Before it happened, people would address him with '-kun' or '-dono' when he passed in the street, delighted to be in the presence of the Tsuchikage-to-be's son. He was respected, and many considered him a potential candidate for the Tsuchikage position whenever his father eventually decided to retire, even considering how young he was.

After it happened, people scurried away from him and were silent in his passing, unsure how to address the change he'd undergone despite nothing really changing at all. When his brother was born, the citizens appeared visibly relieved, his brother the true (eventual) heir to the Tsuchikage title.

He blamed Mū, he blamed Ōnoki—

But most of all, he blamed the Four-Tailed Monkey sealed within him for how everything had changed.

-l-l-l-

It was the cluster of grey clouds that caught his attention. Rain was sparse in the Land of Earth, but when it did come, it was typically torrential and widespread.

Skirmishes were less uncommon – Iwa-nin always seemed to be chomping at the bit for a fight – but when they did occur, there certainly wasn't any water involved.

Either way, he was used to ignoring such fights. They didn't concern him, and he saw no reason to interfere with the business of others. Life was easier that way, not that he could really remember a time when life had been easy.

Then came the flare of chakra.

It was brief, barely lasting a second before fading away, but it forced him to focus dark eyes on what he'd hoped to give no second thought. Despite lacking any sensory abilities, that chakra called to him, resonating with something deep in his core. The tinge of familiarity was enough to get him running for the battle, brow furrowed and a scowl on his lips.

I ain't fightin' another.

His hands flew through seals as he approached, the power of the earth and its molten center at his fingertips. Yōton: Yōgan Kanketsusen.

A geyser of lava erupted from the ground between a fallen form garbed in blue and several figures wearing ANBU masks. It melted through the wire restraining the blue-clad figure before fading completely, the chakra feeding it dissipating in the drab weather.

He inserted himself between the ANBU and the unconscious boy as the Lava Geyser technique disappeared, summoning chakra to function as a layer of lava over his body. Hisses erupted as his Lava Armor technique was pelted by water droplets, effectively dousing it despite the weak drizzle. Red eyebrows furrowed together in confused disapproval. That shouldn't happen.

Dark eyes searched the assembled ANBU, focusing on the one in the back with his hands held in an unusual position. Yer th' problem.

Streams of water flew at him from three directions, and slabs of rock rose from the ground to shield him in a crude lean-to formation. Lightning blasted along the earthen barriers, reducing them to rubble and revealing only empty space.

"Find him and kill him," snapped a reedy voice as he reached up from beneath the ground and grabbed a pair of feet. It only took a moment to activate the Double Suicide Decapitation Technique, the targeted ANBU now a mere head aboveground that was quickly severed with the curved blade of his kunai.

As soon as the head rolled off the submerged body, the clouds began to disperse and the accompanying drizzle faded away. He spared a glance at the ANBU mask that stared sightlessly at him, snorting with disdain when he noted the symbol of four curvy lines on its forehead. Kiri. Shoulda guessed.

"Kirigakure no Jutsu!"

A thick fog rolled in from nowhere, cloaking the area in an impenetrable haze. He tucked the kunai away and remained still, waiting; while effective, he'd learned from past battles that practitioners of the Mist's Silent Killing techniques always approached the enemy.

And, as even they well knew, sight was not always a requisite for lethality.

Little tremors in the earth warned him of an impending attack, and he whirled on the spot, grabbing the approaching Mist ANBU by the neck. His Lava Armor sprang to life, a roiling coat of red-orange fire. The Kiri-nin managed a gurgled scream before his throat was cooked, flames engulfing his head before spreading across the rest of his body. He released the burning corpse, the heat emanating from his form burning off the Hiding in Mist Technique and revealing a third shinobi, hands flashing through seals. "Doton Kekkai: Dorō Dōmu!"

Earth rose around him, enclosing him in a dark hemisphere. A smirk sketched itself across his lips even as his chakra was slowly siphoned away. Yeh think yeh can trap me with earth? Stupid. Fingers curling into fists, he punched the wall of the earthen prison. Doton: Ishi no Hari!

Dirt exploded outwards beneath his touch, tiny pieces of debris speeding in the direction of the Kiri-nin. The barrier collapsed seconds later, and he meandered over to find the Mist shinobi's body riddled with the projectiles from his Stone Needles technique. Hn.

Then something sharp pierced his spine, and a high-pitched voice crowed, "Gotcha!"

