INTERLUDE 3
Kenta watched Mizuki from the back of their small convoy, his expression hidden behind the smooth porcelain of his Tiger mask while the rest of the group made their way through the dense wilderness surrounding Takigakure. The pace wasn't particularly fast. Between Mizuki's still healing injuries, Fū's complete lack of restraint whenever she spotted something even mildly interesting and the simple fact that nobody particularly wanted to risk straining the newly strengthened relations with Taki by accidentally dropping their newly proclaimed village hero off a cliff, the journey had settled into an awkward middle ground between military escort and diplomatic procession.
Still, the Fire Temple wasn't particularly far away and lay more or less along the route back toward Konoha anyway, meaning they'd likely reach the monks in a little under two days at their current pace.
Just another reason why Tiger had found it difficult to shoot down Mizuki's unexpected request, especially with Taki's newly emboldened village leader publicly backing it. He might've tried to strongarm Mizuki in returning to Konoha immediately once they were out of sight of the roaring waterfall anyways, which was likely the exact reason why the silver-haired shinobi had arranged for Taki's Jinchūriki to accompany them. Given how close she was to Shibuki, any move against Mizuki within earshot of the mint-haired girl would likely be reported straight to the Taki leader's ears, and that would raise a bunch of uncomfortable questions Tiger wasn't particularly willing to entertain.
As had become the (rather worrying) norm when it came to their prison escapee, simply following along with his schemes appeared to be the most straightforward way for Konoha to benefit. Kenta wasn't even sure whether or not Mizuki had meticulously planned for, was simply blissfully unaware of, or merely didn't care about the problem he'd made himself for the leaders of the Village Hidden in the Leaf.
He couldn't say which option troubled him the most.
Ahead of him, the striped shinobi in question was currently whispering in soft tones with his fiancée, while further up ahead the Jinchūriki was having a loud debate (well, shouting match, really) with one of the Legendary Stupid Brothers about the benefits of steamed versus broiled fish.
"Steamed fish is objectively the superior preparation method," Fū declared with the absolute confidence of someone who had never once considered the possibility of being wrong. "It cooks quickly, keeps the meat moist and preserves the flavor."
One of the Legendary Stupid Brothers stared at her for a moment. "That just sounds like unfinished grilled fish."
Fū looked personally insulted. "No, it sounds like you people burn everything until it stops being recognizable."
"That's how you know it's cooked."
"That's how you know you failed."
Of course Tiger and his remaining two operatives, his lieutenant Bear and a particularly quiet ANBU (even by their standards) that wore one of the standard featureless masks, had been shamelessly listening in on the hushed conversation, while trying to ignore the (much) louder one at the front of their group.
Privacy? What's that?
So far, they hadn't gleaned much that was worth noting, though Kenta didn't for a second dismiss the possibility that the pseudo-missing nin was fully aware of his eavesdroppers and only said what he wanted them to pick up. When it came to Mizuki, they had all learned that it paid to be twice as paranoid as usual and then maybe they'd catch on to about half his schemes.
'Look underneath the underneath, huh, Kakashi-senpai? But what if it's just underneaths all the way down?' Kenta thought somewhat frustrated and more than a bit mentally strained from having to double, triple and quadruple check every interaction he had with the silver-haired man.
The hushed conversation had mostly consisted of Tsubaki hovering around Mizuki, repeatedly checking bandages that frankly didn't need checking anymore and quietly scolding him whenever he moved too abruptly or put strain on injuries that should still have been giving him considerably more trouble than they apparently were.
Kenta's attention sharpened slightly when Tsubaki abruptly grabbed Mizuki's wrist after he reopened a shallow cut across his upper arm when he strained himself a bit too much leaping over a small rapid.
"…That should not have closed already." she quietly muttered.
Tsubaki frowned down at Mizuki's arm, thumb pressing lightly against skin that already looked more like a day-old injury than something freshly split open. The angry redness around the edges had faded almost completely and fresh skin had already begun knitting together beneath the torn scab. It wasn't dramatic regeneration by any means. No instant flesh knitting itself back together like Kenta knew some Jinchūriki were rumored to be capable of. Nothing like the legends surrounding the Shodaime's monstrous healing factor claimed, but even so it was still far beyond what he would've expected from someone who'd nearly been beaten to death in an underground cave less than a day earlier. Fast enough for an experienced medic to immediately notice something wasn't normal.
