Eat Your Young
When no one broke space and time, this is the story that happened:
Tsunade sat on a metaphorical table, her seat saved long before birth.
Always been hungry, never dared ate.
Her grandfather told her, “If you hesitate, the getting is gone.” And so the woman who had her teeth wrapped around the world classified her apprentice for KIA and commissioned her name to be carved on the corner of the memorial stone (There was no rights for a no-clan, woman shinobi to have her name written on where the sun poured on, where the people read). Sakura's status were marked a gag-order, that name was never mentioned again.
They would hear the Senju Princess taking on a new student, Yamanaka Ino, heiress of a great legacy. Much suitable to stand behind the woman who walked like god. Tsunade knew this type of girl well, she was one herself. A daughter of so much history, who was asked to carry not just the honorable name of a main bloodline but spirit and strength of generations pass. Tsunade understood Ino, her dreams and ambitions, she understood it intimately. She looked at the Yamanaka and thought of golden days and crowds giving ovations. (She looked at pink hair and thought of pitiful tragedies). After all, she was of Senju birth.
That next chunin exam, Ino’s team would get special exemption to be able to apply as a two-men team. They lost. The Godaime Hokage’s apprentice was gravely injured, permanently interfering with her special clan technique. The Yamanaka House grew more secluded, shying away from the public's critics. The people still heard the name Yamanaka Ino inside the Intelligent Department, helping around with her father. Akimichi Chouji, her teammate, retired early to take on the lessons of an Akimichi heir. There was no controversies about that.
That summer Tsunade sent a group to track down Hidan and Kakuzu of Akatsuki. The woman gambled that they would come back and told Shizune to attend for she was the best med-nin to relieve the mission at the time. Ino would have made the team, had she not met an untimely fate.
Kato Shizune was killed a day later, in front of four teenagers who fought the waves that were bigger than in any ocean they’ve swam. The children drowned. Tsunade lost another gamble.
Five days later Hatake Kakashi will come back with a dead comrade, two half-dead chunin and the scroll of Hidan’s body. He never agreed to take on missions out of ANBU again. They didn't hear of him until the Fourth Great Ninja War was declared.
Jiraiya left to spy on the students he failed in an attempt to gather everything his village needed. He told his childhood friend to bet on him losing, for she always lost when it came to gambling. He bet himself against her. She obliged and prayed for Kami to be on his side, this time.
Jiraiya was reported dead not much later. No body to retrieve, no funeral held. Tsunade won the bet for the first time. She wasn't happy about it.
Naruto broke. His sadness so resounding for a man barely any villagers know about. Jiraiya never made much friends where he came from, so there was only the insincere condolences of shinobi who saw his name in history books. The Jinchuuriki was now without a shield. Konoha was vulnerable.
When the bodies piled up after Pain’ attack, the Godaime commanded the quarantine right before she collapsed. The ladder was pulled when the flood came up. She promptly entered an indefinite comatose state.
No one was there to watch over the sleeping giant. Danzo ascended the uncrowned throne.
Akatsuki fell.
The Hidden Villages eats its young. This had never been a secret, it is something found in realisations of systemic downfalls and obligated sacrifices.
Inside the grey walls and cement towers, on top of innocent lives lost and dubious tyrants who played kings, no nation is kind.
Konoha told other villages it was never carnivorous while it handled skin shedding machines and large butcher knives. It did a great job at pretending its slaughterhouse is a nice garden. The world was too busy to bat an eye.
Kato Shizune was fourteen when she found out she could be a jounin medic. The women she saw that tended the sick at hospitals were unranked, unnamed and faceless. Shizune didn’t mind being a part of their crowd. She appreciated the mundane. Appreciated the lunches her cousin (quite the brother) would bring for her and her nurse friends. The early morning air and lingering disinfectants. Reading poison books for passion projects and close up small gashes the next day. She didn’t have time to contemplate the mindlessness of her job and how simplicity kills. How the propaganda posters hung on every patient’s room kills.
But then she met her cousin’s famous lover.
The blonde beauty that could raise mountains with her hands and get men on their knees begging for favours. Shizune admired that radiance. Something unfamiliar to everything she had ever known. Bright and sweet and magnificent.
The way the couple would advocate for people in the medical profession, fighting ceaselessly, demanded to see less deaths on battlefields their comrades can’t win but fought anyway.
Kato Dan had hope and Senju Tsunade had love. Shizune thought that was all the village needed to change its heart.
