itachi," Aoi's voice was low, but resolute.
Sakura's relief was brief, a flicker of hope amidst the storm of worry that consumed her thoughts. "Thank you," she murmured, turning her focus back to Itachi, who lay pale and still, his breath shallow and labored.
As Aoi moved to begin her search, Sakura's gaze followed her out, before returning to the battle before her. Outside, Aoi would uncover whatever secrets were hidden, but inside, Sakura's only mission was to save the man who had always stood as the rock of the Uchiha family.
The sun crept higher in the sky, but its warm glow did little to dispel the shadows that now gathered in the corners of the compound, reflecting the turmoil brewing within.
The winter sky stretched wide and pale above the Uchiha compound, clouds drifting lazily across its expanse. Orochimaru stood on a rocky outcrop overlooking the village, the snow-covered rooftops glittering faintly in the weak sunlight. His long cloak billowed in the biting wind, the fabric black as a crow's wing against the pristine white of the landscape.
The compound below was alive with motion. Figures darted between buildings, some carrying weapons, others relaying urgent messages. Bells rang, sharp and shrill, signaling an alert that the hive was under threat.
Orochimaru smiled, his golden eyes narrowing with amusement. "Look at the bees scatter," he murmured, his voice a silken whisper that carried a sinister edge. "They've finally realized the fragility of their hive."
Behind him, Kabuto stood with practiced patience, his arms crossed over his chest. His glasses caught the sunlight, obscuring the calculating glint in his eyes. Beside him was a group of twenty mercenaries, each clad in mismatched armor and armed to the teeth. These were not ordinary soldiers but seasoned killers, loyal only to the coin and their master's commands.
Kabuto stepped forward, his boots crunching against the icy ground. "The mercenaries are ready, Lord Orochimaru," he said smoothly, his voice devoid of emotion. "What are your orders?"
Orochimaru turned slightly, his serpentine gaze sliding over the band of mercenaries. He studied them as a predator might its prey, noting their scarred faces, calloused hands, and eyes that betrayed lives steeped in violence.
"Take them to Kusamachi," Orochimaru said, his tone carrying the weight of command. "Shimura Danzō is already in motion. These men will ensure his grip on the Land of Grass is absolute. Tell him this is but the beginning—soon, the Land of Fire will fall as well."
Kabuto inclined his head. "And what of the Uchiha?"
Orochimaru's lips curled into a predatory grin, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. He glanced back at the compound, where the Uchiha clan scrambled to protect their leader and uncover the source of the threat.
"They're already teetering on the edge," Orochimaru said, his voice dripping with malice. "Uchiha Sakura will soon fall, and with her, their precious clan will crumble. They'll become relics of the past, just like the Adachi Council."
Kabuto smirked faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Should I deliver that message to Shimura as well?"
"Yes," Orochimaru replied, turning his gaze back to the village below. "Let him know that Uchiha Sakura has been... dealt with. It should boost his confidence as he takes Kusamachi."
Kabuto nodded, then turned to the mercenaries, his tone brisk and authoritative. "You heard Lord Orochimaru. Move out. We leave immediately for Kusamachi."
The mercenaries nodded silently, their movements swift and efficient as they prepared to depart.
As Kabuto began to lead them down the snow-dusted path toward their destination, Orochimaru remained behind, his cloak rippling in the icy breeze. He stood motionless, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the serene winter landscape, his mind weaving intricate plots and schemes.
He could feel the tension in the air, the palpable fear emanating from the Uchiha compound. They were like cornered prey, unaware that the true predator was already among them, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Orochimaru's grin widened, his golden eyes glinting with a malevolent light. "The hive may buzz," he whispered to himself, his voice nearly lost to the wind. "But the queen is already poisoned, and soon, the rest will follow."
The faint sound of the mercenaries' footsteps faded into the distance, leaving Orochimaru alone with his thoughts and the faint cries of the Uchiha below. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the earth in silence as the serpent watched, waiting for his moment to strike.
The first light of dawn bled over the landscape, painting the mist-laden hills in shades of red and gold as Sasuke and Naruto traveled toward the town of Nishinomaki. The air was cool, thick with fog, and every step they took felt like they were walking into the unknown. Dressed in simple, casual kimono to blend in, they wore no clan markings, no identifiers—just two figures bound by duty, drifting through the world like strangers. The weight of their mission pressed down on them, the silence between them deep and unspoken, their identities momentarily forgotten in the anonymity of the journey.