Mizuki himself only glanced at the cut before shrugging.
"Huh. Neat."
Tsubaki looked deeply unimpressed by his answer.
Tiger, meanwhile, quietly filed the observation away, yet another addition to the mental record he was keeping of former Inmate 99. The map was getting rather worryingly thick, already outstripping the ones he kept on several B- and even A-Rank missing nin. The irritating part was that most of those criminals, while more dangerous in direct combat, were significantly easier to deal with.
A shinobi betrays the village. ANBU tracks them down. Tiger cuts their head off in some remote forest or abandoned mountain top. Sometimes the missing nin will have a good head on his shoulders and intend to keep it there, surrendering once they've been properly beaten into the dirt and Tiger drags what's left of them back to T&I. End of problem.
Messy, perhaps, but straightforward.
Mizuki, meanwhile, seemed determined to turn every single situation into a tangled knot of competing political interests, half-truths and outcomes that somehow kept benefiting Konoha just enough to make immediate elimination feel inconveniently… premature.
'I miss the days where traitors just defected instead of turning themselves into political problems nobody's allowed to solve. At least back then, missing-nin had the decency to either betray the village or not. They didn't save allied village leaders in-between felony counts.' Kenta thought to himself somewhat petulantly.
He had been willing to be far more lenient with Mizuki before, when they had come across the man when he was still smelling of ozone and burnt flesh, having survived whatever hellish experiments Hiruko had put the man's body through to the point it came out looking like… that. But things had changed now.
The Akimichi had regained consciousness shortly before their departure from Taki, and while the man's injuries remained severe, his recollection of events had been perfectly coherent. Mizuki had attacked him. Brutally. There had been no hesitation or confusion in the assault either according to the injured operative, only sudden violence followed by equally sudden unconsciousness.
Chōbei had seemed uncharacteristically embarrassed when he mentioned that last part, clearly unwilling to elaborate in further detail and considering the man's injuries, Kenta had allowed him that small reprieve at least.
Besides, it wasn't as if he couldn't put two and two together once he went to check on the prison personally and saw his own operative's face embossed in the thick cell door…
'So much for his anonymity… then again, with how many bandages they wrapped around his head, it's probably safer now than behind an ANBU mask…' Kenta thought to himself, expertly hiding a somewhat embarrassed wince at how he had practically shouted his operative's name in front of the fully assembled ruling counsel of a neighbouring village.
Not his proudest moment, but then again it wasn't often one of his had been attacked by the very same (supposedly friendly) suspect he was meant to be guarding.
Under normal circumstances, that alone would've been enough to justify immediate detention, if not outright decapitation. The problem was that Mizuki's explanation still fit. Orochimaru had used sleeper agents before, though they were still trying to figure out where he had perfected his insidious jutsu. Konoha intelligence had entire classified archives detailing conditioned operatives unknowingly carrying out commands months or even years after implantation. Hiruko's involvement only complicated matters further. The missing-nin had exchanged knowledge and techniques with Orochimaru for years and possessed enough medical knowledge to not just shape Mizuki's body like that, but alter his mind in deeply distubing ways as well, changes that would take longer to become apparent. If Mizuki truly had been carrying dormant conditioning since Shūmisen, or even before, it was entirely plausible that Suien had somehow triggered it.
'Could that have been the real reason why he insisted on visiting the monks first? An attempt at dealing with the scars in his mind while circumventing having to submit himself to yet another ANBU interrogation? Back in the prison, Frog had been as accommodating as possible when dealing with such techniques, but still, it wouldn't surprise me if it left him with some sort of trauma when it comes to having ANBU root around in his brain…' Kenta mused, his eyes never leaving Mizuki's broad back.
The question was, should he allow the man to seek help and improve himself as he saw fit?
It was an uncomfortable question that didn't have a good answer.
How far would Tiger allow Mizuki to keep gallivanting around the country, getting what he felt he needed to heal and improve himself, all the while refusing to truly submit himself to Konoha's authority, all because the village as a whole kept benefitting?