Konoha never changes.
Somewhere along the line, Dan didn’t come home after he left for a mission with Tsunade’s team aiding. She could still feel the tremble of earth of Tsunade's cries if she try hard enough.
The black haired teenager would weep on the way to the Senju estate and hug the sister she never had. Warm hands, close hearts, and one of the two said, “Let’s leave this awful place.” So they did.
Shizune learnt a lot, living with a legend.
Firstly, the killers don’t sleep, not really. Tsunade nap and black out after drinking but if a single unidentifiable noise was noticed, the sennin would sprung out of her sleeping position with fingers stretched and a blade on hand. Tsunade killed twenty eight people on their journey, sometimes justly, other times out of uncontrolled emotions, and Shizune wanted to throw up looking at what was left of the victims. In darker places, she’s sure this woman had made an end for more things. She tried not to think of it. Afterall, Shizune killed eighteen.
Secondly, people like her don't belong anywhere. Her village made soldiers out of children and told them about patriotism with no demonstration and only examples. She was Konoha-born, raised and fed. But for almost twenty years, forced to choose the road that led to her early demise, she couldn’t understand the foolishness of those who believed. There was no home to return to once they left the farm that herded them like cattle waiting for harvesting day.
Lastly, love is usually just an expertly crafted farce. She found out five years into the journey that Tsunade didn’t have enough of herself to love Dan completely—her love was buried with a brown hair boy whose forehead she kissed and necklace she gave to. This, while disappointing, was not surprising. Shizune thought Tsunade had lost too much to love properly, so she played by the act of empathy because it is much easier.
Shizune was the one most opposed to the idea of returning— ”To where, Tsunade-sama? Our home has changed, it is no longer ours. They burned the woods down and ate all of your fish. To where, then, for what?”
“I don’t know Shizune, I don’t know. He’s gone and I don’t know.”
The black haired woman wondered who this world-renowned kunoichi was referring to. She was drunk. The drunk doesn’t know time. Was it the mentor that torture his students into insanity? Was it the boy who splayed out babies’ bodies? Or the grandfather that left scars that can not be healed? She hoped she will never find out for Tsunade’s eyes were so haunting all there was was a husk.
“Sakura, the Villages eat their young.” The wise one said after the recollection of events the time traveller gave him. It was more of an observed statement than an advisory one. He didn’t know everything, but he understood all there is. And comprehension is worth more than knowledge.
Sakura flopped down on the ground, her wet cloak over her shoulders. She didn’t bother drying herself off. A sigh escaped her chapped lips. “Maybe the missing-nin are the wiser ones all along.” She concluded.
“Not always. They are just more free.” Said the man whose parents were killed by the brethren of Leaf. “Konoha is hell wrapped in heaven and presented on earth. I’ve seen you, I’ve seen Itachi. Your files. Do you understand the scope of what your village would do for anything but the masses?”
She looked up, glaring at him from behind the black tresses of hair, “It is not my village. But how bad could Konoha be? Certainly horrible, but not as bad as the others?” There were tales of slaughtering children and cannibalism from places not her homeland. She was sure Konoha had its limits on when things are taken too far—that is their downfall, having such a strong moral compass.
“What other?” His voice was calm and even. Gentle, as if asking her to understand, “Domestic abuse rate in Konoha is 25% higher than in Kiri. Manslaughter charges given per year is twice the amount in Tsuchi. Your T&I Department is the most advanced in the world because your psych ward hold three hundred and fifty ex-shinobi annually. That is twice the combined number of all elemental villages, not counting the Blood Prison in Grass.”
The girl stared unblinkingly. Nagato peered at her.
Konoha was the act of the blade falling on the guillotine, the moment before the poison deactivated neurons and the spread of cancer cells across the body organs in the last stages. It is not a killer, but something much worse. It is the moment of the end, existing on the cusp of extinction.
This was when the fifteen years old started to recognize the way the world viewed Konoha. All she had was being part of it, not seeing it happening from the sidelines. The Academy only taught the statistics where the village yielded much higher results than others. She learnt how advanced their medical sector is, not what it took to get to that advancement.
Sakura knew about the Psych Ward. Not the one in Konoha Central Hospital. The one runs as a collaborative project between T&I and ANBU Departments. She always thought it’s such a small place. So small, when half the on-duty ones are losing their minds and every ANBU struggles with sanity and ethical beliefs. She hasn't compared. Until it was spoken to her like a sledgehammer to the head.
