Marked for Death: A Rational Naruto Quest

Velorien · Oct 13, 2017

It was early morning when Zabuza finally reached the Village Hidden in the Snow. Its high, wind-breaking walls and sturdy guard towers must have been impressive in an earlier age, but all Zabuza could see were structural weak points that would go down with a few exploding tags, and convenient climbing routes that would let a well-equipped shinobi rain fiery destruction on key infrastructure for nearly a minute before the defenders could pinpoint his location. He hoped that there were other, hidden, defences, or this village would fall the day after Earth or Fire decided it was worth the effort. Not that it was his concern either way. He was here to hunt; nothing else mattered.

"Halt and identify yourself, stranger," a mere two guards addressed him from the battlements.

"Momochi Zabuza," he said, "a hunter-nin from the Village Hidden in the Mist. Here on business."

"Z—Zabuza?!" one of the guards stammered. "The Zabuza? With the sword and everything?"

Zabuza was spared the need to come up with a scathing retort by the other guard.

"No, you idiot, it's the other hunter-nin from Mist named Zabuza. Who also has a huge broadsword with a hole in it strapped to his back."

The gate creaked open.

"Please follow us to the chief's abode," the more competent guard told him.

The other one brought up the rear, virtually ogling the Throat Cleaver.

Zabuza hated weapon nuts. As far as he was concerned, a sword was a sword was a sword. You drew it, killed people with it, then put it away. Outside battle, you gave it proper maintenance as a tool, always left it within easy reach, and beyond that didn't give it a second thought. Fetishising weapons was a way of fetishising death without having to confront the bloody reality of battle. These weapon nuts were even worse than those Jashin cult freaks who kept inviting him to join their secret order, because they were at least open about their perversion.

From the way they walked, Zabuza reflexively analysed, the soldier and the deviant were both chūnin-level. It fit with his assumptions. Snow would be similar to Sand: with a population size limited by sparse natural resources, the focus would be on training every shinobi to the peak of their potential, rather than allowing teams of genin to exist for the sole purpose of having someone to send on D- and C-rank missions. If so, he should tread lightly here. If things went south, he might not have a vast army converge upon him, but those that came were likely to be of elite quality.

The pair of guards quietly escorted him through the squat, square buildings of the settlement, to one particularly large hut at the centre. Inside, an old woman whose hair was festooned with ring-like decorations greeted him with a broad smile which set off several mental alerts.

"Welcome, honoured visitor. I am Tetori Kumako, chief of the Village Hidden in the Snow. May I ask your name and your business in our harsh but beautiful land?"

"Momochi Zabuza," Zabuza introduced himself curtly. "I'm hunting a pack of missing-nin in the Mizukage's name. I've tracked them to this country, but they have an unknown movement-enhancing ninjutsu which cut off their trail. I want to request your help in finding them."

"Through your person, the Elemental Nations lavish their attention upon us. We are most honoured," Chief Tetori said. "We would be happy to provide whatever assistance you need in order to complete your business here as swiftly as possible."

Zabuza didn't miss the message.

"I need to know whether your people have seen any signs of foreign shinobi movement, or failing that, places where those shinobi could hide without you noticing them. I also need to buy supplies. That is all."

Chief Tetori nodded in a self-possessed fashion. After several seconds to think, she spoke.

"Yes, there is one place where we have noticed suspicious signs of human activity."

She looked to one of her attendants, a middle-aged woman with an impenetrably stony expression.

"Kōri, fetch me Yukino."

Kōri gave a mute bow and hurried out.

A minute later, she returned, not-quite-dragging an androgynous-looking figure by the sleeve.

That face! Zabuza had to sharply suppress a reflex to jump to his feet.

"Haku?!"

The young man, now fully inside the hut, tilted his head slightly in confusion.

"Who's Haku? I'm Yukino. Easy to remember, 'cause I'm always chill as snow. Haku isn't even a girl's name.

"Say, you're new. You lost, or here to trade? Those furs aren't half as nice as what you can get at Mama Honoka's, and I bet she'll throw in a replacement for that ratty old mask for free."

"Yukino," Chief Tetori said pleasantly, "shut your mouth and don't speak until you're spoken to."

"But—"

Kōri promptly gave her a smack upside the head, which told Zabuza a great deal about Hidden Snow. If a junior shinobi ever accidentally talked back to the Mizukage, they would be on their knees begging for mercy before their voice finished fading from the air.

"Ow!"

"Yukino, this is Momochi Zabuza, a visitor from our beloved cousins in the Village Hidden in the Mist. He is going to need a guide to the peak of Mount Death."

Yukino's face turned so pale it was as if she were practicing her camouflage. This did nothing to reduce Zabuza's stirring suspicions.

"The peak of Mount Death?" Zabuza asked.

"We have seen smoke rising from it of late, and other signs of habitation," Chief Tetori explained in a kindly, completely inscrutable voice. "It is a perfect place to hide, remote enough that no outsider would ever be able to reach it—unless, as you say, they had special movement ninjutsu to bypass the perils of the mountain."

"This is about the goats, isn't it?" Yukino exploded from the stress of keeping her mouth shut. "I told you, Chief, that was a complete accident!"

"Those goats constituted a third of our reserve food supply," Chief Tetori said. "And they were only the latest misdemeanour in a history of insubordination. I think a mission to Mount Death will be an excellent way for you to prove your loyalty and dedication to the village."

"But Chief—"

"You have received your mission. I will give you an hour to help our honoured visitor purchase appropriate supplies, and then you must go."

"Wait," Zabuza said, "what's this about leaving in an hour?"

"There are signs of a snowstorm approaching," Chief Tetori said, still completely unreadable. "You should have no problems if you leave this area swiftly. Otherwise, you may find yourself trapped here for days, in which case I hope you like your testicles slowly cooked over a charcoal fire."

Zabuza blinked. "What did you say?"

"Fried goat testicles," Chief Tetori clarified innocently. "A local speciality. Very nutritious."

In other words, she was sending him to a distant and dangerous place with an expendable guide, and she wanted him gone as soon as possible. And if he refused, then he refused her cooperation and she had every excuse to get rid of him. But this was still his only lead. He was already on rocky ground with the Mizukage with how long he'd let the Cold Stone Killers, a bunch of mostly genin, remain at large. He didn't want to go back empty-handed, not without even trying. Besides, if the mountain turned out to be dangerous enough to make him turn back, then it would certainly be too dangerous for them to survive.

"Fine," Zabuza said. "I appreciate your help. I'll be sure to tell the Mizukage about what you've done for me."

Let her chew on that for a bit.

"I would love nothing more," Chief Tetori said. "Yukino, show our guest to the market."

-o-

They'd been climbing the foothills for about an hour, but to Zabuza it already felt more like ten.

"I can't believe I'm on a team with Momochi Zabuza himself." Yukino was bouncing. "This is so amazing!"

"For the last time, we are not on a team. I don't do teams."

"Is this 'cause I'm a girl? It's 'cause I'm a girl, isn't it? You old men are all alike!" Yukino pouted.

"I don't care if you're a girl, Yukino," Zabuza said. "I just don't do teams. And I'm not an old man."

He'd tried ignoring her. He'd nearly gone crazy trying. But Yukino never shut up, not for a second. If she was still like this when he got near the target, he'd have to gag her and dump her in a cave somewhere. He hadn't yet decided whether he'd go back for her afterwards.

"Of course you're an old man. You must be at least twenty-five!"

"My age is none of your business," twenty-seven-year-old Zabuza told her, not that he cared about such things. He was a professional, and the mission was all that mattered. Besides, he was still in the prime of his life. The girl didn't know what she was talking about. "Even if I did teams, I wouldn't take on a shrimp like you."

"I'm not a shrimp!" Yukino exclaimed. "I'm a genius genin from a powerful Bloodline Limit clan!"

"You are?" Praise the Sage, useful information at last.

"I am. Promise you won't laugh?"

"I don't make shallow promises," Zabuza told her.

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Well, if you won't promise, I won't tell you."

"This is why I wouldn't team up with you," Zabuza concluded. "You're denying me strategic information out of pettiness."

"Yeah, well," Yukino crossed her arms defiantly, "you're the one being stubborn about making a petty promise."

Zabuza had a sudden awareness that this conversation was only going to descend further into imbecility if he let it continue down this path.

"Fine. I promise."

"All right. My name," she said, "is Yuki Yukino."

Zabuza choked. She was even from the same clan…

"Zabuza! You said you wouldn't laugh!"

"That wasn't a laugh, that was surprise!"

"Liar," Yukino glared at him. "Are all Mist ninja liars like you?"

"I am not a liar," Zabuza said sullenly.

"You so are. And you broke your promise, so you have to pay a forfeit."

Zabuza raised an eyebrow. "A forfeit? Are you serious?"

"Yes." Yukino stared at him for several seconds straight, as if gathering her courage for some inane request. "You have to kiss me."

Zabuza shoved her casually, sending her face-first into a nearby snowbank.

"Another reason why I'd never team up with you. You overreach."

"Gphah!" Yukino spat snow out of her mouth as she laboriously extracted herself. "Fine, then. In that case, give me a piggyback ride."

Zabuza looked at her closely. But if she was an assassin looking for an opening, she was a truly incompetent one. A real assassin would wait until it was their turn on watch, and strike while he was asleep (not that it would work). Also, she had the killing intent of a limp fish.

"You mean on top of this enormous mass of gear I'm already carrying?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, is the weight of one teenage girl too much for the big bad legendary hunter-nin?"

She fixed him with the unbudging stare of a child who had decided what she wanted and wasn't taking no for an answer. Zabuza was reminded of why he'd never wanted kids.

"How the hell did it come to this?" Zabuza muttered, looking up at the heavens as he took the path of least suffering and crouched to let Yukino get on.

"Touch the sword and you die," he said without any particular feeling. "Mess with my stuff and you die. Annoy me too much and you die. Got it? Then let's go."

"You can't kill me," Yukino pointed out. "I'm the only one who knows the way."

"True," Zabuza conceded. "I'll have to be more professional. I will cut off your limbs, cauterise the stumps with Fire ninjutsu, and force-feed you soldier pills to make sure you don't die from shock. Then, if you are quiet, obedient and helpful, I will consider not leaving you on the mountain once I'm done with the missing-nin."

Yukino took this in. He couldn't see the expression on her face, which was a pity.

"So," she said after a short pause, "nice weather we're having, huh, Zabuza?"

-o-

There were advantages to Yukino's incessant babbling, Zabuza had decided. While the girl herself was clearly a few tentacles short of an octopus, half-listening to her at least kept his mind off the journey itself. He'd never been to Snow before, and the cold seeping into his very bones was a new experience he could have done without.

"Yukino," he interrupted yet another request to see under his half-mask, "why do they call it Mount Death? What kind of threats are we dealing with?"

"Actually," Yukino seemed inexplicably gratified by the question, "its full name is Mount Certain Death to Any Fool Who Dares Approach. You can see why we shorten it."

"If it's a mountain of certain death, how come you know the route?"

"Every ninja knows the route," she explained simply. "For our Genin Exam, we memorise directions, take a map, and then our entire graduating class has to climb to the peak together. We do get shadowed by an elite jōnin team to make sure we don't get wiped out by an unexpectedly tough chakra monster or an earthquake or whatever, but they don't tell us that until afterwards, and they don't mind if we get killed by 'appropriate' hazards. Then whoever makes it back to the village alive is promoted to genin."

"Huh," Zabuza grunted approvingly.

"Snow isn't like your soft southerner villages, where you have cattle and crops and prey all queuing up to jump in your mouths," Yukino said with what Zabuza already recognised as uncharacteristic seriousness. "The Land of Snow hates humans. It wants everything to be still and silent forever, and humans don't. So everything we have in Hidden Snow, we have to fight for. If someone's not strong enough to help us in that fight, then we can't afford to spend resources keeping them alive. It's harsh, but it's what life is like here."

"Huh," Zabuza said again. There was something strangely romantic about that. A land where it was just shinobi against nature, with no room for politics or ideology or war. A land where nobody ever had to ask if they were fighting for the right cause. Mist was supposed to be like that—a village of brave survivors, united under a single perfect will, working to defend their own and dominate the world by right of hard-won strength. It wasn't. There were many reasons why Zabuza had taken the hunter-nin job, and one of them was that it kept him on the road, away from Yagura's Hidden Mist and everything it stood for.

"Thing is," Yukino went on, "I think people get so obsessed with fighting for survival that they forget why we don't want everything to be still and silent. You go out of your way to pour some humour into their dull lives, and they start shouting about misconduct. You do things the clever way instead of the way you were told to, and you get done for insubordination. You try something different during a ritual and you're told you've dishonoured your ancestors. When our ancestors came up with the Equinox Celebration in the first place, they were doing something clever and original and fun. But the second you try making up new lyrics to the Song of Five Stars…"

"Yukino," Zabuza said bluntly, "I don't care."

"That's all right," Yukino said, unfazed. "I do.

"I figure fun is infectious," she went on. "If you keep on having it, no matter what's going on around you, eventually even the biggest sourpuss is going to feel their blackened lump of a heart start beating. You wait, it'll happen to you too."

"No," Zabuza said. "No, it won't. If I ever notice myself starting to act like you, I'll jump off this mountain myself."

"Don't worry, I'll catch you if you do. After all, we're a team."

Zabuza groaned.

-o-

"And another thing," Zabuza grumbled many arguments later, "who gave you the right to use my first name?"

"But you're Zabuza!" Yukino objected. "Zabuza the Stalking Death. Zabuza the Butcher of Honnō City. Zabuza the Grim Reaper. That's what all your fans in Snow call you."

"There are at least six different ninja known as the Grim Reaper," Zabuza said. "I'm not one of them. It sounds pretentious. And what do you mean, fans?"

"You're the ultimate hunter," Yukino said. "Every kid wants to grow up to be like you."

"Huh," Zabuza grunted bemusedly. He'd thought it was just one…

"And besides," Yukino added, "you keep using my first name."

"That's because you're a child and I'm an adult."

"I am not a child!" Yukino pouted childishly. "I'm sixteen years old!"

"And still a genin?" Zabuza asked pointedly.

"That's just 'cause Chief Tetori won't send me to the Chūnin Exams. She says I'm too immature, which I so am not!"

Chief Tetori went up a few degrees in Zabuza's estimation.

"She's just a bitter old woman with a fir tree up her—gyaaah!"

Even Zabuza's danger sense had registered nothing wrong until the moment the snow covering the ground rose up and bound him around the waist… and then kept on rising. Within a few seconds, both shinobi found themselves gripped in the fists of a towering giant made of snow.

Zabuza's reaction was instant. "Haku, Ice Spike Barrier!"

His apprentice obeyed immediately. A shell of ice formed around Haku, then thrust out spikes that disrupted the structure of the fist, sending him toppling to the ground below. He landed with catlike grace.

Zabuza was no slower in taking care of himself. He'd reflexively raised his arms as the trap was sprung, leaving his hands free to form seals. "Fire Element: Flame Tsunami Technique!"

The curtain of intense fire sped towards the giant's head. Its impact rocked the head back, and the giant's fist loosened enough for Zabuza to escape… but far from being melted off, the head was barely damaged. As Zabuza watched, snow from elsewhere in its body shifted to repair the damage.

He glanced at Haku. No, at Yukino. "Intel!"

"It's a snow golem!" Yukino said, dodging the four-metre monstrosity's crushing blow with, it had to be admitted, chūnin-like speed. "There's a small creature at the core which has nivelikinesis. I mean, it can manipulate snow!"

No kidding.

Zabuza skidded backwards as a successful block with the flat of his sword protected his body but failed to hold back the monster's advance.

"It's effectively immune to weapons, and it's constantly healing as long as there's snow around. It also keeps sucking up that snow to make itself bigger and tougher."

Zabuza's peripheral vision was full of snow as far as the eye could see. And yes, the snow golem had already gained another half-metre's height. What kind of ninjutsu would work best against a constantly regenerating target that could probably disassemble itself as easily as it had risen out of the snow in the first place? The perfect hard counter would have been a technique that slowly but unstoppably increased the temperature in a wide area. It was a shame no such thing existed.

"Oh, it's also full of really dense Water chakra, so Fire ninjutsu is useless."

Right. Water beat Fire. One of Zabuza's favourite tactics for killing Leaf ninja was being turned against him. If you wanted to beat Water, you needed Earth, but while Zabuza could use it (any elite Mist jōnin who didn't have all five elements was a laughingstock), he was so heavily Water-aspected that using its counter-element was always a last resort.

Zabuza tried to chop off one of the fists with a heavy vertical slash, to no effect. The snow was packed incredibly densely, which accounted for the thing's ridiculous strength.

"And if you try to run away, it compacts itself so it's really strong and really fast, so you can't outrun it."

That had been Zabuza's next thought. The key to survival as a hunter-nin was to only ever engage the enemy on your own terms.

"Tactical advice?" Zabuza called out as he ducked under another attack, and heard with dismay the sound of a boulder shattering behind him.

"Don't let it see you in the first place."

"Better tactical advice?"

Yukino hesitated, which nearly got her killed by an overhead hammerfist strike. The snow golem fought disturbingly like it knew basic taijutsu.

"Uh, knock it off a cliff?"

It was a useless tactic for hunter-nin, whose job wasn't done until they retrieved the body. But it made sense against something so big and heavy, and if it had worked for Snow shinobi in the past, that was a good reason to trust in it now.

That left one critical question, a question which could mean the difference between life and death when fighting chakra beasts.

"Can it understand human language?"

"Nobody knows," Yukino shouted back, using a carefully-angled ice shield to redirect a horizontal sweep away from her. "Can you hurry up and kill it, please? Zabuza? Sir?"

He couldn't just give Yukino a series of instructions. He remembered one of his early missions, back when he was still an incompetent chūnin, watching his team get taken apart by a rendclaw pack after discussing their plan in front of the enemy. Another reason why real shinobi made themselves strong enough to work alone.

Now he'd have to do the one thing he wanted least—he'd have to trust her.

"Yukino! I'm going to try and destroy the core by hitting it with everything I've got," he lied. "You look for an opening and run away as soon as you can."

He looked pointedly at the edge of the plateau as he spoke.

"Understood, Zabuza, sir," Yukino said to his massive relief. "I'll leave this to you."

Well, then. Time to teach this oversized snowman what it meant to be a true predator.

Zabuza couldn't rely on his favourite tactic today—not when he had no idea how the target's senses worked. Without facial features, for all he knew it hunted by pure chakra sense. It might even have omnidirectional awareness, in which case it was even more imperative that he keep its attention away from Yukino.

"Water Element: Water Bullet Technique!"

The globes of water smashed into the snow golem one after the other. It wasn't enough to displace it, as the creature just hunkered down into a low, resistant stance.

That was fine. It was only a setup for Zabuza's next move.

Zabuza took careful aim, and threw his sword in a horizontal spin at the thing's chest. Then, before it could straighten up again, he leapt onto the sword as if it was a platform to stand on.

The golem reached for him, thumping its chest with both fists to crush him. Zabuza leapt back just in time.

Now disarmed, and briefly off-balance as he landed, Zabuza had no way of blocking the next punch coming for his face.

Then the exploding tag attached to his sword exploded.

The Throat Cleaver, already driven into the golem's body by its own chest thump, suddenly sliced a lot deeper, causing a screeching noise that did not come from the golem's snowy head. It staggered backwards in panic, its attack aborted.

But the sword hadn't penetrated deep enough. The snow golem roared, yanked the sword out, and threw it at Zabuza full-force.

"Wind Element: Cursed Spear Technique!"

Zabuza had already begun the seals the second he landed from his jump, timing the ninjutsu to coincide with the golem's predictable retaliation. The Cursed Spear was a technique that swept up loose debris from around the user, pulling it into the slipstream of a focused burst of wind and embedding it in the target's body as that burst connected. In this case, all it could collect was snow, which would only make the golem stronger, but that still suited Zabuza's purposes.

The Cursed Spear hit the spinning Throat Cleaver, cancelled out its momentum—and threw the blade back at the snow golem.

The golem was already reeling from that initial impact when it was hit by the remaining force of the spear of wind, and then by the brief snowstorm that followed in its wake. The snow may have had the effect of healing it… but it could only do so because it had mass. And mass knocked things back.

Unbelievably, even now, the monster was upright and seemingly unharmed. But unfortunately for it, it was no longer standing on snow.

Zabuza watched it begin to shrink as it slid backward, increasing its density in a last-ditch effort to find purchase on the ice—the ice that Yukino had been layering on the ground behind it all along.

As the golem slid past Yukino, its size rapidly and urgently approaching a human's, the girl did something that made Zabuza forgive her every last bit of mindless chatter.

"Ice Element: Immovable Object Technique!"

A coat of ice extended around her body, rapidly thickening as it anchored itself to the existing ice on the ground. Right before she finished freezing in place, Yukino reached out towards the snow golem as if in a last-second attempt to save it.

Instead, her hand closed around the Throat Cleaver's hilt. Her grip was solid enough to hold onto it even as the golem slid off the edge, and the ice kept her from falling after it. Gravity tore the sword out of the golem's chest, leaving it solidly in Yukino's grasp.

The ground was so far below that they never heard the golem land.

"How did you figure out the plan?" Zabuza asked Yukino a minute later, once she finished defrosting herself.

"Duh," she said lightly, as if she hadn't just been fighting for her life against an elemental abomination. "You were talking as if you were going to sacrifice yourself so I could escape. As in, as if you were expecting to lose. Zabuza the Dragonslayer never loses."

This was why Zabuza hated fighting in front of other people. You kill one snake summon in its full battle regalia…

"Hey, I don't think anyone's killed a snow golem before. Or at least, not with witnesses to prove it. From now on, you're Zabuza the Snow Shover!"

"No. That makes me sound like a tool for clearing roads."

"Zabuza the Powder Pusher!"

"That makes me sound like a drug dealer."

"Actually, since it was a team effort, maybe we could have a joint title. We can be the Giant Knockers!"

"You know," Zabuza said thoughtfully, "my sword took some damage in that fight. And it's a special sword that repairs itself when I feed it blood."

"I'm… going to go confirm some landmarks now."

Zabuza didn't smirk, but only because Zabuza never smirked. "Oh, and Yukino? We're not a team."

-o-

The cave where they made their stop for the night was surprisingly well-appointed, with bits of furniture, a boxy oven somebody must have put together with the Earth Element, and even a hefty door to keep out the wind.

"Every generation of ninja has added bits and pieces when they stopped here," Yukino explained. "Little gifts for the future."

"Huh," Zabuza grunted amusedly.

Zabuza looked closely at the walls. "Are these cave paintings? Like the ones you hear about telling the histories of prehistoric peoples?"

"In a way," Yukino grinned mischievously. "That one is from a famous hunt in the first chief's time. See where he's using an ice shield to protect himself from the three-metre-tall elk while it breathes fire on him. And that one over there is a picture of the duel between Masters Shirai and Kadota for my great-aunt's hand."

She beckoned him deeper into the cave.

"What's this one?" Zabuza asked, tilting his head first one way, then another. No matter how you looked at it, that was…

"Chief Tetori having carnal relations with a yak," Yukino said proudly. "Note the speech bubble."

Zabuza read the text. Chief Tetori was apparently bellowing, "Take me, kinsman. Take me now!"

Understanding dawned. "These were drawn by bored genin stopping here during their Genin Exams."

"Yup. This one's by yours truly."

"I somehow guessed."

After a little more time spent examining the paintings (for useful information regarding Hidden Snow, and not because some of them were hilarious), Zabuza was ready to turn in for the night when Yukino turned to him and asked a question that came out of nowhere.

"Hey, Zabuza, who's Haku?"

-o-

"Dear Captain Momochi Zabuza, my name is Yuki Haku. I think you're a really amazing ninja, and I want to be just like you. Would you please consider making me your apprentice when I graduate the Academy? I'm a descendant of Snow's Yuki Clan, and I can already use the Ice Bloodline Limit. It's very powerful! I can't wait to hear from you."

"Dear Captain Momochi Zabuza, my name is Yuki Haku. I guess you must have missed my last letter. I really admire you as a ninja, and I want to be just like you. Would you please consider making me your apprentice when I graduate the Academy? I am a descendant of Snow's Yuki Clan, and I can already use the Ice Bloodline Limit, which is famous for its power and flexibility. I hope to hear from you soon."

"Dear Captain Momochi Zabuza, this is Yuki Haku again. I've finally graduated from the Academy. Have you thought about my request? I honestly think we'd make a great team, and a ninja with your skills needs an apprentice to pass them on to. If you give me just one chance, like an exam, or a trial period, I'm sure you will be impressed. I look forward to hearing from you."

"Dear Captain Momochi Zabuza, it's Haku again. I'd like you to know that I have the Mizukage's permission this time. He thinks it's a good idea for you to take on an apprentice, and that I'm a suitable candidate. I'm sure we'll work very well together. I look forward to hearing from you."

"Dear Captain Momochi Zabuza, this is Haku. This is my tenth request, and I still haven't heard back from you. I've been working very hard to meet your standards—as you might know, I've already passed the Chūnin Exam. The Mizukage says I'm qualified to join a normal hunter-nin squad now, but I really think it would better for me to be your apprentice. I hope to hear from you."

"Dear Captain Momochi Zabuza, this is Yagura. I tire of Yuki's petitions. It would be to the village's detriment to lose your hunter-nin skills when you die, and you are too valuable in the field to assign to an instructor position. I am hereby instituting a two-man team consisting of yourself and Yuki Haku. Report to the mission desk upon receipt of this message."

Zabuza had never understood, even at the end, what had made Haku so determined to be by his side. He was under no illusions concerning his own charisma or lack thereof. Nor was he the strongest jōnin in Mist, or the most famous. And he did not remember ever meeting Haku until the team assignment. When he tried to get the truth out of the boy, all he got were vague words of admiration, and eventually an unexplained "This is where I belong".

They had, it had to be said, made a good team. Haku was quick-witted, diligent, and, most of all, reliable. Zabuza didn't need power in a teammate—there were very few missing-nin he couldn't kill himself, and for those he could just call in a strike team once he was done gathering intel. But someone to watch his back, to secure escape routes and create distractions? Haku's presence opened up countless possibilities.

The kid wasn't bad as an apprentice either. He soaked up knowledge like cotton soaked up blood, and the adaptability of his Bloodline Limit gave him huge growth potential. Social skills, too. He even made Zabuza laugh every now and again, and Zabuza never laughed. But what Haku had turned out to lack was the one crucial skill of a ninja, which was not to die.

Haku should have learned to kill his emotions by that age. Failing that, Zabuza should have done it for him—it was brutal and took a heart of stone, which Zabuza had, but it was not impossible. Instead, the stupid, stupid child had thrown his life away trying to save Zabuza. It probably hadn't even been necessary. If Zabuza had pushed himself hard enough, he surely would have got out of the way in time. He didn't need Haku's kindness.

