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Description

A violent explosion rocked Rika awake. Jumping up from bed, Rika's head spun from left to right to assess the situation. She was in her room. But where was she supposed to be right now? Forcing herself to calm down, the kunoichi racked her brain to remember her last orders. Memories of the fight with Sunagakure flooded her mind. The explosion. Shiori. Shiori's last instructions-"Cover me." That was it. She needed to find Shiori.

----

Hanzō stared in concentration at the latest trespasser. The man had just appeared out of thin air. And his appearance was no less strange than his entrance. Thick bandages covered the entirety of his body, save a small hole for his two glowing eyes. Although it was clear that this man possessed frightful levels of chakra, neither he nor his sensor shinobi could detect him till now. Who was this?

"Well what do you know, my old friend Mū the Tsuchikage," Gengetsu answered Hanzō's unspoken question. "I'm afraid this confirms my suspicions. The two of you are in league and are conspiring against me!"

So, the newcomer was the Tsuchikage. Mū's abilities and his kekkei tota were legendary even in Amegakure. Usually, Hanzō would relish the challenge he presented, but today his hands were already full with the Mizukage. Taking on two kage at once would be a first. He was not afraid, but he would need to be careful. "I have no idea what you are doing here," Hanzō motioned to Mū, "or what the hell you're talking about Mizukage."

"It's too late to play innocent with me Hanzō! Now, prepare yourselves! I'll gladly eliminate you both at once!"

"This is a fitting field for your last fight, Gengetsu," Mū motioned to the grasslands and lake that surrounded them. "But if you hope to stand a chance against me, it won't do to have your attention divided. Please permit me to level the playing field. I'm terribly sorry about all this, Lord Hanzō, but I'm afraid I'll have to tend to you first." Hanzō watched with interest as Mū sprinted to the water, planted himself on its surface, and waved an unfamiliar combination of hand signs. "Secret Shinobi Art: Dust Release."

"SHUNSHIN!," Hanzō shouted, flickering out of harm's way and onto the water behind his opponent before the Tsuchikage's technique made contact.

"Impressive," Mū said, eyes widening in surprised admiration. "Your reflexes match if not surpass my own.”

"It's a little unwise, don't you think Tsuchikage, to rush into another country with no idea who you're up against?" Hanzō asked in a low, threatening voice.

"You are correct," Mū agreed politely. "My apologies for underestimating you."

"The only one underestimated here is ME," Gengetsu interrupted. "You two buddies are making me feel like the odd one out! I’d better invite my own friend to this party. Mugen bakuha ninjutsu!” Instead of the summoned apparition Hanzō expected to appear, a small ball of spiraling vapor collected in front of the Mizukage. With each rotation, the ball grew larger and larger until its growth exploded outwards in the form of stubby arms, legs, and lastly, a chubby head bearing an absurd resemblance to the Mizukage himself.

“This friend again, Gengetsu?” the Tsuchikage almost yawned. “He’s a terrible bore. Lord Hanzō,” Mū addressed the village head, “Gengetsu’s technique, the ‘mugen bakuha,’ and I are already intimately acquainted. As you have likely not yet had the pleasure, I’ll leave him to you. Consider it my apology for underestimating you earlier. Now, please pardon me while I step out for a moment,” Mū motioned to himself as he vanished into the surrounding air as completely as he had arrived.

”BLOODY COWARD!” Gengetsu spat. “And it’s not like that invisibility of yours will do any good, you know. As boring as you think my clone here is, you have to admit what a blast he can be when he’s revved up! Perhaps I’ll prove it to you first, Hanzō. Clone, show the salamander what you’re made of!”

That would be helpful. There was definitely something more than water vapor to this doppelganger, but he didn’t intend to find out what. With a forceful thrust, Hanzō launched his kusarigama at the oncoming clone. Hiding behind the wave created in the kusarigama’s wake, Hanzō rushed the Mizukage head on, delivering a brutal kick to the elderly kage and catching him off guard. “Your clone is an insult, Mizukage. Don’t be foolish enough to think I’ll fall for such a cheap distraction!”

“Cheap?!” the furious kage huffed, struggling to recapture the wind knocked from him by Hanzō’s kick. “I’d take that back if I were you. My clone has a rather explosive temper.”