His Earth Clone crumbled, and the Kiri-nin spun to block his lava-covered fist with a weapon that could only be described as a too-long needle. It surprised him when the metal weapon didn't deform under the intense heat of his Lava Armor, and his adversary capitalized by planting a foot into his chest. He grunted beneath the blow, skidding backwards, though the Mist shinobi's hiss as he made contact tempered the ache. "Nuibari's no ordinary weapon," the ANBU told him, pride lacing his reedy voice even as he gingerly set his foot on the ground. He cocked his head to one side, a magpie examining an interesting curio. "Though the same could be said of you, hm?"

A bark of laughter escaped his throat unbidden as he eyed his opponent. Yeh don' know how true that is, he thought sardonically. As short as he was, the other man probably had two feet on him, his limbs unnaturally long. The way he spoke and carried himself suggested that he was on another level compared to the three deceased Kiri-nin. Don' matter. Yōton: Shakugaryūgan no Jutsu!

The needle-wielder stuck the point of his weapon in the ground, hands flipping through seals. "Suiton: Suijinheki!"

A wall of water erupted from below, intercepting the balls of molten rock hurtling towards him. The Kiri-nin laughed. "So, you really are a Yōton-user, eh? Been awhile since I killed one of you. Should be fun." Silence greeted this proclamation, and the Mist shinobi appeared to grow disheartened. "Not much of a talker, are you?"

Yeh talk enough fer th' both o' us.

"Fine then," continued the taller man. "I guess I'll just have to make you scream!"

Decision apparently made, he picked up Nuibari and rushed forward. The Iwa-nin parried his enemy's slash with the pair of kunai he'd sheathed within his armor, the long weapon sliding along the curved blades of his knives with a metallic screech. He aimed a kick at the taller man's knee, but the Kiri-nin merely used his weapon as a pole and vaulted around it in a semicircle, slamming two water-shod feet into his head.

Steam formed at the point of contact and he skidded sideways, momentarily disoriented. "How much can you take?" taunted the Mist shinobi.

He rose to his feet and glared back before inhaling, chakra gathering in his chest. More than yeh can give. Yōton: Yōryūdan no Jutsu!

A dragon formed of lava roared from between his lips, flowing towards his adversary. The Kiri-nin danced away from the attack, managing to look graceful with his gangly limbs. He threw his weapon with casual ease, electricity coursing along its length, and the Iwa-nin dodged to avoid getting skewered or shocked, ignoring it as it sailed past.

Then the ANBU pulled on the trailing wire, and something heavy collided with the lava-user's back. He grunted at the impact, stumbling under the sudden weight. A brief peripheral glance revealed it to be the corpse of one of the other Kiri-nin, wire animating his body like a marionette. More wire looped around the pair in a loose cage. "Chōtō Ninpō: Kaminari Ori!"

Bolts of lightning converged on him from the surrounding wire, filling the sphere-shaped prison with blue-white electricity. He gritted his teeth against the assault, but a low growl of mingled pain and frustration slipped past his lips despite his best effort.

The shrill, amused laughter of the Mist ANBU sounded from nearby, and he squinted his eyes open with a scowl. Though he couldn't see beyond the bright Lightning Cage technique, he still heard his enemy cackle, "So you can talk after all! What else can you say? Come on, scream for me!"

Pain and frustration finally boiled into anger."Yer messin' with th' wrong guy!"

The Kiri-nin stopped laughing and managed a surprised, "Huh?"

"Yōton: Kakazan!"

Magma exploded from beneath him and rained down hot and viscous. From where he stood at the center of the eruption, waves of lava flowed outwards for hundreds of feet, hardening into dark pumice as the seconds passed.

His ragged breathing eventually evened out, hot temper cooling with the release of the Fruit-Flower Mountain technique. "Damn," he muttered. "Let th' bastard git ter me. Stupid." Dark eyes looked around, taking in the results of his handiwork. "No Bijū, though…guess I missed 'im. Hm…?"

Sticking out from the pumice was the long sword the Kiri-nin had referred to as Nuibari. Despite the wire – and the body it had been animating – burning up under the heat of his lava, the weapon appeared undamaged. Employing minor elemental manipulation, he plucked it from its resting place and admired it up close. Nice prize, at least.

He shouldered the weapon, catching sight of a spot of blue outside the limits of the pumice. There yeh are. Approaching the unconscious form revealed him to be a teenager with brown hair and pale skin, only a slight flush providing any evidence that he'd been near the heated battle. Using Nuibari, he speared the nape of the boy's kimono and began to walk away, dragging the body of the Kiri-nin along behind him.

This thing's all kinds o' useful.

