Derecho

Obito remembers her, when she was young. So bright eyed, and so loving to distant memories not even her own.

Mayu was only seven at the time, her father gone for a brief three day mission, and so went grave visiting on her own. Obito found her at the Hatake family graveyard, and decided to follow her from there.

He’d been picking up more samples from Danzo, and had fully intended to just fuck off right out of Konoha. However, the pull of the past proved indomitable and Obito found himself concealed in the swaying stalks of gold grain surrounding the Hatake family graves.

He watches Mayu as she hums under her breath, small hands wielding a scrub brush over the long, flat face of her grandfather’s headstone. It’s usually a family affair, taking place every Thursday, but Kakashi is out on mission today and so it is Mayu on her own.

She’s so small, is his first thought, she looks just like him, is his second. Both are undeniably true, Mayu is very small for her age and the face she wears is a haunting visage from Obito’s past. It’s Kakashi’s face, softened with familiar youth. The same turn of his nose, the bow of his lips, the curve of his brow, the shape of his eyebrows, even the ears with their too small lobes. It’s the piercing violet eyes that break the illusion of a time long past, they practically glow even in the pale morning light.

Mayu drops her brush into the wooden bucket beside her, and takes up a dry rag to polish the headstone. She talks as she works, idle chatter not out of place when visiting your grandfather. Mayu tells Sakumo that her dad is very sorry he couldn’t come to visit today, she talks about her training and all the new techniques she’s learning. She tells him about her new friends Megumi, and Genki, and regales her grandfather with a vivid tale involving the teachers lounge and a family of skunks.

Mayu spins a life and experiences so brightly and earnestly that, for a brief moment, Obito lets himself be lost in the simple, happy life of a child.

She visited the Memorial Stone next, a monthly affair instead of a weekly one, and does much the same there. Mayu scrubbed and wiped down the stone, sweeping away fallen leaves and dust. For a monument so popular among the mourning and the depressed Shinobi, no one is ever really interested in cleaning it. Mayu talks here too, she talks to Rin…Minato-sensei…Kushina-san.

To Obito himself, though to a version long dead.

Obito had retreated quickly, as Mayu had set aside her cleaning tools and took up a calligraphy brush, tracing fresh ink over the old carvings of beloved names. Mayu had started with his name, speaking to him…telling him about such innocent, banal things that still, somehow, sent him running.

Obito had never dared visit again.

He remembers the night after that terrible visit, having retreated to his main warehouse to deposit the samples taken back from Danzo. Obito had stood there amidst the countless shelves, feeling the weight of his every sin and every death on his hands. He’d looked around that vast, underground storehouse, and felt himself drowning. Drowning…drowning beneath the accusing eyes of his clansman. Hilariously literal in this place, where every shelf is lined with the last remnants of his once family. Countless glass jars filled with sloshing liquid, and in their depths float eyes. Countless eyes, hundreds of them, thousands of them, two to a jar, a place for each person and every person in their place.

The labels are his own contribution, name tags as it were. It had taken Obito the better part of two years, to know and remember each clansman killed. He’d been horrified to realize that the massacre wasn’t the beginning, that there are countless more eyes stored away from long before the massacre too.

Obito would never have been able to put names to those eyes properly, so he named them himself. Choosing all manner of names, from honorable to plain, from creating the visages of people and lives in his own mind just to fit with the bobbing eyes in their cold jars.

He pulls open the bio freezer case, white fog rolling over the edge of the black cooler as he sets aside the lid. With deft hands he pulls the eye from its bloody package, and turning pulls a glass canister down from its place on a higher shelf. This one is empty, though it still has a name plate. The eye plops into its canister of preservation fluid, and he sets it back in its place.

‘Uchiha Shisui’ glares out at him from embossed words on a metal plaque. He ignores it.

Obito now knows that it was that day, years ago, that everything began to unravel. That day where Mayu spoke to him under the dappled sunshine. Every plan, every careful machination, every bit of blood and tears shed in the darkness now rendered void.

No, perhaps it was the day Mayu was born, that day fourteen years ago wherein a Spirit of Chaos was born and all of Obito’s plans were shredded to pieces.

All the best laid plans, and all that.

So here he is now, Uchiha Obito, standing at the helm of plan-fucking-B. Because apparently no one, and nothing, can account for the fucking Hatake, and all of their unintentional meddling.

Unable to get find any Jinchuuriki after the disaster that was the Suna mission, and the sudden information blackout half the elemental nations had become, Obito’s hand had been forced. The Gedo statue was useless now, without the proper power source, so begrudgingly Obito admitted defeat and moved onto plan-fucking-B. So far, it’s just one disaster after the next.

Obito stands on the head of Manda, Orochimaru has always proved to be just as treacherous and two faced as expected, but for now he is serving Obito and that’s all that matters. Things had devolved fast, and suddenly their whole, small world was divided neatly in two, some chose sides willingly, others were forced to when it became apparent that they would be forced to either choose or die.

Around them war rages on a scale never before seen in the shinobi world, at his back are the Kage under his command, and below him stand the last of the Hatake along with their own allied Kage.