“Enough with the puns Gengetsu,” the phantom-like voice of Mū echoed around the fighters. “You’ll give away your national secret.”

So Mū was still here. Hanzō was impressed. He couldn’t detect Mū’s chakra at all. What was the secret to his invisibility?

“Still lording over us all from the shadows, Mū?” Gengetsu hissed. “Two can play that game. Kirigakure no Jutsu!” As the Mizukage uttered the words, a thick fog rose from the water, enveloping Hanzō in a nearly opaque cloud. “Now, salamander, I’m afraid you’ll have to face my clone whether you like it or not.”

Hanzō begrudgingly directed his attention to the curious figure lumbering towards him. It no longer raced at its initial speed and grew larger with each step it took. Even in the dense fog, its presence was unmistakable. So it’s an explosive, Hanzō deduced from the Mizukage’s hints. And judging from its size, it could blow any second. Realizing the need to act quickly, Hanzō raced towards the figure and raised his kusarigama for a blow. Let’s find out what you’re made of, clone.

The goblin flashed a wicked grin and shielded itself with a blade that had suddenly popped from its arm. Locking his kusarigama with the clone’s weapon, Hanzō quickly scrutinized the clone. Beneath its skin, he detected a faint, colorful sheen. It’s oil! Stepping back in alarm, Hanzō teleported to retreat just in time before the now towering clone exploded in a blast of molten steam. As the hot, moist air dispersed, a light hail began to fall from the sky.

Hmph. “Is that all, Mizukage? Your clone is clever; its oil shell traps water. And as it moves, the water becomes warmer, gradually turning to steam before it explodes. Interesting. But useless if it blows itself up before hitting its target. Thank you for saving me the trouble of having to fight it.”

“You think I’d let it be that simple for you?” Gengetsu’s voice laughed. “Think again!”

Sure enough, another vapor cloud had begun to take shape where the last clone had vanished. It’s reforming. And it would likely continue to reform over and over after each explosion. He would need to ruin the clone’s composition to stop its regeneration. Tugging his respirator from his mouth, Hanzō inhaled deeply and encircled the clone and surrounding area with a gust of poisonous breath. To Hanzō’s satisfaction, the vapor ceased to swirl and, after some violent billowing, dissolved.

“You astound us again, Lord Hanzō,” Mū’s voice echoed around them. “I’ve never heard of Gengetsu’s technique being defeated so quickly.”

Although Hanzō still could not pinpoint the location of Mū’s voice, suddenly he became aware of a presence to his distant left. Careful not to make his suspicion too obvious, Hanzō cocked his head slightly to the side to better his peripheral vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he could detect a faint trace of his poison clinging to an object. So that’s how Mū achieved his invisibility: a water jutsu. Because Mū’s technique was water based, it had inadvertently captured faint traces of Hanzō’s poison enabling him to detect it. Seizing the opportunity, Hanzō again launched his kusarigama at the hidden Tsuchikage.

Mū, caught entirely by surprise, struggled to counter with a jutsu before taking the lethal blow. ”Bunretsu no Jutsu!”

Hanzō watched in amazement as the now visible shinobi split himself in two without waving a single hand sign. As his kusarigama landed on the original Tsuchikage, the second leapt backwards out of harm’s way. However, even as the original suffered the brunt of the attack, both Mūs remained. This was no ordinary clone. If Mū had simply cloned himself, the injured counterpart would disappear.

“You seem perplexed, Lord Hanzō. Allow me to explain,” Mū said calmly. “This is my Fission Technique. It allows me to split my body into two identical, yet independent duplicates of myself.”

“If that’s the case,” Hanzō’s eyes narrowed at the gravity of this threat, “then why not use your technique to create an army of yourself?”

“Simple. While split, my power is halved, disabling me from using my more powerful techniques. And that, my friend, is why I am here.”

“AH-HA!” Gengetsu shouted, emerging from the mist. “So THAT’S your plan! You’re here to retrieve the Black Heart of the Dark Forest technique from Hanzō to strengthen your fissions! And with multiple fissions at full strength you intended to overpower me! And in exchange for the scroll, you promised to fund Hanzō’s regime!”

