Desolation of the Caged BirdIt was a high card again.
"Oh, tough luck!"
The double-chinned bastard sitting across from her wore a greasy smile. The two attendants beside him wore matching expressions, and the longer their greasy gaze lingered, the more she desired to take a shower and scrub herself clean.
The longer the gaze lingered, the harder she found it to keep back her temper, to reign in the muscle twitch that would have her fist fly forward. Thrice now, she had reminded herself to hold back. The amount of money she stood to lose was the only leash holding back her temper.
Whether she and her apprentice would be sleeping underneath the open skies again or in a nice cushy six-star inn all depended on how much restraint she could display.
Her opponent was as shrewd as he was ugly. Her grandfather often said that the world was not unkind. Talent and beauty were distributed unevenly, and it was as a result of their absence that the talentless and the aesthetically lacking were motivated to attain greatness. It was through the absence of birth-given merit that such people built guts and perseverance.
Yet, it had to be more than mere guts that made the man sitting across from her continue to leer at her chest so openly. His eyes seemed desperate to burn holes through her attire.
She could not act brazenly, not after running from the debt collectors last time. She remembered the expression someone had when they'd heard her utter that sentence.
A mighty Sannin, running from debt collectors? They'd uttered with all the naivete of a child who was just told their parents' income was finite.
Being a legendary figure in the world did not mean one was exempt from the law. What was she going to do to the debt collectors? Kill them because she didn't want to pay? That was the fastest way to get her name sky-high in the Bingo Books with a large fat bounty.
She wouldn't have to worry about debt collectors after that. The ones knocking on her door would be wearing headbands with steel plates, licking their blades and asking politely if her preferences were dead or alive. Tangling with hunter-nin on a daily basis was suicide — especially because of her condition.
"Your mind seems to be wandering a little bit, hmmm?"
The fool sitting across from her licked his lips, and her jaw clenched.
Calm, yourself, Tsunade… calm…
She couldn't let her temper be the reason she and Shizune got into an argument again.
She couldn't remember when she'd ever gotten so angry. Then, she remembered the words, and her anger would flare once more.
"Do you think if I just used my mouth, they'd forgive the debt?"
The scene was distorted every time she remembered it. From Shizune asking the question as they'd set out to sleep under the moonlight, to her telling her apprentice not to make such jokes, to the girl's expression revealing that she hadn't been joking, to the words that followed, the justifications, the excuses —
"Kunoichi are trained for such stuff so it shouldn't be a big deal — "
"Dignity? Tsunade-sama, we leave every town broke and and with people chasing after us for money, I don't see how this would be any more of a hit to my dignity —"
It was there, after her hand had gone up, after the slap had been delivered, in lieu of the girl's stunned silence, in lieu of the tears that welled up in her eyes, that she saw the disgusting truth stare back at her.
It's my fault.
She'd dragged the girl out of that village and every day since then had been spent wandering like vagrants, treating individuals here and there for the occasional bundle of yen, and then gambling away all those earnings just so she could drown herself in more alcohol.
Shizune had no friends. She had no close bonds. She had neither lovers nor rivals. She had no ambitions. She had no dreams. Her desires, whatever they were, were suppressed for the sake of someone else. The only person she truly knew and cherished in this world was her dysfunctional alcoholic gambling-addict of a teacher —
A teacher she'd sacrifice everything — even her own body — for.
Why, then, wouldn't she think so little of herself? Why then, after countless nights of escaping debt collectors and camping in the woods, after seeing her beloved teacher humiliate herself time and again, wouldn't she propose such a thing just so they could afford a proper night of rest?
It's my fault.
The most formative years of an adolescent's life weren't to be spent in such an unstable environment, even for shinobi. They were not to be spent picking up the slack of an older, dysfunctional adult. The result of drowning in her own grief was coming back to bite her. The consequences of taking for granted the one person who followed and cherished her without a word were starting to pile up.
She'd apologized. She'd promised her apprentice that she would change. That if she couldn't change for herself, then for the love she shared for her closest confidant and only apprentice, she would give up on the alcohol, abandon the gambling, and reform her ways. She would change, so that her apprentice would never again dare assume they'd reach a point so low as to sell her body for minor comfort.
She would change.
The very next day, she passed at a bar and had to be carried out by her apprentice.
Two evenings later, she lost another 100,000 yen in the gambling den.
Shizune had not said a word.
If the girl had raged and ranted, if she'd looked at her with disappointment, it'd have been better. It was her lack of scathing condescension that hurt. It was the lack of judgment. It was the utter absence of hatred and vitriol from watching her break those promises that really, really got to her.
There was no hate, because there were no expectations.
Shizune never believed she was capable of upholding those promises.
Not even a little.
Her own apprentice, the one person in the world who she could argue knew her best —
Had no faith in her.
"All in."
"Are you sure you can afford it, Senju-hime?"
The pork-like bastard across from her offered a broad smile.
"It's none of your business. And if you want to live longer, don't call me that."
Try as she might, she couldn't focus on the game. Something had changed between her and her apprentice. Ever since those incidents, there was a distance growing between them. Shizune's method of address had become more and more formal over time. The girl kept pestering her for more and more medical ninjutsu knowledge.
She's going to leave me.
The lump stuck in her throat felt like it was about to explode. She gripped her hand tight underneath the table.
She's going to leave me. Like everyone leaves me.
She almost wished some calamity had befallen Konoha so she could have a good reason to convince her apprentice not to go back. However, from what she'd heard, Konoha was doing extraordinarily well.
Why? Why were you the lucky one?
She had always believed Minato wouldn't last as the Hokage. It was universally proven that talented, kindhearted shinobi like him would definitely face one ill or the other and die young, just as… they died young.
If such a thing had happened, she'd have turned to her apprentice and told her "See? Konoha is cursed. The Hokage position is cursed. There's no point in going back. Stay with me."
Yet, in this regard, she was a terrible gambler. Minato was alive and Konoha was prospering under his reign. Even worse, his wife kept pestering her with those damn letters.
She didn't know how Kushina kept accurately finding their location to send letters to them. Every other month, a letter would arrive, asking how Tsunade was doing, and inquiring about Shizune's wellbeing as well. Along with the letters, there'd also be a lump sum of cash and pictures — the cash she'd gamble away or spend on drinks, but the pictures she couldn't get rid of.