He remembers Mayu as a young, innocent little girl who loved readily and happily, even the shadows of people she would never know. Before Obito now, stands a warrior wherein her passion and love have turned into a burning fire threatening to consume him and all in her path. Beside her stands her father, and to Obito it’s like having to face his nightmarish past and his wavering future all at once.

This is it then, the last battle.

The final act, before Ascension.

_______

18 days before the War of Ascension.

Team 7 had pushed forward for three days, with minimal rest and nerves fraying it’s a relief to step into The Reservoir brothel and bar. The four of them had left the night the Hokage and his entourage had returned, Naruto nearing frantic in his need to begin the search for the Toad Sage.

The Reservoir is a three story building some twenty miles outside of Ame’s borders, and made of an ugly mix of cement and dark wood. Itachi lets the younger three take point as they enter through the creaking doors, this being Team 7’s territory much more than his, and observes their surroundings instead. He can happily say it’s mostly through eyesight now, Sasuke doing a wonderful job to manage both his frail, genetic disposition, and his failing eyesight.

They’re in what must be the main room of this fine establishment, numerous tables couches and chairs fill the majority of the room surrounding a large stage at the center. Itachi wonders, fleetingly, if he’d be any good at spinning around on one of the many, thin silver poles dotting the stage. Kisame had once badgered him into entering a strip club in Iwa, the experience was interesting to say the least.

Naruto practically leaps for the bar spanning the entire right side of the room, startling the old man behind it from his dozing.

“Oi! Old man Kei!” So this is Naruto’s informant, the grizzled old man with one, milky blind eye, an old scar bisecting it.

“Damn it brat! You’ll give an old man a heart attack like that!”

Naruto is nearly on the bar top at this point, hands gripping the old man by the shoulders desperately. “Have you heard anything?! Any word on Jiraiya?!” Before Naruto can even finish his demands Kei is prying off the blond’s hands, heaving himself up to head into the back room, beckoning Team 7 to follow. It’s an office, cramped and near claustrophobic with the amount of scrolls, files, loose paper, and more piled almost to the ceiling, heaped onto every open space and nearly consuming the floor.

The old man picks his way through the mess and over to his desk, pulling open the only exposed drawer and lifting the false bottom to remove a tiny scroll barely bigger than Itachi’s pinky finger.

“This is the last message I received from Jiraiya, it mentions going to investigate a lead on the Ame rebels in the village of Deluge Peak on the southern side of Ame.” Naruto practically snatches the scroll from Kei, unraveling the small thing and scanning it hurriedly. Whatever the blond reads makes the tension in his shoulders relax, eyes widening marginally.

Sakura and Sasuke press in close to him on either side, “What is it? What does he say?”

Wordlessly Naruto hands the scroll off to Sasuke, “Coded like usual, but look at the date.”

Sasuke blinks in surprised comprehension, “They’re coordinates!”

Well, at least they know where to go next.

_______

12 days before the War of Ascension

The mixed bag of border attacks have really ramped up in the passing days, so much so that extra squadrons have been stationed at the borders of Fire Country closest to Iwa and Taki. As instructed Kusa, as the land separating Iwa and Konoha, has stayed quiet and made no move to stop or interfere with the attacks of “Foreign” shinobi.

It was almost funny, how obviously desperate their shadowed enemy was becoming all in an attempt to stir up tensions without exposing themself. It was also very telling, each new wave of attackers bore a different nation’s mark. From Iwa to even Kumo, and according to their last correspondence with Suna a “Konoha” team blew up a supply line two days ago.

It feels like the whole world is holding its breath, and with no reacting to such open provocation the tension only rises.

Konoha, Suna, Kumo, Ame, and Kusa use the attacks to mark out the attacking party. Even though the interlopers bare any and every hitai ate certain borders are not touched, and some are. Kusa and Ame remain untouched, as well as Iwa, and Kiri. It means that their enemy is ignorant of Kusa and Ame’s involvement, they’re working with incomplete information. Iwa, and Kiri are undoubtedly involved, but it’s harder to tell with the smaller nations. Their protocol is to usually stay out of the greater nations quarrels until they can’t, or a winning side becomes apparent.

The world is holding its breath, every side waiting, watching, seeing who will give first.

Mayu is fairly certain that breaking point is fast approaching, the last wave of attacks had featured such a jumble of uniforms she’d decked a fair few “Konoha” nin. Honestly, it’s like they’re not even trying anymore.

It’s this skirmish that Mayu, Megumi, Neji, and Sai are returning from, rotating out of their week long guard. The team of four in oddly good spirits, Megumi wheedling Neji on his hair care and growing progressively more aggravated when the older Jounin continues to insist on a tried and true manly necessity: 3-in-1 body wash and shampoo.

Yeah, she’s fucking horrified too.

They’re winding through long dirt paths bordering a vast stretch of farmland to their left, and an extensive river to their right, crystalline waters reflecting the golden warmth of the evening sun. They round the next corner, the path ahead obscured by a swaying willow tree, and come to grinding halt at the absolute bullshit that greets them.