With that one action, Haku had wasted all the time they'd had together. The apprentice was meant to avenge the master, not to die before them. It violated the natural order. It should not have happened. It was wrong.

And, of course, it would never have happened if Zabuza had accepted the kid's first request, or his second, or his third. With Haku's extraordinary learning speed, if Zabuza had started teaching him at graduation, or even taken an interest in him earlier, Haku would easily have become strong enough in time, and maybe even wise enough.

But there was no use thinking in hypotheticals. Haku was dead, and Zabuza sure as hell wasn't taking on another apprentice. Haku had been special—even the Mizukage knew it. The bright young sparks that had put themselves forward to take his place weren't fit to lick Haku's sandals, much less keep up with the lethality of Zabuza's missions. No, Zabuza had given teaching a fair shot, and naturally the results had only confirmed his existing convictions. He didn't need teammates, and there weren't any who could keep up with him anyway.

"Another Mist hunter-nin," he said to Yukino in a voice that did not invite questions. "He died."

-o-

Zabuza had lost count of the number of random encounters he and Yukino had had by now. Fortunately, between Yukino's encyclopaedic knowledge of the local flora and fauna (which Zabuza had found to be equally deadly) and Zabuza's skill at killing things until they were dead, they'd made it this far with no permanent injuries. In addition, the experience had done wonders for Zabuza's ability to trust her, both as a combat asset and overall—there was no way she'd make it all the way back down this mountain on her own.

Now, finally, they'd reached the road to the peak, where the Cold Stone Killers hopefully lay in wait. Zabuza had no intention of facing them in open combat, but he did need to confirm their numbers and abilities, and especially the nature of their special movement, whether by observation or by kidnapping and torture.

"Stay here," he whispered to Yukino, "and stay silent. Completely silent. If a greater dropbear falls on you and starts eating your head, you shut up and let it. Understood?"

"Understood," Yukino said out loud.

Zabuza sighed and began creeping up the mountain path.

The going was slow, as every last centimetre of the area had to be checked for traps and hidden watchers, and there was no such thing as paranoia when the enemy had a sealmaster. Finally, Zabuza reached the plateau at the very peak… and found it nearly empty.

There was a single wooden shack, built solidly enough to resist exposure to the biting high-altitude winds. And nothing else. No traps. No people. Not even a new species of chakra beast to add some much-unneeded variety to his day.

And the shack was empty.

Had the Cold Stone Killers got wind of his coming and left? Or had they never been here at all? Was this, as he'd suspected, a gambit by Chief Tetori to get him gone and ideally killed? He had no way of knowing.

-o-

"This place has a lot of symbolism, you know," Yukino said as she poked at the fire (which Zabuza had fed with wood from his storage scrolls, because a shinobi who wasn't prepared for everything was just a civilian with chakra reserves).

"The reason they bring us up here, apart from making sure the weak ones die, is because this is the tallest mountain in Snow. We look around and we can see everything—we can see how vast our land is, how beautiful it is, and how small we are in comparison to it. 'This is our mother, and this is also the enemy'. You're probably the only foreigner ever to come here."

"Huh," Zabuza grunted noncommittally.

Yukino poked at the fire for a few seconds more, then stood up determinedly.

"Hey, Zabuza."

"Yeah?"

"Merry Sagemas!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, the day the Sage of Six Paths was born. Isn't this such a romantic place to celebrate it?"

Zabuza rolled his eyes. "Yukino, there aren't any records left over from that time. Nobody knows when the Sage was born. Assuming he was born at all, and wasn't some supernatural being."

"Yeah! That means we can celebrate it any day we want and have equal odds of being right!" Yukino beamed.

"This is stupid," Zabuza grumbled. "Who goes around randomly making up festivals in a survival situation?"

"Well," Yukino said, her smile deflating, "I suppose instead you could sit around thinking about how those missing-nin managed to give you the slip after all that hard work. And I could sit around thinking about how the people I grew up with hate me so much they sent me on a suicide mission."

Zabuza looked at her, and the unfamiliar morose expression on her face, for a few seconds.

He forced a smile onto his face. "Merry Sagemas!"

Seeing Yukino's grin somewhat softened the blow of feeling like a complete idiot.

"That's the spirit, Zabuza! So what did you get me?"

"Huh?" Zabuza grunted in shock.

"Don't tell me you're celebrating Sagemas with a beautiful woman and you've forgotten to get her a present?!"

Zabuza didn't know how to begin responding to this. "But… I only just…"

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll go first.

"I spent a while thinking about what would make a perfect gift for a badass hunter-nin, but my budget is a bit low this year, and all the shops are down in the village where everybody wants me dead, so I thought: what about ninjutsu?"

"Ninjutsu?"

"Yep. I think it would be wrong for me to hand over clan or village secrets just 'cause they are trying to kill me, but there's this great technique that everybody in Snow knows, and everybody in Snow knows how to recognise. It's called the Sleep Beneath the Snow Technique."

"What does it do?"

"It feigns death really well. Like, if you don't know what you're looking for, you'll never figure out that someone's not alive. Their body temperature drops, their wounds stop bleeding, they don't react to pain, the works. We mostly use it against chakra predators."

"Huh," Zabuza grunted contemplatively. He had been thinking about learning a technique for coping with overwhelming force. He remembered seeing Jiraiya of the Three at work in the Swamp of Death. He doubted he could defeat a man like that in single combat, but on the other hand escape wasn't always an option. This would cover the gap nicely.

"This is going to be great! I've never taught anyone a technique before! So to start off, focus on the chakra in the pit of your stomach…"

-o-

The journey down was considerably smoother than the journey up, now that Zabuza knew both the route and the most common hazards, and he spent more time leading Yukino than the other way round.

"So what are you going to do after this, Zabuza?" Yukino asked as they descended the lower slopes.

"Head back to Mist," Zabuza said. "I've lost the trail, so I have to report back to the Mizukage."

"He's your boss, right? I guess he's not going to be happy."

Zabuza nodded. "He's not going to kill me, not while I'm still useful. But you can bet I'll be getting the worst, most dangerous assignments for a while.

"What about you?" he asked, if only to get the image of Yagura's cold, dehumanising eyes out of his head.

"Well, I can't go back to my village," Yukino said matter-of-factly. "They'll just send me on another suicide mission. And I'm not going to survive in the Land of Snow on my own. So I guess I'll have to head south."

That brought Zabuza up short. "You mean… you're going to turn missing-nin."

There must have been more condemnation in his voice than he'd realised, as the air between them began to grow dangerous.

"Is that how it is?" Yukino asked coldly. "Are you going to kill me now? Well, before you do, why don't you tell me what you think I should do, mighty hunter-nin? Should I roll over and die because my village says so? I'm not a burden on them. I'm not a useless extra mouth to feed. I'm a capable ninja who wants to serve her people, and they're the ones rejecting me just because I don't fit into their narrow little picture of the world. So what am I supposed to do, Zabuza?" Her eyes were wet, but defiant. "Tell me. What am I supposed to do?"

Zabuza had nothing to say. Missing-nin were traitors. It was a fact plain as day. Shinobi life was about sacrifice. You sacrificed your life every time you went out on a mission, and if you were skilled enough, and lucky enough, then at the end you got it back. If one day the village decided you weren't going to get it back, that was its prerogative. To refuse such a mission, or to abandon it, was to turn your back on the nature of shinobi life itself. Zabuza was regularly ordered on high-risk missions, and if one day the Mizukage assigned him a mission with the expectation that he wouldn't be coming back, then Zabuza would still go. He was a loyal shinobi, maybe not to the Mizukage, maybe not to the corrupt, rotting edifice that ruled his village, but to the true ideal of Mist that would outlive them both. Zabuza would still go.

Wouldn't he?

"I'm not going to kill you, Yukino," he finally said. "I'm not a Snow hunter-nin. I kill the people the Mizukage orders me to kill. He doesn't even know you exist, and I see no reason why he'd need to."

"You don't have any answers, do you?" Yukino asked softly.

Zabuza didn't reply. They continued their descent in silence.

"You know," Yukino said a while later, "you never did give me a Sagemas present."

"Huh," Zabuza grunted affirmatively.

"Well, then, how about a kiss?"

Without particularly thinking about it, Zabuza shoved her into the nearest snowbank.

"Pthegh!" Yukino spat out a mouthful of snow as she unburied herself, showing no great surprise.

"Worth a shot," she said. "But the Sage will curse you if you're stingy on his birthday—which could very well be today. So how about this…"

There was a note of casualness in her voice so strong that Zabuza knew it wasn't real.

"Take me on a sightseeing tour of the Elemental Nations. You're going to the Water Country first, aren't you? Let me tag along at least that far."

Zabuza stared. Him? Travel with a missing-nin? Where was he even supposed to begin explaining how wrong that was?

"C'mon, Zabuza," Yukino said, either cheerfully or desperately. "Don't we make a great team?"

Zabuza looked at her again. That damned resemblance was still there. Not just her face or her powers. She was skilled for her age, but for all he knew she'd already hit her limit as a shinobi. And unlike Haku, who'd been gentle, fatally gentle, this girl was a whirlwind of chaos who wouldn't shut up if he cut off her head. But up on that mountain, there were a few times when she'd nearly made him laugh. Maybe, if they stayed together, one day he would.

"Fine," he said. "Just as far as the Water Country. Then whatever happens, happens.

"Also, we're not a team."

She squeeed. It hurt Zabuza's brain even to think the word, but there was no other description for the sound.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyou! This is going to be great! So how do we get to the Water Country from here? Do we have to take a ship? I've never been on a ship! Will there be pirates? Or kraken?"

On second thought, maybe he could kill her just a little?

Velorien · Oct 19, 2017

Interlude: Agencies

Before the Chūnin Exams...

Shiori was in a happy, bouncy mood this morning. Lady Yoshino, Lord Shikaku's wife and Shikamaru's mother, had found time to join them at breakfast. For once, even Shikamaru was eclipsed in Shiori's eyes.

There had been an uproar when young Lord Shikaku, barely ascended to his current post, had chosen not a clan ninja, not even a common-born ninja, but a powerless commoner to be his bride. Whispers, and sometimes more than whispers, accused him of diluting the blood, of shaming an illustrious line of Nara ancestors who had painstakingly bred genius, insight and shinobi might into the clan. Some called for him to step down in favour of older, wiser would-be leaders.

Time had proven them all wrong. Lady Yoshino was quick-witted, perceptive, silver-tongued and empathic. She was as much a socialite as Lord Shikaku was a bookworm. She extended the Nara Clan's influence in ways that he could never have accomplished alone. It also didn't hurt that she was the daughter of the head of an up-and-coming paper workshop, and in less than two decades no government clerk or elite businessman would dream of writing on anything other than Nara-optimised paper.

If Shikamaru was Shiori's one true love, then Lady Yoshino was her goddess, and in her heart of hearts she dreamed of being half as good a wife to Shikamaru one day as Lady Yoshino was to his father. (I am choosing not to assess the probability of this event as that would be irrelevant to the topic at hand.)

"A new probability assessment has been made regarding that former Mori girl," Lady Yoshino mentioned casually. "The whispers from the woods say her diplomatic value is due to rise, though of course her performance in the Chūnin Exams will also be a factor—as will yours. Gōketsu Keiko… do you feel prepared to marry her, Shikamaru?" I am not asking you to commit to a definite statement, but am interested in your informal perspective on the subject at this time.

There was the sound of something shattering.

Oh. It was the plate Shiori had been holding as it hit the floor. How strange.

"Be a dear and tidy that up, Shiori," Lady Yoshino said, not unkindly. "I do enjoy seeing you at Shikamaru's side, but it won't work if you go around acting carelessly." My opinion of you is not negatively affected by minor errors on your part. I cannot speak for others.

"Y—Yes, Lady Yoshino," Shiori stammered. I apologise for my failure and will work to identify and rectify its root cause.

The rest of breakfast passed in silence as Lady Yoshino turned her attention exclusively to the food, while Shikamaru seemed grateful to avoid a topic that required effort to think about.

That left Shiori. Shikamaru married? Already? Before she had a chance to show him even a fraction of who she was? It was impossible. Unacceptable. Unbearable. Her odds might have been slim to begin with, but she had at least deserved a chance. And there was nothing she, a minor branch family member, could do to influence as political a matter as the heir's marriage. She was, after all, nothing more than a personal assistant.

Nothing more than a personal assistant. An idea began to rise to the surface of Shiori's mind. She wouldn't do anything to sabotage the marriage—even if she could, Nara Shiori did not cheat—but if her rival was really a Mori, there was no way she could be as compatible with Shikamaru as Shiori. Shikamaru needed someone like Shiori the same way Lord Shikaku needed someone like Lady Yoshino, someone to complement rather than mirror him. He'd see that if given enough of an opportunity. He'd see how incompatible they were, and call the whole thing off. He just needed a little push…

"Lady Yoshino," Shiori said, "on the subject of Shikamaru's marriage, I've had an idea." Please judge my proposal on its merits, without penalties for its spontaneity.

Lady Yoshino gave her a curious and oddly unsurprised look.

"Gōketsu Keiko is new to Leaf, isn't she? It would make sense for Shikamaru to spend a little time introducing her to the sights. They'd have an opportunity to assess each other, and maybe even bond a little. I'd be happy to draw up an itinerary." If this is unacceptable to you, please provide a critique and I will be happy to return with an amended version.

Lady Yoshino gave a warm smile. "Why, Shiori. I think that's a delightful idea. I'm sure their time together will be highly entertaining." Unconditional approval.

The Gōketsu girl would pay. Oh, how she would pay. Err, meaning that the itinerary would feature significant expenses, that was all. Shiori wasn't the kind of person to feel vengeful towards a perfect stranger.

-o-

"Keiko, your secret admirer is here to ask you out!"

Kei nearly struck her head against the lamp as she stood bolt upright. Did Mari-sensei mean whom she thought she meant? But why here? Why now? Why at all? It made no sense!

Kei rushed out of her room and down the stairs, as if this new reality was so unstable that even a second's delay might cause it to erase itself like a soap bubble.

Perhaps it had, because waiting for her in the entry hall was merely Nara Shikamaru.

"Must you, Lady Gōketsu?" he asked Mari-sensei in a long-suffering voice.

"We make our own entertainment around here," Mari-sensei grinned. "Now let me leave you two lovebirds alone. Remember, young man, I want her back before nightfall. And no funny business, because believe me, you don't want to see Jiraiya in overprotective father mode."

Kei and Nara spontaneously exchanged commiserating looks.

"It seems I have missed something important," Kei said as Mari-sensei disappeared up the stairs.

Nara gave her a look of wry resignation.

"It has been suggested to me—firmly suggested—that I invite you on a day out and show you some particularly noteworthy parts of the village. You are, of course, free to refuse, but it has been made clear to me that there will be consequences if I return empty-handed."

"I see," Kei said. "Am I to take it that, like myself, you would happily reject this plan in favour of going to bed with a nice book? Not that I have books for taking to bed. That is not at all what I am implying. This is a purely hypothetical scenario, and bears no relationship to my nightly life. Daily life! Daily life!"

If somebody had told Kei that her face was on fire at that moment, she would not have doubted them for a second. In fact, literally being set on fire would make a welcome distraction right now.

"Could we please reset this conversation?" she looked at Nara pleadingly.

Nara's face was completely blank.

"Lady Gōketsu, would you please do me the reluctant honour of accompanying me on an excursion?"

-o-

"According to this itinerary," Nara said, "our first destination is the Nakamura Art Gallery. My personal assistant, Shiori, was considerate enough to purchase tickets for their latest exhibition in advance."

Nara had his own personal assistant? It seemed the Gōketsu had a long journey ahead of them before they could imitate the true splendour of a noble clan, and not only because some of the piping still dripped a blood-red liquid that could only be seen in one's peripheral vision. Then again, the last thing Kei wanted was a stranger hovering around her at every hour of day and night, invading her privacy and forcing social interactions for her to fail at.

"What is this," Nara said, without even the energy to make it a question.

"Nara?"

Nara winced. "This is an exhibition of the works of Heta Ahō, one of the most tragically inept artists of our time. Unfortunately, she is also the granddaughter of one of the village councillors, who ensures that her work remains in the public eye like a kunai embedded there by a marksman. I am very sorry, Gōketsu. We can leave at once."

Kei's attention, however, was captured by the nearest painting, which portrayed a towering, hyper-masculine First Hokage smiting a cringing, craven Uchiha Madara with what could either have been a vajra or a frozen herring.

"I admit my ignorance concerning the Uchiha Clan, Nara, but is it normal for them to have oni horns, tails and burning red saliva?"

"I wouldn't have thought so," Nara said slowly, "but now I look at it, perhaps this portrayal is accurate and my old taijutsu instructor was secretly an Uchiha survivor. Much would be explained."

Kei snerked.

"Now that you mention it," she said, "that painting there, the one with the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox raising its claws in a doomed attempt to crush the Fourth Hokage as he bravely stands alone… the resemblance to my former head of class is uncanny. That is the exact posture she would take as she assigned me detention for refusing to play with the other children and thereby 'selfishly disrupting the social dynamic.' As if the questionable gains to be made from participating in their puerile gossip exchanges and competitions could ever outweigh the value of sitting in an empty classroom with a good book."

"Exactly!" Nara burst out with what was, by his standards, stunning vigour. "Everyone knows the Nara have naturally low energy levels. The mere fact that my father instructed the teachers to treat me as an ordinary child was no justification for punishing me for optimising my behaviour. What was I supposed to gain from playing hide-and-seek when the others' preferred strategies were so blindingly obvious, or participating in the pointless phatic rituals that allegedly facilitate group socialisation? And detention! If you must insist on locking me in a room with a bored overseer, at least permit me to pursue my academic studies instead of wasting my time with repetitive physical exercise!"

He slumped on a nearby seat in a state of low-level emotional exhaustion.

"You had repetitive physical exercise for detention?" Kei asked. "We were forced to copy out passages from My Vision, the Fourth Mizukage's original manifesto. While subsequently answering questions on the content was less than challenging, the overseers did not hesitate to use corporal punishment in response to inferior brushwork. I will never understand how having my knuckles rapped with a length of wood was intended to improve my manual dexterity."

Kei shifted her attention from Nara for a moment so as to give him time to recover from his outburst.

"Ah, that portrait over there?" she said, "'Mishima the Destroyer Rips Out the Second Mizukage's Spleen'? Setting aside the fact that the Second Mizukage was a man, and that the organ being extracted is quite clearly a lung, and that the entire subject is counterfactual, Mishima the Destroyer with his bulging muscles and mindless gaze is the perfect image of Kuroda the taijutsu instructor. He was possessed of an irrational but intense belief that every Academy student must master the art of grappling, and that my… limitations… in that regard were nothing more than a sign of arrogance to be violently discouraged. Tell me, Nara, do I appear to you to have a size or bone structure suited to grappling?"

"Grappling," Nara gave a bitter laugh. "Don't talk to me about grappling. I come from a long and proud lineage of mid-range ninjutsu users. We have an arsenal of unique immobilisation techniques, all of which I'm expected to eventually learn. Why did they think it was a good idea for me to roll around in the mud with muscle-bound louts capable of snapping me like a twig the second I came within arm's reach?"

Kei and Nara exchanged long, sympathetic looks.

"Oh," Nara said as they moved on, "look at this one. This is a classic. Everyone in my clan is familiar with this painting."

"Nara Shagure Strikes Down Uguraga Migazo, Dreaded Champion of Hidden Rock."

Kei frowned. "Correct me if I am mistaken, Nara, but does your clan not have a consistent naming scheme? This is the first time I have seen an exception."

Shikamaru gave a small pleased smile. "His real name is Nara Shigure. There are five other errors. Can you find them all?"

Kei studied every inch of the painting, a faint sense of excitement building inside her. This was the kind of challenge she delighted in.

"The Nara crest on his back is rotated by roughly a radian."

"Check."

"The supposed Rock champion is wearing a Hidden Sand scarf, which is neither historically accurate nor appropriate to the environment being portrayed."

"Check."

"I am less confident on this one, but I do not believe 'Uguraga Migazo' is a human name."

"Indeed. At least, no Nara have ever been able to find anyone with the name 'Uguraga' or 'Migazo' in our library archives. So check."

"Ironically, the shadows do not match the light source, despite Shigure not using ninjutsu."

"Check."

Those were the easy ones. Kei needed to concentrate now. She did not want to use the Frozen Skein, not on a puzzle she was capable of solving herself.

"Gōketsu, if you're struggling—"

Kei almost told him to be quiet and give her space to think, but then a superior alternative came to her. Something taught to her and Hazō by the late Captain Minami, whose death she must never analyse in further detail.

Kei put her hands together in front of her. Processing; do not disturb.

Nara fell silent instantly. There was a flicker of something in his eyes, but Kei's social skills were not sufficient to interpret it.

Where was the other one? The landscape, while a hideous abomination that hopefully resembled no earthly place, was nevertheless consistent in its hideousness. The figures were appallingly proportioned, but that was not an error as such. Was it their postures? Their expressions? Their equipment?

Kei was distantly aware of a member of gallery staff approaching her as she stood perfectly still.

"Miss, are you—"

The woman noticed her hands, bowed in apology and retreated. Some things about the Nara, it would seem, were universally known.

Things about the Nara…

"The kunai holsters," Kei said. "All armed Nara I have observed keep their holsters on the left, where other shinobi keep them on the right. Since it is vastly improbable that all Nara are left-handed…"

"Check," Nara said in an impressed voice. "As it happens, my clan has a disproportionately high proportion of left-handers, but this way of carrying holsters is part of our standard combat style."

"That was reasonably entertaining," Kei said. "If there are other similarly inaccurate paintings here, perhaps we could make it a competition?"

-o-

"Are you quite certain about this café, Nara?" Kei inquired warily. Not that she was a catering expert, but statistically speaking something was awry when a dining establishment in a central location had no other customers at the peak of lunchtime.

"I am certain of nothing," Nara admitted. "I do not eat out except when compelled by my family or my team for some social purpose or other. However, this place has Shiori's seal of approval, and she's even gone to the trouble of providing meal recommendations."

"You trust her judgement, then? Despite her choice of art?"

"She may be a touch overbearing, but she is also both diligent and thoughtful. I am confident that she researched local cafés extensively before settling on this one."

"Sir, Madam," the waiter approached, "two orders of flambéed chakra wolf intestines with fresh wild cabbage. Please enjoy your meal."

"Hmm," Nara said after a bite of his wolf intestines. "Mushy yet unchewably solid. An accomplishment of sorts."

"Indeed," Kei agreed, "and I do not believe they finished slaying the wild cabbage before serving it. Even now it is attempting to exsanguinate my chopsticks."

"Is that what it is?" Nara asked calmly. "By contrast, these intestines appear to have been incinerated by Fire ninjutsu, then doused using very dilute porridge. If nothing else, the taste is unforgettable."

"Perhaps you could seek aid from the Yamanaka?" Kei suggested, the rest of her attention occupied with locating the cabbage's core so as to deal it a deathblow. "Surely this is a case worthy of calling in favours."

"I will seriously consider it. But first, I believe a refund is in order."

Kei raised her eyebrows. "Surely, by clan heir standards the meal was not so expensive as to warrant unnecessary social interaction with strangers?"

"A natural instinct, I know," Nara said, raising his arm to flag down a waiter. "But this is something you must learn now that you're part of a great clan, Gōketsu. Every interaction is, on some level, a play for status. Acts of submission by senior clan representatives such as ourselves, even in trivial matters, accumulate to the detriment of the clan. The more such micro-conflicts you lose, the more drastic action will be needed to restore your status further down the line.

"This is one of many reasons why I prefer to stay in the compound."

It did not take long for a waiter to approach, perhaps in part because they had literally nothing else to do.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"This meal was unsatisfactory," Nara said in a colder voice than Kei had heard from him so far. "You will provide us with a refund."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Please forgive our humble establishment."

The waiter fled, if in a reasonably dignified fashion.

"You did not explain the manifold flaws of the food to him," Kei observed.

"Don't justify yourself unless it's important that the other person understand you correctly," Nara said. "Justifying yourself is an invitation for the other person to judge your reasons, and thus to judge you. A representative of a great clan has to act as if they are beyond judgement, otherwise they'll be too busy dealing with other people's criticism to get anything done. If you want criticism, which in principle you should, make sure you get it from those who have already proved themselves to you."

Kei nodded. "The Mori did not furnish me with this kind of education. I feel as if I should be making notes."

"This is common sense for clan heirs," Nara said. "Come to think of it, the Gōketsu are freshly elevated. I don't know if the Hokage, with his orphan background, would remember to teach you something like this.

"Perhaps I should check the library for a brief primer. It shouldn't be too hard to sell someone a few hours to have them copy one out."

"That would be very kind of you," Kei said. "In more immediate terms, however, we are still without lunch. Do you have any alternative locations in mind?"

Nara took a few seconds to think. "Did I mention that I seldom leave the compound? I mean, I suppose there is one place I know well, but… no. Entirely inappropriate."

"Nara?"

Nara studied her face. "Well, no time like the present, I suppose. Gōketsu Keiko, I am aware of a location a couple of streets away that consistently provides satisfying, nutritious food. However, it is a somewhat low-class establishment, especially compared to the one we are now vacating, and I am hesitant to suggest it on an excursion such as this. Please do not feel under any pressure to accept this suggestion. I will not be offended or otherwise emotionally harmed by a refusal, nor should you feel compelled to come up with an alternative idea merely because you reject my one. At the same time, while I have described it as a low-class establishment, I do endorse it, such that you accepting the suggestion would in no way reflect negatively on you.

"Is that a reasonable approximation of the technique?" he asked in a more Nara-like voice.

Kei nodded. "What establishment are you recommending?"

"Ichiraku Ramen. Unless noodles aren't to your liking?"

"Nara," Kei said meaningfully. "Over the past two years, I have frequently partaken of edible tree roots, live grubs, and microscopic pieces of deer that still smelled of exploding tag. Please, lead me to this promised corner of the Pure Land."

-o-

"Was it to your satisfaction?" Nara asked one glorious meal later.

"I may have overeaten," Kei admitted. "Eating here has made me feel as if I now contain the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox, its size as portrayed in that abysmal painting."

"Sorry about that," Nara said. "I should have warned you about the portion sizes. If it makes you feel better, I had the same experience the first time Naruto dragged me here."

"What is next, dare I ask, on your assistant's itinerary?"

Nara pulled out the small scroll. "'A romantic walk through Senju Memorial Park. Don't forget to hold hands!'

"All in favour of striking this item from the list and forgetting it ever existed?"

"Aye," Kei said flatly.

"Good," Nara said. "Having to follow romantic cliches is a flavour of troublesome I have no desire to sample.

"But that is the last item. Shall we call it a day here?"

"As it happens," Kei said, "contemplating your assistant's approach to composing this list has given me an idea. Since you rarely leave the compound, would I be correct in inferring that you also rarely visit shops?"