-l-l-l-

Utakata woke with a groan, opening bleary eyes that were greeted by the setting sun and darkening sky. He was lying on his back, a rock pillowing his head. His body felt bruised and dusty, like he'd been pulled over a hard surface a long distance.

Most surprising was the fact that he wasn't trussed up like a pig and being hauled back to Kirigakure.

"Yer awake, eh?" mused a gruff voice. Utakata tried to sit up and turn his head in the direction of the voice, but a figure was suddenly kneeling over him, and steel was resting at his throat. Golden eyes stared down his nose to spy the curved blade of a strange kunai held against his neck. "How 'bout yeh tell me what a Kiri Jinchūriki's doin' all th' way out here, eh?"

Utakata's gaze flickered to focus on the face of his captor. The man possessed shaggy, bright red hair that followed his jawline and was shaped into a short, pointed beard accompanied by a mustache and a high ponytail that jutted up in back. A prominent black strip of something – some weird birthmark, the brunet guessed – ran across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks, disappearing beneath a tri-pointed headpiece crafted of brown leather; a golden ring dangled from the left side of the headpiece, a metal plate etched with Iwa's symbol of two overlapping rocks displayed across the forehead. Despite his intense curiosity, and considering the precariousness of his situation, Utakata figured it was best to answer the man's questions. "I left Kiri some time ago. The oinin chased me here to capture me. What happened to them?"

"Dead," grunted the older male, "didn' wanna take chances. Th' one with th' giant needle was annoyin', but yer th' real threat."

Kushimaru… If this man had really killed Kushimaru – and Utakata had no reason to believe he was lying, considering his current situation – then he was a force to be reckoned with. "How'd you know I'm a Jinchūriki?"

"I know a Bijū's chakra."

Utakata gave that vague response a moment of thought before slowly asking, "…Are you a Jinchūriki, too?" It would explain why the Iwa-nin hadn't killed him even though he was considered a bigger threat than Kushimaru, because then he'd have to deal with fighting the freed Saiken. (It also made the kunai at his throat a little pointless, but it was probably best to play along.) Plus, that strange black strip on his face could easily be some Bijū's mark. He took the older man's silence as confirmation, inwardly thrilled at his turn of fortune. Excitement bubbled in his chest, and he continued, "This is great. I'm looking for the other Jinchūriki—"

The blade at his throat dug in, breaking skin and cutting off whatever else he was going to say. "Why's that?" growled the redhead, dark eyes flashing. "Kiri got plans fer th' Jinchūriki?"

"I told you, I left Kiri," the brunet replied carefully, silently berating himself for allowing his enthusiasm to take over; he was used to being calm and collected, but after so many months of trying to progress in his quest and being stymied by the oinin, true progress was an exciting thing, especially after his near-failure earlier that day. Just because this shinobi's first action wasn't to kill him didn't mean that Utakata wanted to press his luck. Still, honesty was the best policy, not to mention the most likely way to forge an alliance… "The Mizukage's being controlled by someone who's looking to capture all the Jinchūriki and take our Bijū."

He felt the kunai pull away from his throat, just a little; apparently he'd piqued the older man's curiosity. "Why?"

…Good question. "No idea. I left before I could find out. But if we could band together—"

The Iwa-nin barked a rusty laugh, fully withdrawing his blade from Utakata's throat and standing to his full height. "Band t'gether? Are yeh mad?"

Utakata struggled into a sitting position, wincing as the injury from Kushimaru's sword protested the movement. Now that he was upright and the Rock shinobi was distanced from him, he could finally see the older man in his entirety: a purplish, long-sleeved shirt and pants were worn loose on his short frame, form-fitting mesh armor with black sleeves visible at the chest and wrists. Worn leather armor protected his chest and stomach, flaps hanging from the waist to cover his thighs. At first glance, he looked like a warrior from a time long past. "Listen, this person can control a Kage, and he's got an organization of shinobi on the level of Hoshigaki Kisame looking—"

"Who?"

Utakata blinked. "Hoshigaki Kisame. One of the strongest members of Kiri's Seven Shinobi Swordsmen?" One of the only ones left, too, he mused idly. At the other male's raised eyebrow, Utakata shook his head in disbelief. "How have you not heard of Kisame? He's infamous."

The redhead scowled at him. "Boy, I been out here fer longer than yeh've been alive, an' I don' git much in th' way o' news. I'm called Yōton no Rōshi an' I'm infamous, too, but I bet yeh ain't heard o' me."

Utakata frowned. "Well, no, but—"

"Aye," Rōshi nodded, "'cause th' sacrifices o' Jinchūriki ain't talked 'bout but in cruel whispers. That's why I left."