Over the years, the pictures changed from pictures of Kushina's wedding with Minato, to pictures of the woman during her pregnancy, to pictures of a little blonde-haired baby, Naruto, and most recently, pictures of her new twin daughters.
The older twin was named Mito, in honor of her grandmother, but instead of being written in the traditional kanji: ミト, it was written using a different set of kanji, 望杜, to mean hope and forest. The younger one was called Biwako, in honor of her sensei's wife. Kushina made her their honorary godmother, just as Minato made Jiraiya their son's godfather, even though she'd never asked for such a stupid thing.
I didn't ask… to be the godmother of some bratty twins.
The girl had good intentions, thinking that by sending those pictures and telling her about her life, she'd be moved enough to consider coming back to Konoha.
Why you?
If Dan hadn't died, wouldn't she also have her own little blond brats by now? If the world hadn't taken him from her, wouldn't she also look happy in a wedding gown?
…Why?
It was a bitter, irrational dislike, and Tsunade knew it. Kushina was her family. They shared the same great-great-grandfather. They were blood-related, however distant it was.
Why couldn't my life… be like that?
The more pictures Kushina sent, the happier she appeared, the more Tsunade's dislike morphed into resentment.
Now, Kushina was taking the only thing she had left.
Shizune swooned when she saw the baby pictures. She remembered seeing her apprentice blush, gushing on and on about Kushina's wedding dress. She'd groaned as the girl would stay up all night, ignoring her hangover, just to ask intimate questions about romance, sex, and relationships.
If Uzumaki Kushina wasn't in the picture, then no matter how unsightly she appeared, no matter how much she drank or gambled, Shizune would never think about leaving her side, because her apprentice didn't have anywhere to go. She didn't have anywhere to call home.
But Kushina was in the picture.
Kushina made it clear that they were always welcome at the Uzumaki Clan Compound.
If Shizune left her, the girl would have a place where she'd be welcomed and accepted without question. She'd even be given an elevated position — the personal attendant of the Fourth Hokage's wife.
From there, her life would move on an upward trajectory. She'd probably meet someone, she'd fall in love, she'd have her own family, kids, live a fulfilled life —
She'd leave me behind.
The only thing stopping her, the only thing keeping her from success and happiness was her… teacher.
I can't have you leave me.
"I heard you possessed extraordinary bad luck, but seeing it in person…"
The cards on the table were revealed.
High card versus a full house.
Her seventh high card in a row.
She'd lost. She'd lost it all. Her last chance. The last bit of cash she'd earned from healing a rich merchant's son that had passed through the area. Not only was she destitute now, the amount of money she owed could leave even princes crying in despair.
Every last coin of her wealth and inheritance from the Senju Clan had been gambled away. Tsunade grit her teeth slowly. Her fingers dug into her palms. Hard.
The pork man in front of her was laughing. An obnoxious, wheezing laugh in a manner that made her ears ring. Her blood pumped in her ears rapidly. Her breathing slowed.
Calm down. Calm down. Calm yourself —
"Hmmm… now, now, I don't think you have anything else of value I can take, but, I took a liking to that young girl who follows you about. Her figure is just my type. If you put her up as the stakes, we can make it all or nothi —"
Blood splattered across the room.
There was a strange sound, like a watermelon being crushed. She didn't know when her hand shot out. She wasn't sure how it happened. Usually, when people tried to provoke her, she controlled her strength to ensure she beat them to a pulp, but she never killed them.
Never.
It was a mistake. A minor miscalculation. The specific words the pig-like man uttered triggered her killing intent. She'd subconsciously granted the punch about five percent more power than it would usually have.
But he was a civilian.
Even a paltry five percent increase was too much.
Screams filled the entire gambling house. The sound of blades being drawn rapidly entered her ears. She was not focused on any of that. The wall before her and her face was splattered in the remnants of gray matter and flesh. A half-squashed eyeball fell and rolled in front of her.
Blood.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
Blood.
All the world's color faded.
Blood.
Nawaki lay in her arms.
Blood.
The smell of copper hung in the air.
Blood.
The grass was dyed red. The ground was dyed red.
Blood.
Her hands were red. Her body was red.
Blood.
Flowers. Corpses. Graves.
Blood.
Faces. Smiles. Tears.
Bloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodbloodblood—
"...sama! Tsunade-sama!"
The world regained its color. The smell of wet leaves and fresh rain assaulted her nostrils. She found herself in a large forest, so thick and huge that the sun was blocked out by a canopy of leaves. Her apprentice stood before her, panting desperately.
"Shi…zune?"
Something off about her apprentice. Her chakra was completely depleted. Her skin was covered in numerous fresh wounds, the angle and direction reminiscent of being inflicted by immensely sharp blades. Yet, they appeared too sharp to be swords.
Her clothes were tattered and scorched, leaving the lingering smell of burnt hair and flesh wafting into her nostrils.
She glanced down at her own condition. Her clothes were ripped in an indecent manner. She was basically down to her undergarments. There were bruises on her skin she didn't recall having before, all of them resembling hand prints, and all of them in inappropriate places.
A cold feeling seeped into her chest. A primal fear sparked from the depths of her soul. She tried to speak, only to find her voice emerging as a croak.
"What —"
"I got there before anything could happen!" her apprentice shuddered. "T-t-they said you killed someone Tsunade-sama… t-they said t-the person you killed… was the nephew of the Wind Daimyo… a-a-and they wanted… r-r-reparations…"
The Wind Daimyo's Nephew?
She hadn't known that. No wonder he'd been so brave. No wonder he dared ogle her so openly. He'd thought she was aware of his status. He'd thought himself untouchable. The family members of a Daimyo were, in truth, untouchable. A Daimyo had an entire shinobi village at his beck and call. No one dared offend them without cause.
Yet she'd killed him.
She didn't trust her voice. Didn't trust herself to speak. Her gaze landed on her apprentice's wounds, feeling her world spin as she saw the faint red outline coming from those cuts.
"We… can't continue like this, Tsunade-sama."
Tsunade's head snapped up.
"W-what?"
"We should go back to Konoha."
"No."
"Tsunade-sama, y-y-you were almost —"
"I said no, Shizune."
Go back to Konoha?
It couldn't happen. Never.
Return so everyone could see how miserable she was? So they could see her drown her sorrows in alcohol and debt? So they tell her to 'suck it up' and move on? So they could constantly remind her that her grandfather built Konoha, and she'd failed to live up to his legacy?