"You would."

"Then allow me to introduce you to a place Akane recommended to Hazō, and Hazō in turn mentioned to me. You may find it illuminating."

-o-

"How can there be so many?" Nara gazed at the shelves in wonder. "Are they all analogous to the one our teams played together?"

"Not at all," Kei said. "I have now experienced a variety of board games and roleplaying games, yet I am given to understand that my knowledge is but a drop in the ocean."

"Sensible Optimiser, Ninjutsu Samurai, Settlers of Snow Country… Were it not for the social requirement of board gaming, I would be inclined to experiment with a few of these."

"There are solitaire rules for many games," Kei said. "As well as other variations. I would like to draw your attention to this one, for example."

A younger, more innocent Kei would never have thought of this. It was almost certainly all Mari-sensei's fault for corrupting her. It was also more directly her fault for explaining to Kei the various possible reactions to her Nara marriage, and the motivations behind them. Now, however, all the mental pieces were in place, and Kei had found her inner Mari-sensei's temptation too much to resist.

Nara cautiously extracted the slim box, having been taught by a close call of the potential for box avalanches. Kei wondered how those without shinobi reflexes were expected to survive such disasters unharmed.

"Focused Dominance, for one to two players. It appears to be a variant of the game we played."

"I was thinking that it would make an appropriate thank-you gift for your assistant," Kei said innocently. "She has worked very hard for you, results notwithstanding. And of course, if she chooses to play with you, the extra practice will make you an even more challenging opponent during our gaming nights."

Nara examined the text on the back of the box. "That is an excellent idea, Gōketsu."

"Thank you. If you give me one second, I would like to add my own thank-you note."

Dear Nara Shiori, thank you for arranging such an enjoyable day out. I hope this gift will help you attain a better grasp of strategy. Cordially yours, Gōketsu Keiko.

"You know, Nara," Kei commented as they left the shop, "this outing has been considerably less tedious than I had originally anticipated. I find I would not be averse to repeating it."

"Me neither," Nara said. "You are surprisingly untroublesome for a woman. Then if you are amenable, I may call upon you again at some point in the future, ideally after I have finished researching the vulnerabilities of the wild cabbage."

Kei snerked.

"Well, then, milord, will you escort me home?"

-o-

The next day…

Kei envied Shiori's agency. To so effortlessly arrange two people's lives for a day despite her lack of overt influence…

Meanwhile, here Kei was, unable even to take control of her own life. Stolen, guided, recruited, chosen, adopted, traded… Sometimes Kei doubted that the Frozen Skein was truly responsible for her lack of initiative, as opposed to it being yet another of her own failings.

But there had been an exception once, she remembered. A shining, glorious exception. And now Shiori's manipulation had made her wonder if there could be one more.

"Mari-sensei," she opened tentatively, "I find myself lacking specialised training, and it has occurred to me—"

"You want to go see Tenten," Mari-sensei said immediately.

"I… yes, but why…?"

"Excuse me? Just who do you think you're dealing with, Keiko? I'm Gōketsu Mari, which incidentally sounds even more badass than 'Inoue Mari'. I can read you like an open book. With me having the Byakugan. And you being a book I know off by heart. Actually, the Byakugan's probably better with scrolls than books, but let's not get stuck on the details. You want to go see Tenten."

"Yes," Kei said. "To train."

"To train," Mari echoed. "Well, you can't go out like that."

"Why not?" Kei looked down at her training clothes. They were perfectly functional, with an assortment of standard equipment, and shaped for easy mobility. She told Mari-sensei as much.

"Oh, Keiko. There's functional and then there's functional. Take it from me, seducing somebody on the battlefield is no different to seducing them in the bedchamber—everything you do matters, and the most subtle details can make the difference between miserable failure and highly pleasurable success."

"I—I am not planning on seducing anyone!"

"Sure you're not," Mari-sensei said slightly condescendingly. "You know, I feel like this ought to be a good time to introduce you to the wonders of makeup." She put a finger to her lips contemplatively. "Oh, wait. That's no good if you're planning on getting all hot and sweaty together."

"Mari-sensei!"

"Well, your current outfit won't do. You've got five minutes to get your stuff—we're going clothes shopping!"

"Mari-senseiiii!"

-o-

The only good part of the cavalcade of torment that was clothes shopping with Mari-sensei was that it had given them an opportunity to send a message to Tenten to check that she was in fact available for a training session, and thankfully receive a positive reply. If her torturous experience had turned out to be for nothing, Kei would likely have dropped a pangolin on someone.

Instead, here they were. Alone together in the Training Grounds. Mercifully sans Rock Lee, Hyūga or Maito Gai. Kei could only hope that they would not turn up at an inopportune moment. Or any moment. In fact, their permanent absence from her life would only be a boon, though she supposed Tenten's opinion might be more nuanced.

What would Tenten think of her new uniform? The accentuated red and black, ostensibly there so her enemies couldn't see her bleed, was something Kei nevertheless felt belonged on a decorative dress rather than combat gear. What if Tenten found it unnecessarily ostentatious, or worse, girly? What if her impression of Kei was irreversibly damaged by what would seem like a frivolous clothing choice?

The concern was—probably—unwarranted. Tenten acknowledged her outfit with a single look, either approving or simply noting a fact, and then wordlessly handed her a stack of practice shuriken.

Tenten, of course, was wearing her standard uniform. It would have been ridiculous to expect anything else. However… did her hair seem slightly neater than the last couple of times Kei had seen her? And her fingernails more carefully trimmed?

Kei knew Tenten's hands in enough detail to notice such things. She was one of the creepy obsessive stalkers that Mari-sensei said the Kunoichi Special had been invented for. She hoped Tenten couldn't tell.

"Today," Tenten said, "point-blank throwing to open up distance."

She looked at Kei, seeking affirmation. Kei nodded.

Tenten stepped in close, demonstrating a lithe, side-on stance, weight on the balls of the feet and knee joints unlocked.

Kei imitated her.

It was the beginning of an afternoon of patient but relentless training.

-o-

Finally exhausted, they'd returned to the same spot as before, possibly one of Tenten's favourites—lying down in the gaps between the twisting roots of a great oak, seeing glimpses of the sun through shifting gaps in the canopy.

Kei didn't fall asleep this time. It would have been a waste. Instead, she lay still, unable to see Tenten but keenly aware of the proximity of her presence, just the other side of a root separating their lines of sight.

It was peaceful. Peaceful in a way that another person's company shouldn't have been. Did Tenten feel the same? She suspected so, somehow, but there was no way she could possibly tell. It wasn't that they were unable to understand each other. It was more that Kei did not understand what she understood, or how she understood it. Like magically speaking a foreign language she did not know, the words becoming incomprehensible to her the second they left her mouth. It was irrational, and confusing, and it should have had her paralysed with anxiety. And still there was that sense of peace.

Would words make it better or worse, she wondered. Tenten avoided speaking, that much was obvious. To someone like Kei, who could only make sense of the world by trapping the unknown within a cage of words, it was an unimaginable way of life. How could Tenten live this way? And why?

"Poor verbal skills."

Tenten's voice. Neutral, detached, somehow ethereal.

"My conversations don't work. People get frustrated. They reject me."

A brief pause.

"It's too much."

It was not difficult to imagine that anyone spending a significant amount of time in Tenten's presence would ask the question. But Kei could not begin to guess how Tenten knew that she was asking it now.

"The silence changed," Tenten said as a seeming afterthought, an explanation that did not explain anything.

Keiko stayed still, her gaze still semi-consciously seeking the sun behind the leaves. Her heart was beating fast. She knew Tenten would have her own question, and that this was the time to answer it, but she was afraid—inexplicably afraid—of how Tenten might react.

"When someone touches me, I feel as if they are taking control of my body," she said to the leaves. "I panic."

Silence. Minutes and minutes of silence.

Tenten's voice.

"If you are ever ready."

Only that and nothing more.

Minutes.

Kei also had only one thing she could say. Only one thing she wanted to say.

"You too. If you are ever ready."

The words hung between them, intertwined. Like a promise. Like a pact.

For some reason, Kei's heart slowed to a peaceful pace again.

-o-

It wasn't the end of training, of course. Tenten took her self-appointed responsibilities as an instructor seriously, and Kei would not be one iota less dedicated. They ran, and threw, and evaded, and Tenten demonstrated stances and corrections and techniques, and she was better at everything in every way except when Kei managed to surprise her. Everything was exactly the same, except for the twelve words that had taken residence in the silence between them.

They had to stop eventually, too tired for the pinpoint accuracy Tenten's style demanded. Kei did not want to leave—of course she did not want to leave—but they were done training together, and she was out of excuses.

But it seemed she was not the only one who felt that way.

After they were finished collecting the stray shuriken and otherwise resetting Tenten's corner of the Training Grounds to a pristine state, but before Kei was able to say her farewells, Tenten gestured to her. An inviting wave, with that questioning look that said I would like this, but it is optional, the one Tenten gave her when suggesting activities at the start of training.

Kei took a couple of steps towards Tenten, indicating her willingness to follow.

-o-

Kei, used mostly to living in either clan compounds or makeshift shelters, was unprepared for the size of Tenten's flat. Literally a single room, with a bed in one corner and a tiny kitchen in another. Pale wooden walls that might never have seen better days, and a ceiling insufficient for a tall adult. Leaf's temporary missing-nin accommodations had been more luxurious than this.

If Tenten was embarrassed to show something like this to a stranger—or worse, someone whose opinion she cared about—then she concealed it well. Then again, that was an advantage of Tenten's mode of communication. That which she chose to express, she expressed clearly. Everything else, she did not express at all. (Though perhaps that was merely Kei's ineptitude at reading body language.)

Tenten indicated her kettle with an open hand. Kei nodded, accepting the offer, then looked around while Tenten was busy making tea.

There were many weapons decorating the walls. No, not decorating. Waiting to be used. That was the feeling they broadcast, of alert functionality rather than glamour. Kei did not doubt that Tenten was proficient with every one of those weapons, even the ones with forms Kei could not begin to identify, and that each was regularly taken off its hooks for practice. They had a sense of quality about them, almost of perfection, that made them feel as if they belonged to a different world than this apparently poverty-stricken flat.

There was a table in the middle of the room. Two chairs. (Only two chairs? Then Tenten did not invite her team here.) Bookshelves filled with scrolls and books. A solid-looking, secure chest. And on parts of the walls from which weapons must have been removed to offer pride of place… two enormous posters.

The one on the left was the most detailed diagram of the human anatomy Kei had ever seen. Every muscle, joint and bone was clearly labelled, not only with its name but with instructions. "Strike here to force a hand open." "The shape of this muscle makes it easy to sever." "These joints are weakest in older ninja." Kei thought for a second this might be Tenten's writing, unexpectedly broad and excitable, but then she noticed a circle drawn around the diagram's groin. "It is most unyouthful to strike here," the admonition read. Perhaps it was the voice of a certain young man's experience.

The other diagram, in some ways a mirror to this one, had a much less detailed image of the human body, but instead it was covered in blue lines and red points. Kei had an inkling as to what it might represent, and her suspicions turned to certainty as she read the sharp, precise script. "Strike sharply at this angle with claw fingers to disable the upper arm." "Pinch to disrupt chakra flow and induce incapacitating pain." "Hold these two points simultaneously for a temporary anaesthetic effect."

There was a very small book, almost a pamphlet, on the low shelf between them, set in an exact position as if together the three objects formed an unreligious shrine. "Maito Gai's Guide to Attaining the Spirit of Youth". Kei was unconvinced that it had ever been opened.

Then the tea was ready.

Kei and Tenten sat opposite each other, each holding their cup of green tea.

Kei took a sip. It was nondescript.

Now, though they were not particularly close together, Tenten filled her field of vision, her silhouette set against the last of the sunlight shining through the window behind her.

In an ordinary place, between ordinary people, there would have been conversation.

Instead, the two girls sat in silence. And because there was silence, each of them had nothing to focus on but the other.

Kei's eyes traced Tenten's features. Never stopping in any one place, never staring, only moving over her face, her hair, her neck, down as low as her shoulders, then back up, in no particular pattern. Not even memorising. Only seeing.

She could tell Tenten was doing the same.

Their eyes met only occasionally and briefly. No gazing in each other's eyes, no forced contact. No expressed emotion. Only being continuously aware of each other.

Occasionally, one of them would drink some of their tea.

Tenten was within arm's reach, if Kei leaned over. Part of her longed to reach out and touch her, even as the very thought brought a discomfort that she knew would intensify to terror if she let it.

Was Tenten feeling something like this as well? Did their synchronisation reach that deep? Kei had no way of knowing. Tenten's mouth was very slightly open. Occasionally, her top teeth would touch her bottom lip. If it was a signal, it was one Kei could not begin to read.

They stayed like that, simply aware of each other, and only the words between them touched.

Then the sun set, and the tea was finished, and they were out of time.

Tenten looked at her as she held open the door. Again?

Kei's eyes flicked in the direction of the Gōketsu compound, then briefly but firmly settled on Tenten's. Yes. This time, for certain.

Velorien · Oct 20, 2017

Bonus Update: Accept no Substitutes

Nara hand signals omitted for conciseness.

"Shikamaru! Welcome back!" Shiori greeted him enthusiastically. It was quite late now, but the assistant did not go to bed before the master, and besides, she was too excited to sleep. "How was your day out with Gōketsu?"

She couldn't wait to hear it. A pair as utterly incompatible as those two could only be driven disastrously apart by having to face crisis situations in each other's company. Yes, it would probably be quite an unpleasant experience for Shikamaru, seeing the Gōketsu girl's flaws dramatically unveiled, but it was all for his own good in the long run. It was a personal assistant's job to consider this kind of thing.

"Surprisingly tolerable," Shikamaru said. "I found her to be mentally agile, composed and possessed of a pleasant dry wit. I can see myself spending extended periods of time in her presence without being driven to distraction. Thank you for the idea, Shiori."

Mentally agile. Composed. Witty. All features of Lady Yoshino's character that Shiori felt she lacked. The fires of jealousy, no, reasonable scepticism, began to simmer higher in Shiori's heart. How had her plan backfired so badly?

"N—Not at all," Shiori said uneasily. "Good for her, I guess." She cast about for a way to change the subject from Shikamaru's growing feelings for his bride-to-be. "Hey, what's in that bag?"

"Oh, this?" Shikamaru offered the bag to her. "It's a present I picked up for you. To thank you for all the effort you must have put in."

"A present?" Shiori breathed. "For me?"

"I must confess that it was Gōketsu's idea, but I approve of it wholeheartedly. I know you've never played a board game like this before, and I hope it will help you expand your horizons."

"Thank you, Shikamaru!" Shiori's smile must have covered half her face.

"Don't worry about it."

Shikamaru frowned. "There is something I want to ask you, however. Why exactly did you choose the most inopportune locations and activities possible for our itinerary? Given your usual competence, it comes across almost as an act of sabotage."

Shiori did not in fact have a ready answer for this. In her haste to free Shikamaru from the ill-matched marriage being forced upon him, she'd neglected to consider that she would be undermining his trust in her in the process. To claim drastic incompetence would significantly hurt her standing with Shikamaru, assuming he believed her at all and she was not hoist by the petard of his high faith in her abilities. But to admit that she was interfering with his love life was not an option. Lady Yoshino had even warned her not to be careless…

When in doubt, stall.

"It would be no fun to just tell you," Shiori gave a not-at-all-fake grin. "If you want to know… then… beat me in this game you just got me." Yes! Nice going, Shiori!

What was the game, anyway?

Shiori looked down into the bag, which contained a painted wooden box. Across the top, bold pink characters read, Forceful Domination: A game of sensual exploration for two adventurous adults.

Yes, she could feel her horizons expanding already.

"Sh-Shikamaru?!"

"What do you think?" Shikamaru asked as if nothing was amiss. "I know you've been bored of late, and looking for ways to expand your comfort zone."

"Urk."

"And while obviously you don't have to, I was rather hoping you and I could play it together at some point."

"Eep."

"Oh, there should also be a thank-you note from Gōketsu in there somewhere."

Shiori fished it out with shaking fingers.

Dear Nara Shiori, thank you for arranging such an enjoyable day out. I hope this gift will help you attain a better grasp of strategy. Cordially yours, Gōketsu Keiko.

Right. Gōketsu had picked this for her.

Gōketsu had picked this for her.

What.

Get it together, Shiori, she admonished herself. Analyse now, freak out later, one of many informal Nara mottos. This was the first direct communication between her and the enemy. It had to be full of valuable information.

That first line was pure unadulterated bitchiness. It basically said, "Nice try."

But the second one. That threw her for a loop. Help Shiori? A better grasp of strategy? Was Gōketsu, Shikamaru's fiancée, trying to help her seduce him? What could possibly be in it for her? She couldn't be… laying the groundwork for some crazy ménage à trois? Oh, Sage, Shikamaru's fiancée was a sexually deviant libertine with designs on Shiori's body. And Shikamaru knew this and was looking forward to spending extended periods of time in her presence. In their presence? Shiori's head was spinning.

No, wait, there was another, less mind-blowing interpretation. What if Gōketsu was saying, "Sleep with him all you like, as long as you resign yourself to being no more than a concubine"? "I'm willing to let you have his body since I'll be getting everything else"? Was this an assertion of dominance, Gōketsu trying to impose a clear division of roles ahead of the marriage?

It was not unknown for clan heads to have concubines. Not all political marriages involved pairings likely to produce powerful ninja offspring, and clans took that kind of thing seriously. Likewise, the Nara were very open-minded on the subject of mistresses, having long since grasped that the best way to stop extramarital relations from hurting the clan was to make sure people were doing them right.

It wasn't a terrible compromise. She'd get to stay by Shikamaru's side. She'd be able to receive his affection. She didn't know if the clan would ever approve someone like her to have Shikamaru's children, but the possibility was non-zero. Really, Shiori ought to fold, accept Gōketsu's generous offer and live out the rest of her life as a moderately happy second best.

All with that bitch sneering on her from above, monopolising Shikamaru's love and attention while feeding Shiori scraps from her table. Who did she think she was, deciding Shiori's future for her before the engagement had been so much as confirmed? Sending her seduction gifts, as if to imply that Shiori was incapable of getting anywhere without her help? Setting down a new status quo in a thank-you note, without the even minimal courtesy of talking to her face-to-face?

But Gōketsu didn't believe her victory was certain. If she did, she wouldn't be writing to Shiori, trying to convince her that she'd already lost. Even if the odds were stacked against Shiori, even if they were a million to one… by the Nara blood flowing in her veins, she would throw every ounce of cunning and every gram of courage into fighting for her true love.

Shiori steeled her resolve as she smiled at Shikamaru. "So tell me more about this game."

"It's essentially a territorial warfare game. You have to seize and hold your opponent's areas, and you receive points every round you have them under control. The game also gives each side asymmetric objectives, and accomplishing those allows you to use powerful new tools. Oh, and there are cards which allow you to surprise your opponent with actions that would normally be forbidden."

"Mmm," Shiori said in a slight daze.

"We played a much-expanded version of this game at the Gōketsu gaming night," Shikamaru added.

Shiori's train of imagination derailed.

"Haah?!"

"Oh, yes. It was quite an experience. My team played in random combinations with Teams Gai and Inoue, as she then was."

"Nngk." The train kept going, straight off a cliff.

"Lee and Ino were the first out. She couldn't handle his relentless enthusiasm, a feeling with which I sympathise fully, but also the way he insisted on showing the room everything she wanted kept hidden. She spent most of the rest of the night calming her nerves with herbal tea.

"Chōji and Asuma-sensei didn't last long either. Their play style was very standard and predictable—vanilla, you could say—and they ended up mishandling some very sensitive situations as a result. Meanwhile, Gai-sensei and Inoue didn't seem as focused on pursuing their own goals as on observing everyone else, but still managed to handle themselves quite well."

Shiori just stared, her powers of speech having failed her altogether.

"Wakahisa and Neji were much stronger competition. For all that they are usually at each other's throats, they were a surprisingly well-oiled team. I suppose they do say opposites attract. Fortunately, though, I found Kurosawa to be a creative and determined partner, and of course with extensive prior experience which he was willing to share. The four of us spent most of the mid- to late-game wrestling with each other, essentially taking turns coming out on top."

Shikamaru… with Hyūga… and two other boys…

"The end, however, was a complete upset. Mori and Tenten had spent most of the game doing their own thing, and lashing out violently at anyone who attempted to interfere… yet when the game ended, they were the pair furthest along the victory track."

Mori and Tenten? Oh hell. Shiori had been too quick to dismiss the ménage à trois theory.

"It was unexpectedly acceptable as social occasions go," Shikamaru reflected. "I wonder if Gōketsu intends to host any others."

Shiori's train of imagination lay at the bottom of the cliff in a million tiny broken shards of wood, like so many other abandoned Nara research projects. She had not realised until today just how different the lives of the nobility were.

"No need to look so confused," Shikamaru said reassuringly. "I know it's your first board game, but I assure you, with a little practice you will be as capable as any of us. Perhaps I can prevail on Gōketsu to include you in his next invitation."

"Aag." No, still no powers of speech.

"It's your game, obviously, so you can do with it as you wish, but if you're interested… perhaps we could give it a try tomorrow night?"

Shiori's mind was filled with white static. It was happening. It was actually happening. Shikamaru was asking her.

With all her power, she gave a definite nod, then left while her legs still supported her.

-o-

Shiori had spent most of the next day gathering her courage. This was an opportunity. The opportunity. If she could make Shikamaru see her as a woman, here and now, in the low-pressure context of a game where accidents and mistakes could be waved away… Yes, she would accept even the poisoned chalice handed her by the Gōketsu girl. And if it was apparently too late for her to be his first, well, she could still make sure she was his foremost.

They were in her room now. It was her first time having a boy in her room. Shikamaru was sitting cross-legged on the floor, not looking anywhere near as anxious as she felt. Then again, given how experienced with these things he'd turned out to be, that was no surprise. She hoped she could live up to his expectations.

"Are you ready for the unboxing?" she asked, the word sounding to her almost like a metaphor for something else.

"Sure, go ahead." Shikamaru looked at the part of the box visible from where he was sitting. "Hmm, this looks different from what I saw in the shop. I suppose the one on the shelves must have been a display model."

"Right," Shiori agreed vaguely, tentatively pulling off the lid. The inside… was a blinding treasure trove of adulthood.

"First things first," Shikamaru said briskly, "we should catalogue the pieces and make sure there's nothing missing. The last thing we want is to get to the end and find we can't finish because we're underequipped."

He reached in and began to pull out the contents, passing them to her mechanically one by one.

"Manacles, one set. Collar, with chain, one. Strip of cloth with a gap containing a wooden ball, one…"

If Shiori was honest, it was all a bit too advanced for her. She'd never played this kind of game before, in any sense. But no, that was no way for her to think. So she was a newcomer. So she had a long way to go to catch up. This was still something she had longed for, even if she could never have imagined that it would happen in this form. She studied Shikamaru. She studied the objects. Slowly but surely, in her mind's eye they began to dance with possibilities.

"Rope, silk, five metres. Wooden implements, assorted…" Shikamaru continued in that bored voice he used when his body was engaged in manual labour while his mind was elsewhere. Shiori would give a lot to know what he was fantasising about right now.

She blushed as one particular wooden implement, carved into a very unambiguous shape, passed from Shikamaru's hand to hers. A foreshadowing.

Shikamaru stopped as their hands touched. He looked at the implement, and then at some of the others he was holding, as if seeing them for the first time. "Wait. What the hell kind of variant ruleset is this?"

Shiori couldn't be the nervous first-timer now, not after everything Shikamaru was apparently used to. She reached down deep inside herself, figuratively speaking, seeking whatever powers of seduction she must have inherited from her ancestors—each of whom had at least been seductive enough to make sure she now existed. Even if it was only pretend, for one night surely she could be his equal, the beguiling temptress from the novels with the very bright covers.

"Don't worry, Shikamaru," she said languorously, toying casually with the implement. "Even if it's not quite what you're familiar with, I'd be more than happy to broaden our horizons together."

Shikamaru gave her an uncertain look. "Shiori, is this definitely the game I gave you?"

"Of course it is," she purred, "and I look forward to showing you how very grateful I am."

Shikamaru began to rifle through the box with a sense of urgency. More pieces of cloth and lacquered wood flew across the floor.

"Aha! The manual…" Shikamaru trailed off as he looked at the game's name emblazoned across the cover.

Shikamaru looked at her. Then at the implement she was absent-mindedly fondling as she looked back at him. Then at her again.

"EXCUSEMEI'VEJUSTREALISEDITISREALLYLATEANDI'MGOINGTOBED!"

"Wait for me!" Shiori called out as he bolted towards the door.

"Gyaaaaah!"

There was the sound of desperately running feet, a shutting door, and then the slamming of bars and bolts and more security features than she could imagine fitting into a single bedroom.

"Is this what they call playing hard to get?" Shiori plaintively asked the empty room.

-o-

"That's odd," the old man said as he compared the inventory to the ledger. "We seem to have one extra copy of Focused Dominance."

Then he looked at the ledger again.

"Oh. Oh, dear. Just as well the Nara are so open-minded."

-o-

"Good morning, Nara," Kei greeted the boy politely.

"Gōketsu," he said distantly, a thousand-yard stare travelling through her and out into the depths of the Training Grounds. Not that Kei was exactly a lover of early-morning joint training sessions, but she did feel his reaction was rather excessive.

Still, he was a rare sensible individual in a world of irrational suffering. The least she could do was attempt to distract him from his woes.

"How did you and Shiori enjoy the board game?" she asked.

Nara turned and gave her the most Kagome stare she had ever seen from somebody not named Kagome.

This was serious. Kei would have to apply extra effort.

"Please, tell me of your experience. Hold nothing back. I would be fascinated to hear every last detail."

The stare only intensified.

"How was the component quality? I recall that when we were missing-nin, we had to carve our own pieces in order to play. Fortunately, Kagome is a man of nimble hands, and particularly adept at carving objects out of wood."

No response.

"It is not so much an issue of direct resemblance," Kei hurried on, aware that she was beginning to ramble but also genuinely concerned by Nara's condition, "but of fitness for purpose. If they are convenient to handle and do not leave unexpected splinters, that is more than enough for a beginner. We were very fortunate to have Kagome, whose creations were smooth and pleasant to the touch, but I imagine even average-quality pieces should satisfy your needs if made by a professional."

"Gah," Nara said simply.

"Oh, but perhaps you find the material aspect too trivial. How was the game itself? Did you find your superior experience allowed you to dominate Shiori, or was she able to score consistently? If you felt there was a lack of balance, I am given to understand there are house rules which can provide a more personalised experience."