Utakata found that he couldn't argue with that logic; his own life back in the Hidden Mist supported the redhead's words well enough. Still, this was the first break he'd gotten since leaving his village, and to just give up because this other Jinchūriki was stubborn and ill-informed about current events was throwing away a golden opportunity. "Okay, maybe you don't recognize some of the prominent names of today, but you can't really think you can fight whoever Akatsuki is—"

"Akatsuki?" Rōshi interjected. "Yeh said nothin' 'bout Akatsuki."

The brunet fought back his irritation at the continued interruptions before he'd finished his thought, now more intrigued that he'd gotten Rōshi's attention, as well as any additional information he could glean from him. "You know about Akatsuki?"

"Aye," admitted the older Jinchūriki, his lips twisting into a smirk, amusement and cynicism fighting for control, "yeh could say that." For the first time since their conversation had started, the redhead settled himself on a rock in front of the fire and placed the tip of his curved kunai in the flames, dark eyes reflecting the firelight. "Akatsuki's a terrorist group fer hire ter whoever wants 'em. Th' Tsuchikage's been usin' 'em on an' off fer years. I ain't seen 'em in action, but it's said th' members're all S-class nukenin."

S-class terrorists…great. Well, that matched what he knew of Kisame's abilities and personality, so Rōshi's knowledge was at least believable. He wished the redhead knew what Akatsuki's numbers or skill sets were, but at least he now had a generic plateau to reach. S-class shinobi, while scarce, were generally labeled as such due to kekkei genkai or possession of some special power – normally a kinjutsu, though a weapon the likes of Samehada worked, too – and were considered Kage-level. Utakata knew that he was S-class in name because of his status as a Jinchūriki, though his actual rank didn't quite measure up yet; Yagura, however, held and had earned the title.

"Yer sayin' that Akatsuki's after th' Jinchūriki?"

"Seems that way."

"Hmm…"

Utakata allowed his companion to muse in silence, deciding that pressuring the older man into helping him wouldn't achieve the desired result. Even if he wanted (and needed) the assistance of the remaining Jinchūriki, it didn't mean that they'd just go along with his idea. He was relying a little on their desire for self-preservation to sway them to his cause, but loyalty, arrogance, stubbornness, and a dozen other personality traits would have to not get in the way of that. Certainly, if a Jinchūriki had a strong enough tie to his village – and the feeling was reciprocated – then maybe the might of one of the Five Great Shinobi Nations could rebuff an attack by Akatsuki.

But Utakata didn't have that luxury, especially with his village leader being controlled by the very people seeking to capture him, and if he was lucky, Rōshi would join him. The way he spoke certainly indicated a strained relationship with the Hidden Rock, one that would advantage the brunet.

"Say I believe yeh…" Rōshi stated, breaking the Kiri-nin from his thoughts, "what's yer plan?"

"Find the other Jinchūriki," he replied. "Convince them to join us, and then when Akatsuki comes, we fight back." And rescue Yagura.

"Yer crazier than I am if yeh think that'll work," the redhead told him, "an' th' only thing I talk ter is rocks."

Alarm at that admission froze the brunet. Desperately, he probed, "But what about your Bijū?"

Rōshi barked another laugh of mocking amusement. "Ha! Me an' th' Yonbi came ter an understandin' long ago, and it don' involve speakin'."

Utakata felt his heart plummet. He'd been operating under the assumption that most villages would have trained their Jinchūriki in a manner similar to how he and Yagura had been raised in the Hidden Mist: as weapons with the capacity to (eventually) access their Bijū's chakra and transformations. Unlike the Mizukage – who had successfully brought the Sanbi's power under his command – Utakata could only utilize part of the Rokubi's power (and even then, only with Saiken's permission), and it sounded like Rōshi's relationship with the Four-Tails hadn't even gotten to that point despite his significant time with the creature. If the Jinchūriki couldn't access the full power of their Bijū – and that was one of the things the brunet had planned on practicing – could they even defeat Akatsuki?

Still, he'd come up with his plan on the fly, while not in the best mindset, so a fresh perspective might spark something new. He sighed. "Well, do you have a better suggestion?"

"Course not, I only jus' heard 'bout all this," Rōshi rebutted. "But yer speakin' with desperation, an' that's jus' stupid. Workin' with th' other Jinchūriki…" he scoffed. "Nobody likes a Jinchūriki, not even another Jinchūriki."

"That's not true," Utakata snapped, temper surfacing at the unintended slight to his and Yagura's friendship.

