Moonlight Shadow

Sasori breathed his last breath, his eyes glassy, half open, now pupils dilated indicating death.

The black-haired puppet began to twitch on the dresser, sliding down the surface with increasingly violent movements. Lightning pierced the navy-heavy sky in Amegakure, followed by thunder tearing matter apart with its menacing roar. She shuddered as if reacting to the boom. As if what happened at that moment hundreds of miles away in another land caused a chain reaction. The puppet trembled more and more and began to twist in convulsions like a dying victim, thrashing across the dresser with increasing strength, silently burst apart, crumbling into fine dust that rose into the air, filling the abandoned room. For a second, it transformed in the light of another lightning strike.

The marks covering the chamber where unconscious Izumi was left to her fate in bloodied, crumpled bedding, began to blur and disappear, crumbling one after another, and with them the jutsu that had taken away the girl's power.

Somewhere deep, at the bottom of consciousness, a wild roar filled the space. Chomei? Words. Someone was speaking words, someone's name. Again and again. Not an animal's roar but a woman's scream, whose bonds and gags broke after years of furious forced silence in captivity. She was enraged. She was wild. She was ready for revenge.
But above all, she was ready to save her heiress. Save her from a world full of suffering, loneliness, disappointment, and harm. She could no longer endure what Izumi felt. Her maternal bond took control - this wasn't how the last Nanusake's fate was supposed to unfold, but if this would end the girl's suffering, so be it.

She searched for her, wading through the marshes, howling at the black sky and pushing through the dense undergrowth of subconsciousness. Silence. So she jumped into the depths and swam, swam, ignoring her tired limbs. She was one with the Abyss. Demons cleared her path as she pushed water aside with her now regenerated slender arms, terrified seeing her desperate look. Suddenly she spotted her, raising her head. The delicate face of a sad girl, bent over the surface of the lake so familiar to her. All she had to do was reach out.

She held her in her arms, soon it would all be over. She tightened her embrace when Izumi tried to break free in a sudden surge of mental clarity, trying to fight, to return to earth. But it was too late, it was no use. The Moth was strong, powerful, and she now decided the heiress's fate in the Abyss. They sank to the bottom slowly, moving away from the last rays of dim light into complete darkness. Dark, cosy, painless oblivion. The last bubble of air escaped to the surface of the water, which then became still.

The chaos around Akira faded into a distant echo as her consciousness plunged into the familiar darkness of a vision. Her body remained in Konan's protective embrace, but her mind drifted to a place between worlds - the threshold where seers could commune with the spirits of their bloodline.

Through the swirling mists of prophecy emerged Huranaishi, the ancient moth spirit, her form both terrible and beautiful. But this time, her usual stern demeanour had softened, showing an almost maternal concern that made Akira's heartache. The spirit's presence filled the void with a bittersweet warmth like the last rays of sunset before night fell.

"Your sister is safe with me now, child," Huranaishi's voice echoed in Akira's mind, gentle yet firm. "I have taken her where none can harm her anymore."

Akira wanted to scream, to demand her sister back, but the weight of truth in Huranaishi's words held her silent. She could feel it - the hollow space in her heart where Izumi's presence had always been, now empty yet somehow peaceful.

"But listen closely," Huranaishi continued, her form shifting like smoke in the moonlight. "This is not her end. Help approaches on swift feet, though they belong to unlikely saviours. Those who once knew her will come to claim her, and through them, she will find her path to freedom."

Images flashed through Akira's mind: familiar silhouettes moving through rain, determination in their steps. She recognized them - faces from Izumi's past, now racing against time to reach Amegakure.

"They may walk in shadow," Huranaishi's voice grew soft, almost kind, "but their hearts remember her light. Trust in this, daughter of moths. Your sister will break free from Akatsuki's chains, though the path be costly."

The vision began to fade, but before it dissolved completely, Huranaishi left her with one final whisper: "Ten days. Buy her ten days, and fate will do the rest."

Returning to her body felt like surfacing from deep water. Akira gasped, tears streaming down her face, but for the first time since finding Izumi in that blood-stained room, hope bloomed in her chest. She pressed a hand to her swollen belly, feeling her child stir within, and made her decision.

She would play her part in this dance of destiny. Ten days - she could give her sister that much. The Nanusake had always been keepers of ancient rituals, and none in Akatsuki would dare question their traditions, not when a jinchūriki's sealing hung in the balance. She would weave a tale of necessary preparations, of sacred rites that must be observed.
Through her tears, Akira smiled. In trying to break Izumi, they had instead set in motion the very events that would lead to her freedom. The irony tasted like sweet mercy on her tongue.

"Hold on, little sister," she whispered to the empty air. "Just a little longer. This time, destiny fights on your side."