Kei's feelings of anxiety were intensifying. What good was she if she could not even provide a friend with a distraction? Surely there had to be something she could say…

"Perhaps you are dissatisfied with the initial choice of game—"

"There was no game," Nara said in the hollow voice of the dead. "I remember no game. Shiori remembers no game. There was no game."

"Oh," Kei said, at a complete loss. "Well, then… would you like to play with me at some opportune occasion? I am accustomed to using the one-player rules, but I would be happy to experiment with two, and I own the Seals of Binding expansion..."

Nara stared at her for five full seconds. Then he turned and staggered out of the Training Grounds. He was not seen again that day.

eaglejarl · Oct 23, 2017

Chapter 164: Missions and Messages

The Gōketsu compound, two days before leaving for the Chūnin Exams

"What youthful game shall be the focus of our youth tonight?!"

Jiraiya winced. "Keep it down, Gai, you'll disturb the neighbors."

"But Lord Hokage, the grounds of your compound are so youthfully expansive that your nearest neighbors are the Hyūga, and even their closest dwelling is a mile away!"

"Exactly." He pulled a wooden box out of the bag on the table. "As to what we're playing, a messenger brought this to Konoha almost a week ago with a 'happy housewarming' card. No signature, though."

"Who would have known that you needed a housewarming gift?" Sarutobi asked, frowning in concentration as he rolled himself a cigarrette.

"Dunno," Jiraiya shrugged. "Which is why it spent the last six days in the grubby paws of the Intel department. They went over every tiniest part of it, verifying that there's nothing wonky. They finally released it and I figured it might be fun to try it tonight." He lifted the lid and started laying out pieces from inside.

"You're unusually pouty, Shikamaru," said Akimichi, munching down another handful of the cheese popcorn that Mari-sensei had prepared. "What's wrong?"

Nara Shikamaru (Hazō had been very careful about addressing the invitations properly this time!) had folded his arms on the table and was resting his chin on his hands. At his teammate's words he flicked his eyes up for a moment. "Nothing," he grunted. "And I'm not pouty."

"You totally are," Yamanaka said, combing her fingers through her hair in a way that made Hazō distinctly nervous. "Usually you're just bored and condescending, but tonight you're pouty."

Shikamaru glared at her for a moment. "Board games," he muttered, "are troublesome."

Keiko shifted uncomfortably, drawing a raised eyebrow from Yamanaka.

"What—" the blonde girl began.

"Don't worry," Mari-sensei said, breaking in. "If this one doesn't work for you then we can always play poker...I know lots of variations."

Jiraiya looked at her suspiciously. "Mari."

"I do! There's Five Card Draw, Earth Country Hold 'Em—"

"Okay, okay," Jiraiya said, waving her off. "Fine. I thought you were suggesting...never mind."

Hazō's hands itched to reach out and snatch the rules scroll while the others were bantering. Another game system to ruthlessly exploit...er, explore. Thoroughly explore. The box was elegantly carved on all six sides, and clearly intended to be disassembled, probably to become game components. The insides were full of three stacked-up layers of heavy paper with elegant abstract designs drawn in blue and red, all folded like origami into a series of small pockets that each held elegantly carved pieces in wood and stone. And Jiraiya was taking much too long pulling out each individual piece.

"'Endemic Supremacy', huh?" Jiraiya said, unrolling the rules. "Sounds cool. Okay, let's see...."

o-o-o-o

Hazō stared in dismay at his cards for the round. Individually, they were fantastic, but they didn't work together at all. He had three powerful lightning jutsu, but none of his current ninja were lightning users. For characters he had drawn the Snail Queen and the Thunder Prince. The Snail Queen was a heavy hitter in melee combat, with a Comeliness score so high that she should have dominated social combat and allowed Hazō to crush the Supply phase. Unfortunately, she had no ranged options and her Disadvantages list included 'Addict', 'Dislikable', and 'Violent', meaning that her Diplomacy score was actually negative.

The Thunder Prince was another potentially great card that didn't do what Hazō needed. His basic stats had him as a bumbler, more of a joke character than anything fieldable. To balance that out his potential was sky-high, including the potential to learn all five elements and Sealing. Unfortunately, he had the 'Skirt-Chaser' disadvantage at level six, meaning that trying to team him with the attractive but violent Snail Queen would be a disaster unless Hazō could find a third teammate with a high enough Diplomacy score to mediate.

Tenten leaned forward to pick up the dice, and for just a moment a distorted reflection of her cards showed in the silver necklace she was wearing. Hazō's spirit soared as the entire game realigned around him.

"Trade. Jutsu Teacher," Tenten said, laying down both cards. She rattled the dice in her hand, preparing to throw.

"Hang on," Hazō said, trying not to sound gleeful as he slapped down his sole Espionage card. "My Intel service is going to double one of your agents from HQ." He held out his hand for the dice.

Tenten raised an eyebrow; Hazō hadn't played any Intel cards against her for three rounds, so he shouldn't have any idea what was in her hand. She only had four cards, so the chances of rolling low enough to actually pick one of them were small, and failure to do so would mean that his agent was caught and tortured for information. Of course, Hazō never rolled too high on Espionage attempts. She passed the dice over calmly, features utterly blank.

Hazō leaned hard on the Iron Nerve to keep his face still, because it kept trying to break out in maniacal laughter. Third from the left in Tenten's hand was the Reptile Lord, a high-Diplomacy ranged fighter whose 'General Instructor' ability allowed him to teach anything, including Sealing. Putting him on a team with the Snail Queen and the Thunder Prince would let the two work together and on the next turn the Thunder Prince could transform into the Thunder Lord, a character that was very much not a joke. The combination would crack the game wide open, and all Hazō had to do was roll a three on two dice. Two dice that he'd already rolled a three on.

He tossed the dice with casual flair and reached out for the card that would give him the game, only to stop in confusion when Tenten held up a hand. She pointed wordlessly at the dice.

A five and a four.

He blinked and looked again. No, he had actually rolled a nine. He'd intended to roll a three. Why were the dice saying nine?

Frowning, he swept the dice up and examined them closely. "These aren't the right dice," he accused. "You switched them."

"Prove it," Tenten said, sweeping up his Espionage card. Sighing, he held out his hand for her to take one of his cards. He winced when she snagged the Thunder Prince. Had that actually been a random pick, or had she known somehow?

"Hot tip, kid," Jiraiya said, grinning. "Try not to lean so close to your cards. Corneas are reflective and some people have good eyes. Especially people who have a habit of shooting the wings off flies at fifty yards."

"Oh come on," Hazō said. "You're pulling my leg."

"Sixty," Tenten said, utterly deadpan. She lay down the Thunder Prince, following it a moment later with the Reptile Lord. The entire table groaned.

"Explosive Assassination," Kagome-sensei grunted, flicking a card onto the table. "Reptile Lord."

Wordlessly, Tenten slapped down a Bodyguard, blocking the assassination.

Kagome-sensei glared at her and tossed out two more Explosive Assassinations.

Tenten played a Replacement Escape! card.

Kagome-sensei dropped another Explosive Assassination and three Battlefield Control Detonations.

Tenten tossed the Reptile Lord in the discard pile, not commenting on the way the ink on the third Battlefield Control Detonation glistened suspiciously.

Jiraiya was staring at Tenten's play area and frowning. "Let me see that," he said, snatching up the Thunder Prince card and peering close.

"What is it?" Mari asked, leaning close to see.

Jiraiya grunted in displeasure and slapped the card back in front of Tenten. "Whoever designed this ripped off the character design from the cover of Icha Icha: Warrior Heart, except they've got him wearing a chūnin vest with a Leaf forehead protector. Rude."

"There, there, dear," Mari-sensei said, patting his arm comfortingly and pecking a kiss on his cheek. "I'm sure it was intended as a gesture of great respect to your thinly-disguised idealized version of yourself."

Jiraiya grunted and then looked down at his cards. "Hey," he said. "Where did my Tiger Summon go?"

Mari-sensei shrugged innocently. "No idea. Tenten, were you finished?"

o-o-o-o

The eighth round was starting and things were not looking good. Tenten's control of Earth Country's mining bonus had made her the de facto weapons supplier for the rest of the table. Her alliance with Keiko meant that both countries were defended by genin kunai throwers with the Wind Country bonus, equipped with masterwork weapons and a Storm of Steel jutsu, most of them lead by chūnin- or even jōnin-level Weapons Mistress characters, all fighting from behind defenses built with the Earth Country defensive bonus. No one had tested the borders of either country since Neji's ill-fated Tengu Invasion had been shredded on turn four. Keiko and Tenten were trading metals and spices back and forth, steadily racking up economic points while keeping the rest of the players out of the western side of the overland map.

Jiraiya had firm control of the center of the board by virtue of having a complete political lock on the Land of Fire, achieved through the simple expedient of murderering every political figure in Fire except the Hokage. When he'd drawn the Hokage character card he'd been so amused to find that it had his face that he'd bent all his efforts to gaining control of the country. He was building up a steady lead on the research track, which was both giving him points and a steadily rising number of lethal jutsu with which to defend his position.

Hazō had opted to forego territory entirely and become a wandering clan, earning his points during the Mission phase. It gave him a steady supply of Espionage cards with which he stole resources from other players, both to disrupt their plans and further his own. After Tenten's trick he'd been careful to make sure that he knew which dice he was rolling. He'd stopped trying to steal from Kagome-sensei, though; no matter how many times you stole from him the man always had another Explosive Trap! card with which to destroy whatever you'd just stolen. Or worse, to destroy your Master Security Breaker card and cost you the critical +6 bonus that had been letting you cut through security defenses like soft cheese.

Mari-sensei was playing the merchant strategy, focusing on brothels and courtesans. It gave her one Espionage card per turn, a major income that allowed her to hire mercenaries for defense, and allowed her to play with her treasury face down. Hazō wasn't sure what her total was at this point, but the fact that she'd started discreetly moving money back to her Home Compound last turn strongly suggested that she was close to an economic victory.

Which, of course, made it all the sweeter. Hazō had been hoarding cards for the last three turns, waiting for her to pull her money together so that he could steal all of it at once, and now was his chance.

"Apprentice Thief," he said, tossing a card down. "Against your Home Compound, Mari-sensei."

She smiled. "Wall of Guards," she said, playing the card. With the eighteen-point boost from the Wall added to the Alertness of each of her nine guards there was no way that the Apprentice's measly Stealth skill would get him through her defenses.

"Drunkard's Fortune," Hazō said, grinning evilly as he lay the card atop his Apprentice Thief. It put a -4 penalty on the Apprentice, but for the rest of the turn Hazō was allowed to roll the dice as many times as he wanted for each challenge, adding every even roll to his character's total and subtracting every odd roll.

"Huh," Jiraiya said, frowning at the card.

"What is it?" Keiko asked.

"That's Old Man Shikagura," the Sannin said, pointing at the card. "He was a farmer on the edge of Fire. Me and the other two based out of his barn for about a month just before and then during the Second War. He was killed in the fighting."

Everyone digested that for a moment.

"Well, speaking of being killed," Hazō said, rolling the dice four times in quick succession and getting a twelve each time, "my Apprentice Thief has just cut his way through your Wall of Guards, Mari-sensei."

"Fine, well—"

"And you have a Forced Flooplan," Hazō hurried to add, laying the card down.

Mari-sensei groaned, but she grabbed the board components and flipped them around, linking them up as specified on the card to create the required map.

Everyone in Clan Gōketsu froze.

"Is it just me or does that look a lot like the first subbasement?" Noburi asked carefully.

"It is not just you," Keiko said.

Jiraiya cursed and grabbed for the box. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled, pulling the three origami-folded casings out. Each one was a single enormous sheet of paper, folded up into an origami shape that looked like a flat plane with small wells of various sizes scattered randomly across its surface, each intended to hold one subset of the game's pieces. Lines had been traced across the paper before it was folded, giving each of the casings an attractive and unique abstract pattern.

Jiraiya studied the patterns for a moment, spinning the casings around to see them from various angles. He turned the first one over, then pivoted the second ninety degrees and set it down on top of the first so the left half of the second overlapped the right half of the first; they interlocked perfectly. The third one interlocked with the second, providing a rectangle two feet wide and a foot high.

Jiraiya studied the result carefully for thirty seconds, then reached in and flipped some of the origami flaps up and over to reveal their undersides. The abstract patterns coverings the casings' surfaces suddenly clicked into a coherent design that sent Kagome-sensei scrambling away from the table.

"That's a seal blank," Hazō said, his voice full of the calm that every sealmaster was trained to show when it looked like things were about to go seriously sideways. "Except there's no regulator and the third intake is crossfeeding on the second."

"Yeah," Jiraiya said grimly. "To be precise, it's a blank for the seal that I designed while dead drunk on the night that Tsunade, Orochimaru, and I came back to find that Old Man Shikagura was dead. Tsunade was asleep at the time, I was on guard duty, and Orochimaru was keeping me company while we killed our third bottle. I started screwing around with seals, talking about how ninja had all these crazy powers but we still couldn't keep people safe. Orochimaru and I passed out before I actually infused it, and I destroyed the pattern in the morning."

Silence reigned.

"What does it mean?" Mari-sensei asked.

"It means that an old friend has something to tell me that he doesn't want anyone else to know about," Jiraiya said grimly. "And that the Intel department is about to lose a lot of sleep."

XP AWARD: 0

Author's Note: When you departed for Mist the Intel department was still trying to find a code in the game components, much less crack it.

Voting for the next chapter ends on Wednesday, October 25, 2017, at 12pm London time.

Velorien · Oct 25, 2017

Chapter 160.X: Knowing Where You Stand

In the Leaf teams' fort, the final night of the first event…

"If I am the filthy foreigner this time, Gōketsu, then why were you the one who spent most of your time cowering in the barracks like a rat while I was the one out on the streets inspecting your so-called village?"

Noburi inwardly winced. Hyūga was gradually improving. Not as a human being—even the Sage would've given up on that one as a lost cause—but his banter was getting to the point where in ten years' time he might be a quarter as witty as he thought he was.

Noburi's mind was blank, though. It was a horrible sensation. He couldn't let Hyūga score a point here, not only because that would be like getting savaged by a limpet, but also because somehow or other the two of them had become the evening's entertainment. Several bored genin were idly listening in, including girls, and Noburi couldn't bear to lose face before an audience.

"Noburi," Keiko, his angel of salvation, called out to him from behind. "Might I have a word with you?"

"Saved by the belle!" Noburi grinned. "Take note, Hyūga, this is what it's like to have girls talk to you of their own free will!"

He followed Keiko, giving Hyūga no chance to retaliate.

"So what's up?" he asked after Keiko led them to a quiet corner of the fortress.

Keiko shuffled her feet uneasily.

"Noburi," she said in the even, Academy lecturer-like voice she adopted when using the Clear Communication Technique, "there is a matter I have been avoiding dealing with after it was recently brought to my attention. However, with events moving at unpredictable speeds, I believe it would be beneficial for us to address it now, both to clear a firm foundation for our futures, and to prevent one or both of us from being made to suffer by what those futures may contain.

"If you are not comfortable discussing this matter, I by no means intend to compel you to do so, and I would like to emphasise immediately that I am approaching it without any intent to judge. I also wish to apologise in advance for my inevitable mishandling of a sensitive topic, but please believe that I have only the best of intentions."

Noburi was getting a very, very bad feeling about this.

"So what's this terrifying topic of doom, then?" he asked, hearing bravado in his own voice.

"Noburi, do you have romantic feelings for me?"

Oh, hell.

From the bottom of his heart, Noburi wished Yamanaka Neira would die in a fire. Or rather, that she'd died in a fire years ago and not been there to stab her long fingernails into other people's wounds in the name of Chūnin Exam preparation.

What was the point of talking about this? He already knew he didn't stand a chance any more than Keiko herself had stood a chance with Mari-sensei. He'd known for a long time. He wasn't even the right gender.

But Keiko was waiting. He wasn't going to lie and say no. That would be stupid. She already knew—it was the only reason why she'd think to ask at all. And sometimes, when the chips were down and your escape had been cut off, even against impossible odds the only thing a real man could do was stand and fight.

He was doing this.

"Keiko," he said, his voice filled with all of the strength and courage and forthrightness ever possessed by Wakahisa or Gōketsu Noburi, "I've had a crush on you ever since the Swamp of Death. Since just before the Swamp of Death, actually, when we were together in the Support Unit. I would sit outside the tent maintaining my barrel, and listen to you talking logistics with Sumie-sensei like you were holding the world in the palm of your hand and turning it back and forth until you found the angle you wanted.

"I wanted to see the world the way you did, from up high and taking in every detail, instead of being stuck down here where I was a mediocre kid with nothing to offer anyone except his bloodline. To be brilliant like you. Or at least to be next to you while you were being brilliant."

The words were pouring out now, without effort, and without confidence that he could stop them if he tried.

"You have an incredible mind, Keiko. I knew that from the start. But you're more than that. You're brave. You're rational under pressure. You don't take nonsense from anybody, even if they're a hundred times bigger than you and covered in armoured scales. You're funny, and you have a deadpan most people would kill for. You're caring to the core. And you're crazy strong, to keep going the way you do even when you're hurting.

"And you're beautiful. I don't think you have any idea how beautiful you are. You have a perfect slim figure. Deep, expressive eyes. Lips that—uh, forget the lips. You move with this effortless precision, like you know without thinking exactly where every part of your body ought to go, and once you've put it there, you don't waste energy moving it any more."

Noburi and Keiko gazed at each other silently.

"That's it," he said after a few seconds. "I'm done."

"Noburi…" she said softly, eventually. "Thank you."

She fell silent, her expression focused. Probably choosing her words. Even though Noburi knew exactly what was coming, part of him was still cold with fear.

"You are a precious friend to me," Keiko finally said. "You are one of a tiny handful of people who have earned my loyalty and trust—across my entire lifetime. I could not have imagined, even a few months ago, that the whims of fate would bestow me with brothers by adoption, but I do not regret that one of them was you.

"But however much I appreciate your feelings, Noburi, I cannot return them. I am sorry."

"It's OK," Noburi said, feeling the finality of it wash over him. "I always knew."

"Is there anything I can do to help you get over me?" Keiko asked anxiously. "I could… I could present you with a categorised list of my major and minor flaws! Perhaps if you became aware of the many ways in which your perceptions of me are inaccurate…"

"Keiko," Noburi found himself laughing despite it all. "For somebody with a brain the size of a planet, you can be really dumb sometimes. And besides, trying to solve complex interpersonal issues by making lists is Hazō's shtick."

Funnily enough, maybe Keiko being Keiko was what he'd needed to hear. Like a reminder that the world hadn't changed after all.

"I do feel better now," he told her. "Lighter, almost. Funny, huh?"

"You are a stronger person than I, Noburi," Keiko said wryly. "Do you recall how I behaved in the aftermath of my unplanned confession to Mari-sensei?"

"How could I forget? But you were in love with Mari-sensei. That's like playing your first game of Yōkai Tales on Hell Difficulty. You've got the board filled up with evil spirits eating your face before you've even figured out the rules."

"Do not remind me," Keiko muttered.

"Eh, we got Hazō back for it, so it's all good. My point being, if I was in love with Mari-sensei, and accidentally confessed to her, and had a convenient otherworldly hole ready to open up and swallow me, you can bet I'd dive in headfirst.

"Anyway, Keiko, thanks for asking, and thanks for listening. I feel like I need some time to myself right now, but after that… maybe I'll be able to start moving on."

"I hope so," Keiko said. "If you ever do need that list, I assure you it would only be the work of a few minutes, at least for the major flaws."

Noburi gave her his finest despairing look, Keiko responded with an innocent "Just saying…" shrug, and that was when Noburi started to believe that maybe being "just friends" could be the first step to being "friends for real".

-o-

Meanwhile, in another corner of the fort, two girls leaned back against a wall, looking up at the stars. Akane's arms were folded behind her, as if trusting more of her weight to the solidity of Hazō's walls, while Ino was more upright, one foot crossed over the other.

"Do you remember the conversation we had that night, Ino?"

Ino snorted. "How could I forget? I know we'd sort of been dancing around it all along, but still, way to blindside a girl."

"Sorry," Akane said. "I've got as far as being able to bring up hard topics. Knowing when and how to do it is a work in progress."

"No big, Akane. And I backed off, didn't I, just like you asked?"

Akane nodded. "You're a good friend, Ino."

"C'mon, don't start gushing on me now," Ino rolled her eyes. "I got where you were coming from, that's all."

"No, I mean it." Akane looked down from the heavens to Ino's face. "You kept visiting me in hospital so I wouldn't be alone after Hazō was banned from Leaf. And you kept hanging out with me even after I was discharged."

"You make yourself sound like a charity case, Akane. So I came by a few times. After the way Gōketsu fucked up, somebody had to pick up the pieces. I just happened to be someone who knew how tight you two were and had some time to spare. And then maybe I figured out that you're decent company now you've chilled out on all the youth stuff. I wasn't doing any of it because I was trying to be nice to you."

"Of course you weren't," a small smile tugged on the edges of Akane's lips. "What was I thinking?"

"So," Ino said more cautiously, "if you're bringing up that talk we had, does that mean…"

"Things have been very… stable since Hazō came back to Leaf," Akane said. "Peaceful. Consistent. Happy. I don't mean the world, I just mean him and me.

"Not that I'd mind a little change," she added. "There is such a thing as being too much of a gentleman." She glanced at Ino. "Oh, sorry, TMI."

Ino gave her an ironic look. "You haven't told him that you feel that way? And here I thought your whole thing was that you put everything into words where normal people just use signals."

"So I'm embarrassed," Akane said with a tinge of annoyance. "Nobody's perfect. And I wouldn't count on signalling where Hazō's concerned anyway. Can we move on?

"What I want to say is that I trust our relationship more now. It feels grounded. And I trust you more. I think I have a better handle on the kind of person you are now, and as I say, you're a good friend."

"Seriously, quit it, Akane. You're making me blush."

Akane took a deep breath. "And I trust myself more as well. You remember what a sorry mess I was in hospital. I feel like I'm still missing a lot of pieces, but I know that the Power of Youth hasn't gone anywhere just because I've lost touch with it. And I know that when I need it, I'll find a way to tap into it again without losing sight of who I am or who I want to be."

Ino gave her a look of mixed awe and sarcasm the way only Ino could. "I'm never going to get used to the way you can say this stuff with a straight face. You're like Maito Gai if he was more grown-up and less batshit crazy."

"I think I'll take that as a compliment," Akane smiled. "What I'm trying to say, Ino, is that I think you can… un-back off now."

"Are you sure?" Ino asked seriously. "Because hurting you? Not on my agenda. If I start having things to feel guilty about, I'll end up as gloomy as Shikamaru, and then you might as well kiss Team Asuma goodbye."

"Yes," Akane said, gently but without hesitation. "I'm sure."

"You know this might not change anything, right? Gōketsu and I are just playing around. Maybe we'll decide we're OK just playing around. Maybe I'll decide he's not my type. Or maybe he'll have his brain eaten by chakra parasites and decide I'm not the hottest, most amazing girl in the Elemental Nations—no offence."

"None taken," Akane said with a resigned familiarity. "I'm not trying to poke my nose into your and Hazō's business, not more than I have to. But if you two do decide to date, all three of us are going to have to face a metric tonne of complications. I'm nothing on the political scale, but you're a clan heir, and Hazō's either heir or second after Noburi. You probably know better than I do how much trouble we'll be in if either of your clan heads decides they don't want us together.

"If you two end up dating, if we end up facing that, then I want our relationships with each other to be rock-solid when it hits. That's what I'm trying to set up for now. That's why I'm putting everything out in the open. Maybe you two will decide you're better off as friends, and then none of this will matter. Maybe the three of us will try to do the thing, and it just won't work. Maybe it'll turn out there was no need for me to take everything so seriously. But to me, I think being youthful means doing the best job I can, so that no matter what happens, I won't have any regrets."

Ino stood there for a while, saying nothing, thinking.

"You know," she said eventually, "until you guys came along I never thought I was a sucker for the serious types. I mean, look at what I had to work with. Shino? Sasuke? Shikamaru? Ugh. Well, Sasuke's smoking hot, so there's that, but I couldn't date a guy who doesn't know how to smile.

"I'm not going to make any promises. Gōketsu's cool, but, no offence to you as his girlfriend, he can be such a dork. And as Leaf's most eligible bachelorette, I've cool guys queuing up to date me by the dozen.

"Still," Ino turned to face Akane full-on, "it's a good feeling, knowing that you've got my back."

-o-

Kei was crossing the exact middle of the fort to see if Hazō had a better whetstone she could borrow when the most troublesome of troublesome men, as Shikamaru would doubtless have it, intercepted her like a green anaconda intercepting a tapir.

"You know, Gōketsu," Rock Lee addressed her out of nowhere, "I've taken far too long to congratulate you."

"Congratulate me?" Kei repeated uncertainly. "On what?"

"Why, you and Tenten, of course!" he beamed.

An icy hand of horror began to close around Kei's heart. "Wh—What about me and Tenten?"

"I want to congratulate you on the development of your relationship!"

Behind Lee, Tenten had frozen in place, like an animal not knowing whether the rustling in the bushes was predator or prey.

Their relationship? Kei did not even know if it could be called that. They had not put a name to it, the ephemeral bond weaving itself into place between them. It could come to nothing. It could dissolve itself into simple friendship. It could plunge further into uncharted waters. It was unlike anything Kei had experienced before. She did not even know how much of it existed and how much was her imagination. She and Tenten were dancing, magically synchronised so far, but neither of them knew what would happen when the music stopped.

Around them, everybody else was watching, silent, staggered at the revelation. Hanging onto Rock Lee's every word. It was known, after all, that Lee's more questionable antics were directed solely against fellow men, and that gave his words a perverse kind of credibility here.

"I could tell the potential for it was there the first time we all trained together," Rock Lee went on, each word another tongue of flame in her cremation. "It was in the way you stood, in the way you two looked at each other. I am so happy that you ended up following your instincts in this most youthful direction!"

She could deny it. It would be the easiest thing in the world. Her word against Rock Lee's. She was the serious, level-headed one. He was the hyperactive clown. A few well-chosen words, and this incident would dissipate into eye-rolling and friendly exasperation.

It was the most sensible course of action. She was not ready to bare it to the world, this connection she did not understand herself. Not ready to come under scrutiny, or be bombarded with the weight of other people's expectations.

She could not even predict how they might react. Two girls. It was something you could laugh about. Inappropriate pairings were a common source of humour at their age. But actually outing oneself as deviant to the entirety of Leaf?

Someone like Mari-sensei could be casual about her preferences, with her force of personality and her gift for navigating the swirling chaos of the social world. Indeed, that kind of flexibility was only a boon to a seduction expert, and many sexual adventures could be dismissed by the public as her simply keeping her hand in.

Neither Kei nor Tenten were Mari-sensei. They would be judged by the standards of their peers, which a social invalid like Kei could grasp nebulously at best. What if they faced contempt? Bewilderment? Revulsion? They might lose friends, and the ability to make any more.