The prison break led to them identifying security breaches, from corruption amongst the guard to outdated safety features. Even now the whole prison was undergoing such an overhaul (based on Mizuki's own recommendations and seal ideas no less) that it was unlikely there'd be another break-out in a century at least.
Then there was Hiruko, a long-standing if distant thorn in Konoha's side. From what they had managed to reconstruct from the scattered research at his hidden base, the missing-nin had been well on his way to completing some sort of doomsday jutsu. Even if it lacked the power to wipe Konoha off the map outright, it could still weaken the village badly enough for the other Great Villages to gladly finish the job themselves.
And now Taki. An ally whose leader had not only been strengthened, but also made indebted to Konoha, to the point of sharing their most secret and powerful technique, one which had made their most infamous missing nin an international S-Rank threat even a century later. Taki might not have the means (or the willingness) to offer up the manpower needed to bring the technique back to its full height again, but Konoha was just sitting on a newly improved and fully stocked prison complex. Human experimentation might have left a bad taste in their mouths following Orochimaru's crimes, but for a boon like the Earth Grudge Fear?
There were plenty of factions in Konoha who'd have little trouble swallowing that bad taste if it meant strengthening the village. Hell, just in his own squad Tiger was confident he could call on half of them to volunteer if need be and he fully counted himself among that number.
All of them were willing to die for Konoha, all of them were willing to live for Konoha as well, even as a monster.
Which meant that Kenta, no, Tiger saw it as his duty to either get the scattered jutsu scrolls off Mizuki's person, or ensure the man's loyalty to Konoha when the striped shinobi inevitably managed to incorporate the technique into his own powerset.
The obvious answer was of course the first one, either through violence or subterfuge, but despite his confidence in his own pickpocketing skills, Tiger was still unwilling to take such a gamble when dealing with a man who had 'Flight Risk Mizuki' as his moniker after what was effectively only a few months of active duty.
As for outright violence…
"Lemme at 'em! They take that back! They're so food-focused, Imma make them eat their own words till they choke on it! You hungry fellas? How 'bout a knuckle sandwich!?"
Kenta looked up, somewhat startled to realized he had been lost in his musing. Up ahead, a somewhat exasperated and amused Mizuki was holding the mint-haired Jinchūriki off the floor by the back of her top, her short limbs flailing like windmills, while a little bit away stood the two mountainous Brothers, who looked equal parts defiant and chastised as Tsubaki scolded them, hands on her hips.
One of them was holding a small uprooted tree over his boulder-like shoulder like a club, while the other was holding an actual boulder like a football. Yet despite the decidedly odd sight, Kenta's money would still be on the tiny little girl that barely came up to their big bellies, currently going through a thesaurus worth of insults with a kind of creativity that made the parent in him want to raise a disapproving eyebrow.
He had seen enough of Suien's remains (what little was left anyways) during his investigation to not underestimate the power of a Tailed Beast, no matter how puny its vessel may seem. No, just snatching the scrolls for the Earth Grudge Fear out of Mizuki's clawed hands was simply not a viable option, not through subterfuge and definitely not through force.
As the normally unflappable ANBU looked upon the scene with a sort of quiet accepted desperation, his lieutenant casually leaned in, voice carefully neutral.
"The food 'debate' continued for a while until one of the Brothers mentioned that living off the land naturally involves bugs, as there are several in these woods that are apparently "good ettin'" if not very filling. The container took umbrage at that, citing bugs are friends, not food. Then the other Brother responded that bugs are only good for killing and all a man can choose in life is whether or not he eats them after."
"How… profound." Tiger managed.
No, if Konoha wanted to keep benefitting of Mizuki's mad schemes, then all there was to it was making sure to be there to put their enemies in the former inmate's path and be ready to deal with the fall out. Maybe if he took out enough of their problems, he'd see the benefit of becoming Konoha's ally instead if only to take some off the workload off his shoulders. Maybe even earn back a proper headband again, become a true comrade in the shinobi forces…
'Gods… why does that sound worse?!'
Tiger resisted the urge to slam his forehead into the nearest tree.
It was moments like this that reminded him porcelain masks were one of ANBU's greatest inventions. Not for intimidation, anonymity or psychological warfare (though those counted for something as well of course).