“As usual, Mizukage, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Hanzō barked, “and you,” he pointed again to Mu, “are dreaming if you think I’d surrender one of Amegakure’s forbidden techniques!”

“Do you still mean to maintain that you and Mū aren’t cohorts?!”

“We are not,” Mū insisted. “A Konohagakure informant notified me of the scroll’s existence. Hanzō was completely unaware of my plans.”

“How CURIOUS!” Gengetsu stroked his attempted goatee. “I was also informed by an informant from Konohagakure that the scroll existed and that Hanzō was going to exchange it with you.”

“Then it appears we’ve both been duped.”

Suddenly remembering his entourage, Gengetsu strained his eyes to spot his men on the shore. “Damn! The informant was with me! Where did he go? I only see three of my men! We need to find him to get to the bottom of this!”

“I’m afraid there’s no time. I’ve come too far to leave empty-handed,” Mū began to back away from the group. “My deepest apologies Lord Hanzō, but I told my apprentice to inflict as little damage to your city as he retrieved the scroll.”

“Your apprentice?!” He had been tricked. While Mu lured him out of the city, another shinobi had infiltrated the archives. Hanzō’s blood boiled at the thought of his city pillaged while he had been so foolishly deceived.

“Yes, my apprentice. Gengetsu, you remember young Oonoki? If I’m not mistaken,” Mū raised his head to the sky and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand, “here he comes now. It appears he’s completed his mission.”

Hanzō’s attention shot to the sky. Far off in the distance, a small figure on a cloud sped over the water away from the city. Before Hanzō could become further enraged, a larger, black figure suddenly descended upon the thief. That would be Kanzo and Onmoraki, Hanzō smirked. Excellent. “I wouldn’t be so confident in your apprentice, Tsuchikage. It appears he’s lost the upper hand.” With Kanzo handling the scroll, Hanzō could devote his full attention to the two kage.

“Lord Hanzō!” shouted a voice from the shore. As a small band of his men drew closer, Hanzō’s eyes widened in alarm to see Kanzo in the lead.

“Kanzo. If you’re here, would you care to inform me who is directing Onmoraki in the sky?” Hanzō pointed to the black figure.

Raising his eye in the direction Hanzō pointed, Kanzo blanched. “Oh god . . . Shiori,” he choked.

“Shiori?!,” Hanzō shouted. Somehow, she had seduced Onmoraki to save the day with her. “Dammit! Shunshin no Jutsu!” Forgetting all but the battle unfolding above them in the distance, Hanzō raced to the now falling figures. Hanzō had never doubted himself in the face of an opponent or situation, but for the first time, he doubted he could reach Shiori in time.

And for the first time, he was afraid.

_____

Whenever Shiori fell to her death in nightmares, extreme terror woke her up immediately. Now that that dream had become a reality, she was stunned. She never imagined it would be like this. The billowing white clouds above her, the shining silver city behind her, and the blue water below her were beautiful. It was almost as if the sight took both her breath and fear away with it. Most impressive of all was the silence surrounding her unlike anything she’d never heard before. It both soothed her and cleared her mind. Free from the restraints of fear, Shiori realized what she needed to do, and free from all distractions, it just might work.

Below her, Oonoki flew ever nearer to the scroll. She would not make it in time, but perhaps she could distract him, cause him to lose sight of the scroll just long enough for it to fall into the lake. Hopefully, the scroll would not survive. Better lost forever than in the hands of the enemy.

She had only one shot and one technique that had never succeeded. But today it would work. It had to. Raising her arms and hands into position, Shiori envisioned her bow as she had done countless times for Rika and Hanzō. With Rika, she had only managed to set an actual bow and arrow on fire. In her training with Hanzō, she had fared a little better. She had begun to mold her chakra, but the shaping it into anything more advanced than a cylinder had been beyond her. Today, she finally understood. Using the mental image as a template, she traced the bow with fire as an artist traced a stencil with ink. The envisioned weapon blazed to life before her, the elegant bow curling slightly from her head to her toe. Despite its size, she pulled the flaming bowstring taut with ease. Locking onto her target below her, she positioned the vicious, golden arrow to strike.

“EXCUSE ME SIR, BUT THAT SCROLL BELONGS TO ME!” Shiori cried, firing the flaming missile.