Nights were the hardest. When darkness settled over Amegakure and the endless rain drummed against the windows, Akira would catch Itachi's muffled coughs echoing through their quarters. She pretended not to notice when he slipped out of bed, his footsteps nearly silent as he made his way to the bathroom. The sound of running water couldn't quite mask his laboured breathing or the wet coughs that brought up blood.

She wanted to go to him, to hold him, to heal him - but she honoured his pride by maintaining this careful charade. Instead, she would lie still, one hand resting on her growing belly, the other clutching the sheets where his warmth still lingered. Sometimes, on particularly bad nights, she would catch the faint rattle of pill bottles, followed by the soft thud of his forehead resting against the bathroom wall as he waited for the medicine to take effect.

"Your father is stubborn," she would whisper to their unborn child, her voice barely a breath in the darkness. "Just like your auntie. Both of them carrying burdens too heavy for one person."

When he would finally return to bed, she would feel him trying to steady his breathing, to lie perfectly still so as not to disturb her sleep. Only then would she allow herself to roll over, to press her face against his back, to wrap an arm around him as if merely seeking comfort in her sleep. It was their unspoken arrangement - she could offer support only under the guise of unconsciousness, preserving his dignity while still providing the touch they both desperately needed.

During the days, they maintained their careful performance. Itachi went about his duties with the same quiet efficiency he always had, though Akira noticed how he would sometimes pause mid-movement, his hand briefly touching his chest before continuing as if nothing had happened. She watched him training less, reading more, sitting rather than standing when he could manage it without drawing attention. The subtle signs of his decline were there if you knew where to look - and she knew him better than anyone.

Meanwhile, her interactions with Tobi had become an intricate dance of necessity and distrust. Each time he entered Izumi's room to tend to her, Akira would position herself by the window, watching his every move reflected in the rain-streaked glass. She couldn't deny his gentle efficiency as he changed bandages and adjusted IV lines, his movements almost reverent in their care for her sister.

"The fever's breaking," he would murmur, his masked face tilted toward Akira as if seeking her approval. "Her chakra pathways are starting to stabilize."

Akira would only nod, her throat tight with conflicting emotions. Here was the man who had saved her sister's life, who continued to tend to her with unexpected tenderness. Yet he wore the same cloak as those who had hurt Izumi, was part of the organization that now planned to extract her tailed beast - effectively ending her life.

Sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking, Tobi would adjust Izumi's blankets with almost paternal care, or brush a strand of hair from her face with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his mysterious persona. These moments made Akira's chest ache with confusion. Who was this man really? What was his true connection to her sister?

"Why?" she finally asked him one evening, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you save her?"

Tobi paused in his work, his single visible eye fixed on Izumi's peaceful face. "Sometimes," he said carefully, "we find pieces of ourselves in others' suffering." He turned to look at Akira, his eye holding secrets she couldn't begin to unravel. "And sometimes, protecting someone else's light helps keep our own darkness at bay."

The answer should have provided comfort, but it only deepened the pit in Akira's stomach. Because in his words, she heard echoes of Itachi's own hidden pain, of the way he too fought against darkness for the sake of others. These men, with their deep wells of secrets and pain, circled around her family like moths around a flame - she couldn't tell anymore if they were protectors or harbingers of doom.

In the end, she could trust only the movement of her child within her, and the prophecy that promised her sister's salvation. Everything else - Itachi's declining health, Tobi's mysterious kindness, her own role in what was to come - felt like pieces of a puzzle she couldn't quite solve, a game where she knew neither the rules nor the true players.

The ceremony began without delay when everyone took their place. Izumi lay on the altar like a nymph enchanted in eternal sleep. She looked peaceful. 'Deep in sweet oblivion, away from fears and suffering,' Akira repeated, calming her breath.

Those gathered fell into a deep trance that was to last another three days. After a moment of silence, the statue began to vibrate. The young girl's body moved and her lips parted as several moths flew from her throat, in all colours starting from white, brown, black, ending with the final incarnation, a turquoise luna moth.

Walls resonated with an enchanting echo as the ritual began with Akira's hypnotic melody. The song fell silent when Izumi's body rose into the air, carried by the statue's powerful chakra, and chakra began to emerge from her eyes and mouth with an unpleasant howl reminiscent of an animal in agony.

"Into the eternal darkness, into the fire and into ice... farewell little moth" thundered, as Chomei left the body of his dear jinchūriki, sucked into the statue by the ritual's mighty power. After three days, the howling diminished, slowly transitioning into Akira's melodious voice, who returned to the song ending the ritual.

Izumi's body fell limply onto the altar. A second of silence, when everything froze in time. The girl's heart-rending scream.