But because they did an excellent job at hiding the stress-induced eye twitch he could rapidly feel developing as he stared at Mizuki's back, the semi-missing nin apparently having decided to end the "debate" by simply tucking the lithe Jinchūriki under his arm like a mint-colored sausage roll and keep on walking.
The small girl didn't even seem to realize and was now listing off various insults apparently local to the hardened fisherfolk of Taki, including a particularly creative comparison involving a constipated salamander and a badly folded futon that Tiger sincerely hoped he'd misheard.
Despite his long years of service and pride in his skills as a veteran shinobi, Kenta couldn't stop a deeply irritating thought from worming its way into his head.
'… Are we there yet?'
//
Meanwhile, outside the Hokage's office
It had been some time since Danzo had last walked these halls. He used to move throughout the village as if he already owned it, confident in his stride despite the cane. Others bowed their heads and moved out of his way, whispering in quiet awe behind his back.
Some of that was the same. He still projected the familiar image of old, unbowed strength, enveloping himself in the moniker the rest of the world had given him. Others would look upon him and see the War Hawk on an endless mission, as always moving to secure the future of their home.
But these last few months, something had changed.
People still whispered, but the awe was gone. Danzo was used to suspicion, it was his life-blood, but he wasn't used to it being displayed so openly against him.
'Tch, these younger generations have become soft. They lack proper respect for those who came before, those who secured what they may now enjoy.' He thought darkly as he felt Hiruzen's secretary's eyes bore into his back.
He knew why of course. Mizuki's mad ramblings, and he had made sure that the proper circles had dismissed them as such. Annoyingly, the amnesiac inmate had been dead right on multiple counts, which flared up Hiruzen's paranoia to… cumbersome levels.
While the claims were all true, their suspect provenance had given Danzo enough wiggle room to somewhat muzzle the Hokage's efforts to oust him from power. Danzo was the root that fed the great tree above and his tendrils had burrowed deep and far indeed. All of it done safely from within the confines of his ROOT headquarters, naturally. It wasn't cowardice, of course, just sound tactics.
Hiruzen's temper could be… volatile, especially whenever he got these bothersome suspicions of Danzo, like the first time he had tried to assassinate the old Sarutobi. It obviously hadn't worked, so what had the old man been so worked up about anyways?
No, he had been in damage control ever since that damnable Mizuki had been questioned, and while he had needed to burn more time and effort than he had wanted to, it was time to confront Hiruzen and once more cement his place at the Hokage's side.
"Sir? Sir! Sir, you cannot enter, the Lord Hokage is in a meeting with his ANBU right now-!" the foolish girl tried to halt him in his steps, but three world wars had never slowed Danzo down, he would not be waylaid by mere bureaucracy now.
"Oh? Even more the reason for me to see my old friend Hiruzen. He will need my council in order to judge their reports accurately, the last ones have been… lacking in quality." Danzo shot back, hand already coming up to the handle, head bowed and eye closed, the very picture of iron will and unshakeable conviction-
"HE DID WHAT?!"
Danzo looked at the rattling doorknob, felt the tremors up through the soles of his sandals, heard the secretary squeak as she dove for an inkpot that had been rattled off her desk… and promptly turned his back on the Hokage's office.
Their business could be concluded some other day. Meanwhile, he had to tend to the shadows. Yes the shadows in his own headquarters, placed far underground and thus far away from the Hokage building, those sounded particularly nice.
Again, it wasn't cowardice, of course, just… sound tactics.
//
Meanwhile, in a dark, hidden cave
The cave was quiet apart from the slow crackle of the fire pit near the center of the chamber, a pair of sweet potatoes on a stick roasting above the flames, its light spilling unevenly across the stone walls and catching intermittently on the pale scar stretching across Kazuma's face.
Kazuma, Furido to those he was forced to occasionally interact with, sat near the flames with one knee raised, eyes distant as they gazed into the flickering flame. The years had changed him enough that even former comrades (well… those that he hadn't killed yet at least) would struggle to recognize the man he used to be. The white hair helped with that. So did the scar. People saw damage and age before they bothered looking deeper.
Footsteps approached from the tunnel entrance, though he remained relaxed in his languid position, eyes never leaving the fire. Fuen stepped into the chamber, brushing a loose strand of dark hair back behind her ear as she glanced toward him.
"Fudō's still outside," she said. "He's doing another perimeter sweep."