But then she looked at Tenten, whose stony, emotionless expression she could somehow recognise as concealed panic. What would a denial do to her? If Kei rejected her, even temporarily, even as a lie, how much damage might be done that she could not undo? How much might she hurt her? How deeply might she cut? Kei, herself pitifully fragile, knew that some words remained like stingray barbs embedded in your mind. They were beyond the reach of apology or forgiveness. There were words that could not be forgotten, could not lose their venom, as long as even a tiny part of you believed that they were true.

So she made her choice. She walked past Rock Lee, walked to Tenten, chose a position at her side. She crossed her arms.

"Any matters between Tenten and myself are our private business, and I will thank you to keep your unsolicited speculations to yourself," she said with a fierce glare, telling him that if he pushed further it would be open war. Kei did not know what she was protecting, did not truly know that there was anything there to protect, but with Tenten weaponless in the social arena, it was Kei's responsibility to fight for them both.

Rock Lee did not back down.

"There's no need to be embarrassed," he said cheerfully. "I know this might all be new to you, but as your seniors we would love nothing more than to guide you."

Kei blinked.

"Why, Gai-sensei has decades of experience which he has kindly shared with me. And Neji and I were in a similar relationship for years before our interests took us in different directions."

"Lee," Hyūga said wearily, "I've told you time after time that I dislike that phrasing."

By now everyone was goggling at Rock Lee except Hyūga and Tenten (who had a look of dawning understanding).

Lee looked at Hazō. "You and I must step up our pace, Gōketsu. At this rate, we will be the ones left behind while the others revel in the Springtime of Youth!"

Hazō choked as the stunned gazes shifted to him.

"This is a better outcome than I could have hoped for when we first met," Lee concluded. "Now every member of Team Gai has a true rival in Team Gōketsu!"

You could have heard a pin drop.

One… two… three…

"Sage damn it, Lee!"

"I can't believe I wasted precious energy listening to that."

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

Yamanaka, not bothering with words, simply strode over and smacked Lee upside the head before returning to the rest of her team.

Kei, meanwhile, interpreted the situation as a shinobi would. Rock Lee had to be eliminated. He knew too little.

She was turning away with deliberate nonchalance, ready to resume her duties, when Tenten moved so as to be within her line of sight.

In Tenten's eyes, she saw a primal thunderstorm of disparate emotions, compacted down to a single message for her.

Yes.

The world stopped spinning on its axis as she understood.

Kei had just gone and made it real.

eaglejarl · Oct 29, 2017

(Canon?) Interlude: Perception

Naruto swam back to consciousness and was promptly assaulted by the worst headache he'd had since Uncle Jiraiya decided to figure out how much it would take to get him drunk—strictly as part of his counter-intel training, of course. He moaned and pressed one hand to his forehead in a futile attempt to squeeze out the pain.

"You'll be all right," said a woman's voice that he didn't recognize.

He sat up fast, ready for a fi— He grabbed his head and moaned. Sage's ballsack, it was splitting in half!

"Move slowly," the woman said. She was sitting in a chair across from him, curled up with her legs tucked under her, staring at him with vague interest. Her hair was red with white streaks, her face was narrow, and she wore a long white kimono. She was no one he had ever seen.

"Where are we?" Naruto asked. "And who are you?"

"We are here," she said. "And I am myself. Who else would I be?"

He tried to glare but couldn't manage it, being too focused on the pain.

"What's up with my head?"

"It's torture."

He winced. "Look, lady, Hatake Kakashi has been one of my instructors since I was four, okay? I know all about mindgames and stupid answers to perfectly sensible questions. Now are you going to answer my questions or not?"

She frowned, confused. "I have."

Naruto groaned and pushed himself upright, doing a quick appraisal of his surroundings. Maybe this was another one of Uncle Kaka's test scenarios? The white-haired lunatic considered the words 'good training' synonymous with 'anything that sucks for Naruto'. The boy couldn't remember the number of times that he'd woken up to find himself in some sort of insane situation. One time he'd been stark naked in the middle of the woods, slathered in barbecue sauce with no idea which way was home. Another time, he'd been chained up in a trunk, which promptly got kicked off the side of a ship and started sinking fast.

Right now, however, he was in a small room, perhaps ten feet by ten feet. The walls were painted white and the only furniture was the bed he'd been lying in and the chair where the woman sat. There was one window, it was in the door on the wall opposite the bed, and it was blocked by a sliding metal plate on the outside. The door had no handle and the hinges were on the opposite side.

"Bad idea," the woman said, following his eyes.

"Oh? Why?" He doubted she knew the specifics of his plan—whoever she was, it was very unlikely that she knew of his skill with the Rasengan—but the general 'smash the door down and escape' idea was pretty obvious.

She looked at him the way you looked at very stupid children. "It's your door."

"Lady, you are really getting on my nerves. Either start making sense or get out of the way while I take a knife to that door." He cut a few handseals and raised his hand, pushing chakra into the spitting, swirling orb of the Rasengan—

Which completely failed to materialize.

He stared at his empty hand. That had never happened to him before.

"Ninjutsu doesn't work in here," she said.

"Thanks for letting me know," he grumped, right before another spike of pain went through his head. "Oh, Sage's swollen ballsack, what is going on with my head?"

The woman looked at him like he was the dumbest creature to ever besmirch the good name of the world. "It. Is. Torture."

"That's not helpful, lady. Ow." He sat down on the bed again, bending forward with his head clutched in both hands. It would have been nice to make a couple of shadow clones to hold his head closed for him.

She seemed to ponder that for a moment, the way a shogi master might ponder a Go puzzle.

"The Earth Rendering has besmirched the name of the Absent Death," she tried. "He claims his skills are faded and do not apply to the needs of communion. Death carves at the door to the great hall because the chancellor will not allow him to look through the window, but the daimyo is safe in his bed. The noise awakens him and he feels the pain of his castle for it is made of his bones. He attempts to summon a servant but the bell pull is not where he expects and he doesn't recognize that it is actually his hair because, again, the stones of the castle were carved from his bones."

Naruto looked at her for a moment. "Okay, that sounded batshit crazy. I've been trying and failing to dispel a genjutsu for the last minute and a half, so I have to assume that what I'm seeing is real, which means you're real—"

She shrugged, cocking her head to one side. "Perception."

He paused, thoughts derailed. "What?"

"My existence," she clarified. "Perception." She raised her left hand to about shoulder height. "Exist?" She lowered it and raised the right hand. "Don't exist?" She shrugged, dropping both hands into her lap. "Perception."

"Riiiight. Is this one of those things about how 'everyone has their own conception of reality that is real for them', or maybe 'a hallucination is still real to the person having it'?" He waited but there was no response. "Okay, well, for the moment let's assume you do exist, okay?"

"Okay. I exist."

He sighed, settling back on the bed and leaning against the wall. He was careful to keep one eye on the woman, just in case. She hadn't done anything threatening yet, hadn't even moved, but that didn't mean she couldn't. Now, time to back up and figure out what was going on.

"I remember being on the beach," he said slowly. "I just don't remember why."

"You were the worm for Little Turtle."

"..."

"You were the worm dangled in front of Little Turtle, but wrapped in steel so that he would break his jaws on you. He didn't, but all his friends did. Then the dawn came and ground you beneath bloody wheels. They unwrapped all your steel and flew away with you and Little Turtle in their claws. The bloody wheels tore open your brain and nightmares spilled out, so you ran to your innermost den and have hidden here ever since. You forgot to bring all of you with you, though, so conversations become circular once you fall through your empty head. I try to keep the path straight but there are so many threads to untangle and they all pull on each other when you move one of them. Straightness is very much a question of perception."

Naruto frowned, pieces coming closer together so that he could almost see the picture they formed. "Right...I was on the beach with Sensei, training with clones. Uncle Jiraiya was there, and Grandpa, and...ow." He whimpered as a particularly vicious spike of pain went through him.

"The Absent Death grows frustrated," the woman said sadly. "He has disappointed his master for so long and all of the papers are hurled to the ground in crumpled balls. Beware, for he is beginning to pry at the castle's foundations. If he does not stop soon then the donjon will collapse and the light of the ancient stars will be lost to the sky once more."

Naruto grunted, pressing tight on the sides of his head as the pain grew worse. "Lady, you are seriously three dango and a maki roll short of a bento box, you know that?"

She nodded. "It's true. Also, the box is inside out."

"Ye—aaagggh!" Naruto rolled to the floor, hands coming away from his head as an instant of visceral horror banished the pain to unimportance. "Grandpa, no! Look out!" He reached out, but there was nothing for it but to watch his funny, sweet, loving, insanely lethal grandfather get cut down by that fucking bastard with the ghost of a spiny turtle wrapped around him. The Naruto he remembered being surged to his feet but there was a noise from above him and suddenly he was flying through the air and the world became red agony and vanished under a tidal wave of his screams.

o-o-o-o

Naruto swam back to consciousness and was promptly assaulted by the worst headache he'd had since Uncle Jiraiya decided to figure out how much it would take to get him drunk—strictly as part of his counter-intel training, of course. He moaned and pressed one hand to his forehead in a futile attempt to squeeze out the pain.

"You'll be all right," said a woman's voice that he didn't recognize, speaking from just above him.

He sat up fast, a kunai appearing in his hand as he lunged forward to gut the looming threat. Less than six inches from her throat he collapsed, dropping the kunai and grabbing his head. Sage's ballsack, it was splitting in half!

"Move slowly," the woman said. She was standing over him, completely calm, with her hands folded behind her, staring at him with vague interest. Her hair was red with white streaks, her face was narrow, and she wore a long white kimono. She was no one he had ever seen.

"Where are we?" Naruto asked. "And who are you?"

"We are here," she said. "And I am myself. Who else would I be?"

Velorien · Nov 2, 2017

Interlude: Put to the Test

"How was your day, Keiko?" Mari-sensei smiled as Kei joined the rest of the clan at the dinner table.

It was a typical evening in the Gōketsu home. Kagome was attempting to convince Jiraiya of the merits of a new and improved security system for the compound. Jiraiya was attempting to explain the political repercussions of completely obliterating any stinker who so much as looked at the border of Gōketsu land without permission. Noburi was, or rather had been, chatting amiably with Mari-sensei. And Hazō… Hazō was too quiet, and had that gleam in his eye. Blood raining from the heavens as the very earth beneath her feet tore itself in twain would have been less ominous.

No, poor example. That would merely be a consequence of Jiraiya accepting Kagome's proposal.

Rather than dwell on the fact that she lived in the same building as two potential harbingers of the apocalypse, Kei chose to attend to the basic norms of social interaction.

"Pleasant, thank you. I spent the morning reading and the afternoon training with a friend."

Mari-sensei gave her a knowing smile. It was concerning that Mari-sensei thought she knew something, because Kei didn't know anything.

"You know," Mari-sensei said innocently, "Hazō has come up with the most fascinating idea."

"Yes," Kei lamented, "I can tell."

"I've been thinking," Hazō explained, "about your date with Nara."

"It was not a date," Kei said for perhaps the thousandth time. "It was an instance of two individuals spending a day together in order to facilitate greater mutual knowledge and familiarity, arranged in anticipation of a potential long-term relationship. I fail to see how there is any room for confusion."

"Um," Hazō said eloquently. "That aside, what I'm trying to say is that I think I can do a much better job planning a date for you. It would give you plenty of opportunities to bond, while simultaneously testing whether you two are really compatible and whether Nara is worthy of you."

"That is very thoughtful of you," Kei lied, "but I fear—"

"I have already developed a meticulous plan that covers every factor that could possibly be relevant to building a loving marriage. Unfortunately, Mari-sensei only gave me permission to prepare a single date, and there's a mountain of things to test. But don't worry, I'm pretty sure I've managed to fit them all in, even if I've had to optimise."

For some reason, a chill went down Kei's spine at that last word.

"I'm confident you'll be able to handle it, and if Nara is half the man he needs to be, he should be prepared for all of the trials—I mean events on my list as well. Don't worry, Mari-sensei has given me the go-ahead on every last one."

This did nothing to assuage Kei's concerns.

"Why am only hearing about this now, dear wife?" Jiraiya asked mildly.

"You've been so busy, beloved husband, and I wouldn't want to waste our time together with tiny details," Mari-sensei purred.

Hazō passed his list to Jiraiya with an expression of keen anticipation.

Jiraiya scanned it.

"Sage's ballsack, this is the biggest pile of indescribable bullshit I've seen in my—"

Mari-sensei leaned over and whispered something in Jiraiya's ear with a seductive smile. Her hand, Kei couldn't help noticing, had dipped under the table.

"Hazō, you have my complete approval," Jiraiya stated firmly. "Keiko, you are to carry out all of the items on this list for the good of the Gōketsu Clan. This is a priority order."

"Don't be ridiculous," Kei said disbelievingly. "I do not at any point recall granting Hazō permission to interfere with what he mistakenly considers to be my love life. And besides, Nara Shikaku is the most sensible man in the village. He would never consent to his only son and heir being put through one of Hazō's ill-conceived schemes."

-o-

"Good morning, Gōketsu. Please accept my generic praise of your clothing and appearance."

"Thank you, Nara," Kei said demurely. "Please consider me to also have paid lip service to the ambiguous expectations of our culture."

"You're too kind. Shall we depart?"

It was, Kei had to admit, a fine morning for a da—an instance of two individuals spending a day together in order to facilitate greater mutual knowledge and familiarity, arranged in anticipation of a potential long-term relationship. The clear sky and gentle breeze gave their surroundings a much-needed sense of peace as they stood side by side, studying Hazō's list as if it bore the details of their death sentence (which quite possibly it did).

Dear Gōketsu Keiko and Nara Shikamaru, the list of activities below is, based on exhausting research, the ultimate test of two individuals' suitability to be husband and wife. Upon completing it, you will know for certain whether your marriage is meant to be.

1) To establish that the two of you would be able to live a stable, fulfilling life together even if something went wrong and the Nara Clan disowned both of you, you must find a suitable flat to rent. Points will be awarded in categories including lines of sight, structural integrity, escape routes and proximity of day care. While carrying out this task, you must also protect your happiness by designing and implementing a security system capable of satisfying Kagome (appalled rant time 15 mins or less). Finally, you must demonstrate your ability and determination to keep each other safe in your new home through the many vicissitudes of life, particularly 2v2 close-quarters combat.

"Nara," Kei said lightly, "if either of us finds ourselves no longer part of the Nara Clan, I intend to divorce you with all conceivable haste and pursue solitary living arrangements. Is this acceptable to you?"

"I have the paperwork readied in the top left drawer of my desk."

"Truly you are the husband of my dreams. Let us move on to Item 2."

You must enjoy a romantic meal together at the Yabai Café (see map attached), solidifying your feelings for each other while balancing a projected monthly budget as Nara Clan leader and wife (see form attached) and dealing with sycophantic petitioners seeking the clan's favour. There will also be surprise events to test your martial compatibility (see weapons identification chart attached).

Kei and Nara exchanged world-weary looks.

"Gōketsu," Nara said, "next time we play Strategic Dominance, would you do me the honour of being my partner so that together we may visit utter and remorseless devastation on your stepbrother and everything he loves?"

"I'm afraid the position of my partner is already taken," Kei replied, "but I will be pleased to join you in an alliance of convenience."

-o-

"Welcome, sir, madam," the waiter beamed. "I am delighted to see the two of you again. I assure you that this time you will have a culinary experience to remember."

Kei collapsed dejectedly into a seat. "This is not a coincidence because nothing is ever a coincidence. The universe exists solely to make us suffer, and its every act, both of torture and of reprieve, is all part of one grand design intended to steadily break our spirits."

"It is a rare pleasure to meet another enlightened being," Nara said sardonically. "Two house specials. For my own peace of mind, I will not inquire as to what they are meant to be."

"And to drink, sir?"

"Gōketsu, are you carrying a waterskin?"

"I am. It was inevitable for a plan of Hazō's to create a survival situation one way or another, especially if diplomacy was involved."

"I assumed the same. No drinks, please."

-o-

"Would you say this is an accurate estimate?" Kei asked, simultaneously stabbing her chopsticks into the eye of Nara's side dish as it reared up on four of its tentacles.

"Twenty percent higher at least. Our latest round of investments in the carpentry industry will have begun paying dividends by the time I succeed my father."

Nara glanced at the ichor dripping from the chopsticks as he filled in another box. "Chakra octopus again?"

"Yes, though I stand by my belief that this is a mutated sky squid. Octopodes are not nearly so… lively… out of water."

"Mmm," Nara said noncommittally. "Exploding tag on the bottom of the serving tray."

Keiko unhesitatingly lifted the tray and threw it shuriken-style at a nearby rooftop. There was a scream of pain followed by an almost inaudible thud.

"Please charge all damages to Gōketsu Hazō."

"Certainly, ma'am."

"Forgive me for troubling you during your meal," a wrinkled old lady simpered as she limped towards their table, "but I have a wonderful business proposal that will surely double the Nara Clan's funds in exchange for only a tiny investment…"

"Noburi," Kei said coolly, "you are incapable of sounding like a genuine old woman, and always have been."

"Who is this Noburi? I am but a—"

"Submit your proposal in triplicate at the front desk by 9 am tomorrow morning," Nara said distractedly. He unscrewed the top of the salt cellar and upended it over what they had eventually decided was a salad, then tasted the result and shook his head mournfully. "Naturally, any applications not countersigned by representatives of the Merchant Council and the relevant trade guild will be disposed of unread."

"Assassin by the leftmost parasol," Kei muttered, crossing out a misplaced equation.

"Shadow Imitation Technique! Gōketsu, if you wouldn't mind?"

Kei cast a practice kunai without looking. Nara disengaged his technique with perfect timing, and the kunai took Hazō (who else) in the chest, breaking his current disguise.

The latest petitioner (or rather the same petitioner's latest form) would not give up so easily. "Surely you could make an exception for just one tiny proposal from a humble member of the lowly Notahyūga family, which would surely perish without the Nara to think for them and the Gōketsu to fight their battles for them?"

"All yours," Nara said to Kei as he occupied himself with grinding a new inkstone.

"Of course," Kei said primly. "Lady Notahyūga, I would be delighted to receive your proposal if you first join me in a traditional Mist ritual of friendship. Please, take a bite from my plate."

Kei slid the plate in Noburi's direction, taking care to present him with the side currently gibbering most disturbingly.

"Excuse me," Noburi choked, "I've just remembered that I need to macerate my stepfather."

"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Nara, lean left."

-o-

5) Demonstrate your capacity for cooperating in daily household chores by killing, cleaning and eating a meal jointly hunted in the wilderness. Since every couple needs to be able to improvise a meal out of random ingredients every now and again, the target of the hunt must be a chakra beast powerful enough to kill ordinary genin. While hunting, compose romantic poems to each other of length not less than two hundred words. A special guest judge will evaluate the poems on passion, eroticism and emotional manipulation. A second special guest judge will evaluate them on metre, rhyme and idiom. You must use at least one word from each row of the Kagome-encrypted list attached.

"'As for your beauty, 'tis… effulgent.' Gōketsu, what rhymes with 'effulgent'?" Nara called out as he triggered the third trap along Retreat Route B.

"Try 'refulgent'! Or rearrange the sentence so you can rhyme 'beauty' with 'duty'!" Kei shouted over all the roaring while slapping an exploding tag on the back of the monstrosity she was clinging onto. She performed an elegant backflip onto a nearby tree. The exploding tag detonated, further cracking the quisling overlord's chakra-reinforced carapace.

"'Effulgent', Nara?" she asked sceptically as the monster crushed its own minions underfoot in a tap dance of blind agony.

"Third row, behind a Tobirama shift. It was that or 'callipygous'."

"We call them Byakuren shifts. And I do believe that Hazō has been relying excessively on his thesaurus. Upon my return, I intend to insert it into a place from which he will struggle to retrieve it."

This was all her fault, Kei reflected as she held up four fingers and Nara pinned down a corresponding number of quislings with his technique. Water Country quislings were opportunistic pack hunters, the most innocent-looking member leading unwary travellers into an ambush where the rest would converge and devour them. It emerged that Fire Country quislings were a slightly different species, with each pack serving an overlord that provided protection in exchange for the luring of prey. Nara had been very understanding, and as they fled for their lives, he'd done his best to reassure her that overlords were at least much easier to cook due to their highly-developed musculature and abundance of redundant organs.

She threw her kunai at the four quislings, piercing each through the forehead, then leapt to another tree as the enraged overlord tore the one she had been standing on out of the ground. The fourth trap activated, eviscerating another quisling and cutting deeply into the overlord's second spine.

"Nara," Kei asked as another chakra-boosted leap took her within sight of him, "would you say you are a hot-blooded stallion of a man who strips women bare to their souls with the penetrating gaze of his sapphire eyes?"

"I would not," Nara snapped. "My eyes are brown."

He triggered the fifth trap. Quislings, or at least their component parts, flew everywhere.

"Gōketsu, how do you manage to come up with this nonsense so fluently?"

Kei went steaming red. "I do not read anything of the sort, Nara, and I resent the implication!"

"What?"

"I mean, I have a theory about that transposition cypher in the fourth row!"

-o-

8) In order to test your capacity for marital faithfulness and emergency trap disposal, you must wear—

"Enough," Kei said flatly. "I refuse to entertain one iota more of this tomfoolery."

Nara raised an eyebrow. "We are here under orders."

"I am well aware, and I have had enough. Jiraiya must be made to understand that the mere fact that he is the Hokage, a legendary hero, my clan leader, my stepfather and arguably the most powerful man in the world does not give him the right to dictate what I do with my free time."

Nara stared at her in wordless, horrified fascination.

"This is not an act of public defiance," Kei qualified. "The circumstances of this… instance of two individuals spending a day together in order to facilitate greater mutual knowledge and familiarity, arranged in anticipation of a potential long-term relationship… are known only to your father and my clan. If Jiraiya is to lose face, it is only before Nara Shikaku, and there are far greater factors conditioning their relations."

Nara continued to stare. The implication, that anything other than abject submission to Jiraiya's will was somehow unthinkable, slowly made a cold rage creep into Kei's blood.

"I have willingly signed over my hand in marriage to these people," she said in a tone far below freezing. "I have granted them the right to determine where I live, whom I obey, whom I may formally love and whose children I will be compelled to bear. If they believe that I will tolerate one step further into my private life without my consent…"

"Then what?" Nara asked as if unable to stop himself.

"I do not know," Kei said, the anger dissipating—no, transmuting into something else. "When I fought for my village, I was mediocre. When I fought for my survival, I was competent. When I fought for my friends, I was dangerous. What will I be if I am forced to fight for something that is mine?"

Despite the clement weather, she could see Nara shiver.

"It is something," she added more neutrally, "that any prospective husband would do well to bear in mind."

"Y-Yes, ma'am."

She found herself feeling a flash of guilt. She had not intended to catch Nara in the crossfire of her feelings. They were not a thing to be inflicted on other people at the best of times, much less when the other person was a rare and valued exemplar of common sense in a village of full of fools and madmen. What if she made him feel uncomfortable and he turned his back on her? What if such behaviour created a rift between them that she could not later heal? What if, even without any long-term consequences, she caused him pain through no fault of his own?

"With that said, Nara," she consciously relaxed her voice and posture, "the day is not yet done, and my schedule is perforce completely clear. While I do intend to set Hazō's list aflame and then creatively apply Wind ninjutsu to the ashes, that is not to say that I would be entirely averse to remaining in your company a little longer."

"Well," Nara said slowly, "if I go home now, I'm only going to get quizzed endlessly about the events of this... this event which you have so excellently summarised in a way I don't have the energy to repeat. Whereas a later return will allow me to bypass my family and Shiori and head straight to long-awaited bed. I suppose there are more troublesome things I could do than spend the intervening time with you."

"In that case, I recall that, courtesy of our previous planner's imbecility, you never did show me Senju Memorial Park. Though I should mention, purely as an objective forecast, that if you attempt to hold my hand your next awakening will be in Leaf General Hospital."

"It will," Nara agreed, "as they will have to urgently check my brain for lupchanzen."

Kei felt a stab of alarm. "How do you know about lupchanzen?"

Nara gave her a pitying look. "Gōketsu, your uncle has now spent several weeks living in Leaf. By this point the daimyo's wife's cat knows about lupchanzen."

"Well, then," Kei said, "lead the way while I weep over the tattered shreds of my clan's reputation."

-o-

"And do you know what Shiori said to me then?"

"Dare I ask?"

"'Don't worry, Shikamaru, it's meant to be on fire.'"

Kei giggled despite herself. "And the hand gestures?"

"Oh, those?" Nara looked down at his hands, as if not realising he'd been quoting with them as well. "'Let us move on so that we are not sidetracked by unimportant questions'. She often tries that one when I've caught her red-handed."

"I see. Incidentally, do you recall if she reacted at all to the thank-you note I sent with that game?"

"There was no game," Nara said emotionlessly. "I remember no game. Shiori remembers no game. There was no game."

"Is—Is that so?" Kei unthinkingly backed a few steps away from him and the haunted look in his eyes.

The walk proceeded in uneasy silence.

Eventually, the two of them came to a bench, on which Nara sat down heavily.

Kei sat beside him, joining him in staring vaguely at a koi pond. She had failed to distract him from his mysterious game-related trauma once before. This time, she would be an effective friend, or what was all her alleged intelligence for?

Perhaps this was a good time to ask. It would hopefully engage Nara's inexplicably paralysed mental faculties, and the question was one she had been contemplating a great deal of late.

"Nara, why me?"

"Hmm?"

"Why does your clan have any interest in me?" Kei expanded. "As a Mori, I am a barely-competent genin. You must have Nara of superior abilities by the dozen. And your clan has proven beyond any doubt that you know how to forge unbreakable alliances without intermarriage. Why expend all this effort to obtain me?"

Nara studied her wordlessly for a while. They were alone in the park, Kei realised, beneath a slowly darkening sky. There was a peculiar sense in the air. Not of romance, however certain persons might delude themselves, but perhaps of intimacy.

"Because we are failing," Nara said.

"What do you mean?"

"The Senju after whom this park is named sought to save the world with their open hearts," Nara said distantly, meditatively, gazing into the koi pond as if sufficient contemplation of its depths would reveal the secrets of the universe. "They came further than any have before or since. But it was not enough, and now they're gone.

"The Uchiha, who first fought then supported the Senju, sought to save the world with their unyielding determination. We know, now, what happens when such determination points itself in the wrong direction even briefly.

"The Nara, who supported both, have sought to save the world with genius and patience. It is not enough."

"I don't understand," Kei admitted. What did any of this have to do with her?

"Patience is not enough," Nara said. "We have been exerting control, slowly and subtly, for as long as the clan has existed, and the world is still like this.