Rōshi's dark eyes narrowed on him with suspicion. "Boy, yeh don' know jus' how true it is." Then, before the brunet could retort, the Iwa-nin stood up and stretched, the cracking of his vertebrae echoing loudly in the stillness of the evening. "But I'll tag along."

Utakata's surprise stilled his question about why Rōshi was so sure of his opinions on Jinchūriki. "You will?"

"Sure. Been a long time since I got ter tell someone 'told yeh so'. We'll head out when yer strong enough ter move on yer own. I ain't yer nurse."

Utakata scowled as Rōshi covered the fire with earth, his rusty chuckles of amusement grating to the brunet's ears. Just…take the win, he told himself.

His journey had finally borne fruit, but it appeared ready to drop and fallow at a moment's notice. He would have to proceed with caution going forward.

-l-l-l-

Most of Rōshi's distrust of people stemmed from the fact that his nation had turned its back on him simply because he'd become a Jinchūriki, and not by his own choice either (not that anyone would choose that path, but the point remained). Of course, he'd also grown up in a time when the threat of war was constant and Mū, an advocate of backstabbing and selfishness, could spy with no one the wiser, so it was no surprise that the redhead had little faith in people.

The decades he'd spent in isolation probably didn't help either.

Even still, there was something off about the boy – Utakata, he'd finally learned – he was traveling with. His Jinchūriki status and missing hitae-ate suggested the Kiri-nin's story possessed at least some elements of credibility. After all, the Bijū had been sought by people – and then nations by the time they'd become well-known – since the First Hokage had initially handed out the few he'd managed to capture, and ever since, they'd been used as weapons to aid (and prolong) war. The fact that an organization like Akatsuki sought to commandeer them for its own purposes wasn't all that surprising.

But the brunet's story had holes in it, the most prominent being his (misplaced) confidence that one Jinchūriki could get along with another.

Rōshi knew one other demon container personally and had fought against another over the course of Iwa's involvement in the Third Shinobi World War. What interaction he'd had with them suggested that their isolation had allowed them to thrive, in a morbid sort of way. Both, in fact, had wanted nothing more than to kill him. One had already failed; the other was probably still trying to figure out how to do so. Rōshi's self-imposed exile was a testament to just how far a Jinchūriki would go to remove himself from society, to get away from the hatred and disgust that even their own kind couldn't sympathize with.

He only knew of one person who didn't see him as a monster, and she didn't know of his burden.

Dark eyes stared hard at the teenager's back, scrutinizing him for clues. What're yeh hidin', hm? "So," he began as they walked across the Land of Earth's vast wasteland, "where're we goin'?"

"Konoha," Utakata replied, "unless you have a better idea."

"I'm jus' followin' yer lead," the redhead pointed out, "slow as it is."

Utakata spared the older Jinchūriki an annoyed glare at the jab. Likely a byproduct of his solitude, Rōshi's social interactions left much to be desired – which was saying something, coming from him – though the brunet knew that he had to play nice and suffer through his companion's potshots or risk losing his company altogether. Despite that, he had at least acquiesced to the bubble-user's request to sear his wound closed so they could get moving right away, though the pace was a slog compared to how quickly shinobi normally traveled, even with the aid of Nuibari as a walking stick. Smoothing his features into a more diplomatic expression, he said, "I'd welcome your opinions. This is supposed to be a team effort."

"Two people don' make a team," Rōshi argued, "'specially when they jus' met."

"…You don't trust me," Utakata stated after a moment.

"Course not. D'yeh trust me?"

"No." At Rōshi's raised eyebrow, he continued, "I'm not an idiot—"

"Coulda fooled me," grumbled the redhead.

"—but I'm trying to see the bigger picture. Yes, we're strangers, and yes, we're from different villages, but we're both Jinchūriki, and I need your help. And whether you admit it or not, you need mine." He ignored Rōshi's derisive grunt, instead hobbling over to the nearest rock and sitting down with a sigh. The Iwa-nin's dark eyes followed his movements, arms crossed over his chest. "So, what do you want to know?"

"Which one d'yeh have?"

"The Rokubi no Namekuji."

"An' yer powers?"

Instead of responding, Utakata withdrew his bamboo bubble blower, dunked it in his jug of solution, and then blew. A handful of bubbles escaped the weapon's opening, and the older Jinchūriki's eyes followed their path as they rose into the air before a snap of the brunet's fingers had them explode. "Bubbles, eh?" Rōshi mused, one hand stroking his beard. "Kinda wimpy. That all?"

"I can also control the acidity and alkalinity of liquids. And I know a fair amount of Suiton ninjutsu."