She couldn't return to the medical division even if she wanted to. What kind of world-renowned medical expert froze up completely at the sight of blood? With her condition, re-entering the shinobi corps was also a fanciful dream. Going into the battlefield was asking to be killed or worse.
What was she supposed to do, let herself live off the generosity and sympathy of others, like some sort of parasitic leech?
Was she to become a person whom others would point at in hushed whispers? Was she supposed to ignore others clicking their tongues, crying 'what a shame!' whenever they saw her? Was she merely to accept a life amidst a sea of pitying gazes?
No.
She'd rather be dead in a ditch and defiled a thousand times over.
"I c-can't keep watching you do this, Tsunade-sama. I can't… I — I can't keep watching you destroy yourself…."
The words were like ice pouring over her body.
"Shizune —?"
The girl's tears fell.
"I can't keep pretending like this doesn't hurt me! Watching you drink and drown your miseries every day! Watching you throw your life away! If my uncle saw what you'd become — he'd — he'd be heartbroken!"
She flinched.
"Shizune I — "
"Tsunade-sama, if — I can't — I can't keep following you — I can't… I can't keep watching you destroy yourself. I just… I can't, Tsunade-sama."
All the color drained her face. She'd feared it coming. She'd anticipated this moment coming. Her apprentice could only take so much. Yet, even then, she'd hoped it would take a little longer.
She'd hoped it would be much, much longer before they reached this point.
"Fine," her words were hoarse. "Go. Abandon your sensei — I'm already used to people I love leaving me."
"Tsunade-sama t-that isn't fair!"
"As of today, we sever our relationship as master and apprentice," her voice was hoarse. "You're free. You no longer have to pick up after your failure of a teacher. I don't have to be a burden on your shoulders anymore. Good for you. Go. Go become a kunoichi. Dedicate yourself to that hell hole. See if I care."
"Tsunade-sama! That's not — I don't think you're a burden — I just —"
"You just — what?"
"I want — I want what's best for you —"
"What's best for me? I've lost everything! Everyone! The only people in the world I've loved are dead! They're gone, Shizune! That place took everything, and now — now it's going to take you too! And you're too blind, too stubborn to see it!"
"You can't blame Konoha for the deaths!"
"Then who am I to blame? Kami? The Shinigami? Fate? Who do I blame, Shizune? Who do I blame?!"
Her apprentice didn't answer.
"We have to keep moving, Tsunade-sama. Suna… Suna will send hunter-nin after us. If we're in Konoha —"
"I'm not going back, Shizune."
The silence that lasted between them lasted ages. It lasted centuries. It lasted more. Her apprentice knelt before her, gripping tightly onto the hem of her kimono. The girl sat, and, after the silence passed, she took a deep breath. There was a difference in her gaze. Steely. Hard. Pained.
"I — I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Tsunade-sama."
Her apprentice got up. The footsteps were light and heavy at the same time. Thunderous and silent, at the same time. She sat there, for minutes, and then, for a full hour.
"I'm sorry, too… Shizune."
No one heard her words — as no one would, in the coming nights and weeks. The silence ached at her chest, and forced her to bite down on lip.
She had to get accustomed to it.
From now on, it would be her sole companion.
XXXXX"Ten Exchanges?"
Shiranui Genma had a headache.
He never had the intention of becoming a Jōnin tutor. He was more than fine to continue in his position, working as part of the Hokage Elite Guard and a member of the Thunder God Squadron. Staying close to the Hokage was a more relaxing job, and one even far more high-paying than going to the field. Minato was the only shinobi with an SS-Rank rating in the bingo book. Who would be stupid enough to try and assassinate him?
However, Minato wanted everyone in his Squadron to experience the joys of teaching, feeling that it would help their skills improve and give them new perspectives on life. So he, Raidō and the others had all been elevated to Jōnin, and they'd all been given their tasks.
Being one of the more skilled members of that group, he was chosen to become the Jōnin teacher of one the most unrivaled geniuses of the era. Said genius was the one standing in front of him, completely ignoring the angry looks of his older teammates, and stating his cause.
"Yes."
"You have me at a loss, Hyūga-san."
"I cannot accept a teacher who is inferior to me. I will not call a person 'sensei' if I do not believe they are worthy of the title. You must survive ten exchanges with me in a taijutsu match. Only then shall I begrudgingly consider you worthy of being my teacher."
There was no shinobi in Konohagakure no Sato who had not heard of Hyūga Neji. An unprecedented genius, the youngest ever to enter the academy, confirmed and recorded to possess an IQ of 280. He would have been the youngest ever academy graduate, had it not been for Minato's rule of not allowing anyone younger than five years old to graduate the Academy.
Having been given the responsibility to train such a genius, it appeared this was the Hokage's method of grooming him for more serious positions in the future. It was also a show of his trust, and a show of the Hokage's goodwill to the Hyūga Clan, having one of his own personal elite guards become a Jonin instructor.
At least, that was what it looked like on the surface.
In the past several months, the Hyūga Clan had suddenly exploded with talent. Their mission success rate had skyrocketed, doubling if not tripling that of other clans with ease. There had been reports of something happening in the Hyūga Clan, some change or another, but no one outside of the clan was capable of figuring out what it was.
What was more disconcerting was the fact that the clan members had not gotten more arrogant. It was one thing for the Hyūga Clan to grow in power and grow in corresponding levels of stick-up-the-assery, but they hadn't. Instead, they'd somehow gotten kinder. They aided in solving petty disputes, were more willing to look the other way and turn the other cheek to grievances that they'd previously blown out of proportion.
Needless to say, this was a cause for concern.
The other clans were growing wary of the Hyūga's newfound military might, as well as their sudden altruism. Suspicions were slowly rising day by day, with more and more conspiracies forming. A few people had already been arrested for spreading false rumors that the Hyūga were planning a coup, others had been jailed for claiming they had intent to leave Konoha entirely and form their own shinobi village.
No one knew what was true and what wasn't, and as the Hyūga had refused to comment on the reason for the change, the speculations and rumors grew ever more rampant.
His secondary mission in being the boy's sensei was to see if he could uncover some highly sought-after answers. It was, without a doubt, one of the most important missions he had ever been given.
However, it didn't seem he would get the chance to complete it.