"Genius is not enough. A bright spark independently arrives at a vision for a peaceful utopia, and his first world-changing act is to create a weapon that heralds a new scale of destruction. This is not an anomaly, Gōketsu. Every genius ends up drunk on their own brilliance in one way or another."

"Then what are you saying?" Kei asked quietly. "That there is no hope? That the Nara have resigned themselves to waiting for the end?"

"No," Nara gave a wry smile. "The curse of apathy cuts both ways, you see. Those who aren't enthused by visions of victory also aren't depressed by the prospect of defeat.

"The Nara need to change, Gōketsu," he said in a voice that sounded like it wanted to be casual but wasn't. "That's your answer. And it seems our motivation doesn't stretch far enough for us to change ourselves. We need new ways of thinking. We need enrichment through intellectual exchange in order to escape our stagnation. It's why we've thrown ourselves behind Jiraiya. He is the right man in the right place at the right time, and with our help he might be able to break down the walls that isolate the villages. It will not be enough for eternal peace—we've run the calculations—but it will give us direct access to the others of our kind. A chance to unite instead of being pulled apart by political currents. And that will be something the world has never seen.

"To my father, your adoption is probably a microcosm of that. You're similar enough to fully integrate and different enough to offer something new. The fact that you also further various political goals doesn't hurt either."

"Me?" Kei asked dazedly. "You think I have something to offer? Something to teach?"

"I think nothing," Nara said. "I think it is unreasonable to place towering expectations on a random stranger—no offence—because they happen to have a convenient background. I think you are a decent person who deserves better than to be caught up in the troublesome machinations of three powerful clans.

"With that said, if you choose to treat this injustice as an opportunity to find out how far the full extent of your abilities can take you, that is your right. And I daresay there are more tedious diversions than taking an interest in a spouse's personal projects."

It was as close, Kei suspected, as he would come to an open pledge of support.

"Thank you for your thoughts, Nara," she said. "If you would kindly escort me home… I believe I have much to consider."

"Of course, milady. And if I should be struck with a sudden urge to trespass into your domicile and challenge your stepbrother to some game for the purposes of intellectual evisceration?"

"Nara," Kei attempted a wicked smile, "be my guest."

Velorien · Nov 9, 2017

Interlude: Shikigami's Last Stand

High Concept: The Ultimate Hunter

Trouble: Longing For a Simpler World

Aspect 1 (Where Did You Come From?): I Never Laugh

Momochi Zabuza was born in a small, simple civilian family in the Village Hidden in the Mist. Despite his humble origins, it was obvious from the start that he would grow up to become an elite ninja, and he constantly amazed his Academy instructors with his prodigious talent and manly prowess. It was clear that once he developed his political acumen as well, he would surely be the next Mizukage.

His idyllic life came to a brutal end, however, when his parents died before his eyes, caught in the crossfire as the Mizukage's secret police tried to stop a dastardly missing-nin from escaping the village with vital secrets. Ever since that day, Zabuza has dedicated himself to a single purpose. Friendship, love, happiness—he has chosen to sacrifice them all in the name of making sure nobody else ever has to have their lives destroyed by a villain's treachery.

Aspect 2 (Rising Conflict): Nothing Stands Between Me and My Prey

Not long after Zabuza's graduation as the highest-scoring finalist in the history of the Academy, his team was sent to investigate loss of contact with one of the largest and most valuable villages within Hidden Mist's sphere of influence. Upon their arrival, they discovered that Akunin Ichi, a Mist missing-nin, had not only murdered the ninja guards and desecrated their corpses, but committed a crime that cast him down from the ranks of humanity: he had stolen the village's food supply.

Thanks to Zabuza's tracking skills, his team relentlessly pursued Akunin ever deeper into uncharted territory, vanquishing innumerable chakra beasts as they went. But when they finally caught up with him at the heart of the Bloody Forest, their careless leader led them right into his trap. The missing-nin unleashed a pack of banshee wrens, their mind-affecting wails promptly knocking the pursuing ninja unconscious—all except Zabuza, of course, because he knew no fear. Zabuza battled Akunin alone, all while fending off the vampire grass, the vampire shrubs, the vampire trees, and of course the vampire vampires.

Zabuza, still a genin, finally struck down the chūnin missing-nin down with his superior swordsmanship and warrior spirit. He was right about to deal the deathblow and send Akunin to the depths of hell where he belonged—when a hunter-nin appeared out of nowhere and held him back. Proffering a scroll with the Mizukage's own seal on it, he told Zabuza that for political reasons the missing-nin was to be repatriated to Mist, his crimes erased and his betrayal written off as a deep cover mission. In other words, he would get away scot free. In that moment, all of Zabuza's illusions about the moral superiority of the Mizukage's regime fell apart.

As Akunin laughed uproariously, mocking all that was good and right in the world, the noise startled the surviving chakra wrens. Their wailing struck the hunter-nin full-on, instantly knocking him unconscious. The man was unlucky enough to land face-down in a pool of blood.

Zabuza stood between the two—between the laughing enemy and the drowning ally, between his justice and his orders. With time running out, whichever he went for, he would lose the other.

The missing-nin's laughter was cut off as Zabuza's blade pierced his throat. The villain paid for his crimes, never to threaten another living soul. The hunter-nin drowned before Zabuza could get to him. Later, Zabuza would report that the death took place before the hunter-nin could give him the orders.

That day, more than any, set Zabuza's path in stone. He would bring righteous punishment to the wicked… no matter the cost.

Aspect 3 (What Was Your First Adventure?): Greatest of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen

Over the years to come, Zabuza would slay missing-nin by the dozen, but of course none ever offered a real challenge to a man of his abilities. Not until Biwa Jūzō.

One day, the Mizukage received an urgent communication stating that Biwa Jūzō, one of the legendary Seven Shinobi Swordsmen, the single strongest and most diabolical missing-nin in Mist's history, was plotting Mist's downfall, and only days remained before his evil plot would be set in motion. Naturally, the Mizukage dispatched his best hunter-nin, Momochi Zabuza, to hunt him down.

Zabuza tracked down Jūzō's hideout just in the nick of time: a hidden base carved into the depths of a dormant volcano where no sane man would think to venture. He confronted Jūzō in his inner sanctum, but Jūzō laughed, saying no common swordsman stood a chance against the wielder of the ultimate severing blade, the Throat Cleaver. With a single strike, he shattered Zabuza's sword, the toughest broadsword ever made by Mist's blacksmiths, leaving the hunter-nin unarmed. Zabuza tried to close the distance enough to use his mighty fists in taijutsu, but Jūzō drove him back, pushing him to a network of rickety rope bridges hanging over a vast lava pit.

Zabuza was forced to keep evading, looking for opportunities to counterattack against an opponent with superior experience and a huge reach. But even with his stamina that would put a chakra ox to shame, he found himself getting exhausted by the oppressive heat while Jūzō had long since conditioned himself to endure it. But Zabuza's incisive mind had been working overtime even as his body was being pushed to its limits, and as he neared the end of his strength, he had an idea. With the last of his chakra, he poured a torrent of water onto the lava below, producing great clouds of steam that completely obscured the two ninja's vision. Before Jūzō could regain his bearings, Zabuza charged. With one perfect blow from the remaining fragment of his sword, he cut off Jūzō's hands. He grabbed the Throat Cleaver before it could fall into the lava, then used it to swiftly decapitate his foe. Jūzō's body plummeted into a fiery grave as Zabuza staggered out of the volcano—in accordance with immortal tradition now one of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen.

Aspect 4 (Whose Path Have You Crossed?): Brothers on Paper

Zabuza may have had no friends in Hidden Mist, but he did have one enemy. Ever since his Academy days, he had regularly butted heads with Shikigami, the ninjutsu master famous for creating his own unique paper-based combat style. Shikigami was a kind, gentle man who spoke out against the excesses of the Mizukage's regime as much as he could get away with. To him, Zabuza was little short of a traitor himself, a man with vast power who refused to use it to change the village and instead spent his time hiding from the truth outside it.

One day, not long after Zabuza was made jōnin, their conflict finally reached its peak. Shikigami challenged Zabuza to a duel, determined to prove that Zabuza's will to protect the village as an abstract ideal was inferior to Shikigami's will to protect its flawed reality. They fought for three days and three nights, as neither would yield an inch to the other. By the end, they had pushed themselves to dangerous levels of chakra exhaustion, their bodies were battered almost beyond recognition, and Zabuza had torn every last scrap of Shikigami's paper into invisibly tiny shreds, while Shikigami had broken the Throat Cleaver so badly it would take a month to fully regenerate. (When the Mizukage heard about all this later, he would invent whole new disciplinary punishments for the pair.)

Finally, too weak to so much raise a hand against each other, Zabuza and Shikigami acknowledged the depth of each other's resolve. They made an oath of eternal brotherhood, and swore that Shikigami would be the voice of hope that reformed the village from within, while Zabuza would teach every Mist-nin the consequences of turning their backs on the village instead of staying and trying to fix it.

Aspect 5 (Who Else's Path Have You Crossed?): Forever Alone

Haku was Zabuza's teammate. He died. Now Zabuza works alone.

Skills
Alertness 65
Athletics 55
Burglary 50
Chakra Reserves 60
Conviction 50
Deceit 40
Discipline 60
Empathy 40
Endurance 60
Intimidation 55
Investigation 50
Might 60
Presence 40
Stealth 65
Survival 60
Taijutsu 50
Melee 65
Ranged 50

Ninjutsu
Hiding in Mist Technique
Byakuren's Uppercut (60)
Others

Stress Tracks
Physical: [] [] [] [] (+ extra Mild Consequence)
Mental: [] [] [] []
Social: [] [] [] []
Chakra: [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] (+ extra Mild Consequence)

Fate Points: 12

When Zabuza received the orders, he was unable to believe them. For a second, he thought that the Mizukage had made a joke for the first time in his life. It would be more likely than for Shikigami, the most loyal ninja in Mist after Zabuza himself, to turn missing-nin. The man Zabuza knew would never undermine the war effort against Mist's worst enemy at a critical juncture, nor choose to lead dozens of innocent souls to their inevitable doom. Zabuza simply did not understand.

But it wasn't his task to understand. His task was simple: hunt down and capture or kill every last one of the missing-nin, Shikigami included. And Zabuza, the implacable hand of the Mizukage's justice, knew neither mercy nor forgiveness.

Zabuza moved slowly, patiently, touching water without leaving ripples. His silent step, honed over decades of hunting traitors, made cats sound like chakra mammoths. One by one, he had wiped out the ring of sentries protecting the central base identified by their Hyūga guide. If he could cut down this last one without letting him raise the alarm…

Zabuza, Stealth: 65 + 0 = 65
Sentry, Alertness: 40 + 3 = 43
Zabuza wins. Zabuza places the Aspect "Marked for Death" on the sentry.
Zabuza tags "Marked for Death" for free. The Aspect is removed.
Zabuza, Melee: 65 + 9 + 12 = 86
Sentry, Taijutsu: 45 + 3 = 48
Zabuza gets 12 success shifts. He adds 3 to Damage from the Throat Cleaver.
The sentry takes 15 Physical Stress and is extraordinarily dead.

Naturally, the boy didn't notice Zabuza until he was within perfect decapitation range. To his credit, he tried to duck, even as his mouth opened to call out an alert—but that didn't work so well when there was a barrier of steel between his lungs and his vocal chords. Zabuza caught both parts of the sentry and soundlessly lowered them into the water. In the back of his mind, there was a flicker of curiosity as to what kind of predator would come for them first.

He made the call he had been taught by his Leaf guides, that of the lesser excoriating woodpecker. Guards down; safe to proceed.

Does Zabuza do the sensible thing and decide to wait for the rest of the team? The QM invokes Forever Alone. Zabuza receives 1 FP.

There was no need to wait for the others to catch up, he decided. They would only get in his way. Instead, Zabuza would spearhead the attack, striking terror into the hearts of his enemies until they fled screaming—straight into the waiting arms of his allies. The lower ranks would be lucky to stay standing after receiving the full force of his bloodlust; he only needed to concern himself with Shikigami.

Zabuza stalked onwards. Finally, the main base came into sight, with half a dozen ninja, mostly kids dragged into betrayal by Shikigami's impossible iniquity, milling about as if nothing was wrong. Shikigami was in the middle, digging through a pack of gear. Until that moment, part of Zabuza had still hoped the reports were wrong.

Zabuza's danger sense triggered just in time.

Zabuza Alertness: 60 + 6 = 66
Trap, Craftsmanship: 60
Zabuza evades the trap.

That had been a close one. Shikigami's mastery of traps was second to none. Had a blade of grass not been randomly stirred in just the right direction by the wind, even Zabuza would never have spotted the ninja wire.

Zabuza looked closely. He was fairly sure there'd be several other such traps between him and the target. Should he go around? No, that would leave the traps for the rest of the team, and he was in no position to warn them given that they'd breach the perimeter any second now. But given how Shikigami usually spaced his traps…

Zabuza spends 2 FP to tag "Nothing Stands Between Me and My Prey" to get past the traps to Shikigami, and "Brothers on Paper" to predict Shikigami's trap layout. He also moves one zone as a supplemental action (and takes a -1 penalty).
Zabuza spends 1 Chakra Point on Chakra Boost.
Zabuza, Athletics: 55 - 6 + 24 + 3 - 1 = 75
Zabuza spends 1 FP to reroll.
Zabuza, Athletics: 55 + 3 + 24 + 3 - 1 = 84
Trap Array, Craftsmanship: 70
Chakra Alligator, Alertness: 40 + 0 = 40
Combat triggers as Zabuza enters enemy sight.
Zabuza, Initiative: 65
Shikigami, Initiative 65
Genin, Initiative 12
Zabuza's turn.
Zabuza, Taijutsu (with unarmed bonus): 50 - 6 + 3 = 47
Genin spends 1 FP to tag "I Can't Die Before I Tell Her My Feelings!"
Genin, Taijutsu: 15 + 3 + 4 = 22
Zabuza gets 7 success shifts.
Genin takes a Mild, a Moderate and a Severe Consequence to reduce incoming stress by 6. He takes 1 Physical Stress. He is now "Bruised" with a "Concussion" and a "Fractured Sternum". He has a -3.5 x Aspect penalty on all rolls and any further Physical Stress will kill him. However, the strength of his love has saved him from certain death.

Zabuza took a slow, deep breath to centre himself. Then he charged.

Running with the speed of the wind, he deliberately tripped wire after wire in a perfectly calculated pattern. A series of earth-shaking explosions rang out behind him, each just too slow to catch the agile hunter-nin. The final one, twice as powerful as the rest, launched him high into the air.

But as he came down, something moved beneath the surface of the water. A chakra alligator, alerted by the noise, opened its mouth to welcome the unexpected snack.

Zabuza landed neatly on its head, his feet between its eyes, then sprang off again before the monster could react. He performed an elegant front flip through the air—

—and straight onto the nearest genin, feet striking his rib cage and crushing him against the ground as he cushioned Zabuza's landing.

The assembled missing-nin gazed in mute horror at Zabuza, silhouetted against a curtain of intense flames, with a stunned chakra alligator slowly sinking back into the swamp behind him and a barely-alive ninja writhing at his feet.

Shikigami recovered first. "Go!" he shouted to the others. "Destroy the rest of his team with our traps and superior cunning!"

He looked Zabuza in the eye, his killing intent sharp as a blade. "I'll take care of this one myself."

"Why, Shikigami?" Zabuza demanded. "How could you betray our dreams? Why did you cast aside the future we were going to craft together? Our vision of a reformed Mist?"

Shikigami's killing intent wavered.

"I… I didn't want…"

Then the light went out of his eyes.

"Enough talk, Zabuza. You must die for the glory of Hidden Swamp!"

Talking is a free action, so it is now Shikigami's turn.
Shikigami spends 1 FP and tags "For the Village!" to defend Hidden Swamp. Shikigami spends 3 Chakra (-1 discount for an abundant paper source, an advantage of secret paper arts).
Shikigami, Death Wish: 60 + 0 + 12 = 72
Shikigami spends 1 FP to add + 6 to his Fudge roll.
Shikigami, Death Wish: 60 + 6 + 12 = 78
Shikigami creates the scene Aspect "Wall of Fluttery Doom".
Zabuza spends 2 FP to tag "Nothing Stands Between Me and My Prey" to overcome the obstacle between him and Shikigami, and "Brothers on Paper" to exploit his knowledge of Shikigami's ninjutsu.
Zabuza, Athletics: 55 + 9 + 20 = 84
Zabuza successfully evades.
Zabuza's turn.
Zabuza spends 2 Chakra (-1 for an abundant water source).
Zabuza, Byakuren's Uppercut: 60 + 6 = 66
Zabuza's ninjutsu destroys the Death Wish.
Zabuza removes the scene Aspect "Wall of Fluttery Doom".
Shikigami's turn.
Shikigami spends 3 Chakra (-1 for an abundant paper source).
Shikigami: Papier Machete
Zabuza's turn.
Zabuza spends 1 Chakra (-1 for an abundant water source).
Zabuza: Hiding in Mist
Zabuza creates the scene Aspect "Death Stalks Unseen".
Shikigami's turn.
Shikigami, Alertness: 65 - 3 = 62
Shikigami spends 1 FP to reroll.
Shikigami, Alertness: 65 - 6 = 59
Zabuza tags "Death Stalks Unseen" for free.
Zabuza, Stealth: 65 + 0 + 12 = 77
Shikigami can't see Zabuza. Shikigami uses full defence.
Zabuza's turn.
Zabuza spends 2 FP and tags "Death Stalks Unseen" to sneak and "Greatest of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen" to cut Shikigami down in a duel. He also spends 1 Chakra on Chakra Boost.
Zabuza, Melee: 65 - 6 + 24 + 3 = 84.
Zabuza spends 1 FP to reroll.
Zabuza, Melee: 65 + 9 + 24 + 3 = 111.
Shikigami spends 2 FP and tags "For the Village!" to defend Hidden Swamp and "Paper Beats Scissors" to overcome Zabuza's legendary sword with his own.
Shikigami, Papier Machete: 75 + 3 + 24 + 12 = 114.
Shikigami gets 2 success shifts, but cannot deal damage because he is using full defence.
Shikigami's turn.
Shikigami, Alertness: 65 + 3 = 68
Zabuza, Stealth: 65 - 12 = 53
Zabuza spends 1 FP to reroll.
Zabuza, Stealth: 65 + 6 = 71
Shikigami can't see Zabuza.
Shikigami terminates the Papier Machete as a supplemental action.
Shikigami spends 1 Chakra.
Shikigami: Ōgi
Shikigami removes the scene Aspect "Death Stalks Unseen".
Zabuza's turn.
Zabuza, Melee: 65 - 6 = 59
Zabuza spends 1 FP to reroll.
Zabuza, Melee: 65 - 3 = 62
Shikigami spends 1 Chakra on Chakra Boost.
Shikigami, Taijutsu (with unarmed bonus): 60 + 3 + 3 + 3 = 69
Shikigami gets 3 success shifts.
Zabuza takes 3 Physical Stress.
Shikigami's turn.
Shikigami spends 1 Chakra and takes 2 Mild and 1 Moderate Consequence (-1 for an abundant paper supply). He is now "Shivering", "Unbalanced" and "Enervated" and has a -2x Aspect penalty to all rolls.
Shikigami: Shiki-Ōji
Zabuza's turn.
Zabuza spends 3 FP to tag "Brothers on Paper" to face Shikigami for the last time, "Greatest of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen" to win a blade wielders' duel and "Enervated" to take advantage of any flaws in Shikigami's movement. He also spends 3 Chakra on Chakra Boost.
Zabuza Melee: 65 + 3 + 36 + 9 = 113
Shikigami spends 2 FP to tag "Brothers in Blades" to defeat his greatest rival once and for all and "For the Village!" to defend Hidden Swamp even with his life.
Shiki-Ōji: 85 - 3 + 32 - 32 = 82
Zabuza gets 10 success shifts. He gets + 3 damage for the Throat Cleaver.
It is exactly enough.

Shikigami raised his arms in a motion that filled even a man like Zabuza with momentary dread.

"Secret Paper Art: Death Wish!"

A thousand origami cranes streamed forth from Shikigami's sleeves, each with razor-sharp, poison-tipped wings. To suffer even the slightest cut would be to die in screaming agony as one's arteries combusted from within. It was a risky move that consumed a lot of paper, but that didn't matter since Zabuza had never heard of anyone surviving it.

The cranes formed into a tornado that advanced on Zabuza, walling him off from Shikigami while leaving him with no way to evade. An ordinary ninja would have died right there. But Zabuza, with his insight that was even sharper than the crane wings, recognised the pattern of the cranes' movements. It was similar enough to that of the less lethal techniques Shikigami had used during their countless duels, and he would not let it get in the way of his mission.

He spun around the assaulting cranes, making hand seals as he went.

"Byakuren's Uppercut!"

A massive torrent of water rose from the surface of the swamp and slammed into the paper tornado, its breadth such that it was able to catch every last crane and reduce them to a soggy, chakra-inert mass.

But Shikigami, ever a gifted warrior, had used his attack as cover to prepare an even more powerful move.

"Secret Paper Art: Papier Machete!"

The Death Wish had certainly been threatening, but this was the technique Zabuza had hoped never to have to face. The blade in Shikigami's hand had an edge sharp enough to cut through anything, perhaps even the Throat Cleaver. Shikigami could alter the layers of paper within it to extend it into whatever length or shape he needed, even as it remained light enough for effortless manipulation. His swordsmanship had never been on the same level of Zabuza's, but with an advantage like this, it might no longer matter.

Then again, Zabuza was far too wily to meet every challenge head-on.

"Water Element: Hiding in Mist Technique!"

Within seconds, the world around them was plunged into a dark abyss. Where ordinary mist wrapped one's surroundings in walls of grey, Zabuza's signature technique was dense enough to banish light altogether. Unseen, unheard, Zabuza stalked his prey using the arts of Silent Killing passed down by master hunter-nin through the generations.

He listened to Shikigami's anxious movements, taking the time to determine the man's stance and where he was facing. When he was finally certain of the opening he was hearing—

Shikigami's blade nearly took him apart.

Zabuza beat a hasty retreat into the darkness.

It had been close for a second, very close. Zabuza had forgotten just how damn malleable that paper sword was—better than the finest steel, Shikigami had boasted—and Shikigami had briefly turned it into a huge scythe, big enough to sweep the entire area around him whether he could see it or not. There was a heavy thud as a horizontally bisected tree fell to the ground.

But that trick wouldn't work again, and Shikigami knew it. He withdrew his chakra from the machete, and recycled the paper for a different technique.

"Secret Paper Art: Ōgi!"

Zabuza had cause to curse Shikigami's flexibility one more time as a few blasts of wind from the oversized paper fan cleared away the mist, revealing Zabuza's position.

Enough tricks. Without his special machete, Shikigami was no match for Zabuza's peerless swordsmanship. Zabuza zoomed into striking range, aiming to cut the betrayer in half.

Shikigami ducked under the blow, then sidestepped the next. Moving with the desperation of a man possessed, he avoided attack after attack, until he finally stepped in close—nearly losing an arm in the process—and delivered a devastating gut punch that had Zabuza staggering back in shock.

But Shikigami didn't follow through. A brief flicker of clarity passed through his eyes.

Then he groaned as if every word was being forced out of him. "I must… kill… the hunter-nin… at any cost…"

He flicked his hands through a series of hand seals, trembling as if some part of him was willing himself to stop.

"Forbidden Paper Art: Shiki-Ōji!"

Zabuza shielded his eyes as a vast cloud of paper, surely more than one person could possibly carry, whipped itself into a frenzied storm around Shikigami. What emerged from the storm was no man, but a towering demon formed of unnatural white flesh. Its serrated claws promised to maim and rend asunder with a single slash. Its sharp angles and cruel curves seemed perfectly formed to deflect blows and transfix any enemy who came too close. And the eyes… they were Shikigami's eyes, or they must have been once, but now they burned with a fierce alien hatred for Zabuza and for all that lived. It was as if Shikigami had spent all his chakra to create this monstrosity, and in doing so sacrificed his ability to bend its will to submission. Instead, it had consumed him.

There was only one choice for Momochi Zabuza, as a hunter-nin, as a warrior, and as a friend. He hefted the Throat Cleaver, and prepared to grant Shikigami the only redemption he could.

"ZABUZAAAAA!"

"SHIKIGAMIIIII!"

The two warriors charged at each other, one a flawless streak of grey, the other a roiling onslaught of white. The exchange of blows as they moved past each other was too fast to see, too deep to feel.

Zabuza fell to his knees as blood poured from dozens of gashes all over his body. The Throat Cleaver fell apart in his hands.

"So… even as a missing-nin, your resolve was stronger than mine."

But behind him, there came an eerie whispering sound as thousands of strips of paper unravelled with no more chakra to bind them together. Zabuza turned to see them slowly being dyed red with Shikigami's blood.

Wounded, drained, he slowly crawled over to Shikigami's body. "Why, Shikigami? Tell me, why?"

Shikigami looked up at him. "Zabuza? It is you, isn't it? I'm so sorry…"

"Shikigami?"

Shikigami's eyes were clear again. "I never meant to, Zabuza. It was all her. She took control of me with her genjutsu. Made me do terrible things…"

"Who?" Zabuza asked, his mind already racing ahead to the answer.

"The Red Witch." Shikigami coughed, and more blood spread over the remains of his paper armour. "Who else? She manipulated us. Lied to us. Used her powers to force us to obey. Then, when she realised her plan had failed, she took her apprentices and fled.

"Zabuza, please… I know I have no right to ask this of you, but… find her. Hunt her down. It's the only way to clear my name."

Zabuza nodded grimly. "I will, Shikigami. I swear it. I will find her and make her pay."

"Thank you," Shikigami whispered with the last of his strength. "Zabuza… my brother…"

They were his final words. Zabuza, cradling Shikigami's body in his arms, looked up at the uncaring heavens.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The battle must have been over by then, as it took only a matter of seconds for another Mist-nin to react to the scream.

"Captain Zabuza, sir? Do you need urgent medical attention?"

"Got hit by a pepper bomb," Zabuza said quietly. "Damn eyes won't stop watering. Somebody fetch me a dry cloth."

-o-

"Yukino. Explain."

The sailors' rapturous applause cut off instantly.

Yukino looked up at the wrathful form of the world's deadliest hunter-nin looming over her without apparent concern.

"Just training for my future role as team biographer, Zabuza. Somebody needs to record our adventures for posterity, and you're not exactly the writing type."

"Huh," Zabuza grunted with annoyance. "That is not remotely how it happened. 'Shikigami' wasn't even his real name."

"Good to know," Yukino grinned. "I'll be sure to fix the story for next time. So what was it?"

"There will be no next time," Zabuza said flatly. "I do not have adventures, I do not need a biographer, and if you make up one more story about me, I will not hesitate to feed you to the next kraken that comes along."

"Oh, so they are real, then? Awesome!"

