Act 2, Scene 19: The Limits of Family?
One week. Shizue had one week. It was a refrain, it was a single line as if from a song that got caught in her brain and repeated, again and again, like a record stuck in a groove. It meant that every interaction had to be aimed at that, had to be for the purpose of saving Okiie, saving Hachiro.
It was a burden that she had to bear, and yet it was one she was very uncertain of her ability on. That morning, her eyes were bleary as she searched for Okiie, wondering how she would start even bringing up the topic. It was clear she couldn't do so directly, and so she walked through the early morning as if at any moment her guilt and uncertainty would ambush her. She found Okiie resting under a tree, looking rather scuffed up already, though Shizue couldn't even begin to guess how.
"Hey," Okiie said, voice as chipper as always.
He didn't know just what was descending on Reef, and Shizue took a breath, "Hey. What happened to you?"
"Sparring with mother. She's back on temporary medical leave. Chakra exhaustion. We raided some of their convoys last night. Supplies," Okiie said, "Got them good, but it was a running fight the whole way. Not much there, just food, apparently."
"Why?" Shizue asked, frowning.
"Well, I dunno. Uh, I think we're blockading Tokashi with a view to invading it, and then cut off their food so they'll get hungry and give up," Okiie said.
Shizue almost nodded, before she stopped and thought through it. Who suffered the restrictions on any food first, no matter what? The civilians did, almost inevitably. Shinobi and their health and continued ability to function would only be more and more important as time went on and the war continued, for all that it was soon to end. So by cutting off access to food and supplies, that had to mean people were starving.
"What about the civilians?" Shizue asked.
"What about the… wait," Okiie frowned and scratched his large nose, "Uh, wow, that's a… but surely they'll give up before too much bad happens."
"It's Island we're talking about," Shizue said, deciding to try to appeal to the prejudices against the village, "Do you think they care any about the villagers if it's their own meals on the line?"
"Well, no, but. What else are we supposed to do?" Okiie asked, shrugging, "I mean, shinobi need to eat too, and fighting on an empty belly would certainly exhaust me--"
"But is it worth the cost?" Shizue asked, "You told me we were going to make a new Archipelago, somehow, once we won. But, if people are suffering--"
"Well," Okiie said, and he frowned, "I mean, mom said it was necessary, and once we take Tokashi, we'll be almost there, right? Just a few more islands and then the costs are all worth it."
"Are they?" Shizue asked, "I mean, I thought the third rule was that doing evil in the name of good brought chaos and disaster to the land." The rules were something included in most Iruka-books, about just how and why the old world, before the wars had stopped, had gone wrong. The Akatsuki who had tried to save the world by destroying it, and many others, who thought that through evil they could purify it, were shown in this light.
"I--" Okiie trailed off, looking up at the tree, "That is what the rule says." He squirmed a little, and said, "Wanna see me walk up and down this tree?"
Shizue stared at him for a long moment, but then accepted it. She let out a sigh, and nodded, "Sure."
He got up, and then walked right up the tree as if it were nothing, "See, I managed to get it down so where it's perfect, and I can even--"
He hopped slightly, and then stomped his left foot down, anchoring himself so that releasing his grip from the tree didn't lead to him falling.
Shizue blinked. Well, that was pretty impressive. Her guess was that it was a matter of chakra control more than anything, that and having a good eye for it. Really, it was nothing more than a trick, but she clapped anyways, grinning, mood lightened.
Then he said, "I don't know, really. I don't have answers. Walking up trees is easier than figuring out this sort of stuff, but I should trust mom, right?"
Then he paused. The sky was filled with clouds, and it looked like it'd rain yet again. Shizue looked at him, and for a moment he looked like a boy. Younger than Shizue. Then he shook his brown hair, his face resolving into an uncertain frown, "Except, even she's tired. Everyone's tired of this war, and we need to end it however we can, so we can, I dunno, get into the job of actually helping people, right?"
"But then there's Tide, isn't there?" Shizue asked.
"I. Don't. Know." Okiie said, his voice darkening, frustration evident, "I mean, why should I even be thinking about this. I'm a genin, I'm twelve, I shouldn't even be doubting this, certainly not--"
"Listen, it's okay. But the last day of childhood is months past us," Shizue said, stepping forward, "We were thrust into war. Repeatedly. There's no time." Her heart beat as she reached out and put her arm on his shoulder.