There’s a scruffy man stationed at what looks to be a toll booth, sneer already on his face and a pitchfork leaning against the table in front of him.

What the absolute fuck.

“Hundred Yen toll to use this road.” His front two teeth are so crooked they’re almost bent backwards, she can smell his putrid breath from here. The man places a hand on his pitchfork in a way he must believe to be threatening.

It irks her.

Ok so, with all the bullshit of the border attacks it was decided that discretion was needed. So as to not let their shadowed enemy catch wind of any of their internal movements. Meaning, that all shinobi being sent to the borders were to dress and travel as civilians within a twenty mile radius from their assigned outpost. Meaning, Mayu currently sports brown hair, and is wearing a casual, civilians’ kimono.

“Can’t pay, can’t cross!” The words are snarled, and Mayu feels the exact moment her will to not beat this mans face in leaves her body. Megumi intervenes quickly, wrapping his arms around her and placing a hand over her fang baring mouth. Neji steps neatly in front of them to distract the stupid civilian bastard.

“It’s fine, we’ll just go the long way.”

Sai joins the effort to drag her away and back around the bend in the road.

The two finally let up when they’re a safe mile away from the toll booth, and Mayu wrenches herself free of their arms with an aggravated huff.

“That fucking bastard!”

Neji sighs, long suffering. Megumi just seems confused. “I’m guessing there’s a greater reason for your wrath, and it’s not just about a petty toll?”

Neji’s face twists from put upon to incredulous, and Sai blinks before rolling his eyes.

“We own this land, Megumi. There shouldn’t be a toll on this road.”

“Wait, what?”

Mayu stops her agitated pacing, truly a bit more pissy than what’s warranted but the small fry at the border were truly pathetic. She’d just spent the last week playing glorified whack-a-mole with enemy nin, not needing anything more than her fists and the occasional kunai, and she’s been stuck on a frustrated edge for far too long.

Straws and the fragility of camels, right?

She whirls around, “The Hatake own all the farmlands in Fire Country,” She sweeps her arm out, gesturing to the vast fields of swaying, grain to their right. The sun has almost fully set now, rendered into a thin, red line at the horizon turning gold grain into washed out gray, the shadows of night not quite ready to emerge, and dying the rushing river crimson.

“No one can place a toll on these roads but the Hatake, and we haven’t tolled shit!”

For all that she is still only Heir to the Hatake name Mayu, with Sai’s help, had taken up the non shinobi related duties when their dad had been appointed Hokage. This meant they were both intimately familiar with the workings of owning massive swaths of land, and the governing of farmlands and all the villages needed to run them.

To place a toll on roads that emphatically don’t belong to you is extortion and theft. It’s also a death warrant, but Mayu doesn’t know whose name to sign on it.

Yet.

“Change of plans, we’re uprooting the fucking moron doing this, and doling out justice.”

And Hatake justice always tended towards bloody.

…

Mayu’s anger has peaked so high it’s gone far beyond her usual yelling and cursing, settling instead on a terrifying silence.

Neji is distantly worried about her blood pressure, and is resigned to having to wrestle the girl into periodic food and water breaks. Neither Sai, or Megumi, brave enough to attempt breaching her wrathful bubble.

Cowards, honestly.

The team have taken a lengthier detour than expected, the toll booth apparently only the tip of the hare brained extortion. The four of them had split up two days ago, sending out summons and clones to cover as much ground as possible to scour Fire Country’s “Farm Belt”. The Farm Belt extended from Fire Country’s northern borders and stretched down the entire eastern side of the country. The Naka river, which flowed through Hot Water and originated from a mountain spring in Kumo, cut straight through the Belt and gave the lands their superior nutrients. Hundreds of miles both long and wide, the Belt housed all of Fire Country’s farms and was entirely owned by the Hatake clan long before the creation of Konoha.

Which should be odd for a mostly nomadic clan, if not for the stupidly sappy origin. Apparently one of the first High Chiefs of the Hatake, Chiefs presiding over their own packs and High Chiefs presiding over all the other Chiefs through right of conquest, fell in love and took a wife from outside the clan. She was born frail and sickly, and carried this sickness with her her whole life, as such she was not suited to the nomadic lifestyle of the Hatake. The High Chief, Hatake Okura, decided to step down as High Chief and purchase his wife’s fathers failing farmland to set up a home for themselves. Breathing new life into the farm, and eventually buying up, or taking, all surrounding lands as well.

When Senju Hashirama built Konoha, it was the Hatake he had to bargain with for both land, and food.

Now, forty-eight hours later, the four Jounnin reconvene just outside of the town of Marigold. The largest village in the Belt, and also nestled right in its center. It was the first settlement in the Belt, where Okura first began his farming conglomerate, and home to the Hatake’s farmland “General Manager” the Mayor of Marigold town.

Neji stares across the moonlight clearing, keeping a close eye on Mayu’s reaction, the younger Jounnin’s face unreadable. Violet eyes reflecting green in the darkness, tapetum lucidum giving her the appearance of some kind of vengeful wraith.