"If you can endure ten exchanges in close combat, I will kowtow and call you sensei. If you cannot, I will leave this team and request the Hokage grant me a suitable teacher."
Genma felt his headache growing. He wanted to sigh inside, wondering if Minato had expected this when he gave him this task. Geniuses often had with them a certain amount of pride, but this was his first time seeing a Genin challenge a Jōnin. Even if Neji was touted to be the greatest genius ever produced by the Hyūga, there was a qualitative difference in battle experience between the two.
"Alright."
He had no reason to disagree because he could already tell that this was something necessary. Not only did he want to get a rough handle on the boy's skills, but there was also the problem that Neji's teammates seemed not only jealous of him, but annoyed by him. They were older than he was by a fair amount, after all. The boy was five, while they were both twelve. Having a genius like him on the team fanned the flames of their insecurity, so it truly would be a hassle to get them to work together.
Perhaps a little humbling would be needed so they'd not hate him?
They fought in an open clearing on Training Ground 14. With a senbon lazily in his mouth, Genma twirled a kunai in his right hand, while his opponent entered into what he recognized as the Hyūga Clan's penultimate technique, the Gentle Fist.
There was a distance of about twelve feet separating them. At first, Genma had worried that the boy would choose to start close, as it would be somewhat troubling to evade the Gentle Fist from close range, but seeing him move so far away, he couldn't help but question his motives.
"Ready yourself. If you do not take me seriously, you will die."
Genma resisted the urge for his cheek to twitch. For such a young kid to be giving him warnings, did the Hyūga Clan pamper him without restraint?
Before he could chide him, he felt a strange gust of wind. All his instincts screamed at once. An automatic reflex forced him to tilt his head, just as a palm tore through the air where it was a single moment ago. A sharp breath escaped his lips, his eyes widened.
Neji was in front of him. The twelve-foot gap had vanished without warning. The pressure from his palm sent Genma's hair flying back, and the suddenness of the attack immediately forced him on the defensive.
Another palm rushed forward. Genma rose his kunai. To his utter befuddlement, Neji's palm grabbed the blade as though it were not a sharp object, and pulled him in with it. Before Genma could question it, his kunai was sent towards his solar plexus.
On instinct, he channeled his chakra through his body to perform the substitution jutsu —
It didn't work.
There's no way —
The scent of blood filled the air. He stared down, seeing his own hand, his own kunai, pierced into his body, and feeling an inexplicable chill. That split moment of disbelief, that rare second of hesitation was all he needed, before another palm struck, this time, striking squarely to the center of his forehead.
Genma's entire life flashed before his eyes.
The palm landed on his forehead, however, it was soft. There was no attacking intent. The burst of chakra that usually followed did not come. Sweat uncomfortably dribbled down Genma's forehead.
"You lasted a single exchange. You are not qualified enough to be my teacher."
Neji withdrew his palm.
Sweat fell down Genma's brow.
Had he wanted to, in that moment, the world would no longer have a person named Shiranui Genma.
The boy's teammates stood there, in shock and silence. Neji did not regard them. He simply placed his hands behind his back, walking off calmly into the distance. There was an unspoken grace to his movements. There was a refined air to his actions. A sense of nobility, of grandness and presence. It was as if the world and everything within it could not hinder him. As though it could not hold him.
As though it was all beneath him.
Genma coughed out blood, feeling himself go faint from the injury. He tried to move, only to find that his body no longer listened to his commands. He couldn't understand why the substitution jutsu failed. It wasn't until he tried circulating his chakra, that he sucked in a deep breath in terror.
How?
Then, and only then did he realize his tenketsu had been sealed.
XXXXXThere was silence in the Hokage's Office.
The images on the Pure Leaf Pearl played over and over again, and every person in the room couldn't help but feel a little unnerved. One individual, with blue eyes and blond hair, watched the image unfold, again and again, his eyes sparkling.
"I don't believe genius is an apt term for him," mumbled a soft voice. "He's a monster."
There was a universal murmur of approval. The gathered team of Jōnin present shot a few uncertain glances to each other.
"I'd already suspected putting Neji-kun in a normal team would not work," Minato said. "All of his academy instructors claimed his taijutsu is peerless. On his graduation document, Fushiguro-san said, 'as long as it's a taijutsu match, Hyūga Neji will never lose.'"
Minato leaned back, and smiled.
"His words are correct. Having a teacher who can't compete in pure taijutsu wouldn't be beneficial to his growth, as there'll be little he'll stand to learn. As such… I will make special arrangements for his —"
"Hokage-sama!"
The room was immediately silenced as a Chūnin burst through the doors. Several pairs of eyes glanced at the nervous girl, before she swallowed deeply, and gestured out a letter.
"S-s-sorry! Hokage-sama! But — but it's urgent! There — there's a missive from the Kazekage!"
XXXXXA bird landed directly upon the hand of a masked man, with a small furled piece of paper attached to its right leg. The man grasped the paper and let the bird fly off, before unfurling it to read its contents.
This was unexpected.
Tsunade of the Senju was wanted in the Land of Wind for the murder of Kazuhiko Kuniyoshi, the nephew of the Wind Daimyō. The Wind Daimyō had ordered the cessation of all exports to and imports from the Land of Fire until she was captured and brought before him for trial. He'd also placed an edict upon Sunagakure no Sato, limiting the funding to the shinobi nation as well as massively hiking taxation fees — until they captured and brought the killer of his nephew to justice.
"Konoha won't give up Tsunade. They won't surrender the First Hokage's only remaining descendant. And Suna will starve, shrivel and suffer until they have her."
The masked man laughed, burning the parchment in his hands to ash.
"It really is a wretched world, sensei."
Sooner than he'd anticipated, and faster than any could have calculated —
The Shinobi World would once again be engulfed in War.Last edited: Friday at 9:15 PM Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:hornydaoist, Cheerio, DtPrince and 133 others
Training Ground 10 wasn't a place she wanted to be.
Every moment she stood and glanced around was a moment wherein needles stabbed relentlessly into her chest. The reality of standing here stung more than the insults of those idiot villagers. It stung more than the suspicion of her fellow shinobi, who would spit as she passed, whispering words of 'slut' and 'whore' and 'snake.'
"I can sense your killing intent."
A voice emerged behind her. Her watcher wore an ANBU mask and spoke in a dry monotone.
"Fuck."
She cursed almost instinctively, grinding her teeth.
