Interlude: Sometimes Absent, Never Gone
When seeking to decapitate your enemy, confirm in advance that it is not a hydra.
—Mori Ryūgamine, the Angel Without Mercy
Jin's was the kind of life where he sat by the bedside of the Six-Tails jinchūriki, one of the most physically powerful men in the world and the key to Mist's salvation, and patiently fed him peeled apple slices, while his best friend tormented one of the most politically powerful women in the world and the key to Mist's rebirth, and while
she toyed with the entire fate of that world purely because it sounded like fun.
Jin wouldn't trade this life for anything else.
"So the Mizukage didn't send you?" Utakata clarified.
"Not exactly," Jin admitted, picking up the next apple. "She's currently tied up in negotiations"—they'd made sure of it—"and we figured someone should keep you company until you feel better."
"That makes sense, I think," Utakata said. "Can I ask who you are?"
"Azai Jin, Senior Representative of Form for the Alliance for Mist's Illumination." Jin's knife began to slide through the skin. "It's a bit of a mouthful, so you can just call me Azai from the AMI."
Ami always kept her promises, even ones made at the age of seven. He would forever be her right-hand man, nothing less… and nothing more.
"My name is Utakata," said the man capable of destroying villages with a single breath. "It's nice to meet you. What is the AMI?"
"Glad you asked!" Jin beamed. "We're a cross-clan, cross-class organisation that represents the young people of Mist. We're like the exact opposite of Yagura, helping the Mizukage fix all the things he did wrong, and making sure Mist gets a fresh start. As you saw, we lost a lot of good people at the Battle of Nagi Island, and the majority of them were from the older generations. It's time for Mist's youth to step up to the plate and guide the village's future so that their sacrifice won't have been in vain."
The hand movements had to be subtle. Utakata was still in a low-energy state, and Jin needed to be enthusiastic, not overbearing. Expressive, not dramatic. Hypnotic, not manipulative. Still, that level of coordination was child's play for the taijutsu/weapons representative.
"You're already one of us, Utakata. You're a common-born outside the system, without a network of friends to support you, and the AMI wants to make sure that this time you feel like you belong, instead of having someone like Yagura use you as a weapon."
Jin offered Utakata another apple slice.
"Yagura," Utakata said slowly, reluctantly. "A beast wearing the skin of a boy. Or maybe a boy wearing the skin of a beast. They told me he was dead."
"Dead as a doornail," Jin said. "Do you get now why this is such a big chance for people like us? Individually, we're just junior ninja and commoners, but together, this is our time to change the world!"
Utakata bit into the slice. "Change the world how?"
-o-
Kuroda Shinzō, Senior Representative of Spirit for the Alliance for Mist's Illumination, was not having a good day. Oh, he'd known in advance that he'd be the one mired in politics while Jin was playing with the hearts of the vulnerable and Ami was introducing her personal brand of chaos into Leaf like a kraken into a swimming pool. Insofar as they were easily able to fill in for each other—she'd made sure they grew up that way so they could outsource to experts where necessary, instead of risking overspecialisation—the matter had ultimately been settled by drawing lots. Today, Jin would be using his excitable Academy student shtick, and Shinzō his rock golem, which he was good at but didn't necessarily enjoy.
"I'm afraid that simply cannot be done, Lady Mizukage," he said with implacable respect. "The laws of mathematics are immutable."
"You are suggesting," the Mizukage said with the mien of a woman being courteous to someone wasting her time, "that a mere delay in genin reporting in after their D-ranks can have a tangible impact on the budget."
"One of our Mori members prepared a report." Shinzō rolled the scroll across the desk, allowing it to naturally unfurl so as to indicate its tremendous length. "Delayed genin are genin temporarily removed from circulation, effectively reducing the number of D- and C-rank missions Mist can accept."
The Mizukage's expression did not change at all as she scanned the scroll.
"Every shinobi out of circulation is a shinobi earning fewer mission fees," she observed. "This most unfortunate series of coincidences would be untenable."
"It does you credit to show such concern for the well-being of your subordinates," Shinzō said, briefly allowing his persona to slip. Oh, well, it wasn't like the head of the Kurosawa Clan couldn't see through it anyway. "Fortunately, we have anticipated the problem. The AMI also has a budget, and it would only be our duty to arrange compensation for these poor souls."
Shinzō shifted stance in accordance with Ami's lessons. He looked down at the still-undiscussed span of the scroll covering the desk. The unspoken words were, "I can do this all day. Can you, village leader at a time of crisis?"
-o-
Hook, line and sinker. It was almost too easy, Jin reflected. Everything was going in accordance with one of Ami's most likely scenarios: Utakata had returned alive but traumatised, the Mizukage having won his absolute loyalty, but too busy to build on it due to the aftermath of the battle. Utakata now found himself alone and without friends, in a village that still remembered him as a hated missing-nin. Granted a pardon, but with no future beyond it except the nebulous concept of one day saving the village. Soon, the Mizukage would come up for air and find someone to babysit her new confused weapon of mass destruction, but Jin would make sure that by then it would be too late.
"Let me put it to you this way, Utakata," Jin said. "How would
you change the world if you could?"
Too simple. Too easy. Jin wasn't
lying about anything—Utakata really was a victim of the system into which he'd been born, just like the rest of them, and his power really was being exploited by higher-status ninja with no interest in his own needs or opinions.
Jin wasn't supposed to feel guilt for actions done in the name of saving people. Guilt anchored you, Ami taught. It kept you human. But it was no guide at all to making decisions, and it could get you or your friends killed if you let yourself feel it while executing those decisions.
"I can't remember what I'm supposed to want," Utakata said softly. "I think I must have killed a lot of people, but I can't remember why. I can't remember
knowing why. I think that if you're going to kill people, you need a very good reason, and the only reason good enough is if they're trying to kill you. But isn't that just a circle? I wonder if that's why I left."
Jin nodded as if what Utakata was saying made sense.
"I don't know the answer," Jin said with a gentle smile, "but there's a girl who does. Until she gets back, why don't we look for it together?"
-o-
"How'd it go, Dragon Kid?" Shinzō grinned over a glass of Kurohige's Revenge. "Got him eating out of your hand yet?"
"There's no need for that," Jin said coolly. "I believe he'll absorb the AMI philosophy in good time. He just needs a solid foundation to build on. Also, how much longer are you going to keep calling me that,
Boss Tiger?"
"Touché," Shinzō smirked. "As for me, my esteemed target, whose name I'm not going to say in the middle of a bar, went down eventually, thank you for asking. Next time it's your turn, see if you can get her to crack a smile. Bottle of the good stuff on me if you pull it off. Maybe try the slithering snake next, get her into one of her aggressive stances?"
"Maybe. Though that one is getting a little stale. Also, the last time I used it, Mori Ryūgamine hit me with a hammer blow of a counter. My ego is still down there with the ancestors."
"Which is why we leave the senior Mori to Ami when she gets back. You're the one who gave her the spark for those contingencies in the first place."
That lightning-quick final meeting. Ideas, ripostes, and flickers of ice. Nothing to be overlooked; nothing to be forgotten. Sparkling eyes, mischievous grin. A hug that went on just that sliver of a second shorter than she knew he wanted.
The right-hand man and the left-hand man gave each other familiar smiles. Forever nothing less… and nothing more.