They’d discovered that this ill begot corruption had spread over almost half the Belt, and had begun during the Suna mission months ago. With the growing tensions at the border, and with the only three Hatake left tied up right in the center of it all, the offending party took their chances to spring for power and money that did not belong to them.

Azumaya Junko, born and raised in Marigold town, gained power by seducing her way into the bed of the Mayor’s son. Then manipulating the young man into killing his own father, and extorting their farms and the lands around them whilst the Hatake were busy elsewhere. It had only been three months since the power grab, but already the villages of the Farm Belt were experiencing the consequence of living under a greedy dictator. People were going hungry, they’re harvests heavily taxed, and the high tolls meant that no one could afford to travel out of the Belt either to trade for food and money, or to escape Junko and her thugs.

No one is happy living under a tyrant, and none of the Belt’s inhabitants would miss Junko if she were to go missing in the night. Sadly, the time for subterfuge is long over.

Mayu turns reflective eyes to Megumi and himself, handing the Hyuuga a small scroll sealed with the Hatake crest.

“Take this to my father, Sai and I will stay to deal with these thieves.”

“Are you sure?” Megumi’s face is drawn in worry, delicate white brows pulled into a frown.

Mayu hums an affirmative, though it comes out much more canid. “This is Hatake land, and Hatake see their justice through.”

…

The second execution of her life, the first that she’s ever had to personally call, and Mayu finds it just as dull and anticlimactic as the first. There’s a certain similarity between the deaths of Azumaya Junko and Shimura Danzo. In that they were both manipulative bastards, that they both met their bloody end at the hand of a Hatake, that their heads toppled from their shoulders much the same. Though Junko’s mane of mint green hair tangles around her tumbling head as it rolls across the ground, between bloodied strands Mayu can see wide, mint green eyes staring back at her, red rimmed with blackened tear tracks down Junko’s face.

Though she supposes the lead up to this point had been much different. The crowds gathered to witness Shimura Danzo’s death had been somber and silent, held breathless and tense until finally the scumbags head was freed from his shoulders.

Here, the people openly rejoiced. Dancing and cheering in the streets as she and her brother hauled the criminals up to the improvised execution platform. They jeered at their oppressors, spitting vitriol and throwing stones, one errant rock striking Junko right in the face, slicing her right across the bridge of her nose.

When their blood is spilt, and the wanna be tyrants are dead at their feet the people break out into an almost festival. The manor house that Junko had taken as her own is ransacked, stolen food and goods pulled from the cellars and handed around, some enterprising soul comes before Mayu and Sai to take away the cooling corpses.

An older man, Takano she realizes the assistant to the previous mayor, finds the siblings in the midst of the chaotic execution celebration.

“Mayu-hime, Sai-sama.” Takano bows to the both of them in greeting, holding out a thick, bound book.

“Junko and her thugs changed the books to avert attention and suit their needs, these are the records I made during her criminal reign.” Sai takes the book from Takano, flipping through it silently. Mayu takes a moment to observe Takano.

Since she’d met the man Takano always had the air of a strict no nonsense elder, but it seems that the months under Junko’s tender mercies has changed him. There’s more gray in his black hair, the wrinkles at his brow deepened in worry. But, though thinner and grayer, his shoulders are firm and his back is straight.

“What happened here, Takano? Why were we not informed, you know the Hatake would’ve come the moment you called.”

The man seems to deflate a degree, shoulders slumping just an inch.

“Junko appeared to be nothing more than your average gold digger, by the time I realized the depths of her greed the Mayor had already been murdered.” His face twists into something sorrowful, and laced with hatred.

“I and my family have been loyal vassals to the Hatake clan since your ancestors first purchased these lands, but Junko took from me what I could not afford to lose.” There is a shriek of childish laughter in the distance, and Mayu finds her eyes drawn to a small child being swept up into a grandmother’s arms.

She’s a little girl probably not even six, and her face is so badly scarred she looks to have been mauled by some kind of wild animal. For all that it must have been horrific, the little girl is still laughing as her grandmother swings her around. Her scars look only a month or two old.

Mayu hadn’t known Takano had a daughter, though she had met the mans wife on a few occasions. She can hazard a guess as to what happened to the little girls mother.

Mayu sets a hand on the older mans shoulder, “It’s alright Takano, there are some things worth more than loyalty.” She squeezes his shoulder, “I promise, we won’t let something like this happen ever again.”

_______

8 days before the War of Ascension

The sting of failure is something Sai has always hated. In Root it meant a painful punishment and a terrible hunger that lasted days. Now, the consequences of failure have changed drastically for Sai, but the emotions evoked by it remain much the same.

Anger, dread, shame.

It’s been four days since their shenanigans on the Farm Belt, and Sai has almost fully shaken the last vestiges of his and his family’s failure from his mind. Once he and his sister had returned to the village they’d both been promptly swept away in the chaos of the village.

Namely, the chaos of war. Preparations for it anyway.

There was no other way around it, they’d be going to war. Very soon too, if the reports of a gathering force within Iwa were to be believed. The siblings had been split almost immediately upon their return, Mayu pulled into munitions management, their father tied up in strategy and meetings with their allied Kages, and Sai having to sort though the mess that Junko made of their farmlands, as well as manage rations and food.