Alarmed by the sudden surge of chakra headed his way, Oonoki spun away from the scroll just in time to detect Shiori’s arrow. “BLAST IT,” he cursed, abandoning the scroll and speeding sideways to safety.

With Oonoki no longer obscuring her path, Shiori could see the scroll descend below her, now nearly above the water’s surface. It was safe.

But then she remembered she was not.

Bracing herself for impact, her eyes suddenly landed on a figure springing from the waves below. Catching the scroll before fully exhumed from the water, the man steadied himself on the waves, crouched, leapt into the air, and raised his arms. “SHIORI!”

Hanzō!, Shiori exclaimed in a silent prayer of relief moments before crashing into her husband.

With a strained grunt, Hanzō gripped Shiori to his chest and struggled to remain on the water’s surface while the force of Shiori’s fall pushed them downwards. “Shiori, are you alright?”

“Yes–I think so,” she gasped.

“Can you walk?”

All traces of Shiori’s former confidence evaporated as she glanced dubiously down at the water flowing beneath them. “Not a chance.”

This was bad. Hanzō’s relief at Shiori’s successful rescue would be short–lived if he couldn’t defend them both from the ground. Above, Mū’s apprentice calculated his next move while the two kage would likely arrive any moment. With Shiori stuck in his arms, he was severely disadvantaged.

“My lord!” a voice called from behind. Out of the corner of Hanzō’s eye, a figure sprinted into sight from the shore, clutching a large hat to its pale green head. Tanaka Rika. The sight flooded Hanzō with relief. With Rika on the ground, he could pass off Shiori and fend off the others until reinforcements arrived.

“Is that Rika?” Shiori strained her head for a better view as her former teacher arrived. “Rika! It is you! What are you doing here?”

“Covering you, of course,” Rika smiled, “just like you told me to.”

“Rika, return Shiori to the city,” Hanzō instructed, “and direct reinforcements to this location.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” a voice spoke as the body of Mū materialized before them. “Oonoki, what’s the hold up?”

“Oh, there’s no hold up! None whatsoever, Lord Mū!” the aerial shinobi reassured waving his hands. “The girl took me by surprise for a moment there, but I assure you everything is under control.”

“The girl?” Mu asked, noticing the woman in Hanzō’s arms for the first time.

“Lord Tsuchikage?!” Shiori gasped in disbelief. “I am Shiori Hattori, sister to the Land of Fire’s daimyo and first lady of this city. Under different circumstances, it would be a pleasure to meet you, but I regret to inform you that this man here,” Shiori flailed in Hanzō’s arms to point to Oonoki, “is guilty of trespass and theft.”

“As I am well aware since I ordered him to do so. Now, I suggest you leave, Lady Shiori before the situation escalates.”

“And I suggest that you not tell me what to do in my country.”

“You would be foolish to risk your life over this scroll,” Mū’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. From the start he had wanted to minimize civilian casualties. Shiori’s presence was a major complication.

“You’re wrong,” Shiori countered. “If I let even one of Amegakure’s secrets escape under my watch, I’m not fit to lead it.”

“You should leave the heroics to your husband.”

“Wrong again,” Hanzō intervened. “In Amegakure, everyone is expected to protect the village with their abilities. Shiori’s gifts belong to the village as much as the village belongs to her. The same can be said for this scroll,” Hanzō said, shaking the parchment in his hands. “Its purpose is to protect this village, not yours. If your aim is to steal it, then you must believe your abilities are not enough on their own. As long as you believe that, you’re right. They aren’t.”

Hanzō’s words stunned the aged Tsuchikage into contemplative silence. He was right. It was only recently that Mū began to feel his age and doubt whether he would ever soundly defeat Gengetsu. Fear had driven him into this mess and blinded him to such obvious manipulation. Mū bowed his head and clenched his fist feeling both ashamed and embarrassed.

Before he could respond, the water underneath them pulsed in agitation. Slowly, an enormous beige shell rose from the depths, showering its spectators as its two halves parted to reveal a thick pink tongue, Gengetsu, Kanzo, and two squads of men. “It’s over Mu!” the Mizukage shouted, stomping his foot on the pink tongue. “You see, I owe Hanzō a big one for this misunderstanding, so you and your trained monkey up there have me to contend with as well!”