"Mitarashi-san, I understand that you're not pleased with your current predicament —"
"That's a fucking understatement!"
"Be that as it may," the ANBU's words were sharp. "You must restrain yourself. Hokage-sama's words were clear. During your probationary period, you will be evaluated on numerous criteria. If you do not pass them all, your previous rank will not be reinstated. "
"I know!" she spat. "One year, right? It's just one year. I can handle it. Just fucking watch me!"
The ANBU didn't respond. She didn't know what it was, but it irritated her even further. Her killing intent almost spiked, but she suppressed it. She balled her fists and clenched her teeth so hard blood would almost have started spurting out.
The most frustrating thing about this situation was that she had no one to blame. Who was she going to blame for her demotion? The Hokage? It was already extremely magnanimous of him to not expel her from the shinobi corps outright. The fact that she could still be a kunoichi was him being kind.
Was she to blame his mentor, Jiraiya of the Sannin? No. She was the one who went in search of him, after hearing of how the man had excelled in fūinjutsu, after hearing of his newfound prowess in the art. She was the one who got on her knees like a whore and begged him to remove that fucking parasitic mark on her neck.
She remembered how he'd examined it for an hour without saying anything, before shaking his head and muttering some nonsense about his teammate's genius. He'd told her that his former teammate had placed numerous failsafes and with his current skill there could be unexpected side effects if he removed it now. He'd said, confidently, that if she was patient, in five or so years, he'd be capable of removing it without the risk of side effects.
She'd been the one who refused to wait. Five years? She couldn't last another five seconds feeling that filth on her. Every second the mark was on her was one in which she felt constantly defiled. Every additional second was one which drove her insane. To have a permanent reminder of that betrayal etched on her flesh and branded into her skin was something that made her wake up every morning and vomit.
Just hearing that he could remove it was enough for her. She said damn the consequences. Fuck them where they lay. She'd handle it. She could handle it.
Of course, it wasn't like she could force him to remove it. She could bitch and moan and whine all she wanted, but there was no way to make him remove it if he didn't want to. He'd been adamant at first, insisting on her waiting, and it was only after she started to strip in front of him that he changed his tune.
She'd heard that Jiraiya was a famous pervert. She'd been more than willing to give him a little show if it meant changing his mind. However, not only had he stopped her once she'd started stripping, he appeared outright insulted.
She'd somehow offended him by offering herself as eye candy. If Anko was being honest, it was a first. She didn't have a habit of offering a show to just anyone, and it stung to be so bluntly shut down. Worse, never had she offered herself to someone and had them be offended.
To get rid of her, he agreed, saying that as long as she was willing to endure the consequences, he'd remove the seal immediately.
She got her wish. The Cursed Seal of Heaven was gone.
Unfortunately, a huge chunk of her memories vanished with it.
She remembered who Orochimaru was, she remembered her grievances and hatred, but a lot of things were gone entirely. She completely forgot the correct sequence of hand seals to numerous jutsu she could have sworn she'd mastered, and for some, she completely forgot their names.
Her snake summoning contract was severed the moment the seal vanished. How? She didn't know. Even Jiraiya didn't know. Some bullshit about Orochimaru implementing a clause that connected master and apprentice. It didn't matter the specifics. All that mattered was that the snakes no longer answered her call, meaning over a good chunk of her techniques were just gone — smoked.
As if that wasn't enough, her chakra quantity regressed to the level of a fucking academy student as a result of the removal process. There were probably Genin with greater reserves than she had. The sudden reduction in chakra quantity also threw her chakra control out of balance, because she was used to controlling more, not less, her control was utterly atrocious.
The worst of all the side effects, however, had to be the damage to her emotions.
She'd always channeled her emotions into the Cursed Seal without knowing it. For years, her resentment, rage, vitriol, regret, despair, terror, and more were all pumped into that seal so she didn't have to deal with any of it.
Once the seal was gone, there was nowhere left to channel those emotions, and she had no experience in controlling them — no experience in dealing with them.
She'd become someone whose mouth had no filter. Her emotions were worn on her sleeve, her temper was akin to a giant ball of explosive seals, and her feelings were as open as a geisha's legs.
She cursed anyone who cursed her. She flipped the middle finger to anyone who annoyed her. Flirted openly with anyone who caught her interest. Said the most brazen, damning, daring, and foolish things at inappropriate moments, and could spin on a dime from being happy to ripping out someone's throat.
Anyone who saw her now would believe she was either neurotic or had several screws loose.
Less than a week ago, she'd gone from happily sharing a story and laughing drunkenly in a bar to smashing the face of a fellow shinobi twelve times into a barstool in rage because she'd mistakenly thought he'd been trying to cop a feel.
With terrible chakra quantity, atrocious chakra control, having lost access to all of her higher-ranked summoning techniques, and possessing an uncontrollable temper and unstable emotions that could turn on allies and enemies alike —
It was a complete miracle she was still allowed in the field.
That was why she couldn't place any hatred on the Hokage. The fact that she'd only been demoted showed the depths of his compassion. Anyone else would have sneered, laughed, and given her the boot immediately considering how much of a hindrance she'd be.
Thus, she, at sixteen years of age, four whole years after being promoted to Chūnin, was now being forced back into a Genin three-man team. The probationary period Minato had given her was one year. In other words, she had one year to get her chakra quantity, control, and emotions in order. If in one year, she hadn't made any significant progress, then to prevent further incidents, she would be discharged from the Konoha Shinobi Corps.
Thinking of it almost made her fury spike.
After all, all of this was her fault. It was her impatience that caused her to be in such a predicament. Jiraiya warned her. He told her. Yet, she didn't listen. She'd insisted.
Who could she blame but herself?
Who the fuck could she blame?
"Your new teammates should be arriving shortly."
"I've got eyes," she cursed. "Are you going to stay here to make sure I don't traumatize the brats? I might not be all there, but I'm not going to kill them."
"I'm staying to make sure they don't kill you."
She barked a laugh. Then she remembered that ANBU stiffs didn't have a sense of humor.
"You're shitting me."
"One of your new teammates is someone whose former teammate died in action as a result of envying his genius and was requested by his father to be put in a team with individuals who would not begrudge his talent. The other beat and hospitalized the man previously assigned to be his Jōnin Instructor before requesting a different team from Hokage-sama himself. Believe me when I say this, Mitarashi-san, despite your former rank and experience, you will be the least skilled member of your new team."