The sheer amount of food needed to fuel a war was truly staggering. It was an all hands on deck situation, even academy students and civilians working together to make ration bars and soldier pills, and prepare and store enough food in the likely event the war would drag too long, and supply lines would be cut. The entire academy had been taken over in the food efforts, the many many voices of academy children and civilian volunteers filling the halls. One classroom had been entirely taken over by a troupe of grandmothers, massive cans and jars the size of Sai’s torso quickly filled with produce and meat to be canned and stored away.

Sai’s fingers were beginning to cramp from the sheer amount of soldier pills he’d rolled in the hours since joining the food army, but he much preferred it to the ocean of paperwork waiting for him in his office back in the Hokage tower. Countless purple pills were set out on clean cloths to dry under the careful heating Jutsu from a handful of soldiers from the Gennin Corp, extra tables and desks pulled into the classroom to accommodate the sheer amount of stimulants. The academy students flitted about the room hauling large baskets, scraping the dried pills off the cloths and delivering the baskets to the appropriate Gennin down the hall once filled. From down the hall, floating in through the open door, the awful unmistakable scent of ration bars being boiled before getting pressed into their moulds could be smelled.

Sai sat back as he finished popping the last of his soldier pills from their mould, purple paste staining his hands, flexing his fingers with a sigh.

Today was going to be a long day.

…

Kakashi raked fingers through his hair, exasperated and exhausted. Unable to speak face to face, the Kage alliance had devised an interesting sealing array, utilizing the Sandaime’s crystal ball to speak over long distances.

Didn’t change much about the exhausting nature of political meetings, though now he had chakra fatigue to deal with alongside his politically motivated migraine.

The Godaime slumped back into his chair, his council already gathering their things and making for the door. He really wished he could join them.

War. They are going to war.

A hand on his shoulder disturbs Kakashi’s darkening thoughts, Gai taking a seat at the edge of his vast desk.

“Are you alright, Hokage-sama?” Kakashi huffs a short laugh.

“I had clung to the hope that, with this hat, I would be able to keep my children out of war.” The foolish hope of a foolish father, living in a foolish world. Truly, coming into his unwanted reign as fifth Hokage, Kakashi had fairly selfish goals to reach. He’d never been the type of man to cling to lofty ideals, to strive for something he knew was far out reach. No, Kakashi had simply hoped to keep his children out of the blood and madness of war. To stave off an inevitable, and in their world it was always inevitable, war between some other country for as long as he could. Wished to grant them, and as many children as he could reach, a peaceful life.

A foolish hope, a foolish wish. But, perhaps Kakashi was more idealistic than he realized, for even now the crushing realization that he’d be sending his own children into war still hadn’t receded.

Gai squeezed his shoulder in reassurance, one that would leave a dark bruise later, his smile falling into something a little more thoughtful.

“You are a very good father Kakashi, never doubt this.” The Green Best sighs, sounding wistful. “You raised your children well and happily. I’ve never met a girl so joyful as Mayu, and though Sai endured horrors from the hands of his own village still now he thrives in the sun.”

“There is nothing we can do about a war dragged forth by an unknown, unwanted enemy. Nothing, but weather the storm and hope to come out on top.”

Yes, the mysterious ‘Specter’, the one who funded Danzo and used his Root as foot soldiers to cause chaos and death in all corners of the Elemental Nations. The one with deep ties to Akatsuki, the one stirring up trouble at almost every border.

The one no doubt responsible for the gathering of mass forces within Iwa, confirmed by Kusa spies as an amalgamation of most every nation not already allied with Konoha, Kumo, Kusa, and the Ame rebels.

The Godaime’s attention is drawn out the vast windows of his office and down to the chaotic streets below. The orchestra of voices and mass production muffled by distance, and thick glass panes. With the shit show Azumaya Junko stirred up in his farmlands the production of war rations had to be distributed to more hands than it had been in the past. Usually, war rations would be entrusted to the people of the Farm Belt, with the apothecaries in Konoha enlisting the help of Gennin and academy students to help mass create soldier pills, and general medicines. Now, all production had been pulled into Konoha, whilst Takano and his people scrambled to get the Belt back under control. In a surprising show of camaraderie even the civilians had been willingly pulled into preparations.

The timing of it all was suspicious, but no matter how deeply they dug Junko was nothing but a terrible coincidence. A money hungry worm, nearly succeeding in destabilizing the food chain of Fire Coutnry right on the eve of war. It was chilling if he though of it for too long, if his children hadn’t taken the farm roads as opposed to the more commonly used main roads they’d be stuck in war with nothing but in village rations, and no way of getting more.

Kakashi sets his hand over Gai’s, grateful for the mans unerring support.

“Well, it’s a good thing the Hatake know a thing or two about storms right?”

Gai laughs, and Kakashi ,despite the circumstances they’re getting dragged into, feels himself grow a bit lighter.

…

Mayu never thought that she’d ever take up a hobby like sewing, unless you counted learning how to stitch skin together as a hobby.