“Calm yourself, Gengetsu,” Mū rolled his eyes at the rival kage. “Oonoki, I’m calling a retreat.”

“But sir!”

“I’ve had a change of heart. Gengetsu, I will defeat you. But when I do, it will be using my own strength, not strength stolen from others. Lord Hanzō, Lady Shiori, thank you for pointing out the error in my ways. You and Amegakure have earned my respect.”

“And mine,” Gengetsu interjected, not to be outdone. “I’m almost sorry our fight ended so soon, Hanzō. I would have liked to see it through to the bitter end!”

“Remain any longer and you’ll get your wish,” Hanzō threatened. “Shiori, return with Rika while I tie up these loose ends.”

Shiori, reluctant to be parted from his arms, squeezed him tightly and raised her mouth to his ear. “You saved my life,” she spoke softly.

“You saved our village,” Hanzō responded, returning her squeeze lightly before dropping her into Rika’s open arms. Secretly, he was as reluctant to let Shiori go as she was to leave. He was unspeakably proud and amazed to find someone whose conviction equaled his own. While the scroll he held in his hand was a priceless treasure, Shiori, he realized, was even more so.

Clinging to Rika, Shiori watched her husband and the kage fade farther and farther into the distance as Rika carried her to shore. “Are you sure we shouldn’t stay? What if Hanzō needs you?”

“You need a bath more than Hanzō needs me.”

“Why?” Shiori glanced at her, puzzled.

“Because, no offense my lady, but you smell like a buzzard.”

Description

A violent explosion rocked Rika awake. Jumping up from bed, Rika's head spun from left to right to assess the situation. She was in her room. But where was she supposed to be right now? Forcing herself to calm down, the kunoichi racked her brain to remember her last orders. Memories of the fight with Sunagakure flooded her mind. The explosion. Shiori. Shiori's last instructions-"Cover me." That was it. She needed to find Shiori.

----

Hanzō stared in concentration at the latest trespasser. The man had just appeared out of thin air. And his appearance was no less strange than his entrance. Thick bandages covered the entirety of his body, save a small hole for his two glowing eyes. Although it was clear that this man possessed frightful levels of chakra, neither he nor his sensor shinobi could detect him till now. Who was this?

"Well what do you know, my old friend Mū the Tsuchikage," Gengetsu answered Hanzō's unspoken question. "I'm afraid this confirms my suspicions. The two of you are in league and are conspiring against me!"

So, the newcomer was the Tsuchikage. Mū's abilities and his kekkei tota were legendary even in Amegakure. Usually, Hanzō would relish the challenge he presented, but today his hands were already full with the Mizukage. Taking on two kage at once would be a first. He was not afraid, but he would need to be careful. "I have no idea what you are doing here," Hanzō motioned to Mū, "or what the hell you're talking about Mizukage."

"It's too late to play innocent with me Hanzō! Now, prepare yourselves! I'll gladly eliminate you both at once!"

"This is a fitting field for your last fight, Gengetsu," Mū motioned to the grasslands and lake that surrounded them. "But if you hope to stand a chance against me, it won't do to have your attention divided. Please permit me to level the playing field. I'm terribly sorry about all this, Lord Hanzō, but I'm afraid I'll have to tend to you first." Hanzō watched with interest as Mū sprinted to the water, planted himself on its surface, and waved an unfamiliar combination of hand signs. "Secret Shinobi Art: Dust Release."

"SHUNSHIN!," Hanzō shouted, flickering out of harm's way and onto the water behind his opponent before the Tsuchikage's technique made contact.

"Impressive," Mū said, eyes widening in surprised admiration. "Your reflexes match if not surpass my own.”

"It's a little unwise, don't you think Tsuchikage, to rush into another country with no idea who you're up against?" Hanzō asked in a low, threatening voice.

"You are correct," Mū agreed politely. "My apologies for underestimating you."

"The only one underestimated here is ME," Gengetsu interrupted. "You two buddies are making me feel like the odd one out! I’d better invite my own friend to this party. Mugen bakuha ninjutsu!” Instead of the summoned apparition Hanzō expected to appear, a small ball of spiraling vapor collected in front of the Mizukage. With each rotation, the ball grew larger and larger until its growth exploded outwards in the form of stubby arms, legs, and lastly, a chubby head bearing an absurd resemblance to the Mizukage himself.