"Now I know you're fucking with me," she scoffed. "What kind of itty-bitty, wet-behind-the-ears Genin can beat their Jōnin instructor? That's bullshit."
"A Genius."
"No amount of genius can breach the gap between a Genin and a fucking Jōnin."
"You should hope you're wrong."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"If your teammates were not considered exceptional, Hokage-sama would not have signed off on letting you join them. He expects the relative skills of both your teammates and Jōnin Instructor will be more than enough to offset having you burden the team. In other words, the more skilled they are, the more likely you can continue your career."
She bit down on her lip. "Fuck."
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Throwing her into an unsuspecting Genin Team would just be torture for the poor brats. Hells, even her former fellow Chūnin didn't want to touch her with a ten-foot pole right now. The Hokage wouldn't be so heartless as to force a bunch of fresh out the academy Genin to deal with her. Even she wouldn't be that cruel.
"Who the fuck's my instructor anyway? I wasn't told."
"Someone who's also a genius — in his own right."
Anko did not like the sound of that. Few individuals amongst the Jōnin Corps qualified to be considered geniuses, and all who did weren't much older than herself. Nothing would be more mortifying than being put on a team with someone who was her former colleague and having them become her new leader.
It didn't take long for the first of her new teammates to arrive. If the black hair and tantō placed against his back did not give away his identity, then the shirt he wore, emblazoned with the logo of a fan sectioned into two parts, one red and one white, made it clearer than ever.
"...You're fucking joking."
Anko bit down harshly on her lip. The person who approached was younger than her by a good amount, and she wagered he was, or should be around nine or ten years old. He was someone who everyone knew or had at least heard of, given his prodigious talent. He was also someone that a former classmate and colleague of hers never shut up about.
In the few times she'd listened to Uchiha Shisui ramble on in the general shinobi lounge, she remembered him particularly praising his little 'brother' and calling him a talent beyond talents.
Said talent stood before her, offering only a slightly polite bow.
"Mitarashi-san. ANBU-san."
The ANBU behind her was supposed to be hidden. No, he was hidden. Even then, the brat in front of her had found and addressed him as though he wasn't.
Fuck.
Even Anko couldn't claim to be able to find a hidden member of the ANBU corps as a Genin.
"You're the brat Shisui goes on and on about."
"I apologize if Shisui-ni has troubled you."
Anko opened her lips but swallowed the snarky remark that wanted to fire off on reflex. Despite everything, her sense of self-preservation had not diminished.
This brat was someone Shisui cared a lot about. Besides this, he was the heir to the Uchiha Clan. The future head of one of the two founding clans of Konoha.
If anyone got word she insulted or said shit to his face, she might face the ire of Shisui. He was a shinobi who was terrifying on his own, but even more terrifying considering there were rumors that Shisui was one of Minato's potential future successors — a contender for Fifth Hokage.
If he didn't look for her, she'd also face the pissed-off members of the entire Uchiha Police Force. Those bastards would do anything for their clan heir, and some might lock her up in a cell for the tiniest of infractions, simply because she insulted the boy in front of her.
Anko couldn't claim she cared enough about the boy's background, but there was no denying that there were simply some people that were not worth offending.
The boy calmly moved underneath the shade of a tree, and sat, closing his eyes. Anko didn't say anything to him, nor did her ANBU guide, but the silence that the group lapsed into was somehow so oppressive it made her unsettled.
Barely ten minutes had gone by before another figure appeared. The moment she saw him, Anko's stomach dropped.
"Fuck. Me."
The pale pupil-less eyes only belonged to one clan in Konoha, and they were not, in any way, less problematic than the Uchiha Clan. More so, the boy who approached was remarkably young, even younger than the Uchiha heir. He was someone she had heard about in passing from Chūnin who worked as academy instructors.
"Fuckity-fuck."
He was a child praised to be a genius on the level of, if not surpassing, the likes of Hatake Kakashi, the Fourth Hokage's last-living student and protégé, and some even suggested that the boy far surpassed the Hokage himself when the man was his age.
There was no one, absolutely no one, who lived in Konohagakure no Sato that had not heard of the Hyūga Clan's unprecedented genius — a child who rose from being a member of the branch clan to becoming the Clan Heir with nothing but his prodigious talent and cunning.
The boy's gaze was something that sent uncertain chills running down Anko's spine, considering how utterly aloof it appeared. He approached, garbed in pristine white robes. His gaze glanced over to the Uchiha Heir, and there was a small, tiny, fraction of a raised brow. The Uchiha Heir in turn regarded the younger boy with a strange, odd smile.
The two stared at each other for what seemed to be hours. It was as if they were equally sizing the other up, but, at the same time, not.
Anko bit the inside of her cheek.
Was this what happened when geniuses met geniuses? Did they have the ability to instantly recognize the skill of their peers at a glance?
More irritating, however, was the fact that the boy had never even glanced once in her direction or regarded her since he arrived. She'd heard about the Hyūga and their arrogance, but wasn't it said that they were changing? Getting less arrogant? That they'd become more and more peaceful and friendly?
Even the Uchiha had at least provided her with a greeting, but the Hyūga didn't even seem to acknowledge her existence. It was insulting. Was he saying she was so far below him that he didn't need to recognize her presence?
"Oi," Anko snapped. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude not to greet?"
He turned over to her. His gaze lingered, and a shudder ran through her. She felt as though all her secrets were being laid bare.
"Mere trash."
Something in her snapped.
She lunged after him, planning on teaching the itty-bitty Genin a lesson, only to blink the moment she entered melee range, and saw the clouds above her head.
Huh?
"Hyūga-san, please refrain from killing your new teammate."
It took a moment for her to regain her wits. She was flat on the ground, without understanding even for a moment how she got there. There was a palm hovering in front of her breast. A tiny palm, all things considered, yet, it possessed such a potent killing intent that it made Anko unable to breathe.
The palm was being held back by the ANBU stiff. If not for him —
He — he would have —
There was no mistaking the intent there.
The Hyūga truly would have killed her in that moment, had the ANBU not intervened.
No, that's — that's crazy. Not even I would — how fucked do you — the Hokage wouldn't allow —
Except, the further she thought about it, the more a cold chill ran down her spine. Status-wise, the difference between the Clan Heir of the Hyūga Clan, a once-in-a-generation genius, and a near-crippled, demoted Chūnin was like night and day.