Sasuke glanced up at the crimson sky, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Some warriors believe a red sunrise means blood was spilled overnight," he remarked, his voice low and distant. "A sign of battle, or death."
Naruto shot him a sideways glance, his expression skeptical. "That's just an old folktale," he muttered, shaking his head. "Superstition."
Sasuke didn't respond, his gaze lingering on the horizon as the sun's first rays broke through the mist. To him, it didn't matter whether it was superstition or not. The red of the sunrise felt like an omen—one that he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried.
The town of Nishinomaki sat nestled in a valley, surrounded on three sides by towering stone cliffs, where the roar of the waterfall echoed endlessly through the town's narrow streets. The other side of the waterfall dropped in a sheer cascade of foamy water that shimmered under the weak morning light. Despite the serene beauty of the cold landscape, there was a certain disquiet that clung to the air like the thick mist that wrapped around their feet. The town seemed alive with its own secrets, each whisper in the wind laden with untold stories of mercenaries, performers, and intrigues.
As Sasuke and Naruto made their way through the winding stone streets, the sound of bustling life grew louder. Musicians tuning their shamisen, the rhythmic shuffle of feet in the snow, and the laughter of children echoing off the cliffs filled the air. Geisha houses, kabuki theatres, and even the occasional puppet show stage lined the streets, vibrant colors splashing against the dull stone. Nishinomaki had the feel of a place that thrived off both entertainment and secrecy.
"We're getting close," Sasuke muttered, his sharp eyes scanning the streets for any signs of danger. There was something unsettling about the way the town was so alive yet so still, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Naruto nodded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, but his eyes seemed lost in thought. "Yeah, but something's off about this place. I can feel it."
They continued walking deeper into the heart of Nishinomaki, a place that felt far too disconnected from the rest of the world. As they neared the entrance to an ancient, cobbled tavern—the Old Bone—the air shifted. There was a subtle tension in the atmosphere, as if the town itself knew something was amiss. At that moment, Sasuke's sharp eyes noticed a familiar figure entering the tavern.
Adachi. The head of the Land of Fire and former leader of the dissolved Adachi Council. He was a tall man, with sharp features half-hidden under the shadow of a wide-brimmed straw hat, his face obscured but his presence unmistakable. Behind him was a group of stoic men, silent and unmoving, their eyes cold and hard.
Sasuke and Naruto exchanged glances. It was unusual for someone of Adachi's stature to be here, especially with all the chaos surrounding the fall of the council.
As they moved closer, an old merchant at a nearby stall caught their attention. The man's voice was gravelly and worn, yet his eyes sparkled with an unsettling knowledge.
"You boys lookin' for trouble?" he asked with a chuckle, his crooked back hunching as he leaned forward. He was dressed in worn clothes and carried the scent of dried herbs and salt. "Mercenaries like to reside around here, see. They're fond of the waterfall, the way it calls to 'em. You might find more than you're looking for."
Sasuke's expression hardened. "Mercenaries? Here?"
The merchant's smile was knowing, almost too knowing. "The waterfall hides a lot of things, young ones. You should be careful where you tread." He waved a gnarled hand toward the mist-cloaked streets, almost as if pushing them away from the very air they breathed.
Naruto frowned, a growl forming low in his throat. "Thanks for the warning, old man, but we'll figure it out ourselves." He tugged on Sasuke's sleeve, signaling him to move on.
Sasuke gave a nod and they continued on, though the merchant's words lingered in the back of his mind. The air was thick with tension, and the town now felt like a spider's web, its threads pulling tighter with every step they took.
The streets seemed to twist as they ventured deeper into the heart of Nishinomaki, a labyrinth of stone and wood that closed in on them like a tightening grip. The hum of the kabuki theatres, the low thrum of drums, and the occasional high-pitched cry of an entertainer in the distance grew louder. Soon, they were at the foot of the great waterfall, its mist spraying across their faces as they stood before the large gate leading deeper into the heart of the entertainment district. There were large wooden boards that proclaimed the latest kabuki and noh performances. It was a world full of masks, hidden intentions, and mysteries, but it was exactly what they were searching for.
Suddenly, their progress was halted by a group of men emerging from an alleyway. Cloaked and armed, their presence was imposing. They had the unmistakable look of mercenaries—silent, their faces cold and unreadable. Sasuke and Naruto exchanged a brief glance, their instincts immediately flaring.
The mercenaries surrounded them, blocking off any possible escape routes.