Zabuza cracked his knuckles suggestively.

"Hey, maybe we should switch up the genre next time!" Yukino exclaimed. "How about murder mystery? No, wait, that won't work—you're always the killer. Maybe fairy tale. The noble hunter-nin rescues the beautiful maiden from the clutches of the evil queen of the yaks. Ooh, I bet I can liven it up with imaginative hand gestures. No, wait, even better: romantic comedy! Will you help me practice kissing so my descriptions are more realistic?"

In what was by now a practiced movement, Zabuza casually shoved Yukino overboard.

"Pfuegh!" Yukino spat salty sea water out of her mouth as she used chakra repulsion to clamber to the surface. "What do they even put in this stuff?"

Zabuza glanced down at her. "Oh, and Yukino? We don't need a team biographer—because we're not a team."

eaglejarl · Nov 12, 2017

Interlude: Team Clanless Sparring

The new rules system is still being tied down and we don't have character sheets for any of the people in this update, nor for their special techniques and advantages. Therefore, the specific rules implementations that follow should be considered as correct in their general form but perhaps not in their specifics. In particular, the Gentle Fist probably won't end up working like this.

"Morning, Kiba," Sakura said, smiling at the boy as she walked past him. "Are you feeling better today? Gōketsu really hit you hard; I was worried that you might not be able to talk after the way he punched you in the throat."

Kiba snarled. "He just got lucky! We were going easy on them after the way we spanked them in the first round."

"Absolutely," Sakura said, nodding soberly. "Lucky shot."

Kiba shot her a suspicious look. "Damn straight!"

"And those seals he used in the second round? Totally cheating. I mean, sure, it completely punked your whole team, but that's hardly fair. How are you supposed to match up to a clan that's richer than yours and has a legendary sealmaster as its head?" She hesitated. "Oh, actually...well, I guess Gōketsu Hazō is also a sealmaster, isn't he? He probably made a lot of those seals himself, so it's not entirely unfair for him to use them. Still, hardly the sort of thing to pull out during a spar. It's not like you guys had a real shot at countering it, you know? What were you supposed to learn from getting smacked around like a bunch of chumps?"

"Hey!"

"She is baiting you, Kiba," Shino said, adjusting his glasses. "Why? Because you make yourself an easy target."

"He really does," Sakura said cheerily. "Hazards of being stupid as well as ugly, I guess. Well, time to go get ready. See you on the field, Kiba—and don't worry, I promise I won't punch you in the throat." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "That's her job."

"Sakura, be nice!" Akane said. "This sort of cattiness is not youthful." She paused. "Although it's true that melee combat is my role on this team so I suppose that yes, actually, punching people in the throat is my job." She smiled comfortingly. "Have no fear though—I feel that throat punches are most unyouthful, so I will instead punch you in the face."

"Hey!"

Sakura laughed and skipped onto the field before Kiba could marshal a proper comeback.

o-o-o-o

(*) NB: Translating the characters from the old system to the new is going to be a delicate process. For the purposes of this update and only for this update, I'm going to do the following:

Akane uses all the same numbers as from the old system. Her numbers will probably end up lower in the final analysis.
Initiative is usually Alertness with Athletics as tiebreaker. For Akane and only for Akane and only for this update I'm going to do it the other way around (Athletics first, then Alertness), since this better models the system she was built under. Everyone else will continue to be Alertness and then Athletics.
Youthful Fist of the Mythological Beast that is Really Strong and Tough will work like this: Akane rolls her Physique against her opponent's Physique and adds any positive shifts to her Taijutsu attack if she hits. This conflict cannot be influenced by Fate Points or tags.
Gentle Fist will work like this: Each time a Gentle Fist user who is using their Byakugan hits you with Taijutsu, you automatically get an Aspect ("Gunked-Up Tenketsu", then "More Gunked-Up Tenketsu", then "Sage's Sideburns, My Tenketsu are Stuffed With Snot!", then finally "I Really Hate the Gentle Fist", "I Really Really Hate the Gentle Fist", "I Really Really Really Hate the Gentle Fist" and so on). Every round, any Gentle Fist user who is fighting you with their Byakugan active gets a tag on each such Aspect you have. These tags can only be used for attacking you with the Gentle Fist and cannot be passed to others. The Aspects clear in 30-60 minutes.
Under normal circumstances, Kiba's super-smelling powers give him +2 against genjutsu whenever his nose could reasonably apply and the caster lacks super-smelling powers. If he fails to notice a genjutsu then on the following round, Akamaru will automatically notice that Kiba is acting weird and signal him, at which point Kiba gets a tag on the fragile Aspect "Something's Not Right..." and gets to make another detection roll in addition to the one he gets by default for that round.
An active Byakugan provides +8 against genjutsu cast by anyone who isn't a Byakugan user.
Each of the seven Aspects on your character sheet can only be invoked once per scene. Other Aspects can be used as often as you can pay for.

Initiative (Alertness, Athletics [except for Akane]):

Akane (20,30) (*listed in same order as everyone else but applied in opposite order)
Sakura (29,24)
Hinata (28,26)
Shino (27,26)
Haru (26,26)
Kiba (24,28)

Akane tries to take Hinata out before she can use that hax Gentle Fist...

Akane, Youthful Fist of the Mythological Beast That is Really Strong and Tough (Physique): 24 + 4dF: 30
Hinata, Physique: 20 + 4dF: 23.
Akane gets 3 shifts which will be added to her Taijutsu roll if she hits.

Akane (Taijutsu + invoke "YOUTH!" for +4 vs Hinata): 36 + 4 + 4dF = 37
Hinata (Taijutsu + invoke "Budding Mistress of the Gentle Fist" for +3): 29 + 3 + 4dF = 33
Akane gets 2 shifts, plus the 3 from Youthful Fist of the Mythological Beast That is Really Strong and Tough.
Hinata takes 5 stress, filling her (3-box) track and giving her a "Battered" Consequence (Mild) which causes a -2 injury CM

Hinata tries to take Sakura out before she can use that aggravating mindwhammy...

Hinata (Taijutsu vs Sakura): 29 + 4dF -2 : 27
Sakura (Athletics + invoke "I'm Not The Load", dodge): 26 + 3 + 4dF: 35
Sakura dodges

Sakura would like to take out Hinata as the most dangerous of the three, but the BS hax++ that is the Byakugan makes that a fool's errand. Instead, she goes after Kiba because Shino could be convinced to surrender if his team starts losing but Kiba is too stubborn...

Sakura, 29 + 4dF = 32. Genjutsu on Kiba: "Double Teamed!"
Kiba, Alertness 24 + 4dF + 2 (sensory bonus): 29
Kiba gains the Aspect "Double Teamed!" Sakura passes the tag to Haru

Haru kicks Kiba's teeth in...

Haru (Taijutsu + tag "Double Teamed!" + invoke "Fuck the Clans!" + invoke "Vicious Scrapper"): 26 + 3 + 3 + 3 + 4dF: 38
~~Kiba (Taijutsu, no invoke due to "Hyper Confident" Aspect): 24 + 4dF: 18~~
Kiba rerolls!
Kiba (Taijutsu, no invoke due to "Hyper Confident" Aspect): 24 + 4dF: 24
Haru gets 5 shifts, Kiba takes the Consequence "Off Balance" (Mild) and 3 stress on his 3-box track. He has a -2 CM due to injury

Shino sees what Akane just did to Hinata and decides that his favorite sunny place needs some help...

Shino (Insect Control technique, used as a Maneuver to place "Aggghhhhh! Getemoffgetemoffgetemoff!!!" on Akane. Invoke "Scion of the Aburame"): 26 + 3 + 4dF: 35
Akane (Athletics, dodge): 20 + 4dF: auto fail
Akane gains the Aspect "Aggghhhhh! Getemoffgetemoffgetemoff!!!" Shino passes the tag to Hinata

Kiba, pissed off by having his teeth kicked in and too stupid to bow out, takes his shot...

Kiba (Fang over Fang + invoke "Bloody-Minded Brawler" - Mild Consequence) vs Haru: 24 + 3 - 2 + 4dF: 25
~~Haru (Taijutsu + invoke "Stone Cold"): 26 + 3 + 4dF: 23~~
Haru rerolls!
Haru (Taijutsu + invoke "Will of Fire"): 26 + 3 + 4dF: 32
Haru gets 3 shifts. Kiba's stress track is full so he either needs to be taken out or soak it with two Consequences. Being a stubborn cusshead, he takes the Consequences "Damaged Hip" (Moderate) and "Bruised Liver" (Severe). He has a (-2 - 3 - 6 =) -11 injury CM and one more stress will take him out.

Round 2, fight!

Akane is still engaged with Hinata and covered in bugs, but she'll shoot across the field to put the finishing blow on Kiba so that Haru can move on...

Akane (fires macerators (Taij + 6) at Kiba): 42 - 2 (distraction CM) + 4dF: auto success
Kiba is taken out.

Hinata, stop going after Ms Forehead! Akane is the dangerous one!

~~Hinata (Taij vs Akane, tag "Aggghhhhh! Getemoffgetemoffgetemoff!!!" + invoke "I Will Prove Myself!"): 26 + 3 + 3 - 2 + 4dF: 18~~
Hinata rerolls!
Hinata (Taij vs Akane, invoke "Aggghhhhh! Getemoffgetemoffgetemoff!!!", invoke "Will of Fire"): 26 + 3 + 3 - 2 + 4dF: 36
Akane (Taij): 36 + 4dF: 48 Holy crap!
Akane gets 4 shifts. Hinata could stay in the game if she took a Moderate and Severe Consequence, but chooses to be taken out so as not to be injured for the Exams

Sakura gently suggests to Shino that perhaps this is not the ideal time to be using his insects...

Sakura (Genjutsu vs Shino to set "Haru Lightningballed Your Swarm". Invoke "Brains Win Battles, Not Glory"): 26 + 3 + 4dF: 26
Shino (Alertness): 26 + 4dF: 17
Shino cannot reroll an anti-genjutsu check
Shino gains "Haru Lightningballed Your Swarm". Sakura passes the tag to Haru

Haru delights in having yet another chance to enter into reasoned discourse with a high-ranked clan member about the various economic and sociopolitical concerns Haru holds in regard to how the village of Leaf is structured in its role as a soverign polity...

Haru (Taijutsu vs Shino + tag "Haru Lightningballed Your Swarm"): 26 + 3 + 4dF: 26
Shino (Taijutsu): 24 + 4dF: 21
Shino takes 2 stress on his 3-box track

Shino decides that perhaps Haru has a point about the nature of Leaf's organizational structure, and that maybe this is a good time to get some tea and sit quietly somewhere far away from this discussion.

Shino: Surrenders

"Team Kurenai versus Team Clanless! Round one, fight!" Kurenai-sensei slashed her hand downward and then leaped back to the edge of the field.

Kiba charged, splitting left as Hinata went right, her lithe grace allowing her to sprint ahead of him as always. Shino kept to mid-range, most of his insects going up and forward. It left the enemy no good options, surrounded on three sides and above.

The Clanless kids—and didn't that name just say everything you needed to know!—split, their fighters going to meet their opposite numbers while Sakura-the-weakling just stood there, looking at him with fear on her face. Sage's saltlick, what a pain it would be to have a useless lump like her for a teammate! She couldn't fight worth a damn and could barely pull off two jutsu without falling over from chakra exhaustion. She'd made it through the Academy purely on tricks and traps and book smarts, and those didn't work so well outside the classroom.

He came together with Haru in a furious but indecisive clash, both of them smashing at the other and both blocking everything. They maneuvered for advantage, the fight shifting around the field as each tried and failed to land a meaningful blow.

Haru was just starting his next attack when Sakura suddenly cut a Tiger seal and yelled "Water Element: Water Clone!" She promptly fell to her knees, gasping, apparently having put all of her energy into the technique.

Kiba didn't have a lot of time to notice Sakura's discomfiture because he suddenly had bigger problems in the form of another Sakura rising out of a puddle beside and slightly behind him, coming into existence with her leg chambered for a front kick. Fortunately, the girl had screwed up by making the clone just a little bit too soon. Had she waited another fraction of a second the clone would have been fully behind him and he wouldn't have seen the kick coming; she'd probably been more concerned about making sure the clone got a swing in instead of focusing on perfect placement. He frantically dove forward and rolled, curling tight to ensure that Akamaru didn't get squashed and to finish the revolution faster because Haru was already on top of him and mid-roll was a very bad place to be.

Very privately, and very grudgingly, he had to admit that the clone was a slick and gutsy move; he'd noticed the small puddle in the dirt as he came forward but hadn't thought anything of it. Now he had a sneaking suspicion that Sakura had planted it there just so she'd have a water source to use to make a clone, since a surprise assault was the only chance she had of making a positive contribution against ninja of Team Kurenai's quality. Maybe tricks could sometimes work outside a classroom.

He was out of the roll and rising to his feet when Haru leapt. Lightning sprouted from his fists as he came down, shaping itself into a pair of studded bucklers, one on each fist. The first caught Kiba across the face and knocked him sprawling, but he turned the motion into a backroll that took him just out of reach of Haru's vicious axe-kick followup. Kiba struggled back to his feet, the effects of the lightning leaving his body far away and spastic. He staggered, gasping at the pain and throwing out defensive strikes that were never going to land but just needed to hold the little shit off for a second and holy crap that guy hit hard.

Rage burned through him, washing the pain away. There was no way that Haru was good enough to match Kiba in a straight-up fight, but the fact that he got one lucky shot in (only when helped by Sakura's stupid trick!) meant that Kiba was going to get razzed by his teacher and his family for months. Fine, let's see how the festering turd liked being on the receiving end! Time to show him what it meant to face off against the greatest member of the Clan of the Hound's current generation!

"Man-Beast Ultimate Taijutsu: Fang Over Fang!"

The world vanished into a spinning smear, the shriek of Akamaru's fangs splitting the air as the two of them revolved. They'd need to be careful not to actually kill this little piece of crap, but he wasn't going to the Exams so it was okay to mess him up a little if—

The world slammed to an agonizing stop as the enemy twisted aside from the incoming strike and smashed one of his lightning bucklers into Kiba's chin with an uppercut so powerful that it reversed his spin. The impact left him hanging face-up in midair for a split second before Haru twisted back with a vicious Earth Crusher strike that slammed the studs on the fucking lightning buckler into Kiba's hip and slammed his body down into a vicious rising knee to the liver.

Kiba hit the ground hard, the pain making the world white out around him. Years of unrelenting discipline forced him to roll aside and a burst of chakra repulsion allowed him to bound six feet away and onto his feet, giving him the single instant he needed to gather himself again and get back into the fight. Maybe this guy wasn't a complete chump, maybe—

All thought vanished as something smashed him in the side of the head and the world went black.

o-o-o-o

Akane shifted her weight, eager to get started. This would be her first serious team-on-team spar and she was nerv...er...anxious to show off her youth! Yes! Definitely, what she was feeling was anticipation and delight at the opportunity to be youthful!

"Stay cool and follow the plan," Sakura muttered, not moving her lips and keeping her eyes locked on Kiba where he stood on the other side of the field. A glance at her teammate left Akane feeling alarmed at how scared Sakura looked...or it would have, if they hadn't been planning and rehearsing this for the last two days, right down to the facial expressions. (Watching Mari-sensei drilling Sakura had been hilarious. Akane had forgotten just how mischievious her redheaded teacher could be.)

Kurenai Yūhi stood between the two groups, one hand upraised as she looked back and forth to make sure they were both ready. When she got nods from both sides she slashed her hand down, shouting "Team Kurenai versus Team Clanless! Round one, fight!" before bounding to the safety of the field's edge.

The enemy moved just as Sakura had predicted they would; Kiba went right as Hinata went left, Shino four steps behind them in the center with his swarm climbing up and over. Hinata was the fastest, her face completely calm and the bulging veins in her forehead showing that her bloodline was active.

"By the power of YOUTH!"

Akane's battlecry catapulted her forward to meet Hinata, the joy of battle surging in her veins, all nervousness forgotten now that battle was joined. Hinata was by far the most dangerous member of her team and she needed to be put down fast if Team Clanless was going to have a shot. Putting her down was Akane's job.

Hinata was just as good as her reputation, her footwork flawless as she slid away from each of Akane's strikes. She used no opposition and barely any deflection, opting instead for evasion. She moved the barest minimum, each strike missing her by the width of a hair, and each evasion was paired with a chakra-infused jab at the striking limb. The jabs hurt, foreign chakra sending pain through Akane's legs and arms. Cold, heat, pressure—the sensation was unrecognizable but briefly agonizing. Akane found herself grinning; Hinata was brilliant! What a perfect opponent, her youth shining forth in a display of skill so great it managed to make an insanely difficult art seem effortless! No wonder she had dominated most of her peers in the Academy.

Unfortunately for Hinata, this wasn't the Academy and Akane wasn't her peer.

Two years ago, before fleeing Leaf, Akane had been mediocre, barely squeaking into the top half of the class. But now, after two years of intensive daily practice with Hazō, Mari-sensei, and the others? After fighting for her life every day against foes beyond the imagination of a Leaf genin? Now things were different. Very different.

She ignored the pain and pressed forward. Brilliant as she was, Hinata was overmatched and she clearly knew it. She was giving ground constantly, the fight twisting across the field as she frantically tried to regain the initiative. The tiny hits she was managing to get in were hurried, too imprecise to jam Akane's tenketsu closed, and she was paying in kind for each of those hits. For every agonizing spike of pain in her wrist Akane delivered a punishing blow to the body. For every excruciating strike into her thigh or calf, she gave Hinata another bruise on the face. Neither of them were landing anything definitive, but pain was an old friend of Akane's and it wasn't going to get the job done. Hinata's calm was starting to crack as she visibly realized she wasn't going to win this fight as it was. Akane saw the instant that Hinata realized that, but wasn't fast enough to stop the changeup.

"Hey!" Akane yelped as Hinata ducked under an elbow smash and disengaged, racing towards Sakura. Akane blurred after her.

Hinata's hands flashed in a Gentle Fist combo that would have left Sakura on the ground and helpless had it landed, but the pink-haired girl threw herself aside, using chakra repulsion to bounce in an unpredictable zig-zag that kept her just ahead of the rush.

She stayed ahead of Hinata's attack for the half a second that Akane needed to get there and then she turned away, trusting her teammate to take care of it. Instead, Sakura turned to where Haru and Kiba were just coming together.

"Water Element: Water Clone!" Sakura shouted. She strained, all her strength clearly pouring into the technique, before falling to her knees gasping. For a moment Akane was alarmed; her teammate hadn't really cast a water clone, had she? That wasn't the plan, but that really looked like someone on the edge of chakra exhaustion.

She didn't have the time to check, because just as she was about to re-engage Hinata the world went dark. A sleeting, buzzing cloud of insects swarmed over Akane's body, pushing into her ears and nose and trying to get into her eyes and mouth. The erstwhile member of Team Uplift fought down panic and forced herself not to yell in fear. She slitted her eyes, swiped at her face to clear the bugs away, and jumped back away from the Gentle Fist strike that she knew was about to wreck her if she didn't get out of the way.

The swarm moved with her, but she managed to get close enough to the edge to see more clearly. From the corner of her eye she saw Haru smash Kiba's hip in and slam a knee into the smaller boy's liver. Akane winced; the liver hurt, a lot, but hip injuries were almost as painful and far more dangerous. They slowed you down, and a slow ninja was a dead ninja. Haru might be enjoying this chance to beat on clan kids just a little too much.

Quickly, she raised a hand and triggered the topmost macerator seal in her blast ring. A chunk of metal half the size of her fist slashed across the field and slammed into Kiba's head, dropping him to the ground like a sack of potatoes that had had their granupositors cut off.

Sparing the attention was costly, because Hinata was on her again, seeking to take advantage of Akane's momentary distraction. Akane threw herself aside from the double-fist strike to her chest, barely blocked the two-finger strike into the nerve cluster on her deltoid, ignored the pain from the crane's beak to her mastoid, and punched Hinata's head off, barely remembering to pull the blow.

The white-eyed girl was knocked back and out, hitting the ground hard. The veins around her eyes receded as her bloodline automatically deactivated. No sooner had she stopped moving than the insects swirled up and away, zipping back to where their controller was struggling under the impact of Haru's killing intent.

Akane checked to make sure that Hinata was breathing steadily, then bounded off to help her teammate, although she suspected—yup, Haru had it well in hand. The boy wasn't rich, wasn't a lot of fun, and was too serious, but he could fight. He had an up-close-and-personal style that often took 'personal' way too literally. His form was ragged in a few places and he occasionally overextended, but he had a single-minded brutality and a bottomless well of killing intent that made up for it. Even in a spar his ferocity and lethal purpose battered at the mind, making it hard to focus, hard to stay with the smooth ebb and flow of movement that kept defenses strong and made attacks effective.

Shino clearly felt the impact of that killing intent, because he was slow to dodge. Haru's first strike landed, a solid hit to the chest and head that sent the insect-user skidding backwards and dropped him to the ground. Haru pounced, only to have to stumble to a clumsy halt when Shino raised his hands in surrender.

"I yield!" Shino said.

o-o-o-o

Haru stood motionless, outwardly calm as he waited for the fight to start. Inwardly, he was struggling to keep the smile off his face. Today was a good day. The weather was nice, the sky clear, and he was going to get to kick in the teeth of a clan kid and not just one but two clan heirs.

Well, one. He had no illusions that he could stand up to Hinata. He'd seen her spar, and she was better than he was. Even before you considered the bullshit powers that had been granted to her through a happy accident of birth, yet still allowed her to believe she was morally superior to anyone who hadn't been so blessed.

Kurenai Yūhi stood between the two groups, one hand upraised as she looked back and forth to make sure they were both ready. When she got nods from both sides she slashed her hand down, shouting "Team Kurenai versus Team Clanless! Round one, fight!" before bounding to the safety of the field's edge.

Haru lips skinned back in a snarl of vicious delight and he leaped forward to meet Kiba. Of all the clan kids, Inuzuka Kiba was the one Haru was most looking forward to grinding into the mud. The little asshole thought he was the second coming of the Sage, strutting around with his chest puffed out and brags on his lips. Everything handed to him, everything easy. Trainers since birth, plenty of food and plenty of clothes, family power smoothing his way at every step.

The distance between them vanished and he let himself revel in the joy of strike and counter. For just a moment, he wondered if he could take the punk on his own without need of help. How satisfying would it be—

No. Discipline. Stick to the plan.

He shifted, giving ground in order to lure Kiba to the wet place where, well before dawn today, Sakura had dumped out several gallons of water. He watched for the water out of the corner of his eye, maneuvered Kiba into the perfect spot and got ready for his chance.

Behind him, Sakura shouted the powerless words to a jutsu she didn't know as a cover for the genjutsu taught to her by that laughing, brilliant, wonderfully evil red-headed witch. Kiba's eyes flicked to the side and back, widening at what he imagined that he saw. He threw himself forward into a roll and Haru went up, cutting handseals and banging his fists together to summon forth the power that was his by right of pain and sweat and effort instead of gifted to him by birth. Kiba was barely back on his feet when Haru smashed his right-hand buckler through the little brat's face with the entire strength of his body and force of his leap behind it. He took care to aim for the jaw instead of the temple; worst case, the kid would be eating his meals through a straw for a few weeks instead of having his head caved in.

He'd give Kiba this; the kid was tough, and skilled. He saw the blow coming and threw himself back, slipping the majority of the impact and ducking his head so that most of it hit his shoulder instead of his face. Haru spun the lightning around the rim of the buckler; the rage that he kept chained in his soul bared its fangs in delight as Kiba staggered back, muscles spastic and body off balance. Haru followed close, not giving the enemy time to catch up. He needed to put Kiba down fast if he wanted to have a shot at Shino before Akane got to him.

He wasn't quite fast enough. Kiba managed to make just enough space to regain his balance and go back on the offense with a shouted "Man-Beast Ultimate Taijutsu: Fang Over Fang!" The dog on his head barked and the two began to spin, faster and faster until they blurred together. The blur launched itself at him, the air screaming as it was torn apart by secret clan jutsu.

Haru imagined he could feel the world slow around himself as the man/dog whirlwind flew at him. He swayed aside and dropped, coiling himself up and then unwinding into an uppercut that blasted Kiba out of his technique. Haru twisted, turning his hips and pulling down with chakra adhesion as he smashed the studs on his buckler deep into the bones of his enemy's hip. He twisted his hand on impact, ripping the wound wider. The liver was wide open and perfectly placed for a knee but the body mechanics were against him; a knee strike wasn't going to have force behind it.

Well, not if you fought like a civilian.

Chakra repulsion sufficient to jump ten feet straight up, all directed through one foot, sent his knee up like a festival rocket. Kiba cried out but didn't stop; he rolled aside from Haru's followup stamp and back to his feet. He was weaving like a drunkard and there was already a bruise the size of a lemon on his face, but he was obviously still ready to scrap. Haru grinned and moved forward—

One of Akane's lead shot hit Kiba in the head and dropped him like a string-cut puppet.

"Damnit, Akane, I had it!" Haru shouted over his shoulder as he flung himself at Shino. He allowed the rage to flare up within himself, letting it reach out with blood-drenched claws that tore into the clan scion's brain with whispered promises of death and pain, of shattered bones and crippled hands, of eyes spitted on red-hot forks and tongues ripped from the mouth.

Shino staggered under the impact and waved frantically at his swarm, pulling it away from Akane and sending it at Haru in a buzzing column so dense it blocked all sight.

"Lightning Element: Lightning Bullet!" Haru shouted, dismissing his lightning bucklers so he could cut the actual handseals for an actual technique that really did exist and which Haru had no idea how to actually perform. He thrust both palms forward, bracing himself as though pushing a massive weight. He felt utterly ridiculous and could only pray that Sakura would be on her mark.

She was.

Shino screamed and staggered, jaw gaping open in shock and pain as his eyes, overriden by Sakura's genjutsu, told him that his entire swarm had burned to a crisp in a crackling burst of lightning, their ashes drifting to the ground in its wake. The scream made his actually-unharmed swarm hesitate, swirling in confused circles for a moment. Haru was past the bugs and on Shino before the other genin could recognize what had actually happened. A leaping knee to the collarbone and a 12-6 elbow to the head threw Shino back and down. Haru was on him before he hit the ground, hand cocked to punch right through his smug, condescending, clan-privileged fa—

"I yield!" Shino said, raising both hands.

Haru was so surprised he barely managed to abort his punch and ended up sprawling clumsily to the side. Damnit!

"A most youthful performance, Haru!" Akane said, bounding up with a wide smile and a hand extended to help him up. He took the hand, a part of him still marveling at the insane strength in the girl's solid but not blocky body.

"Indeed," Kurenai said from behind him. Haru turned quickly to find the jōnin kneeling over the still unconscious Kiba. "You really did a number on him, kid."