If the boy killed her, to give him any sort of serious reprimand would essentially be to slap the face of the entirety of the Hyūga Clan. It didn't matter who was right or wrong, all that mattered was that the Hyūga Clan would not stand for the imprisonment or trial of their Heir. In the absolute worst-case scenario, they would revolt, rebel, and either cause a civil war or leave Konoha entirely.
The Hokage would never allow that. What was the life of one Mitarashi Anko compared to an entire clan of Dōjutsu users? What was it compared to the peace of Konoha?
Worse, because she was the one who attacked, he could claim it was self-defense, and no one could argue otherwise. After all, she'd already been proven to be emotionally unstable, and had attacked others before — so who was to say she hadn't lost her mind completely?
The boy absolutely could get away with murder — he could get away with killing her.
Cold sweat drenched Anko's back as she stared at the masked ANBU, and recalled his words.
"I'm staying to make sure they don't kill you."
The fucker had not been joking.
A tremble lingered on her lips as she snapped her gaze over to the Uchiha heir. The boy was simply watching it all passively, with those creepy red eyes spinning, and it occurred to her that he had not moved to intervene. It occurred to her that, if the Uchiha heir was the one to kill her, he, likewise, would be able to get away with murder.
She wanted to laugh, but at the same time, she couldn't make a sound.
The Hokage had put her on a team with two Genin who could restrain her worst impulses because they had 'Get-Out-Of-Killing-Anko-Free" cards branded into their damned bloodlines. Both could kill her and only receive a slap on the wrist for doing so — if even that.
Regardless of how unstable she might be, she did not want to die. Hell no. Knowing that both her teammates were all but authorized to kill her was more than enough to force her to think things rationally, and motivate her to reign in her temper, urges, and emotions —
Because otherwise, she'd die.
What softness? Softness? They're all fucking fools.
Anyone who ever said Namikaze Minato was a softie was talking out of their ass. She shuddered at the sheer insidiousness of the plan behind the assignment of her teammates.
The Hokage thought things out, because he, like these two, was also a bloody genius.
"HAHAHA! SUCH PASSION! TRULY, NEJI-KUN, YOU BURN WITH THE FLAMES OF YOUTH!"
A large yell almost broke her eardrums, and everyone's attention snapped upwards to the person who arrived. Anko's eyes almost bled at the sight of the green spandex, and she felt a sense of dread she'd not felt in a truly, truly long while.
Hokage-sama… truly wouldn't… he wouldn't…
"Your sensei is here. That completes my task," the ANBU let go of the Hyūga's hand, and vanished.
Anko swore. He would.
The Hokage assigned Might Guy as her sensei.
"Fuck. Me."
XXXXXHis mother had told him, on one of those days where she was particularly conversational, that the Hokage was his father's rival. She'd mentioned, sighing in reminisce, how when they were younger, both of them would compete against each other often, and in their attempts to outdo the other, they would somehow shine brighter than if they were pursuing their paths alone.
She'd stated, often, that "Wicked Eye Fugaku" would only be half the man he was today, were it not for the "Yellow Flash" Namikaze Minato.
It was not a concept he intrinsically understood. Non-intrinsically, he easily grasped the message that steel sharpened steel. Competition was the fire that lit growth and innovation. Yet, it was something he'd believed he would never experience, nor have the opportunity to experience.
A rival would imply that the individual was of similar skill level and capability as himself. It was not conceit, nor arrogance, nor was it with an exaggerated swagger that he would state such an occurrence was unlikely — if not outright impossible.
This was the conclusion he came to after encountering and interacting with his peers and outstripping them in every way. This was the conclusion he'd surmised after the death of Tenma, a death that could have been avoided had he not been desperate, been eager, to prove himself as equal to his younger 'genius' teammate.
There would be no rivals on his path. It would be trodden alone, all the way, to the end.
This was what he'd thought.
That was what he truly believed.
Before he encountered Hyūga Neji.
Outwardly, the cursory glance that had devolved into a stare-off between the two of them had seemed completely banal. Outwardly, there was no reaction whatsoever from his features. Yet, deep within, every additional second that their glance lingered filled Itachi with a sense of disbelief.
His Byakugan is activated.
It is constantly activated. Yet, the chakra consumption from keeping it activated is so minuscule as to be absolutely nothing. That would imply a level of chakra control that far surpasses that of an Expert Medical Nin. Even beyond that.
Perfect Chakra Control.
Absolutely no waste. Not even a Sensor Nin would notice anything amiss with his eyes.
The illusion placed over his eyes prevents others from noticing that he has his Byakugan activated. No, not an illusion. My eyes can detect trace amounts of chakra but it isn't the same reaction I receive from Genjutsu.
A transformation. The Transformation Jutsu? Partial Transformation. He attained a Partial Transformation and has it constantly active only around his eyes to prevent others from discerning that his Dōjutsu is always active —
Beyond that, his First and Second Gates are open.
He's managed to find a method to open both the First and Second Gates and keep them open without causing undue stress or damage to his body, and without any outwardly visible signs —
The only reason he had detected the varying abnormalities was due to his habit of instinctively activating his Sharingan for a brief moment when meeting new individuals. Without his Sharingan, without its ability to detect the flow of chakra and its perfect recall, it would have been utterly impossible to find anything amiss with Hyūga Neji.
Yet, somehow, in that brief moment they'd glanced at each other, Hyūga Neji realized it.
He realized his secrets had been discovered.
And in the same moment —
They were all gone.
Gone.
Even with his Sharingan, Itachi could no longer see the abnormalities.
How?
For the first time in a truly long while, the Uchiha Prodigy found his mind stimulated. His heart raced. There was a strange stimulation in his chest he'd never felt before. This was a conundrum he'd never encountered, a problem that was forcing him to use every iota of his wit and mind to arrive at an answer.
The fact that I was capable of seeing through the varying secrets indicates he has never encountered a Sharingan User directly before, otherwise, he'd have long been exposed by another and realize where he erred, preventing any Sharingan User from discovering his secrets in the future.
With that in mind, the ability to mask things from the Sharingan would imply an innate understanding of its visual capabilities and loopholes —
That is to say, within the span of meeting me and realizing I could see his hidden cards, he devised a countermeasure to the Sharingan?
Impossible.
No, improbable.