She’d been placed in charge of munitions, and whilst rounding up the village blacksmiths wasn’t anything difficult as most of them were veterans of the last war, the need for skilled seamstresses and seamsters was. The smiths had themselves organized and running almost entirely on their own, churning out kunai and shuriken at a steady pace, utilizing their apprentices and chunnin assistants. Mayu, not knowing much about smithing and trusting the more experienced shinobi to handle themselves, had stepped back to make herself more useful elsewhere.

This was how she’d found herself unwittingly pulled into one of the many sewing circles scattered through the shinobi shopping district. They were set up in the large shop Senbon and Wire, and Mayu sat in a circle with ten other grannies learning how to sew. Apparently there was a lot more to it then just needle and thread.

TenTen was here too though, so that was nice at least.

Mayu watched on in fascination as grannie Yuki stitched together sheets of Kevlar and mesh armor with gently glowing thread, her hands wrinkled and old but perfectly steady. So far as Mayu could tell Yuki, and the other nine grannies in their circle, were all civilian women who’d made it their business sewing up the armor of the Konoha forces.

Mayu turns to her other side, watching TenTen sew with slow, careful chakra enhanced stitches.

Chakra control had never been a strong suit of Mayu’s, but when motivated properly she could out stubborn most any obstacle.

The teen turns back to her own sewing, determined.

_______

4 days before the War of Ascension

Traveling through enemy territory undetected was much easier said than done. With Jiraiya’s coordinates they knew exactly where to go, but getting there had proved more of a headache than Naruto expected. Thankfully, Itachi knew a few things about moving through Ame silently.

Team 7 alight on a decrepit building across the street from the apparent rebel base, though calling it a “street” might be generous. They’d followed the coordinates all the way to an abandoned town right on the southern edge of Ame, closest to the border of Kawa. It’s been abandoned for decades by the look of it, most buildings swallowed by nature, and the roads nothing more than large swathes of grass and mud between the husks of old buildings. The rebel base is the tallest remaining building in this unnamed town, three stories tall though one side has sunken so far it’s nearly horizontal.

Team 7 ventures inside, Sasuke on point and Itachi at the rear their Sharingan blazing. With a touch of chakra they stick to the tilted floor easily, slipping in through a third floor window to begin searching from the top down. Luckily it doesn’t take long to find the rebels, or rather the rebels to find them.

They melt out of shadows and around corners soundlessly, though their clothes are threadbare their weapons are obviously immaculate. Team 7 halts immediately, effectively bottle necked in the long, dark corridor they’d turned down.

The four of them put their hands up, palms open.

Naruto swallows the impulse to demand information, “We’re not here to cause trouble, we’re just looking for someone.”

A man steps forward from the ragged crowd, a mane of rust red curls falling down his back. He pulls what appears to be a gas mask from his face, revealing neon yellow eyes.

“Peace friend, I am Miyamoto Mogu leader of these rebels. I know who it is you seek.”

The rebels behind Mogu part ways as the man beacons them forward. “Come, Jiraiya has been waiting for you.”

The rebels lead Team 7 underground, unveiling a secret passage behind a Genjutsu barrier in the basement that lead them deeper and deeper underground. The long, winding passage eventually opens into a grand, ancient cistern.

The cavern is vast, big enough to fit the Hokage tower inside comfortably, and is lit by the gentle ethereal glow of hanging stalagmites. Grand pillars support the ceiling, and far below them clear waters gather in the basin of the cistern. From the entrance a thin bridge extends over the basin, leading to sprawling stone paths and open halls that make up the rebels home.

The rest of the rebel group break up, going about whatever tasks they’d been assigned, while Mogu leads them through the maze of stone paths. They reach a set of stairs set directly into the caverns wall and ascend to a long hallway lined in open, ornate arches allowing them to look out over the cavern. Naruto pauses to take in the sight, countless rebels inhabit this place, all sharing a sort of camaraderie forged only through mutual hardship. They’re living, working, eating, relaxing, and laughing together. Though it’s a hideout from their violent oppressors, these people are happy, thriving even.

Mogu steps up beside Naruto, staring out over his people. “You’re incredible.”

Mogu blinks, turning surprised eyes to him. “You’ve given these people hope in a place like this. A place that wants to devour them whole, snuff out their humanity.”

The man beside him gives a soft laugh, “These people were more than ready to fight for themselves, they just needed someone to remind them of their humanity. Of their worth.”

“It was much more cramped in this place until recently, whole families sheltering underground.”

“What happened?” Sakura is very careful to keep her tone even, she doesn’t want to assume the worst.

“Kusa finally pulled their head of their ass, and we evacuated all we could outside of Ame.” Oh, thank God.

Mogu claps a hand onto Naruto’s shoulder, turning to head back down the hall. “C’mon, let’s not keep him waiting.”

He leads them down the hall and into the first room on their right, pushing through a swaying, white curtain hung in the doorway. It looks like an improvised hospital wing, cots and futons lined up on either side of the long, hallway like room. There’s an older woman inside, white apron tied over her kimono and graying hair pinned up, tending to the few sick or injured put up the beds. She catches sight of them as they enter, finishes tying off the bandages of them young man she’s working on, and rises to meet them wiping her hands in her apron.