"Now you really sound like mom," Okiie said, with a bit of a pout, "But okay, okay, I get it. But I don't have any answers. Just keep on doing what we're doing and hope it all turns out alright, right?"
"I guess so, but it feels so limited," Shizue said, "As if we could do more. As if… I don't know." She frowned, having somehow managed to frustrate herself. It wasn't a lovely day, but surely there was more to do than try to weaken Okiie's loyalty. It was such an obviously traitorous thing to do, and it made her very uncertain. "I mean, maybe I'm missing something?"
"I dunno either," Okiie said with a grin, "I think that means both of us are on the same level. Equals. Partners in ignorance." His face was close to hers, and she decided that she should just act. Stop thinking, stop worrying. Just stop altogether. She leaned forward, and their lips met.
[Opening Credits]
Okiie gave a surprised sound, and then leaned in, uncertainty. Their mouths didn't quite meet evenly, and they fumbled slightly until there, there, like that. There, that was a kiss.
Shizue sighed into it, feeling the tingling, the happiness, the strange rush of joy and contact that kisses brought. It felt strange to her, as strange as chakra might be to a civilian, something wondrous and seemingly impossible, and the kiss left her out of breath, and she was panting by the time it was done. Yet Okiie wasn't, and he grinned at her, reaching up and sliding his hand fondly over her back.
"What--" Shizue began to ask.
"Conservation of breath," Okiie asked, "It can help with kissing, I'd guessed, so I tried it."
Shizue looked at him incredulously, "That's brilliant." She felt a deep pang of envy, just as strong as that light, fluttering happiness, and she wanted to kiss him again. But she was still recovering from the last one. She had nothing to compare it to, granted, but he seemed to have gotten better since last time.
kissersProbably.
Her knees felt a little unsteady, as she said, "I want to meet your parents."
"What, really? Are you sure?" Okiie asked, face scrunching up cutely.
"I want to get to know them. Because we're dating, and we've gone on two dates, and your mother will be going off again to the war after tonight, right?" Shizue asked.
"Yes, but it's so little time to prepare and--" Okiie said.
"Don't worry about it," Shizue replied, "Just go with it. You can even tell your mom now so that you'll have all day to get ready."
"Ahh," Okiie said, the panic in his eyes lightening into thoughtfulness, "So, dinner? With the folks?"
"Dinner with the folks," Shizue repeated, thinking about it. She hated being calculated, but she knew that she needed to know a lot more about Okiie's parents. She'd seen both of them before, of course, the husband limping, hair gone grey early, his whole chakra system damaged, in fact, the wife surprisingly stout, but not fat, with hard eyes and a walk one couldn't miss, and lovely brown hair, longer than it should be, a single concession from a woman whose job as a ninja, allowed few concessions.
But that wasn't the same as knowing them. Certainly, Okiie hadn't taken after his mother in battle, since she'd seen his far-off style, and though she knew he had passed all of the usual physical tests easily enough, which was more than she could say, it clearly wasn't the same.
Knowing him, now, would be the only way she had to try to convince him to do the seemingly impossible. Defect.
******
If that seemed impossible, convincing Hachiro of the same seemed something that she couldn't even dream of. The stars would fall from the sky and bathe the world in light before she'd succeed. And yet there she was, sipping tea with Hachiro.
"I've asked around, starting looking things up," Hachiro said, eagerly, "And I'm sure it was one of the two of them. Everyone fits together, but I can't narrow it down further. Um, there are poems from both of them, and letters and photos and everything else, but I can't tell which of them she kissed--"
Both, Shizue didn't say. The more she'd thought on it, the more she decided that it could have just as well been both of them. Of course, genetics didn't work that way, but perhaps that was one reason for the confusion, for the parting of ways. Or perhaps Sae had known which, but hadn't told?
Hachiro trotted out poetry and other pieces of evidence, and Shizue had read through them trying to feel some kinship. There was some, or perhaps it was sympathy, but these two men shared relatively little with her, except in the broadest sense. Kensaku was sometimes thoughtful, and some of his poems seemed a bit morose, a bit understanding, even dark.
That Shizue could understand it didn't somehow make Yaramachi Kensaku more familiar to her.
"There's something I'd like you to take a look at, though don't tell brother I--" Hachiro began, then stood up, paused, and said, "No, nevermind, I shouldn't." He began to sat down, and Shizue looked at him for a long, searching moment.
Hachiro blushed, an act which drew attention to his reddish hair and made him look odd, strange.