“This friend again, Gengetsu?” the Tsuchikage almost yawned. “He’s a terrible bore. Lord Hanzō,” Mū addressed the village head, “Gengetsu’s technique, the ‘mugen bakuha,’ and I are already intimately acquainted. As you have likely not yet had the pleasure, I’ll leave him to you. Consider it my apology for underestimating you earlier. Now, please pardon me while I step out for a moment,” Mū motioned to himself as he vanished into the surrounding air as completely as he had arrived.

”BLOODY COWARD!” Gengetsu spat. “And it’s not like that invisibility of yours will do any good, you know. As boring as you think my clone here is, you have to admit what a blast he can be when he’s revved up! Perhaps I’ll prove it to you first, Hanzō. Clone, show the salamander what you’re made of!”

That would be helpful. There was definitely something more than water vapor to this doppelganger, but he didn’t intend to find out what. With a forceful thrust, Hanzō launched his kusarigama at the oncoming clone. Hiding behind the wave created in the kusarigama’s wake, Hanzō rushed the Mizukage head on, delivering a brutal kick to the elderly kage and catching him off guard. “Your clone is an insult, Mizukage. Don’t be foolish enough to think I’ll fall for such a cheap distraction!”

“Cheap?!” the furious kage huffed, struggling to recapture the wind knocked from him by Hanzō’s kick. “I’d take that back if I were you. My clone has a rather explosive temper.”

“Enough with the puns Gengetsu,” the phantom-like voice of Mū echoed around the fighters. “You’ll give away your national secret.”

So Mū was still here. Hanzō was impressed. He couldn’t detect Mū’s chakra at all. What was the secret to his invisibility?

“Still lording over us all from the shadows, Mū?” Gengetsu hissed. “Two can play that game. Kirigakure no Jutsu!” As the Mizukage uttered the words, a thick fog rose from the water, enveloping Hanzō in a nearly opaque cloud. “Now, salamander, I’m afraid you’ll have to face my clone whether you like it or not.”

Hanzō begrudgingly directed his attention to the curious figure lumbering towards him. It no longer raced at its initial speed and grew larger with each step it took. Even in the dense fog, its presence was unmistakable. So it’s an explosive, Hanzō deduced from the Mizukage’s hints. And judging from its size, it could blow any second. Realizing the need to act quickly, Hanzō raced towards the figure and raised his kusarigama for a blow. Let’s find out what you’re made of, clone.

The goblin flashed a wicked grin and shielded itself with a blade that had suddenly popped from its arm. Locking his kusarigama with the clone’s weapon, Hanzō quickly scrutinized the clone. Beneath its skin, he detected a faint, colorful sheen. It’s oil! Stepping back in alarm, Hanzō teleported to retreat just in time before the now towering clone exploded in a blast of molten steam. As the hot, moist air dispersed, a light hail began to fall from the sky.

Hmph. “Is that all, Mizukage? Your clone is clever; its oil shell traps water. And as it moves, the water becomes warmer, gradually turning to steam before it explodes. Interesting. But useless if it blows itself up before hitting its target. Thank you for saving me the trouble of having to fight it.”

“You think I’d let it be that simple for you?” Gengetsu’s voice laughed. “Think again!”

Sure enough, another vapor cloud had begun to take shape where the last clone had vanished. It’s reforming. And it would likely continue to reform over and over after each explosion. He would need to ruin the clone’s composition to stop its regeneration. Tugging his respirator from his mouth, Hanzō inhaled deeply and encircled the clone and surrounding area with a gust of poisonous breath. To Hanzō’s satisfaction, the vapor ceased to swirl and, after some violent billowing, dissolved.

“You astound us again, Lord Hanzō,” Mū’s voice echoed around them. “I’ve never heard of Gengetsu’s technique being defeated so quickly.”

Although Hanzō still could not pinpoint the location of Mū’s voice, suddenly he became aware of a presence to his distant left. Careful not to make his suspicion too obvious, Hanzō cocked his head slightly to the side to better his peripheral vision. Out of the corner of his eye, he could detect a faint trace of his poison clinging to an object. So that’s how Mū achieved his invisibility: a water jutsu. Because Mū’s technique was water based, it had inadvertently captured faint traces of Hanzō’s poison enabling him to detect it. Seizing the opportunity, Hanzō again launched his kusarigama at the hidden Tsuchikage.