Kazuma hummed in acknowledgment.
"And Fūka disappeared an hour ago after spotting what she called a 'much better body than the last one.'"
That earned a low chuckle from him.
"Honestly," Fuen continued dryly, "I'm beginning to think she enjoys the hunt more than the actual mission."
"The greatest protection this group has," Kazuma replied lazily, "is my presence in it, not Fudō stomping around outside pretending he's subtle."
Fuen snorted softly.
"As for Fūka," he went on, "she can entertain herself however she likes so long as she doesn't attract too much attention. Replacing bodies occasionally is useful for her. It keeps the habit sharp."
"She says things like that too, which somehow makes it worse."
Kazuma laughed quietly at that.
Fuen moved closer to the fire, expression souring slightly as she looked toward the cave entrance again. "I'm getting tired of hiding in holes like this."
"You'll survive."
"That isn't an encouragement."
"It wasn't meant to be."
She shot him a flat look while he continued staring into the flames.
"Our position still isn't stable enough to move openly," he elaborated after a moment, her intense, studying glare not letting up. "The clash with the loyalists happened too recently and Asuma came far too close to killing me for my liking. Half the Guardian Twelve are dead, the other half scattered, and now he's crawled back to Konoha where I can't conveniently reach him."
There was no irritation in his voice while saying it. If anything, he sounded faintly amused by the inconvenience.
"I'd prefer removing Chiriku next," he continued, "but the ninja-turned-monk is still on edge after Sora's little outburst. It hasn't been long enough since the sealing of the demon chakra for the monks' attention to wane. He's watching the boy too carefully right now."
Fuen tilted her head slightly. "And until then?"
Kazuma smiled faintly.
"Until then, we wait for the asset to mature."
Fuen gave him a long look, then exhaled through her nose. "You really do overcomplicate everything."
For the first time since their talk, Kazuma shifted, tearing his eyes away from the flames to raise a challenging eyebrow at the tall woman.
"The plan is elegant." He insisted.
"The plan is insane," she corrected. "You plan on becoming the boy's mentor, spend years feeding him stories about the people who 'killed' his father, and then eventually reveal you were his father the entire time? There's like… six different ways to get the same end results with half the steps."
Kazuma's shoulders shook slightly with restrained laughter.
"Come on, the father-reveal? It's an absolute classic. I'm even thinking of adding a fake beard to my disguise."
"It's a cliché."
"A classic," he repeated firmly.
Fuen folded her arms. "You're lucky you're strong enough to make people tolerate this nonsense."
For a moment, Kazuma just kept his mild smile on his face, but when he next spoke Fuen stilled completely, knowing not to push her leader further on this.
"It's not nonsense. This plan of mine… my goal, for peace in this country, this world… there is no path more sensible. All of it, the sacrifices needed, all of it is necessary. All of us have our part to play in this grand design."
Kazuma's eyes had returned to the fire, but to Fuen's unease, the glow in them seemed to be even brighter than the flames, the white-haired man's voice turning to a reed-thin whisper, almost manic.
"This world… shall know peace."
Meanwhile, in an even darker, more secret cave
The funeral had been finished earlier today, hours ago now in fact, though he hadn't bothered counting them. Hours since the priest had said his final, carefully curated words and the last well-wishers had tried to pass on their measured condolences.
Daigo had remained at the grave the entire time.
His father had been a well-respected man in Taki. That much was obvious from the turnout alone. People came throughout the day to pay their respects to a great protector of their village, one who gave his life in the line of duty. Some came in groups, some alone, all of them carrying the same well-meaning (but ultimately meaningless) expressions of grief and obligation. They spoke in the way people did when silence felt inappropriate: acknowledgements of service, reminders of his contributions, the usual phrases that were meant to acknowledge loss without becoming too personal about it.
None of it reached Daigo in any meaningful way. He didn't react to their words, didn't even move when those hesitant few awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. Comrades of his father perhaps, maybe even Shibuki himself, though Daigo couldn't remember. Didn't care to.
All that time, he stood silent, eyes fixed unwaveringly on the blade sticking proudly out of the freshly dug soil.