"Why'd yeh leave Kiri?"

"I already told you, Akatsuki is controlling the Mizukage to—"

"Hunt down th' Jinchūriki, so yeh said," Rōshi interrupted with a flippant wave of his hand. "But yer tellin' me that no one else in Kiri can tell th' Mizukage's bein' controlled? Do I look daft ter yeh?" When Utakata hesitated in responding, the Iwa-nin's dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Don' try ter pull th' wool over my eyes, boy, yer way too young ter get away with it."

After a moment, the former Kiri-nin replied, "The Mizukage…Yagura…he's my friend—"

Rōshi let out a cruel bark of laughter. "I already told yeh, Jinchūriki don' have friends."

"We're friends," Utakata asserted fiercely, golden eyes narrowed in challenge, "and he's also a Jinchūriki."

Rōshi blinked in surprise. Jinchūriki were (almost) always connected to a village's Kage in some fashion in order to retain a tether of loyalty (or at least a facsimile of such), but they never became Kages themselves. Utakata continued, "Yagura's the Jinchūriki of the Sanbi no Kyodaigame, and he's able to control the Sanbi's power completely. That's why no one in Kiri is suspicious. No one thinks anyone can control someone who can control a Bijū. Plus, whoever's controlling Yagura has one of the members of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen on his side, and no one questions the Swordsmen."

The Yonbi Jinchūriki remained silent in the wake of Utakata's revelations. He knew all too well of the fallacies associated with those who were seen as infallible, and while the boy's story now made more sense in some respect, it also implied far more danger. If whoever was in control of Akatsuki could manipulate a Kage who was also a Jinchūriki, what kind of power did that person wield? Utakata seemed to believe that the power of the combined Jinchūriki would be enough to resist Akatsuki, but that plan hinged on bringing together the demon containers. Maybe the former Kiri-nin had befriended his fellow Jinchūriki, but that made him the exception, not the rule.

Like most Iwa-nin, Rōshi was as obstinate as the rocks he manipulated, and experience had taught him that Jinchūriki didn't work together. "Yeh realize that yer tryin' ter ally a buncha shinobi from diff'rent villages, right?"

"Of course. I told you, I'm not an idiot."

"It'll never work. Jinchūriki were made ter fight each other. Even Jinchūriki from th' same village won't work t'gether."

Utakata smiled thinly. "We're working together right now."

Rōshi nickered a skeptical breath, a short laugh of disdain. "Is that what yeh think this is?"

Utakata stared up at the older male through the bangs covering his eye. "I just gave you evidence that two Jinchūriki from the same village can become friends—"

"Yeh told me a story, 's what yeh did. There ain't no 'evidence'."

"—and you still don't believe me, which means…you probably have some experience to the contrary." Golden eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You're not Iwa's only Jinchūriki, are you?"

Rōshi scowled. He hated to admit it, but the boy was intuitive, even if his plan had no chance of working. "No."

The brunet jumped to his feet, wincing as his side protested the action. "Then we should go find him! You can convince him to come with us!"

"Ain't happenin'."

"But we need him!" Utakata protested.

Rōshi's features were stone, dark eyes unflinching. "Ain't. Happenin'," he repeated, tone brooking no argument. "I told yeh, nobody likes a Jinchūriki, not even another Jinchūriki. Maybe it's diff'rent fer yeh, but ev'rywhere else, that's how it works. 'Sides, I ain't convinced that this idea'll work, so there ain't no way I'm puttin' myself in danger 'less I see an actual reason ter do so."

Utakata released a growl of frustration, but then allowed the subject to drop. Given their current situation, he would be better off not antagonizing his only ally. "Fine. Can we keep going then?"

Rōshi blinked, a genuine expression of confusion overtaking his dour features. "Yer not gonna ask me anythin'?"

"Would you answer if I did?" Silence was his only response, and Utakata nodded. "Thought not. You'll either tell me in time or I'll figure it out. In the meantime, I'd like to keep moving."

His fellow Jinchūriki shrugged. "Yer th' one who stopped." They walked along in silence for several minutes before Rōshi asked, "Why Konoha?"

"How much history do you know?"

The redhead shrugged again. "Things I did, mos'ly. When yeh live as I do, th' rest o' th' world don' really matter."

Utakata sighed before saying, "About 12 years ago, the Kyūbi attacked Konoha."

"An' th' Yondaime Hokage died." The brunet stared at his companion, surprise clear in his wide eyes. Rōshi stared flatly back. "When a shinobi as big as th' Yellow Flash dies, yeh don' think word spreads? Iwa hates 'im. So yeh think there's a Jinchūriki in Konoha."