Nagato moved to the window that oversees Ame, “You see, there are at least twenty children who were rejected from joining the ranks every generation because Konoha couldn’t contain them. Do you know why you were there? Graduated and alive?” It wasn’t ill intentioned, but that question wasn’t a nicely worded one. It did the job to get the point across though.
“I’m…from a Debut Class. I am at least a year younger than many people there. At first I think I was selected as someone akin to a civilian genius, as in the Shiranui Genma case. But then, perhaps I was an easy kill. The perfect spot to be replaced with in the team of aces. I don’t doubt Danzo wanted to eliminate me from research, he had some funny business with Gato who was clearly targeting me.”
“Replace you with Root?”
“Correct.” She smiled, hand fidgeting with the ceramic ring. “A Root member infiltrating the most promising team of the generation. I was made to be replaced. Ironic how the plan went berserk.” She chuckled, finding a cosmic joke in the way the greatest potential failed so abysmally. The Sandaime would be livid. But that man is dead, so there is nothing to worry over. “Anyway, Leader-sama, I would require some…accommodations.”
“That can be arranged. Would you want any member to know of this?”
“I want to have a chat with Kakuzu, he’s lived a long life hasn't he? That man knows things.” She clicked her tongue, considering other options. “Before that I want to track down the Toad Sage, so I’d appreciate it if you have intel on where he is?”
The Uzumaki nodded. Akatsuki knows where all the Jinchuuriki are. They need to avoid the vessels at all costs. Too much trouble, too much effort. “He’s leaving Konoha soon. You’ll catch him and the boy near the East border in four days.”
“Thanks. Can I have something or someone with me to verify my identity?” She asked, expecting a disagreement. Time travelling isn’t a business for more than three to know. Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead, as the saying went. On the other hand, there was no way Jiraiya would believe a ‘no-one-heard-of-her’ fifteen years old girl to be part of the premier assassin lineup.
He reached for a paper, then picked up the quill he dropped at her unexpected entrance. Nagato started writing some characters down.
“You may be sent with a letter from me and a code that only I know.” The piece of paper was folded in an origami shape she had never seen before swiftly with his bony fingers. Then he gave her the dull piece and it was shoved inside her reversed black sleeves.
“Thanks. I’ll be back.” She felt the urge to add in the last part, confirming for him or reassurance for her, she didn’t know. But she will come back.
“You will be summoned in nine days, after your past self has left Ame.”
Sakura nodded. “Also, remember to task Itachi with finding out the location of the Kage Summit. Say it's either Grass or Iron.” She hadn’t revealed which one it was.
Things will change because this isn’t her original timeline. Things are changing. “I’ll take my leave.” And in a well-practised shunshin, she disappeared soundlessly.
Sakura started braiding her hair, cut her bangs then put on black lipstick and purple eyeshadow, courtesy of Konan’ influence. Now she needed convincing attire.
There was a bar two hours from Amegakure borders, near Sound. It was relatively large for a place in the middle of nowhere, serving wandering travellers and shinobi alike, even offering motel rooms and onsen 500m from the location. It was a hive for missing-nin. They swarm it at night. Just in time for sunset.
The bar was filled to the brim with all sorts of criminals: drug dealers, human traffickers and slavery investors. The smell was horrid. The smoke is even more evident in the dimness of the people losing their minds.
“He should be here.” Sakura mumbled, her hood pulled up as she strode confidently towards the counter.
“What do you want?” The burly man asked, voice like sand paper in her ears. “You better have money. This place is no playground for kids.” He scanned her unimpressive cloaked frame.
“Green tea. Hot. And, just wondering if you have some…harvesters.” A street name she learned in ANBU. “My employer got some good deals.”
“Tsk, how much?” The seller asked.
The buyer replied, “80,000 ryo. Non-negotiable.” The pay rate of a B-rank mission, excluding Konoha’ 30% government tax. She dropped a cotton bag the size of her torso.
It weighed in a thump.
She still carried the scroll that stored all of her savings and wondered if the space-jutsu on that scroll was in any way affected by the time travel. It seemed to not be. The current Sakura and her have different versions of the same storage scroll. “Take it or leave it, I’m not so desperate.” Advertising her piteousness wasn’t something that would lure this man into thinking he could get extra tips for pointing her the right direction.
Sakura took out her sharpest kunai and laid it on the counter, fingers twiddling with the handle.