It was meant as a marker of pride, once it became clear that Daigo refused to inherit the bloodied blade, no matter how many hours his family had spent cleaning and polishing it. Now it stood tall, waving slightly in the winds flowing past the grave markers and all Daigo could think was that it was an insult. How could anyone ever expect him to see it as anything else? It was no heirloom.
It was a murder weapon.
At some point the pattern of visitors changed. The steady flow slowed, then broke apart entirely. People stopped approaching him directly. The condolences became shorter, more hesitant at the edges, and eventually they shifted away from him altogether, directed instead toward each other or left unspoken as they passed.
By the time darkness had settled properly over the grounds, he was the only one left.
It was just him, a haunted blade… and a crumpled piece of paper held tightly all this time in his clenched fist. He had found it shoved underneath his door this morning, its hastily scribbled lines detailing an old, overgrown path to this place, a cave hidden below the mountain ridge that rose tall behind the thick overgrown forests that surrounded the lake and their great tree.
Had he been younger, more innocent, he'd probably feel a sense of unease at their remote location. It wasn't often he had strayed beyond the protective embrace of Kusunoki Oboku.
But then again, he was no longer innocent and the towering branches of their tree had shown they were no protector. If Kusunoki Oboku truly did have that sheltering power they spoke of in those stories he'd heard since he was a child, then his innocence wouldn't have to be buried alongside his father.
The note, different to all the meaningless prattle from his family and the visitors at the graveyard, had seemed to understand that. Had spoken in a way that showed they shared his loss, his pain.
But more than that, they shared something that too few people at the funeral had displayed, something that he felt they lacked for their words to ever matter to him. The note shared his anger. His sheer rage.
Daigo wasn't sure what he'd do yet with all the fire building up inside his chest as he descended the cave. Wasn't sure what he could do. Direct instruction from his strict father, no matter how he'd tried to weasel his way out of it at times, meant he was better than your average Taki nin, but as the outsiders had shown, that accounted to little in the grand scheme of things.
For all that it felt like it would consume him whole if he let it, the young man was still sober enough to realize it was hardly the inferno that it seemed. More like a flickering candle, if he were being honest.
But when he finally finished his downwards descent and came into a larger room, lit by torches and surprisingly filled with people he vaguely recognized, that candle was steadily gaining in strength. Many of the people here were shinobi, though the odd civilian (usually from the richer side, he realized) was spread throughout the small crowd. They were all whispering anxiously amongst each other, eying their dark surroundings with the same unease that Daigo felt, but in many of their faces he spotted what he felt he had missed back at the funeral.
All of them had that same spark of anger that he had. Perhaps not the pain, not the sheer overwhelming sense of being swallowed whole by rage and grief, but there was enough there they had followed the note's instructions and slipped away to hide from the towering gaze of Kusunoki Oboku.
At the front of the crowd and talking in hushed whispers amongst themselves, were many of the Elders of Taki, which did much to settle the frayed nerves of the crowd. What they were doing wasn't technically illegal (… yet) and with the backing of so many Elders daring to openly show their faces, it was unlikely they'd be punished for coming to this secret meeting.
Daigo didn't have to wait long until said meeting actually began. A few stragglers came in after he did, boots scraping against damp stone as they found places along the edges of the cavern. Above them, the mountain ridge held steady, the weight of it pressing down in a way that made voices feel smaller than they should have been.
When the last of the movement settled, the Elders decided it was enough.
One of them stepped forward from the cluster of white robes, spindly arms spread wide and high and the crowd fell into a heavy, expectant silence.
"The situation in Taki cannot continue as it is," he said, his voice resonant in the darkness of the cavern.
Another Elder followed immediately, voice tighter. "Shibuki is giving too much weight to outsiders. Leaf shinobi are not partners in our most secret affairs. They are guests. Temporary ones."
A murmur ran through the crowd, a low, uneven agreement. The alliance between Taki and Konoha was old and not easily broken. Then again, it had hardly ever been an equal partnership, with the majority of Leaf shinobi never having been granted access to the pathways behind Tsukihime's veil and most Taki nin having never left the shadows of Kusunoki Oboku's vast canopy. The excitement of the past few days, and Konoha's role in it, had made many uneasy.
"Guests don't decide how a village defends itself," someone added from the back.