Shizue smiled and said, "I promise, I won't do anything untoward, and I won't tell your brother unless you want me to."
"Maybe," Hachiro said. He stood again, tall and angular, and then walked across his room and withdrew a Yaramachi scroll, kneeling and very carefully cutting the tips of his finger in order to smear it across the seal. "I wonder that old ninja don't have arthritis from all the poking and the handseals."
"Maybe they do," Shizue asked, as he walked back to her, tiny drops of blood slipping down his hands. He paused and held it out, reaching into his pocket for a cloth, though there wasn't much blood. She took the scroll and looked. Tried to understand what she was seeing. It was in some untidy scrawl, but it looked familiar.
"Why is this in here?" Shizue asked, as she pulled the scroll farther open, heart racing. It was the Wall of Sound, one of the family jutsu.
"That's Isao-kun's handwriting, you see he--"
"Why is that in there," Shizue asked again, teeth clenched, "That's...that's...that's not Yaramachi." She felt the rage burn red hot, and for the first time, she understood all of the ancient clan pride, all of the things she thought were silly and still thought were not worth much. But in that moment, she knew how it felt. Those techniques were her secrets, her heritage. And though there weren't any other that she could see on the scroll, it felt like a violation.
The Suzuhisas had their own personal and private jutsu[1], it was a part of who they were. Even their name, Shizue's name, hinted at it. Ancient Bell, and what was a bell for except making noise. Her puppets were central to who she was as a ninja, but it was her sound jutsu that made her who she was as a Suzuhisa. As Sae's daughter.
"Wait, I can explain! Isao was working on sound-based explosives, ones that can be detonated remotely by a sound, or even triggered by a certain sound, like 'when you hear someone walk by, explode.' Sound-fuinjutsu," Hachiro said, "And so he was apparently working with Sae to do so, and she sometimes showed him her jutsu and he...might have copied down an approximation of how to do one of them?"
"This looks like more than that," Shizue said, and indeed it seemed rather similar to what was in her scroll, though a few of the words were changed, "Did he steal from her?"
"He'd never! I mean, I don't think so," Hachiro said, "But I know that reading that is an invasion of your privacy. I mean, I was going to be asking my brother to perhaps...I dunno, include you as a Yaramachi?"
"I am a Suzuhisa, like my mother before me," Shizue said, and she hadn't meant to sound quite so annoyed, though she kept her voice below a shout.
"I meant, as a Yaramachi too. I mean, not that you're interested in most of it, but you could use explosives with the puppets as well, and maybe we could put together some sort of select, edited scroll. Like, not our best techniques, but lessons on fuinjutsu and some of our other techniques, that sort of thing?"
Shizue paused, taking a breath, then said, "That...that would be nice. I'm sorry if I raised my voice, it's just that family matters. I'm the last Suzuhisa, and I need to keep track of that, protect it no matter what. I'm sure you understand."
"Yeah, my brother doesn't want me going out to even patrol, because of how important I am. I almost feel like he'd rather send me out of the whole darned Archipelago rather than even risk me getting hurt," Hachiro complained.
Shizue should have said something, this was the perfect time, but she was so busy being absolutely shocked at how easy of a way to twist things had been placed in her lap, that the moment passed, at least for now, as Hachiro said, "Either way, we can talk with my brother tomorrow, if that's okay with you?"
"Sure, he'll be in then, I assume," Shizue asked.
Hachiro snorted, "No, we'll be talking with his astral projection. Oh, sorry, it's just--"
"It's fine, ask a stupid question," Shizue said, and then smiled, "It's been good getting to know you, Hachiro-kun. How is Azusa doing?"
"She's frustrated, and doesn't want to show it. You're not supposed to show frustration as a ninja, you know? A shinobi is a tool, a smart, clever, perfect tool, and while they don't allow themselves to be used mindlessly, they understand that sentiment can too often mask failure," Hachiro said, "Or so she tells me. Yet she admits she doesn't want to go to the front lines, despite, well."
Hachiro shrugged, "She can't admit she's afraid, just like I can't tell my brother I want to join him."
"There's nothing worthwhile up front, I mean, not that you can't get elsewhere," Shizue said, "And it's horrible and you're afraid--"
"But it's what we're for. It's what I was born for, what you were born for. War. Being shinobi," Hachiro said.