"Makes sense," the renegade Kiri-nin replied, walking his companion through his logic. "The story goes that the Yondaime Hokage killed the Kyūbi—" Rōshi snorted to show what he thought of the tale. Utakata nodded. "My thought exactly. When I left Kiri, I knew the locations of three other Jinchūriki for certain, and I didn't think going to Kumo was the best idea."

"Why?"

"Kumo's always been pretty militaristic, and I didn't think I'd be received well there. But I figured Konoha must've had at least the Kyūbi out of the missing Bijū, so that's how I decided."

"Hmm…so Kiri's got two, Iwa's got two, Kumo's got…two?" Rōshi ascertained, ticking the numbers off on his fingers. At Utakata's nod, he continued, "Konoha has one. Suna's got at least one, an' th' last one's either in Konoha or Suna."

"Or unsealed."

Rōshi snorted again. "Tch, right. Ev'ryone scooped up th' Bijū fast as they could. Can't let all that power go wasted."

"But yeah," Utakata finished, ignoring his companion's snark, "that's what I was thinking."

"Yeh realize that th' Kyūbi Jinchūriki's prob'bly jus' a kid, right? Maybe yer age at th' oldest."

The Kiri-nin opened his mouth to respond and then closed it. Truthfully, in his desperation to escape the Hidden Mist and the hunter-nin, he hadn't given consideration to the Kyūbi Jinchūriki's age, despite assuming that the fox had been sealed roughly a decade prior. Due to their very nature as chakra given animal form, there were limits on when the Bijū could be sealed. Babies and young children whose chakra coils weren't fully developed and had the potential to grow into the massive chakra they would inherit were the only real choices for a successful Jinchūriki.

"Doesn't matter," he finally replied. "The Kyūbi's the strongest of the Bijū, so having its Jinchūriki on our side would make a huge difference. Besides, Yagura became the Mizukage when he was 12, so age is irrelevant."

"He can also control th' Sanbi's power, accordin' ter yeh. I wouldn't use 'im as a measurin' stick."

He said nothing to that. It was good that he'd found Rōshi, but the older man was turning out to be very pessimistic, even compared to Utakata's morose realism. When they reached Konoha and found the Kyūbi Jinchūriki, everything would change.

Hopefully.

-l-l-l-

"What's next?"

Utakata resisted the overwhelming urge to snap at his companion. Every step of their journey to Konoha had been sprinkled with little pieces of Rōshi's commentary tinged with smug amusement, as if he felt personally vindicated at every blockade put in their path. First was his skepticism on how the bubble-user planned on convincing the Jinchūriki to work together, then it was how to traverse the Land of Fire (which retained some measure of border security as they got closer to Konoha), and now that they'd reached the village proper, it was how they would proceed to find the Jinchūriki.

Granted, Konoha was a big village, and it was a fair question, but between their resourcefulness – Rōshi had used an earth technique to move them underground to bypass the barrier – the brunet figured they could come up with something.

It didn't help his mood that, despite several attempts to convince Rōshi to get Iwa's second Jinchūriki to join their cause, the older man had stubbornly refused to provide any additional assistance. "Look for the Jinchūriki."

"'Cause it's jus' that simple," came the sarcastic response.

"You said it yourself," Utakata pointed out, "he's within a certain age range. Check the Academy, or the training grounds, or somewhere a young shinobi would go."

"An' if he's on a mission?" Rōshi argued. "We could jus' be wastin' our time."

"Then we wait. Do you have something better to do?" The redhead grunted, but made no other noise of dissent. Utakata smirked to himself. That's what I thought. "In the meantime, we search."

Konoha's size aside, it didn't take long to find the Shinobi Academy, and they passed the time waiting for the kids to be let out in silence. Utakata had discovered that Rōshi's exile made him comfortable with prolonged bouts of quiet, despite how opinionated he was when it came to certain topics. While Utakata didn't mind the silence, given his own social reticence, he also knew that if the Jinchūriki were to learn to work together, communication was required.

And while Utakata could talk to Yagura, he didn't have the same level of comfort around the Iwa-nin.

"Uchiha, nobody, nobody, Yamanaka," Rōshi muttered, startling the bubble-user.

"What are you doing?"

Rōshi jerked his head toward the Academy, where students were now flowing out. "Cataloguin'. Pink hair? Nobody, Nara, Akimichi."

Utakata blinked in surprise. His missions hadn't led him through the Land of Fire, and Rōshi seemed like too much of a hermit to have any sort of knowledge relating to what he could only presume was clan affiliation. "How?"