"They also don't get to decide what we do with our own weapons," another voice said, sharper. "The Earth Grudge Fear is not something we hand over or share based on convenience. Nor is the jinchūriki a matter to be treated casually in the presence of foreign shinobi."
More murmurs, agreements and disagreements raised in equal measure as Daigo watched it all silently from the back of the crowd.
"The jinchūriki shouldn't be left in situations where outsiders can reach her," someone said.
"She already is," another voice replied. "That's the problem."
"Shibuki gives away our power too freely, at the cost of our own!" the Elder who opened the meeting said loudly, hoping to get the people riled up, though it was a difficult sell.
The Taki Village Leader, for all his faults and cowardice, was much beloved by his people, even those who had other grudges to settle tonight.
"The Leaf shinobi have already been too close to our affairs," one Elder said, voice tightening. "We must not allow that proximity to become undue influence."
"He listens too much to them," another Elder pressed on. "Since his father's passing, he has forgotten where authority in this village actually sits."
Another voice, from the crowd this time, words cold and dissatisfied, chimed in. "He has not forgotten. He is choosing to ignore it."
This led to more grumbling and Daigo saw the Elders exchange grim glances. The crowd wasn't unified, not really. It never was in gatherings like this. Some of them were worried, about what it meant for Taki if the Earth Grudge Fear was ever to make a return to the world stage, but in the hands of an outsider this time. Others were openly unsettled by the Jinchūriki, Fū, and what she represented, what she contained, especially now that she was granted so much leeway by their leader. Power that is not controlled has a habit of making powerless people feel threatened, even if said power is there for their defence.
But there were others too. People who didn't speak about policy at all. They latched on to the Elders' comments about Shibuki, their own dissatisfaction with their lot in life, their place in Taki, being manipulated by the Elders' own dissatisfaction with their waning power. Long, low-simmering resentment was being fed plenty of fuel by eager hands and sinister tongues.
"He thinks he can lead because people like him," one man muttered near the edge of the chamber. "That's not the same as understanding what holds this village together."
A woman beside him snorted softly. "He left most of it to the Elders anyway. Now he wants to take it back piece by piece."
"That's not leadership," someone else said. "That's a powerplay."
The first Elder allowed the disgruntled murmuring to build for a moment before speaking again.
"Shibuki has been given room to grow into his role," he said evenly. "Clearly, our efforts in this matter have paid off. But room to maneuver does not mean freedom from guidance."
Another Elder, slightly further back, added: "Or correction."
The crowd quieted at the icy words, some still unsure about the direction the conversation was turning, but the sense of anger, of resentment, or whatever else it was that had convinced them to make the trek to this underground cave, was steadily being fueled. The momentum in the room was changing, shifting forwards, a growing feeling that something had to be done… even if they couldn't all agree yet on what that something actually should be.
But the Elder who had first spoken, a truly ancient specimen, was an experienced hand at reading crowds and continued his speech.
"Whatever concerns you carry," he said, slowly turning to include the gathered crowd, "whatever doubts or misgivings may have brought you here… understand this."
A pause, deliberate enough that even the quieter movements in the room stopped.
"Every person in this chamber is a patriot of Taki."
Some of the tension eased, feelings of guilt and apprehension subdued by affirmation from a side who had been their effective rulers for close to a decade, a familiar power in their daily lives. If this became something done for Taki, then it wasn't something done against Shibuki; it was in his best interests even if he himself could not see it that way yet. If the Elders said they were actually doing the right thing, then none of this could be that bad, right? Right?
"No matter what others may say," the Elder continued, "you are here because you wish to preserve this village. And more than that… to strengthen it."
A few heads nodded, some even clapped each other on the shoulder. Daigo remained silent, standing ramrod straight with darkened eyes.
"Then why meet in secret?" someone from the crowd, a veteran shinobi less swept up than the others, called out.
"If it's for the good of the village, then why are we all the way out here instead? We've even left the embrace of our tree!"
That resonated with many villagers and if it weren't for the fire pressing against his ribs smothering any sense of unease, Daigo would likely feel the same apprehension about turning their backs on their ancient guardian spirit. Not even the Elders remained unaffected by the question.
The first Elder paused only briefly, the first signs of uncertainty creeping into his weathered face before answering, voice carefully controlled.