It is more likely that he already has similar countermeasures for the Byakugan, to prevent others in his clan from noticing, and extrapolated them toward the Sharingan —
Yet, even that would require a level of innate understanding of how the Sharingan functions. How would he —
It suddenly clicked.
Of course.
The Byakugan's ability to peer into and through any object and read the flow of chakra. It can see the tenketsu that even the Sharingan is blind to. He directly looked into my eyes and saw the inner biological workings of my Sharingan, the tenketsu involved in the flow of chakra, the photoreceptor cells in my retina, rods, and cones, and the manner in which light refracts. He analyzed all of it and from there, reverse-engineered a method to alter his chakra's visibility in a way that directly blocked the visual information from reaching my mind.
It isn't the Sharingan he's countering but my ability to interpret signals and wavelengths of light. Just as there are wavelengths of light that a normal human eye cannot see, he utilized partial transformation within himself to mask his secrets using a series of wavelengths the Sharingan cannot see.
And he did this in the span of seconds —
No, even shorter.
It was the first time, that a feeling surged within Uchiha Itachi, a feeling that made him say, deep within his mind —
…Genius.
Was this sense of disbelief, incredulity, befuddlement, and wonder, was it how he constantly made his peers, mentors, and family members feel? This feeling of watching someone do the highly improbable with relative ease —
Was this what they felt?
I see.
A rare, odd smile formed on Itachi's lips.
Is this why Hokage-sama put me on the same team as him?
Before today, he had never even contemplated the possibility of masking his usage of the Sharingan. It did not seem something overtly necessary. The Sharingan was both the pride of the Uchiha and their calling card, and no Uchiha who felt pride in their kekkai genkai would ever mask their use of it.
The same should apply to the Hyūga, but here, the Clan Heir maintained an entirely different approach.
Having his eyes active constantly, but without his foes being aware of it would make it impossible for any method of ambush to ever succeed, and it would cause his opponents to vastly underestimate him.
It was why he was not surprised at all when Mitarashi Anko launched her attack, that Hyūga Neji effortlessly evaded with a single sidestep, and swept her off her feet with the back of his palm lightly pushing her right heel, offsetting her center of gravity.
The action was done so quickly he doubted the woman even understood how she'd fallen.
Itachi did not even blink when the boy's palm made a beeline for the older girl's heart because he understood, almost instinctively, that the genius wasn't interested in killing the woman. From his eyes, he could see it. He had no interest whatsoever in Mitarashi Anko. Not enough to even kill her.
Mitarashi Anko wasn't the target of his attack.
Hyūga Neji was testing the hidden ANBU.
He was testing the reaction speed of the village's elite.
Even as the ANBU arrived and grabbed his palm, preventing his teammate's death, Itachi felt troubled. Not troubled that his new teammate's life was spared, but troubled only for one reason.
Too slow.
The ANBU arrived too slowly.
Hyūga Neji's palm hadn't been stopped by the ANBU.
Hyūga Neji had allowed himself to be stopped.
There was a deliberate half-fraction of a second's delay in his attack. Just enough for the girl's life to be saved. This was what his Sharingan deduced.
…He didn't notice.
He could ascertain from the ANBU's body language that the man hadn't realized that he'd entirely failed to stop a Genin from being able to kill someone under his protection. He was blissfully under the impression that he'd arrived in the nick of time.
Itachi found himself in silent contemplation.
Hyūga Neji was younger than him by about four years, but the boy's skill, intelligence, quick-witted thinking, reaction time, and ingenuity was in no way inferior to his own.
He could not claim, with absolute certainty, that when he was Neji's age, he could do the same. He could not claim that he'd have the confidence or the ability to test the reaction speed of a member of the ANBU Corps as a Genin fresh out of the academy —
And get away with it without that member ever realizing it.
This feeling…?
He understood.
He understood, now.
Uchiha Itachi finally understood what it felt like —
To meet a person worthy of being a rival.
XXXXX "Your former teammate is making waves," came a rasping voice. "Suna has put out a bounty on her head. It's a sizable sum."
"So I've heard."
"I have no ties to my former village, and I care little for money. Kakuzu on the other hand…"
There was a silence that stretched, before the sound of mechanical parts, shifting and moving, echoed out within a forest.
"He has unresolved business with the First Hokage, and now, it's open season on the man's only living descendant with a large monetary reward."
"He plans on hunting her."
"Yes."
"Is there a reason you're telling me this?"
"I don't like meaningless fights. Nor does our leader."
"Kukuku. I could care less what happens to Tsunade."
"Do you know why she would kill the Wind Daimyo's relative?"
"She's always been prone to childish outbursts of rage."
"The hardest Jinchuriki to capture will be the Fourth Hokage's wife. The Uzumaki and Senju are considered distant relatives. If we could recruit —"
There was an abrupt laugh.
"I cannot see a world in which Tsunade betrays Konoha."
"Many said the same about you."
Another chuckle came. A non-committal chuckle.
"Why did she leave your village?"
"You seem unusually interested in my former teammate."
"Her actions might be the thing that sparks the next War," there was a pause. "And, it might lead to conflict within the organization."
"Oh?"
"Do you think she can defeat Kakuzu?"
There was a moment of silence.
"If he ends up delivering her head to the Wind Daimyo, you will kill him."
There was an even longer moment of silence.
"Not out of anger, or rage, or for vengeance. But out of principle."
"Principle?" The word was dripping with amusement.
"If someone were to destroy a puppet of mine, even one I had long abandoned, one I had forgotten, one I had discarded — I would kill them. Because even if I did not care for it, the puppet was mine. It was not theirs to destroy."
"Kukuku… I underestimated you, Sasori. I thought you were slow when it came to such matters."
Sasori of the Red Sands let out a grunt. "Am I wrong?"
"Unfortunately I don't hold as much value towards relics of my past as you do."
"I see."
The faint sound of mechanical parts moving echoed away, leaving only one pale-skinned man standing underneath the shade of a tree, garbed in a black cloak with red clouds.
The man's serpentine eyes flickered occasionally, as his hand slowly rubbed at his chin.
"To think he was the sentimental type…"
A flicker of a memory ran through the mind of the man. A woman with blond hair kneeling, healing a grievous wound on his stomach and berating him. Another, an idiot with white hair laughing at the side, and the three of them, together, smiling.
Then, just as quickly as the memory came —
It vanished. Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:hornydaoist, Cheerio, DtPrince and 138 others