“Hitomi-san, how is our vip?” It’s spoken in good humor, and Hitmoi just rolls her eyes.

“About as well as can be expected.” She gestures to a curtained off section at the end of the infirmary, and Naruto moves so fast it’s almost a shunshin.

Naruto throws the curtains back and there he is, paler, thinner, obviously injured, but alive. Jiraiya is laid on his side, presumably because of the copious amounts of bandages on his back, and is shifting through paperwork on the low table pulled up to the bed. The sage startles when the curtains get flung open, and smiles when he see his three students there.

“Oh! You three finally made it! I was beginning to think I’d been forgotten abou-ach!” Team 7 sets upon him like concerned, rabid wolves, speaking over one another as they crowd around the Toad Sage.

Mogu and Itachi stand back from the loud group, sharing bemused looks.

…

When all is said and done, explanations are had, and Sasuke has set to work finishing up the mending of Jiraiya’s back. Hitomi is a skilled doctor, as evidenced by Jiraiya still breathing despite such grievous wounds, but she’s still a civilian. So, Sasuke sets to finishing up Jiraiya’s back with chakra.

Apparently once Jiraiya had confirmed both the extent of the Akatsuki’s corruption, and who exactly the leaders of the group were, he’d set off to try and stop them himself. Some kind of fucked up penance, Naruto’s sure of it. The sage had ended up half skewered and dumped into the frigid depths of the Kyuujin river, where the rebel forces then fished him out, and kept him out of deaths hold.

“Ow! Dammit brat, be careful!” Jiraiya glares over his shoulder, as Sasuke none too gently pulls soiled bandages and poultices from his back.

“Idiots don’t deserve careful.”

“…You really need to work on your bedside manner kid.”

Mogu bustles into their corner of the infirmary along with Itachi, arms laden with a large and small map and a box of files. Naruto sweeps the paperwork off the low table, and helps to unravel both maps. The small one set atop the large one. The small map has been scrawled across in red pen, detailing enemy patrols and the rebel territories. The larger one has been detailed as well, red ink scrawling across Ame, Kawa and carving a trail through the ocean, circling in particular the abandoned isles of Uzushio.

“Alright!” Mogu claps his hands as he brandishes a red marker, eager to begin his nefarious planning.

“I don’t know how much you kids know, so I’ll explain as best I can as fast as I can. Long story short, we’re all going to war soon and the enemy has enough of a brain to set up a pincer movement from Kiri by utilizing the ruins of Uzushio. Whilst the main forces are busy with the attack coming out of Iwa, Kiri will take Konoha from behind. We can’t let this happen under any circumstances, because if we lose this war we all die!” He’s oddly chipper for someone explaining the terms of their death.

The plan goes something like this. The Rebel forces, with the help of of Jiraiya, have struck a bargain with Kawa to the south. Kawa has agreed to allow safe, secret passage through their country to the coast, where ships will be waiting to take them straight to Kiri to execute a surprise attack of their own. In exchange for being left out of the war as a whole, an understandable desire for a small country lacking in shinobi forces.

Once Jiraiya was healed they’d set out immediately, needing to intercept the Kiri forces before they set sail. Fighting Kiri on the ocean is a death wish.

Naruto slumps back with a sigh, back against Jiraiya’s bedside. Jiraiya is alive, they have a mission to directly assist in the encroaching war, and so far no one he loves is dead. It feels oddly lucky, here’s to hoping that luck will last just a bit longer.

“Well, I guess we’re going to Kiri then.”
_______

2 days before the War of Ascension

Konoha and her allied forces are gathering on the plateau separating Kusa from Konoha. Technically speaking almost all of Kusa is a plateau, with their western border connecting them to Ame being flatlands. Whether plains, or plateau these lands are filled with perpetually swaying grasses, the sun always warm and the breeze always cool. Mayu finds herself almost envious of Kusa’s ideal ecosystem. Konoha is almost unbearably hot all times of the year, when it’s not hot it’s pouring rain, and during the summer months it’s so humid it’s hard to breath.

Mayu stands at the edge of the plateau, grasses swishing around her waist, and stares out over the flatlands stretched out below her. It’s stunning, warm sun dancing across grasses and wildflowers, turning it into a green ocean, reflecting golden light. Behind her the allied forces are setting up their base of operations, and by the sound of it Kumo and Suna are arguing over whether or not to go underground. Squads will be sent out to scout soon, to set up a scattering of smaller, hidden bases and to hopefully set up a sensor outpost to start getting better readings on the enemy movements.

Kusa has been chosen as the unfortunate battleground, though fortunately all unfit citizens, namely civilians and Gennin, have been evacuated into Konoha for the time being.

In a surprising turn of events Senju Tsunade appeared to take control of the medical tents, sighting that her “idiot student” was absent so someone had to be present to maintain Konoha’s high standards of medical care.

In another surprising turn both Kawa and Yu had sent along food and other supplies, both countries lacking in shinobi forces but wanting in on the alliance of the larger countries surrounding them.