"This meeting, this place, was requested. By someone who has supported Taki in the past. Someone whose current position does not allow open presence in the Village proper now that our leader has so naively thrown open wide its doors to the shinobi from the Leaf."
"You brought in another outsider?" someone asked and the Elder visibly set his jaw.
"Needs must. Konoha has gained much from their stay here, but even before their numbers dwarfed ours, not to mention the legends that hail from that village that can dwarf even the strongest among our number. And theirs don't have to give up their lives for such monstrous strength. If Taki is to remain strong, stand tall next to Konoha, stand proud in this world!? Then we'll need help in getting stronger! Wasn't it Shibuki himself who said we can only gain by standing with our allies?" the Elder finished in a mocking tone.
"Then who is he, this mysterious ally who will make us stronger?" someone called out and again the Elders hesitated, some of them outright nervous this time and it didn't take long for the rest of the crowd to realize why.
The darkness of the cavern, held at bay by flickering torches, seemed to stretch and grow colder, the air thicker and more difficult to breathe, as if a tight iron band was strapped close around their ribs, tightened ever so slightly. Many found themselves sweating, hair in their necks on edge, a clammy feeling on their palms as eyes flitted from shadow to shadow.
Their 'ally' was already here.
In the yawning darkness behind the elders, shadows seemed to shift into something that went beyond darkness, not merely an absence of light but the antithesis to it, something… evil.
Two golden slitted eyes opened in the dark, and the crowd stilled, transfixed. None dared speak. None dared even move. Breathing seemed a risk, nobody there wanting those golden eyes to fixate on them as they roamed over the subdued cavern.
None moved… save one.
Daigo knew he should be cowering in fear. Had this happened three days ago, he likely would've, his body recognizing the threat those eyes posed as if it was an immutable fact of the natural world.
But even as the fear clamped down on his shoulders, on his spine, the fire in his chest kept expanding, kept the air from being pressed from his lungs. He didn't see the golden eyes. He saw a shining steel sword, swaying slightly in the wind as it stood tall over a freshly dug grave.
"Help is never free. Whatever aid you give us, whatever power you grant us, you'll want something in return. You'll want more in return, more than most people would be comfortable with."
In the dead silence, Daigo's voice, young as it was, rang out with absolute certainty. The eyes in the dark didn't respond, didn't blink or even narrow, but their entire, chilling attention was wholly fixated on the youth.
"I tell you now… I'll tell all of you now!" Daigo shouted at the cowering crowd, before turning back towards that terrible gaze with clenched teeth and trembling fists.
"You give me the power to make the Leaf pay for the death of my father… you give me the power to make Oniyuri Mizuki bleed… and I guarantee that there's no price I won't pay."
Going after Suien wasn't possible anymore, nothing to soothe that aching fire in his chest. That chance, that opportunity had been ripped away from him by a beast hiding behind a girl's face. And the one person in this world who Daigo had wanted to rely on, the woman who he thought had a chance at making him no longer feel so… empty, was whisked away by the same man that had let his father's murderer out of his cell in the first place.
Daigo didn't care anymore. Didn't care about the explanations that were given, mind control jutsu, last minute saves, desperate final stands. Daigo didn't care about any of it. All he cared about was that the man at the heart of it all, would be buried just as deep as Daigo's own father.
"What say you?!" he shouted into that leering darkness and the golden eyes stared at him unblinkingly.
For a long moment, the echo of his shout was the only sound in the cavern, even its natural noises subdued as if the world itself was holding its breath waiting for the stranger's answer.
Then, starting softly but steadily building, came a low, sinister, darkly amused chuckle.
"Kukukukuku…"
//
AN: Imma be honest, not entirely happy with the majority of this Interlude. That being said, I'm kinda excited getting into the next arc, though as I was researching it, I was surprised to find a lot of comments that were pretty negative about it, from the plot to the implications to Sora as a character. It's been a while, but I remember thinking it was pretty fun way back when I was a kid, with the demon arm and everything. Though to be fair, yeah even kid me thought Sora was a whiny, angsty brat. Hopefully, people are excited for the arc nonetheless. As for this interlude, similarly to most chapters I write, it just kept growing longer and I'm awful at killing my darlings. I look back at my original intentions for this story (namely wrap it all up in about twenty chapters) and can't help but laugh…