At that moment, as if on cue, a deafening explosion jolted those gathered from their trance. Rubble scattered and the ceiling shook. Several members physically present in the hall staggered in their positions, losing balance. In the wall opposite to the statue, an opening appeared, in which two intruders stood. Seconds later, the wind dispersed the smoke and those gathered saw a black-haired rogue shinobi, accompanied by a silver-haired spy.

"Sasuke," Itachi whispered, feigning surprise.

Akira sighed with relief, hiding her face in the collar fields, which this time she buttoned all the way up. Those gathered didn't need much explanation, they knew the history of Nanusake and Uchiha well enough.

Sasuke had no time to waste, but although the goal was to rescue Izumi when he saw Itachi, he momentarily lost control. Akira standing next to him sensed what was coming and formed hand signs swiftly to block the young Uchiha, who was already drawing his sword from its sheath, rushing toward his hated older brother. His gaze and instantly changed state said everything.

“STOP” her words spoken telepathically with force in her voice acted on the boy like a physical barrier.

Suddenly, a childhood memory that he had pushed into the deepest recesses of his subconscious struck Sasuke like lightning. He hadn't wanted to remember it for years, like everything else that reminded him of his loved ones. And yet.

He was again a six-year-old child, sitting on the wooden steps of their family home's veranda, legs dirty from training outside all day in the sun. Everyone had disappeared again, absorbed in their duties and important matters that, for some incomprehensible reason, only adults cared about.

Even his puppy didn't want to play anymore. But this wasn't such a problem anymore, not since Izumi could fill his emptiness, bringing energy like no one else, helping him forget his worries, though sometimes he'd had quite enough of her.

She sat beside him, massaging her bruised knee, cheeks flushed. She had just finished telling another tale from her homeland. He often didn't understand them and admitted to himself that he frequently stopped listening, drifting away, more content with the girl's voice and company than with what she had to say.

He was staring at the uneven spaces between the floorboards when a kunai blade appeared, which was where his gaze was focused. Puzzled, he raised his eyes to his smiling companion.

"I'll show you something, but you have to trust me."

"I told you I don't want your strings or anything, I'm not a girl, I don't want to wear it."

"It's not that, silly, but just listen to this one thing,” she cut the tip of her thumb and asked Sasuke to do the same, then crossed the mark on her wrist with both their blood. “Now, whatever happens," She weaved a sign and whispered a few words in a language he couldn't understand. "We'll be able to find each other out there. Wherever we are."

He shrugged not really caring in that moment about her silly games, but playing along anyway. The girl's violet eyes blurred as Sasuke, with these very words, realized they were in her Abyss, the first one that little Izumi had shown him, ten years ago.

“The red string of fate brings them back together, at last…” Akira's heart thundered against her ribs as she watched the scene unfold, her hand pressed protectively over her swollen belly.

Each second felt stretched into eternity as Sasuke emerged from his memory-induced trance. She could feel everything - the vibrations of the demonic statue through the stone floor, the heavy chakra saturating the air, the last whispers of her sister's fading life force. Her seer's senses were overwhelmed, but she forced herself to remain outwardly calm.

When Kabuto's explosions rocked the chamber, the effect was catastrophic. The carefully maintained chakra field distorted, creating waves of visible energy that rippled through the space. Stalactites crashed down from the ceiling, forcing several members to break their concentration. The holograms of distant members flickered and wavered like candles in a storm.
Akira watched as dust and debris filled the air, providing the cover they needed. Through the chaos, she tracked the swift movement of Sasuke's form as he darted toward the altar. Pain's attention was divided between maintaining the statue's stability and assessing the threat - exactly as they'd hoped. The other members, their concentration broken, could only react to the immediate danger of the cave's partial collapse.

She didn't dare look directly at Itachi, knowing his part in this was as delicate as her own. Instead, she focused on maintaining her position, playing her role as the dutiful Akatsuki member while silently counting the seconds until she could confirm both her sister and the demon were where they needed to be.

When the statue's seventh eye opened, Akira felt the shift in the chamber's energy. It was done. Chomei was sealed, and Izumi was free - or would be if Sasuke moved quickly enough. Through the settling dust and confusion, Akira caught a glimpse of her sister's limp form being lifted from the altar, before another explosion sent more debris raining down, obscuring her view.
'Run,' she thought fiercely, though she maintained her composed exterior.

The chaos in the chamber had reached its peak - members either maintaining their positions or breaking formation to deal with the invasion, the statue's ominous rumbling mixing with the sound of crumbling rock, and somewhere in all of it, her sister's chance at freedom. Akira allowed herself one small, secret smile behind her high collar. Sometimes the best plans were the ones hidden in plain sight, wrapped in chaos and sealed with trust in bonds formed long ago.