"The two weren't always the same thing," Shizue said, quietly, "They won't be, again, before too long. And people like Rika-chan weren't born for it, and yet become it, so it's not as simple as birth. Shinobi aren't born, even if they're trained from the time they're a baby." She took a breath, "They're made. And they make themselves. I think."
Shizue trailed off, not sure where she was going but trusting her social senses, her understanding of the situation.
"And if they're made, then it's not," Hachiro trailed off, then said, "If the war ends soon. Then maybe--"
He shrugged himself, and said, "I want shinobi to be more, and so does my brother, but while the war continues, we must be who we are. It's that simple. Reef needs warriors."
"That doesn't mean it needs us to directly fight. We can do work in relieving their garrisons and guarding the home front," Shizue said, "Though...I mean, I was willing to go out and fight. And I helped uncover Hirotomo's betrayal, so even staying back had its upsides."
"Yeah. The darned…" Hachiro trailed off, and Shizue realized he'd been about to say bastard, which was what Shizue was. His hesitation was amusing, if nothing else, since if she was not even close to immune to insults to her mother, she was used to them, let alone accidental non-insults. "Jerk. He almost killed my brother. And then Emiko saved him."
Hachiro paused adn said, "I never thanked her, do you think I should? I've heard she's back in town for another week or two."
"She is?" Shizue asked, "She arrive by boat?"
"Yeah, just about an hour ago," Hachiro said, "I was surprised you weren't there."
"You were?" Shizue asked.
"Yeah, as the official Yaramachi of the group," Hachiro said, "Some sort of weird stand-in, as if I'm even close to a Jounin."
Shizue looked at him, uncertainly. He was the heir, which she supposed gave him some cachet, but she could imagine him standing awkwardly by Momoka, greeting a woman who must have swam back to the boat, just to keep up the cover. She bit her lip, but said, "I guess I just didn't think about it."
"Yeah, yeah. I didn't thank her then, though. I mean, I should, because--" Hachiro trailed off, "She saved my big brother's life, and that makes her someone I should thank, but I just haven't had time, and she's, no, not distant, and when I took the classes she worked with me the same as everyone else, helped me, but--"
Hachiro shrugged again, leaning down a little and reaching out his hand for the scroll.
Shizue handed it to him. His hands were already starting to have that 'Yaramachi' look, where they'd been burned enough, and exploded near enough, that one started to be able to tell, just a little, a slight lack of solidity that meant very little but marked them out. Older Yaramachi sometimes even lacked some of the lines on their hands, burnt and blasted away into a sort of slightly-melted smoothness, which civilians found creepy and gossiped about, but never where a shinobi--at least one being open about it--might hear.
It was a hint, a sign, a symbol of what the shinobi arts asked of someone. "You should. Talk to her, she's not going to be here that much longer, and ultimately that means you don't have long, right?"
Yaramachi looked at her, eyes bright as a lit fuse, "You think so?"
Shizue nodded, "Yes, I do."
[Commercial Break]
So, Emiko-sensei was back, and the war raged onwards. Nothing new under the sun, and Shizue got dressed, trying for nice but casual, later that day. Perhaps she should have gone to see Junko-chan, but she wanted to wait to allow Junko a chance to try her own tactics. For Junko had her very own target, just as Rika was no doubt trying to figure out how to compose a secret letter to her father.
Okiie's house was nice, about what one would expect a single Chunin's income to stretch to, because the disability for a retired genin amounted to very little, though she'd heard that Reizei Osamu did a little work for the village here and there. Even with a heavily burnt-out chakra system, he was still able to channel chakra to some level, and no doubt was stronger than most of the civilians, and his hitai-ate meant he could serve as a guard or enforcer in a pinch. Probably, he'd been one of the people to hold back the crowds at the last big event, keep them from pushing in too close to the stage.
She knocked on the door, and it was Osamu that answered. His hair was prematurely grey, and he was stooped, slightly, but there was something fierce in his eyes, fierce and perhaps a little caged. His face was set into a smile, and looking at it, she could see the resemblance. He had a large nose, and large ears, though his mouth was oddly proportioned compared to that, and his receding forehead loomed a little large. He wore a basic Yukata, though that couldn't hide his muscles, the remnants of what must have once been a very impressive physique. "Greetings, you're Shizue-chan, right?"
It felt almost too familiar, but she nodded, smiling, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Reizei-sama."
"Oh, just call me Osamu-san, no need to stand on formality when you're dating my son," he said, looking her up and down for a moment, "He's told me more than a little about you. You're certainly as tall as he said, and your hair is indeed as he intimated. That boy, he's smitten with you, you know?"