It was staggering, Mayu doesn’t think such a large alliance has ever happened in the history of the Hidden Villages. It effectively cut the elemental nations right in half.

Footsteps crunch through the long grass behind her, and Mayu looks over her shoulder to watch Gaara sidle up beside her.

She smiles, “Hey Gaara!” She hasn’t seen him since the Suna fiasco, and exchanging letters never quite makes up for in person visits

The redhead only hums, face drawn. “What’s wrong?”

Gaara turns to her suddenly, gaze decisive and shoulders set in stony determination.

“Mayu, we’ve known each other for years now?”

“Yes?” She stifles her amusement for his sake, Gaara has a habit of making statements into questions in an effort to negotiate less awkward conversations. How that makes sense is still a mystery to Mayu, but his awkwardness is endearing.

“I think…I think I would like to know you for many more years as well.”

“Of course you will Gaara, I’m not going anywhere.” Odd, maybe someone was harassing Gaara over their friendship again? Kankuro used to give Gaara a hard time about Mayu, her being a Hatake and all.

“No.” He reaches out to hold her hand.

“No?” Easily Mayu wraps her fingers around his own. Gaara blinks once, twice, and a third time brows furrowed. Mayu lets him think, the older teen usually needs a moment to think of the right words.

“You’re amazing.” Yes, she knows. “You shine brighter than the sun itself, witnessing your smile is enough to quell every desire I’ve ever held. Your kindness, your heart, your joy is vaster than the sky itself. I find myself blinded by your light, and happy to be so.”

“I would like to know you Hatake Mayu, from the beginning of my life all the way to the very end. If you will have me?” By the end she is sure her face is burning red, eyes so wide they might fall right out of her head.

The first kiss is soft, nothing but a whisper of his lips against her own. It startles her, snaps her out of her daze and pulls her into action. The second kiss holds intent, two coming together to form one and in this moment the world is still and everything falls into place.

They pull away, but not far his forehead set against her own.

“Yes.”

Distantly Mayu can hear something explode, followed closely by screaming. It does not pierce their little world.

_______

Day of Ascension

War is both everything, and nothing like Sai was expecting.

The chaos, the fear, the smell of fire and excrement, the sheer level of sound surrounding them. That was something Sai could expect, something he could rationalize.

The death on the other hand, was staggering. Sai has been a shinobi for as long as he can remember, he’d killed many times before, been in frequent fights to the death. He thought this would be much the same. He was wrong. Countless dead scatter the once beautiful plains, enemy and foe alike trampled upon as those still living fight to survive for just a little longer. The ground beneath their feet has been soaked in so much blood it’s turned into red mud. The sky has been blackened by the mixing of smoke and dust, the glow of the sun blotted out. It’s been hours though, so maybe it’s already night and they just don’t know.

In a moment between foes, the space between cutting down one enemy and turning to meet a new one, he catches the eye of a Kumo nin. Their face is twisted in pain and fear and Sai thinks for a moment that they need help. He is wrong, they’re already dead, skewered upright by a vicious earth jutsu, face frozen in the moment of their death. It freezes him, and he doesn’t know why. After everything he’s been through, everything he’s done, why would this be what shakes him?

An Oto nin takes advantage of his distraction, attempting to skewer him with their Nodachi. His father rips him out of the way, frying the Oto nin, and dragging them both back closer to his sister and the small troupe of Suna and Konoha nin that have made it a point to stick with them since the battle began.

“Keep your guard up, Sai!” His father releases his hold around his shoulders to cut the head off an attacking Taki nin.

“Y-yes!”

The ground shakes suddenly, greater and harder than any Earth jutsu, and their father grips both of his children close as the world trembles and everyone stumbles.

A truly massive snake erupts, coiling around their small group, pushing back the rest of the war as a whole. It’s Manda he realizes, Orochimaru’s Boss Summons.

The Otokage himself stands on the reptiles head, behind and to the side of a cloaked, masked figure.

This must be the elusive Specter, finally come out to play.

He’s surrounded by the enemy Kage, Onoki the Tsuchikage, Orochimaru the Otokage, Shibuki the Takikage.

Around Sai’s group of surrounded shinobi their own allied Kage’s appear. Temari the Kazekage, A the Kumokage, and Midoriya the Kusakage.

It’s silent between the warring factions for a handful of tense moments, before the Specter begins to laugh. A deep, nearly hysterical laugh. Gloved hands rise to the orange mask concealing them, and in a casual almost flippant move flings the mask from his face. It’s a fairly average face by Sai’s standards, pale skin, dark hair, dark eyes, scars twisting one side of his face.

It’s the reaction that’s surprising. Around them everyone is equally tense, but they’re father appears to have stopped breathing all together. Mayu and Sai turn in his arms to look up at him, what’s visible of his face is pale and his eyes shine in terror.

“…Obito…”

Oh.

It’s barely a whisper, none but Kakashi’s children can hear him, but somehow the ghost above them knows.

Uncle Obito smiles, mouth cut in dark glee and blood.

“It’s been awhile, Kakashi.”

Oh.