Without a word, Sasuke and Naruto instantly drew their weapons, their eyes narrowing, their bodies coiling with the readiness of predators. They exchanged a glance, silently agreeing on the need to fight their way out.
But before they could make a move, a voice boomed, breaking through the tension like the strike of a drum. "Stop right there!"
The mercenaries froze, their steps faltering as confusion spread through their ranks. A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man dressed in a lavish kabuki costume, his face painted in the bold, intricate kumadori makeup that transformed his features into something otherworldly. His expression was a perfect blend of dramatic intensity and theatrical flair, his eyes sharp with a fire that matched the passion of his performance.
With a flourish, he raised his hands high in the air, striking a pose as if the stage were his to command. His movement was grand, exaggerated, his body twisting in a fluid, almost impossibly graceful motion that could only be described as a true masterclass in the art of kabuki.
"You dare chase two fine young men through my streets?" he bellowed, his voice booming and rich with authority, as if he were delivering the most important line of the play. "This is a place of artistry, not of crude violence! No bloodshed shall soil my streets—no, no!"
The mercenaries stood still, their confusion palpable, unsure of how to respond to such an unexpected confrontation. Before they could gather their bearings, the actor made a sweeping, flamboyant gesture toward Sasuke and Naruto. "Follow me, my trusty bodyguards," he declared with an air of complete seriousness, nodding toward the two young men. "I shall see you both safely away from this most unfortunate disturbance."
Sasuke and Naruto exchanged an incredulous glance, unsure whether to laugh or be more concerned. The actor, unbothered by their hesitation, spun dramatically on his heel and marched toward a nearby storage hub—an old wooden building built directly into the side of the cliff. It was as if he was stepping off the stage and into a new act of his own making. With a flourish, he opened the door and beckoned them inside.
Without a second thought, Sasuke and Naruto followed, realizing they had little choice. They needed to get out of sight, and this eccentric figure might be their only ticket to safety.
Inside the storage hub, the air was thick with the smell of musty wood and damp earth. A lone lantern flickered softly against the dark walls, casting elongated shadows that danced like spirits in the dim light. The kabuki actor closed the door with a theatrical thud behind them, sealing them into the cramped space.
Naruto, still trying to catch his breath, turned to the actor, his brow furrowed. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
The man grinned, his eyes sparkling beneath the layers of kumadori makeup. "The name's Jiraiya," he said with a wink. "I'm an actor around these parts, though you could say I'm more than just a performer. I've picked up a thing or two about staying alive—and believe me, it's come in handy more times than I can count." He leaned back against the wall, clearly enjoying the intrigue he was building. "As for those mercenaries, they won't bother you for a while. But don't think they'll forget about you so easily."
Sasuke eyed him suspiciously, his gaze narrowing as he tried to assess the situation. Naruto, ever the direct one, stepped forward. "So, why did you help us?" he asked, his voice blunt.
Jiraiya's grin grew wider, a mischievous gleam dancing in his eye. "Ah, now we get to the fun part," he said, raising a finger dramatically as though revealing a secret. "In a place like this, there's more than meets the eye. You two aren't the first to find trouble here, and you sure won't be the last. But don't worry—helping those who need it is my specialty." He paused, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. "Especially when there's a little fun to be had along the way."
Sasuke's scowl deepened. "What do you mean?" he asked, a little more impatient than before.
Jiraiya chuckled knowingly, stepping back with a flourish. "The waterfall, my dear Uchiha, calls to many. But for some, it's a far more dangerous invitation than they realize. You two…" He paused, his eyes flicking between them with an almost conspiratorial air. "You're not here for the usual tourist attractions, are you?"
Sasuke and Naruto exchanged another look, both of them now realizing that they had stumbled into something far more complicated than they had expected. The playful, theatrical actor had more knowledge of their situation than he was letting on, and his words hinted at something darker, something they hadn't fully understood yet.
Jiraiya leaned in slightly, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I'm here to make sure you two don't end up down the river with a new bloody necklace around your neck."
The weight of his words settled heavily on them, and for a moment, the bustling world outside seemed far removed. They were trapped—caught in a situation they hadn't fully comprehended. But for now, they had no choice but to trust this eccentric figure.
Straightening, Jiraiya flashed them another grin, his theatrical flair returning. He spread his arms wide, as if presenting an offering. "So, how can I assist you?"
A/N as before: Please review. Writing is an all-consuming experience and whenever we (the authors/writers) receive a review it brings us joy and we feel appreciated — that our hard work is recognized — and it gives us motivation and inspiration to keep going.