He gave a small but respectful bow. "He was a tough opponent, ma'am." He kept his face calm and his voice level while inside the rage snarled and gnawed on its own leg. You always had to kiss ass with the clans, especially when you'd just beaten one of their precious kids to a bloody pulp.

Kurenai snorted. "Not tough enough, apparently. I'm going to get my team to the hospital, so I don't think we'll be having a round two." She flicked a series of handseals and three clones appeared; seconds later the two unconscious genin were loaded onto stretchers produced from a storage scroll. A few seconds more and all traces of Team Kurenai and their teacher were gone, except for some blood spatter on the grass where Kiba had gone down.

Haru looked at the spot thoughtfully. Kiba would be fine; he'd been breathing well and Kurenai had shown no particular alarm after checking him over. Haru was glad to know that; the Will of Fire would not allow him to seriously injure another Leaf ninja, not even a clan member. Still, the rage in his soul, temporarily sated into introspective quiescence, felt that the red accents on sun-dappled green made for a lovely picture.

Haruno Sakura
High Concept: Determined Underdog
Trouble: I'm Not The Load!
Civilian-born Ninja
Less Power, More Control
A Subtle Team Leader Is You
Words Cut Deeper than Kunai
Brains Win Battles, Not Glory

Skills
Alertness: 26
Athletics: 26
Genjutsu: 26
Physique: 15 (2 box stress track)
~various others~

High Concept: Determined Underdog

Sakura has struggled throughout her life. Her strengths are not things that Leaf respects and her weaknesses are all too visible. She's a girl in a warrior profession. She isn't rich, she isn't stylish, and she isn't a stunning beauty. Her chakra reserves are mediocre at best. She's not physically strong or tough.

Sure, she never got a single question wrong in school, ever. Sure, her chakra control is better than that of most jōnin. 'So what?', she is constantly told. Tests don't let you kill the enemy. No one ever won a battle because they had perfect chakra control. 'Give up', people say. 'Go work in the hospital as a medic', they say. After all, genjutsu and medicine and seduction missions are all that kunoichi are good for, right?

She'll show them. She'll show them all.

Trouble: I'm Not The Load!

For some insane reason, when Sakura graduated from the Academy she was put on a team with the Sharingan-equipped Last Uchiha and the jinchūriki son of the Fourth Hokage. There was literally no one in their graduating class who could possibly have kept up with those two, and trying didn't do much for Sakura's self-image. Fortunately, their instructor was Nakamura Dai, a skilled and experienced ninja with a long field career and five years as an instructor in the Academy. He did everything he could to help her, most importantly convincing her that not being able to fight on an even footing with demigods was not a personal failing and that her intellect was equally as valuable as the ability to punch through walls. She blossomed under his tutelage, carving out a role for herself as the team's tactician and analyst. Her teammates were quite capable of delivering overwhelming force, but utterly incapable of doing anything quietly or diplomatically. With Sakura running ops the team became far more efficient and their mission portfolio expanded. Despite this, she was always the weakest member of the team and no one ever allowed her to forget it.

Where Do You Come From?: Civilian-born Ninja

Sakura was one of only a dozen children in her year whose parents were civilians, and the only one who had never had a ninja in the family before. It had never even dawned on her parents that their baby might be a ninja and they had no preparation for it. Her abilities didn't get identified until late and she didn't get the sort of training-from-when-you-can-walk assistance that her classmates got. What she did get was love, acceptance, and total support.

Ninja die, early and often. Civilian-born ninja die sooner and more often because they lack the edge that a clan provides. No one was willing to get close to Sakura; for many it was because they knew she wouldn't be able to advance their careers and they preferred to spend their time 'more effectively'. For others it was because they didn't want to set themselves up for pain by forming an emotional connection to someone who was almost certainly going to die during her first year in the field. When teams were chosen, she was picked last. When teams were assigned, her teammates groaned and told her to stay out of the way. Her suggestions were overlooked or dismissed, and when credit was given her part was typically downplayed.

The gross unfairness of this was infuriating, but complaining never got you anywhere. She refused to give up and powered on.

What Shaped You?: Less Power, More Control

Once Sakura was identified as a ninja she was thrust into a world where her peers were either crazy, politically connected, or both. Worse, all of them had larger chakra reserves and were therefore able to fight longer, hit harder, keep practicing their jutsu longer, and use jutsu that she couldn't. (Not that Academy students are taught high-chakra techniques, but it was obvious that this would be the case.)

Because of her low reserves she was considered a weakling and dismissed, by all the students and many of the instructors. She found ways to work around it, improving her chakra control in order to make maximum use of what she had. It turned out that she had a gift for control and rapidly outstripped even many jōnin...not that it won her much acclaim.

What Was Your First Adventure?: A Subtle Team Leader Is You

Two months after graduation, Team Seven was given their first real assignment: The son of a rich spice merchant from a small town outside of Leaf vanished. His father hired a team to locate the boy and kill who- or whatever had taken him. When they got to the site, Nakamura-sensei told the kids that they were in charge and he was simply going to observe. Sasuke and Naruto promptly started arguing about the best way to proceed. Sakura let them go for a while, then gently led them to the idea that interviewing some of the client's neighbors might be a good idea, and arranged for herself to be the one doing the talking. With the information in hand she spent ten minutes subtly guiding the boys into recognizing what she had figured out immediately: that the client's son, Jun, had been snatched by a local yakuza group in order to interrogate him regarding his father's business. She even managed to convince the boys to take a more nuanced approach to hostage rescue than 'swarm the place with clones and punch the bad guys until they stop moving.' As a result, Jun was recovered alive and the team developed a contact with the yakuza group in question.

Guest Starring: Words Cut Deeper than Kunai

Throughout their time in the Academy, Inuzuka Kiba was determined to get a date with the beautiful and glamorous queen bee of the school, Yamanaka Ino. Ino found Kiba uninteresting at best and repulsive at worst, but her political training kept her from alienating a boy who might well become a clan head one day. He refused to take hints or even outright statements of 'not interested'...until the day that Sakura laid it out for him, providing a detailed list of his many social and hygenic failings and a clear explanation of why no girl would want to date him. In front of most of the school. While reading from notecards, and making assorted helpful suggestions on how to go about fixing all the issues.

Since that day she's had a complicated relationship with Ino and a bad one with Kiba. On the other hand, her overall social standing in the school significantly improved and she started to make friends among the lower social strata.

Guest Starring, part 2: Brains Win Battles, Not Glory

At last year's Chūnin Exams both Naruto and Sasuke were promoted and Sakura wasn't. Nakamura-sensei explained later that she had the talent to be a good ninja but that she simply didn't have the experience to be a chūnin, and that the other two were being promoted for largely political reasons—it was important that the other villages see them as incredible prodigies in order to make Leaf look stronger. Sakura made a conscious choice not to look too closely at that story and to focus more on her training.

After her failure at the Exams she worked herself to death to earn another shot. She was placed with Akane and Haru; they lack the raw power of her former teammates but the three of them work far better together and she finds herself hopeful about this year's competition.

Velorien · Nov 16, 2017

Interlude: Sister-in-Law

With the last of the burn victims evacuated and Satoshi's Water Element having done its job, Tsunade studied the inside of the house, wondering how many blows to the forehead a person needed before they decided to have window drapes hanging directly over their cooking surface.

The sound of Shizune's careful footsteps brought her back to reality.

"Message for you, Tsunade-sensei," Shizune proffered her a scroll. "Dr Yakushi wanted to make sure you were kept in the loop."

"He's a talented boy, that one," Tsunade muttered as she undid the seal. "Perfect balance of professionalism and kissing my ass. If he wasn't so good at BL work, I wouldn't think twice before poaching him for Int Neg."

She studied the scroll. It took her several readings to make sure she understood it correctly.

"Shizune," she said evenly, "is this a load-bearing wall?"

"I don't believe so. Why? Wait—"

The punch shook the structure to its foundations.

"Huh," Tsunade said as she watched the ceiling begin to cave in, "think you were wrong about that. Still," she gave a chilling smile, "I suppose that means now they won't need the rest of this building either."

-o-

It had been a productive afternoon, Mari reflected as she walked home at a leisurely pace. Lady Aburame had had a lot to teach her about Leaf fashions in loose, flowing clothing, which was something Mari's personal style had never before incorporated. Needless to say, it also inclined Lady Aburame, the gift-giver, to look more favourably on her, as well as creating the expectation of a continuing relationship so Mari could repay the debt. And on her way home, Mari had been able to make discreet enquiries about a certain member of Team Gai. Nothing but the best for her little girl.

That brought her up short. Her little girl. Somebody as twisted as Mari should never have kids; she'd realised that years ago. She'd even avoided taking on genin teams, because inheriting her superlative skills wasn't worth the risk of inheriting her warped relationship with life. And then fate had forced her hand.

First Keiko, who was already so broken when they met that Mari could do anything to her and it would still be an improvement. Then Hazō. Noburi. Akane. Kagome, who in many ways was still as much a child as the rest of them. They had not only survived their exposure to Inoue Mari, but had somehow taken the best of what she had to teach without absorbing her nihilism, her sadism or her narcissism. And now, inexplicably, impossibly, they were her family. Was there enough trust and affection between them for a parent-child relationship? Could she live up to it if there was? Did Gōketsu Mari deserve the chance to be a decent human being that Inoue Mari never got? Even if she did, could she seize it without giving up the skills, crafted by a decade of lies, cold-hearted exploitation and mind rape, that she now needed in order to protect her family?

"Are you Inoue Mari?"

In some ways, it was exactly the right question. And the right question demanded the right answer.

"Gōketsu Mari, yes. How can I—"

The weight of a mountain came down on her.

Ancient. Implacable. Too vast for the human mind to wrap around its full size. And in the depths she had been cast into, writhing horrors that the sunlit world had never seen, too old to have names and too primordial to know death. They perceived her, and in their sight she was nothing but layers of flesh and bone, to be flayed, examined, catalogued and devoured at their leisure for no better reason than because they were bored.

Mari would have been lost, except that she had once experienced a pressure even more overwhelming: the Mizukage's will, backed by a creature yet more powerful and more inimical to life. The thought sparked within her: This is less. And fire only needed one spark.

The best of the mountains were volcanoes. Rivers of fire flowed through them, relentlessly seeking freedom until at last they obtained it in a burst of explosive strength. Mari was fire in the dark, melting everything in her way as she clawed her way up from the depths. Stillness could not beat motion. Darkness could not beat light. If the fire was hot enough, no peak was too frozen to burn.

She couldn't reach. The mountain was too tall, its roots too deep. Unlike the unending flames of a true volcano, fed by countless interconnected streams, Mari burned alone. She had only the force of her determination, and there was still too far to go when the magma began to cool.

In the physical world, Mari channelled that incomplete measure of freedom. She couldn't counter the enemy's aura, but she could leap away, hoping that distance would diminish its power.

A hand lashed out, grabbing her wrist. The hand held the full strength of the mountain, and Mari would tear off her own before the force was enough for her to pull free.

Then the pressure vanished completely.

"I've seen worse," a low female voice grudgingly admitted.

Mari turned to face her opponent. She did not fall to her knees, not because her legs had the strength to support her, but only because Gōketsu Mari kneeled before no one.

Mari's strength returned quickly. Her wrist burned, a restoring fire pouring through it and spreading through her body until she could stand tall again. It was the final confirmation she needed.

"Lady Tsunade," she bowed. "I have been looking forward to meeting you."

The other woman returned the bow with what was almost, but not quite, deep enough to be a respectful nod.

Now Mari had a chance to study her, she realized Tsunade of the Three was stunning. Every muscle shaped to perfection. Curves beyond anything a master seduction specialist's body-shaping arts could achieve. Eyes with hints of dark humour and maternal care concealed behind a rampart of indomitable will. Were she ten years younger, or any ordinary shinobi, Mari would have collapsed into a puddle of helpless lust there and then.

But she wasn't ten years younger, and she certainly wasn't an ordinary shinobi. Mari was a professional, with all the experience in the world when it came to giving and receiving intense pleasure while the rational part of her mind watched for every opportunity to suborn, interrogate or assassinate, as the mission demanded. After a brief mental check for genjutsu, she decided that either Tsunade could supercharge someone's libido through pure physical contact or she was just that mind-blowingly hot. Probably both.

She belatedly engaged her brain. Tsunade had opened with brute force, and was now towering over her like a yakuza goon used to solving her problems by hitting them. Yet what she had actually done…

She'd demonstrated her absolute superiority in direct conflict with barely a finger lifted, and shown that she was unbound by social mores by doing so without warning in public. She'd pronounced judgement on Mari, establishing her right to do so. Then she'd extended a helping hand to her, simultaneously an apology, a gesture of respect and an assertion of control. And then she'd done… whatever it was she'd done, whether medical ninjutsu or mastery of body language or genjutsu beyond Mari's ability to detect or whatever. Another assertion of control, and one set on Mari's home ground—she refused to believe that Tsunade was unaware of her specialisation. Tsunade was making no effort to conceal that this was a test of Mari's discipline and composure, of her ability to engage in social combat while her mind and body were at the mercy of the most primal of all emotions, her ability to hold her own when every fibre of her carnal being was screaming to collapse at Tsunade's feet as a willing sex slave.

It had all taken Tsunade maybe three seconds.

Mari couldn't afford to get sucked into Tsunade's pace. If she allowed this woman to lead the interaction, then what might she do in three seconds more? No, Mari needed to use her unique advantages and points of leverage. If she could seize the ship's wheel, she should be able to steer this confrontation at least until the maddening craving for Tsunade's body wore off and she was ready for a proper counterattack.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly," she said calmly, consciously directing her eyes away from Tsunade's breasts and to her face. "I am Gōketsu Mari—"

"That remains to be seen," Tsunade cut her off. "For now, girl, you are coming with me."

She turned and began to walk off.

Mari couldn't even hate her. It was too rare to be able to face off against a fellow master in her particular art.

Tsunade's move left her with a dilemma. Mari could turn away and leave. If she did, she would be publicly conceding defeat, allowing Tsunade to set the terms of their next encounter and being blatantly rude in a way Tsunade would surely be able to exploit later (while herself having a persona immune to accusations of rudeness). But if she followed, it would be an unambiguous act of submission, both taking orders and acknowledging that her own plans weren't as important as Tsunade's.

Mari had to take a third option.

"If you have something you wish to discuss, you will be welcome at the Gōketsu compound tomorrow morning," she said to Tsunade's retreating back. "Tonight, I'm afraid I have a prior engagement."

Tsunade stopped, but did not turn around. "You're cancelling it," she said over her shoulder.

An instant counter. Beautiful. Just like watching Tsunade walk away.

"One doesn't cancel engagements with the Hokage," Mari said sweetly. Advantages. Points of leverage. Not all confrontations were won head-on.

It was enough to make Tsunade face her again. Point scored.

"You shouldn't disrespect your elders, girl," Tsunade said, simultaneously waving away Mari's attack and the fact that Jiraiya was as much of an elder as she was. The audacity of it was breathtaking. "I've half a mind to strip you naked and spank you right here in the middle of the shopping district."

Two could play at that game.

"Not my kink, I'm afraid. But if you insist, I'd be happy to experiment in private." As the words left her mouth, Mari was disturbed by the extent to which she meant them.

Tsunade took a step towards her. Then another.

"You know," she said casually, "I'm the closest thing Jiraiya has to a sister. I'm also the reason why Leaf has the world's biggest army, and why so much of it is alive and fit for duty. In this village, I could do anything I wanted to you and people would just sigh and say Tsunade's at it again. It'd probably make things less complicated if I avoided irreparable damage, but then again there's very little I can't repair if I try hard enough."

The more Mari looked at the approaching Tsunade, the more she believed her. If Mari let herself be defeated here, she failed the test. If she failed the test, it was entirely plausible for Tsunade to decide she was unworthy to be Jiraiya's wife, and destroy her credibility as Gōketsu Clan matriarch right here, right now, with a public spanking. Jiraiya might even be forced to cut her loose to minimise the damage. And while he would probably be furious with Tsunade for it, in the end he'd have to choose her over some sexy jōnin he'd only known for a couple of years. Tsunade might even make it up to him by explicitly throwing her support behind his reign and taking a more active role in Leaf, which again would be worth more than Mari's both at home and abroad. It was a ridiculous scenario, but Mari could believe it of this tempestuous woman who held nothing back and took no prisoners.

Mari had time for one move.

It couldn't be an attack. Anything Tsunade could classify as "disrespecting one's elders" was an instant loss.

It couldn't be escape. Anything Tsunade might consider abdication was an instant loss.

It couldn't be defence, like appeasement or deflection or relying on outside help. In the face of a direct strike, those would make her look weak, and looking weak in front of Tsunade was an instant loss.

Tsunade was getting closer with her unhurried walk. It created a sense of mounting psychological pressure while being overtly inoffensive and not committing her to any particular course of action. Damn, she wanted this woman.

Ironically, it was that thought, which she might not have had if Tsunade hadn't meddled with her mind, that fired the chain of associations that gave Mari the answer.

Tsunade. Sex. Hookups. Bars. Drinking.

Tsunade had a reputation. There was only one place she could have been trying to take Mari for a serious talk while continuing to test her. A place where she could not refuse to go, even though agreeing would give Mari the initiative.

"Lady Tsunade," Mari said, "would you care to join me for a drink?"

Tsunade gave a barking laugh. "I know just the place, girl. But you're buying."

It might not have been victory, but it was not yet defeat.

-o-

"Lady Tsunade," the barman bowed politely. "And you've brought Lady Gōketsu, I see. Lady Gōketsu, would you like to reserve a room for the night, or should I have some bearers readied to carry you home?"

A room for the night, Mari's lecherous mind echoed.

"Can it, Shūji," Tsunade snorted. "If this one has the nerve to pass out on me, I'm chucking her in the alley outside with the rest of the trash. Now bring me my usual."

"Of course, Lady Tsunade. And Lady Gōketsu?"

There was only one possible response.

"I'll have what she's having."

The barman's eyes widened a little. "Are you quite sure you don't want to—"

They weren't in public anymore, not really. If Mari was going to build rapport, now was the time.

"I'm fine," she said. "They didn't call me the Woman With the Iron Liver back in Mist for nothing." Or at all, though she felt the title would have been deserved.

The barman left and returned so quickly it had to be ninjutsu.

"Your drinks, my ladies," he said, offering each of them a thick mug that looked like it could survive being wrapped in exploding tags and then detonated.

Inside, a dark liquid bubbled ominously. Mari was fairly sure that cold drinks shouldn't bubble. Naturally, Tsunade was watching to see what she'd do.

"To new friends," she said, moving the mug towards Tsunade indicatively before taking a mouthful.

That initial sensation was probably her tongue burning to ashes in her mouth. Or maybe it was the roof of her mouth melting into nothingness. Whichever it was, it was bliss compared to what the drink did to the back of her throat, to say nothing of the rest of her oesophagus. By the time it arrived in her stomach, Mari no longer believed the liquid she'd been served was intended for human or animal consumption. It was probably a bodily fluid of some particularly horrific chakra beast.

On the other hand, she was still conscious and capable of lucid thought, so she'd had worse.

Tsunade locked eyes with her.

"To old enemies," she said, mirroring Mari's toasting gesture.

Test still going, then. Mari had expected nothing less.

"So," Tsunade said after knocking back a mugful of the mysterious liquid as if it was nothing. "I hear you stabbed your comrades in the back, abandoned the next lot to their deaths, ran around murdering innocents for a while and then bribed your way into Jiraiya's bed."

Opening with a direct assault again. This time Mari was more ready. She was starting to get a handle on Tsunade's behavioural tendencies and what might appeal to them. Pragmatism. Directness. Some cynicism, but she wasn't sure how much yet. Overstepping the mark there could be deadly, the Will of Fire being what it was. The important thing, the crucial thing, was not to sound like she was justifying herself. The second she did that, Tsunade would rip into her like a thresher shark into a whale.

"Some things are worth dying for," Mari said coolly. "Politics isn't one of them. And if you think it takes bribery for Jiraiya to take a gorgeous woman to bed, you clearly don't know him as well as I thought."

Tsunade laughed. "More like it takes bribery to make him lay off once he's set his sights on you. You're not wrong there, Inoue."

The veneer of female solidarity concealed a subtle barb, portraying Jiraiya as a skirt-chaser who saw Mari as nothing more than another conquest. Tsunade would be watching to see whether she'd notice, or miss it in favour of the more obvious attack. And of course, if Mari wanted to pass the test, she'd have to signal that she'd noticed, and retaliate appropriately, without getting in her own way as she addressed the primary offensive.

The obvious means of retaliation, whether flippant or mocking, were out. Tsunade had made that clear enough earlier. To insult her directly was to move the test into the realm of direct confrontation, where Tsunade stood ready to crush her without mercy. But mere gentle correction represented a loss of tempo. That was unacceptable in both relative and absolute terms, because Mari knew she was on a time limit. If she kept pace with Tsunade drink-wise, then she had to pass the test before she became too drunk to play—and there was every possibility that Tsunade had some kind of detoxification technique up her sleeve to make sure Mari went down first. Damn medic-nin. At least with artillery ninjutsu you knew what you were facing.

"I'm sure Jiraiya's had hundreds of women in his life," she said, "but I'm the only one he created a new clan for. I can see why it's taking time for you to get used to the name."

Tsunade gave her a pitying look. "You don't have a name anymore, girl. You can worship paperwork all you like, but by Leaf law, you're not married until you've taken your vows in a traditional wedding. Dates back to my grandfather's day, before Uncle Tobirama and his clique invented bureaucracy. You've given up your missing-nin name, and now you're nothing."

That hit Mari where it hurt. A big, beautiful wedding ceremony, with pretty dresses and people cheering and cherry blossoms and a handsome groom and a lawful representative of the Mizukage reading out the Oaths of Binding Allegiance. A normal dream for normal girls. The kind she forgot after she stopped being a normal girl and became herself. She was allowed that dream again now, only for Jiraiya to keep putting it off and off for reasons that always made perfect sense and never satisfied.

Tsunade sensed weakness.

"He's a commitment-phobe. Trust me, I would know. Hates feeling trapped, which is why he's putting off the wedding as hard as he can."

Mari opened her mouth.

Tsunade didn't let her speak. "He'll hate you too, for trapping him, even though it was his decision more than anyone else's. He'll drive you away, and if you've hitched your cart to his, you'll be left with nothing. He's Hokage now. His good is the good of the village, and he's never hesitated to get rid of people for the good of the village."

Mari was reeling now. Of course she felt insecure about the marriage. Who wouldn't? It was a political marriage to a man who hadn't had a chance to fall in love with her, and maybe never would, who was under countless different sorts of pressure and who had the kind of power that, judging by Mist, could corrupt deeply and irredeemably. And that was just the biggest of the many cracks in their new life.

The lupchanzen piss (as she'd named the drink after its taste and its hostile efforts to take over her brain) wasn't helping, as Tsunade drank it like water and forced Mari to match her pace lest she look weak. She wasn't fully drunk yet, but she could sense her fine motor control starting to degrade into crude groping… mmm, crude groping… and the gradual decline in her supercharged libido was being balanced out by a similar decline in her inhibitions.

Would it really be such a bad thing if she pounced Tsunade there and then? Surely if she let her powers of seduction do the talking, she'd have better odds than if she trusted to her increasingly tangled tongue? Mmm, tongue…

This was getting serious. Mari had to go for a knockout blow now, while she was still capable of thinking clearly.

"Everyone can betray you," she finally said. "No one is safe. In Mist, if somebody reports you for treason, they get a reward, and anything can count as treason if the state wants your stuff or the right people get a big enough bribe. Or if someone fails to report something you've done that counts as treason, they might be the ones who get taken away.

"But you know what? People still trust each other. People still share secrets, and let strangers into their lives, and fall in love and get married even though a quarter of all denunciations come from family members.

"I've been betrayed by parents. Close relatives. Lovers. I've betrayed more people than I can count—it was my full-time job for over a decade, and enough of it spilled over into my private life to make me sick. I've seen all the treachery human nature has to offer.

"But eventually you've got two choices."

She took a swig of lupchanzen piss to focus her thoughts, which in itself said something about how far gone she was.

"Either you give up on humanity and go hide in the woods behind a thousand explosive traps. Or you draw a line.

"I've chosen to trust my kids. I've chosen to trust Jiraiya. Maybe one of them will betray me. Maybe all of them will. If they do, fuck it. I'll deal with it then. It'll take more than a dagger in the back to put Gōketsu Mari down.

"But until the day I feel that dagger in my back, I'm going to keep trusting my family. That's where I've drawn my line."

The room was getting blurry now. She could see Tsunade's enormous breasts in front of her, and found herself thinking they'd make an excellent pillow.

"Here," Tsunade pressed a small soldier pill into her hand. "Swallow this."

Mari dazedly obeyed, and over about ten seconds the room came back into focus.

"Detox pill?"

"Close enough for an enka ballad," Tsunade said. Mari couldn't help noticing that her voice was perfectly sober even though she hadn't swallowed anything herself.

Tsunade pulled a glass jar out of her sleeve.

"Here."

Mari examined the jar. It was filled with small blue spheres. "What are these?"

"Fucking Thunder God Pill," Tsunade said proudly. "For when you want your lover to be in all the right places at the same time. Proprietary formula."

Mari raised an eyebrow.

"Give him one pill if you want a night to remember. Two if you don't think you'll need to walk for the next few days."

"What's the maximum safe dose?" Mari asked in fascination.

"Three," Tsunade rolled her eyes. "I'd tell you not to do it, but I already know you're going to. So instead I'll just say to start in the morning, book the day off, and then book the next three off as well so you can recover."

"Then… if you're giving them to me…"

"Early honeymoon gift," Tsunade said. "And tell Jiraiya that if I don't get a wedding invitation delivered to me by this time next month, then I'll do to him what I did to Orochimaru after the Snakes in My Pants Incident."

"The what?"

Tsunade smirked.

"I'll tell you when you're older. Shūji, make sure the girl gets home safely, all right?"

She headed for the door.

"Wait," Mari called out. She tried to stand, but apparently the detox pill wasn't that fast-acting. "The thing you did to me before. What was it?"

"Trade secret," Tsunade said. Then she leaned over to Mari's ear. "It multiplies, though. Doesn't add. You take some time to think about that before I'm next in town."

Mari blinked. "You said you were the closest thing Jiraiya had to a sister."

Tsunade shrugged. "I'm also head of the League of Jiraiya's Pissed-Off Exes. Life is complicated."

Not that Mari was exactly a poster child for simple relationships, having only recently married her boss and adopted a girl still more than a little in love with her.

"It's getting late," Tsunade said, "and I still need to scare the bejeezus out of little Kabuto before I head home. Wouldn't want him getting sloppy just because he thinks he's got me 'handled'.

"I'll see you around… sister-in-law."

Marked for Death: A Rational Naruto Quest

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