Shizue blushed, "I, well, I hope he is, because I like him too."
"Good, good," Osamu said, and then laughed, gesturing Shizue in.
The room is little different from many she's been in, and it takes Shizue a while to realize it must have all come from the same furniture suppliers as that of most chunin. Certainly, when one bought from the same people, the results were pretty similar, though she noted there were less hard edges, everything smoothed out, sanded down, made careful. It wasn't so much a delicate touch as it was a careful one, and sitting there on the couch was Okiie and his mother.
She was snuggled up next to Okiie, turned to talk to him about something. She had a hard body, honed by war. Lean muscle almost turned into something more, relatively little fat on her bones, very few in the way of curves. Her hands scarred and then scarred over, her eyes dark and watchful, features on her face almost not matching the rest of her. She was shorter than Shizue remembered, at most average height, with a small nose that had no doubt once been quite delicate and even pretty, but after the fifth time broken looked a little crooked, and small eyes with long, beautiful lashes, and a small, pert mouth. There was a long scar down the side of her face, ragged and crooked. She'd dodged whatever caused that, or had kicked and screamed and thrashed even as the blow came.
That's what she seemed like, a fighter.
Okiie's eyes lit up and he pulled away from his mother to go to Shizue, grinning and after just a moment's hesitation giving her a warm hug and saying, "Welcome to my house. Population three!"
"Alright, kiddo, give her some room, and maybe help me in the kitchen?" Osamu asked, "Your mother has done two-thirds of the work, so we should do the rest."
"Kay," Okiie said, stepping off, leaving Shizue there with Reizei Sakurako.
The woman stretched slightly as she stood, and said, "It is nice to finally meet you, Suzuhisa-san."
"And you as well, Reizei-sama," Shizue said, formally.
"You're a puppeteer, I hear?" she asked, stumbling slightly over the word as if it were in some foreign language, or pronounced some strange way.
Shizue tried not to bristle as she said, "Yes, I am."
"What does that involve?" Sakurako asked, and then began to slowly question Shizue about her art. How many puppets she could control, how she controlled them, the name of her puppet, what it did, everything. Just on and on, question after question, and the unnerving part was not any sort of hostility, it was the relentless focus on combat, on the ways it could be used to hurt others, and its advantages and disadvantages over other styles and its synergy and soon she was defending herself as vigorously as she could, though here she knew her tactical acumen was rather wanting.
It was when she figured it out, which took longer than she wanted, that shocked her. She'd seen it in movies, surely, the mother questioning the prospective date on their business prospects and what their job is and how their schooling was going, except in this case it was entirely a matter of Shizue's combat potential, not even a single question dropped towards her hobbies and other abilities, towards the new sound jutsu she'd just figured out- simple, yet it would probably be effective.
As if fighting and killing was her career, and nothing else. Or as if, for some of the questions even talked about teams, the purpose of a girlfriend and boyfriend was to fight side by side and compliment each other's fighting style, or something.
It was bizarre, or at least, it wasn't something Shizue had expected at all.
At last, though, Sakurako smiled and said, "Perhaps sometime you could show off your puppet to me, Shizue-chan."
"Oh, of course," Shizue said smoothly, and they sat down to a somewhat sparse dinner, compared to some. It was only slightly better than what Remi had served, and Osamu-san mentioned casually that Sakurako-san had wanted to go lighter on supplies because it wasn't reasonable to eat so well back home and then go to the front where food was scarcer.
"I myself said that we should eat however we like, but she always wins, you know," Osamu-san said with a grin, to take any edge off of it, "Though I wish we could send more to the front. Of course, I'm an old man--"
"You aren't old at all," Sakurako said, grinning back at him, and Okiie groaned. They were flirting, Shizue thought with a smile.
"I wish I could be out there on the front with you, battling for Reef," he said.
"It's rather overrated. War's my business, but it's not one you take up for fun," Sakurako said, her smile going contemplative. "And if we actually assault their fortress island, I don't know what we're supposed to do against that. We need to send scouts to see if it's even still working, but I'm not sure how we'd even begin to do that, we're stretched so thin--"
"Reef will find a way, dear. You should stop worrying, we're the greatest village in the Archipelago, and the most free," he said, "And this is a beautiful place, a beautiful land to live in. Not the richest, but the best. And once we've won the war, well, all sorts of futures open up, don't they?"