"Know yer enemy," came the gruff reply. He pointed towards the first boy out. "That style o' shirt, with th' upturned collar, that's what th' Uchiha clan wears." He moved on to a girl with long, platinum blonde hair tied in a high ponytail. "Hair color o' th' Yamanaka clan. Nara hair style, Akimichi body, Aburame clothin', Inuzuka facial tattoos," he continued, indicating more children in turn. "Th' rest o' 'em ain't from any big clan…"

Utakata was already nodding in acceptance of Rōshi's classifications of Konoha's up-and-coming shinobi, so when the older man cut himself off abruptly, the brunet figured his companion had seen his understanding and allowed his analysis to stop. But when the redhead uttered something in as close to a tone of disbelief as the renegade Mist shinobi had heard thus far, he prompted, "Sorry, what?"

"Namikaze," Rōshi whispered, his voice a mixture of shock and fear.

Utakata frowned. "Namikaze…as in the Yondaime Hokage?"

"D'yeh know o' any other Namikaze?" Rōshi snapped.

"No. Where are you looking?" The Iwa-nin pointed, and golden eyes followed the direction to a boy with spiky yellow hair and crystal blue eyes trailing the crowd. Despite the exotic combination, the most intriguing feature of the boy was a set of prominent whisker-like markings, three on each cheek. "Are you sure? I've never heard of the Yondaime Hokage having a son." Not that he knew much of the man beyond his reputation; Kirigakure preferred to boast about its own history, not that of other nations.

Rōshi fixed him with the most serious look Utakata had seen on the redhead. "Boy, if yeh'd seen 'im mow down an army o' shinobi, yeh'd never ferget what he looked like either. 'Sides," he continued, turning back to scrutinize the blond, "yeh see th' whiskers?"

So he noticed, too. "You think that's his mark?"

"Aye, a fox, right?" At Utakata's hum of assent, Rōshi nodded. "That's my guess. An' since most Jinchūriki're related ter their Kage, 'im bein' Namikaze's son makes sense."

Utakata nodded. "Fair enough. Let's follow him," he urged, grabbing Rōshi's sleeve and tugging on it. The older Jinchūriki yanked himself from the brunet's grip with a violent jerk but followed his companion anyway, grumbling at the teen's pushiness.

They trailed the blond child to a playground that immediately emptied upon the boy's presence. Utakata nudged the redhead at that development, and Rōshi scowled at his companion's eagerness. The visual of people starkly avoiding the Namikaze child was just another line of evidence that he was Konoha's Jinchūriki, and he didn't need Utakata's enthusiasm to remind him of the shitty life their kind led. "So yeh've found 'im. Now what's yer plan?" he asked snidely.

"We need to talk to him in private. Can you use that Doton jutsu again?"

Rōshi quirked an eyebrow, but began forming seals. "Aye."

Utakata forestalled him by shaking his head. "Wait for me." He ran through his own hand seals, an intense look of concentration on his face. Rōshi almost asked what his plan was, but decided to see what the younger male was doing without breaking his focus.

So seamlessly that he was sure he would have missed it if he wasn't actively watching for something, a thin layer of liquid formed from the moisture in the air, creating a hemispherical bubble around the swing set the blond child was on. "Okay, go now."

Rōshi went through the seals for the Earth Release: Underground Projection Fish Technique once more, sinking through the earth and practically swimming through it as the technique's name suggested. Judging himself to be beneath the boy based on the slight vibrations of the swing set in the earth, he surfaced and immediately clasped one hand over the blond's mouth and one around his torso before sinking back into the ground and heading for the forest surrounding the village proper.

Utakata watched from the sidelines as Rōshi crept up on the blond boy and kidnapped him. As the caster, he could see through the bubble he'd placed over the swing set, though anyone else would only see what the genjutsu on the bubble's surface displayed. Maybe capturing their prospective ally wasn't the best way to endear themselves to him, but they needed to have a conversation away from prying eyes, and no matter how deserted the playground seemed, there was always the potential for mishaps.

The bubble's surface showed the blond getting up and walking away, and Utakata allowed a small detachment to break off and take on the shape of the Konoha child, a Bubble Clone wandering off in a direction that would hopefully avoid detection. That done, he left for the forest, hoping that Rōshi had chosen an ideal rendezvous point.

-l-l-l-

Author's Note: Try to read Rōshi in a more rural accent than a pirate-y one. It's based a bit on Hagrid's syntax from Harry Potter, minus the British accent.