He gulped quietly and lowered his head to talk in a whisper. She was surprised he was even capable of such. “The man wearing the olive scarf with the light mustache. Brown hair, same coloured eyes. He’s got the inter-village rings.”
“Anything less obvious?” She questioned. “Shinobi and confidential? I don’t want the fuss of the Elemental Nations. How about a certain Grass-nin?”
He creased his brows and was ready to give her a piece of his mind when the coolness of metal pressed lightly on his neck. He hitches softly, pretending to not be cowered. For an intimidating man, he doesn’t look like a shinobi. “Taniguro-sama...He's in a special guest room. I can ask his subordinate to arrange a meeting.”
“As soon as possible. And, hear this clearly, tell him ‘The rain has come to your town’. Make sure the boss gets that.” She blinked, hand stretching towards the cup of tea he was preparing in the midst of the conversation. This man is a good multi-tasker.
It would be ten minutes until a lanky man with a beard appeared, a sword on his hips and an alcohol bottle on the other. He looked like a hired bandit. “Taniguro-sama has agreed to meet you. May we get your name?”
“I’ll tell him that myself.” She gripped the cup, cracking lines grew up from where her hand was wrapped around. Scaring people is a fun pastime activity, she should do it more often. “Oh? Why don’t we hurry up?” She threw him a bag which he fumbled to open. “That’s 10,000.”
He studied her then put the sum away into his many cloak pockets.
Her savings was emptying itself at an alarming rate.
“Long time no see, Taniguro.” She slid the door close, unzipping the heavy Akatsuki cloak to reveal the weapon pouch she had strapped on. Her long sleeved training gear covered all of her skin patches. The type of women he hated.
He was middle aged, disgusting and the type of person to be a regular in the red districts and brothel houses. His sitting screamed seasoned shinobi but his amputated left arm said otherwise. The tobacco addiction was crippling him by day. In the shinobi world, he would be considered useless.
“Do not greet me like that. I do not know you,” He breathed heavily, his custom-made spear the height of her rested on the windowsill near his table.
“I do know you though, Keiru Taniguro. Insect kekkei-genkai but unlike the Aburame of Konoha. You have the ability to generate chemicals of whatever insect you morphed with, which can be used to digest things like, well, humans. It even make you stronger, unfair. ” A cannibal. “A retired Grass-nin.” A chief of war.
She only knew his information because she was assigned with a solo mission to capture and retrieve him in the last timeline right before striking a deal with the snake. He’ll be killed again, but he’ll make good use before then.
Taniguro didn’t drop his cup, but his eyes focused and feet angled at the optimal place to sprung out and break her neck. “Who would you be? To which rain had come for me?”
“Rain from dawn.” She pulled out her necklace and inverted her cloak the same way she did trying to prove a point to Orochimaru. “I’m only a small fish, you see, but he wanted something.” Her voice was too sweet.
He didn’t pale. Didn’t react. He was someone who saw through two Great Wars, fought and retired to do something just as sinister. He was used to the ways of barbarians, Taniguro could not let go of what used to be so he did what he thought was fair. Kami had made him go through things unimaginable, so he will unleash the hell life deserves. “What does he want?” He asked because at this age all he needed was women and money.
“You have a collection of the headbands don’t you? Why don’t you give me some of those?” The last part of hiding her identity now and in the future is changing headbands and imitating other missing-nin.
He lowered the cigar from his mouth, a smile tugging at the corner. Sarcastic, arrogant and sly. “Do you have five girls? If not then I’m not interested.”
“Would 2,000,000 ryo be enough to satisfy you?”
“Not quite, how about 8,000,000?” Quadrupled the price. As much as how much five girls are worth in the black market. It was quite nauseating to think about something so common. To eat them or rape them she didn't know, but neither ones are acceptable in any of the villages, no matter how open-minded and kind the Leaf claimed to be.
She picked at her nail, seemingly bored at negotiating with someone who was supposed to be dead. “You eat the children, Taniguro, I don’t think my Leader tolerate that.”
Akatsuki tolerated anything. Sakura just didn’t care enough to ask where they drew the line, if they had one at all. The teenager tried not to think about the seven sins men like this one had collected like a token to be own.
The former Grass said, “He's eating them himself too. It is quicker and easier.” Conviction in his eyes hardened by the bloodbaths of his youth and the youth of his meals.
“So you say.”
It was easy to eat your young. Sakura had no more time to discuss philosophies. She killed him a second time.