"For who?" Okiie asked, and he looked almost stunned at his words, but then he pressed on, "We're eating less, but it's still a lot. Mom says we're starving the civilians, and the people here, I mean--"
"Has that Rika girl been putting ideas into your head?" Sakurako asked, her voice not so much harsh as curious, like a detective trying to get to the bottom of a mystery, "I mean, she is civilian-born, so I understand that she might have some sympathy to her former kind. I mean, this war isn't good for anyone--"
"But shinobi," his father said, "Well, she's a shinobi now, and the sympathy is misplaced. Civilians are tough, they'll find ways to make it through, in their own way. We shouldn't really worry about them."
"But we rule them, don't we?" Okiie asked, "How can you not care about the people we rule?"
"There's a difference between worry and care, Okiie-kun," Sakurako added, leaning forward, "Maybe I'm alone in this, but I think it's best to be hands-off with the civilians. Make the laws that need to be made, enforce them as much as can be done, and maybe we should restart the defense forces, and the police as a real entity to help deal with that, but we don't have the time or energy to waste, well… babysitting them."
"Plus, they do just fine on their own. They're certainly better at being merchants than we are," Osamu said, and then he let out a laugh, "Everyone sticks to their own roles in life, their place in the world, and thus is paradise found. That's what the old classics say."
"Maybe," Shizue said, "Yet the world we live in, isn't it a fallen world? Certainly, I mean, the council isn't as hands off, is it?"
Sakurako let out a sigh, "It would be the better for it if they were, but I understand it. It's wartime. Measures must be done to keep the population in line."
"Isn't that what Island says, and then drags people off to be tortured?" Okiie said, "It all sounds like an excuse."
"We don't do anything like that, Okiie-kun, and I won't have that talk at MY table," his father roared.
"Perhaps," Sakurako said, her voice quiet, "You should not be talking to Rika-san so much. Her father is a prominent governor, perhaps from him there are words of… dissatisfaction. Which is fine, but that doesn't mean you have to be--"
Okiie stared at them and then slammed down his chopsticks, standing up in a single smooth motion and heading for the door.
His mother could have stopped him, probably even easily, but instead she sighed and said, "Kami, I'm horrible at this."
"No you aren't dear, no you aren't," Osamu said, and stood up, "I'll go after him."
"Maybe he needs time?" Shizue asked.
"Maybe. Or maybe he won't even talk to us," Sakurako said, her face falling.
"I could go and talk to him," Shizue said, heart racing, thinking quickly through all of the possibilities, all of the ways this could go wrong. She hadn't told Emiko about this, so if she confronted him and mentioned leaving and he didn't accept it, but even if she didn't, well.
She didn't want to feel like a vulture, but this was a chance, a chance if she was willing to take it.
[End Credits]
When she finds Okiie, what does she do? (Can choose any that aren't contradictory)
[] Just comfort him.
[] Talk about what his family said.
[] Ask him about his parents and his relationship to them.
[] Talk about Rika.
[] Talk about the future of the village.
[] Mention… well, the Emiko thing.
******
[1] Now you understand why so many foreign ninja hated, and still hate, the Uchiha. They steal heritage, as if someone walked into your house and stole everything you had to remember your mother by and said, "Not stealing, doesn't count."
McClenahan: Yeah. You know those fanfics where Sasuke gets flanderized into an arrogant asshole who thinks that copying every technique he can get his hands on is his just and rightful due, and to hell with what anybody else thinks about it? I wouldn't be surprised if that was most other villages' impression of the Uchiha, in a nutshell. To Konoha, heroes… to everyone else, overentitled, thieving douchenozzles. There were probably sighs of relief in villages across the continent when news of the massacre broke.
The Laurent: Of course, 'confusion to the enemy' is a standard wish. Still, nobody outside Konoha (and few inside it) expected the Uchiha to so nearly-totally self-destruct as hard as they did. They still aren't even close to as large as they were pre-massacre...which means, yes, some of them are still around.
A/N: Yay, I managed to find a way to make this into a vote. This isn't your last chance, by the way, to convince Okiie or anything. It's just another chance, because you have 4-5 more days before the window closes. Next update will be the reaction to this, Junko and the Fast-Trackers, and the big Yaramachi Brothers pitch. Beyond that, I don't want to plan, because certain rolls can open up/close doors. There's a lot to get through on the winning vote list.