Mū, caught entirely by surprise, struggled to counter with a jutsu before taking the lethal blow. ”Bunretsu no Jutsu!”

Hanzō watched in amazement as the now visible shinobi split himself in two without waving a single hand sign. As his kusarigama landed on the original Tsuchikage, the second leapt backwards out of harm’s way. However, even as the original suffered the brunt of the attack, both Mūs remained. This was no ordinary clone. If Mū had simply cloned himself, the injured counterpart would disappear.

“You seem perplexed, Lord Hanzō. Allow me to explain,” Mū said calmly. “This is my Fission Technique. It allows me to split my body into two identical, yet independent duplicates of myself.”

“If that’s the case,” Hanzō’s eyes narrowed at the gravity of this threat, “then why not use your technique to create an army of yourself?”

“Simple. While split, my power is halved, disabling me from using my more powerful techniques. And that, my friend, is why I am here.”

“AH-HA!” Gengetsu shouted, emerging from the mist. “So THAT’S your plan! You’re here to retrieve the Black Heart of the Dark Forest technique from Hanzō to strengthen your fissions! And with multiple fissions at full strength you intended to overpower me! And in exchange for the scroll, you promised to fund Hanzō’s regime!”

“As usual, Mizukage, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Hanzō barked, “and you,” he pointed again to Mu, “are dreaming if you think I’d surrender one of Amegakure’s forbidden techniques!”

“Do you still mean to maintain that you and Mū aren’t cohorts?!”

“We are not,” Mū insisted. “A Konohagakure informant notified me of the scroll’s existence. Hanzō was completely unaware of my plans.”

“How CURIOUS!” Gengetsu stroked his attempted goatee. “I was also informed by an informant from Konohagakure that the scroll existed and that Hanzō was going to exchange it with you.”

“Then it appears we’ve both been duped.”

Suddenly remembering his entourage, Gengetsu strained his eyes to spot his men on the shore. “Damn! The informant was with me! Where did he go? I only see three of my men! We need to find him to get to the bottom of this!”

“I’m afraid there’s no time. I’ve come too far to leave empty-handed,” Mū began to back away from the group. “My deepest apologies Lord Hanzō, but I told my apprentice to inflict as little damage to your city as he retrieved the scroll.”

“Your apprentice?!” He had been tricked. While Mu lured him out of the city, another shinobi had infiltrated the archives. Hanzō’s blood boiled at the thought of his city pillaged while he had been so foolishly deceived.

“Yes, my apprentice. Gengetsu, you remember young Oonoki? If I’m not mistaken,” Mū raised his head to the sky and shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand, “here he comes now. It appears he’s completed his mission.”

Hanzō’s attention shot to the sky. Far off in the distance, a small figure on a cloud sped over the water away from the city. Before Hanzō could become further enraged, a larger, black figure suddenly descended upon the thief. That would be Kanzo and Onmoraki, Hanzō smirked. Excellent. “I wouldn’t be so confident in your apprentice, Tsuchikage. It appears he’s lost the upper hand.” With Kanzo handling the scroll, Hanzō could devote his full attention to the two kage.

“Lord Hanzō!” shouted a voice from the shore. As a small band of his men drew closer, Hanzō’s eyes widened in alarm to see Kanzo in the lead.

“Kanzo. If you’re here, would you care to inform me who is directing Onmoraki in the sky?” Hanzō pointed to the black figure.

Raising his eye in the direction Hanzō pointed, Kanzo blanched. “Oh god . . . Shiori,” he choked.

“Shiori?!,” Hanzō shouted. Somehow, she had seduced Onmoraki to save the day with her. “Dammit! Shunshin no Jutsu!” Forgetting all but the battle unfolding above them in the distance, Hanzō raced to the now falling figures. Hanzō had never doubted himself in the face of an opponent or situation, but for the first time, he doubted he could reach Shiori in time.

And for the first time, he was afraid.

_____

Whenever Shiori fell to her death in nightmares, extreme terror woke her up immediately. Now that that dream had become a reality, she was stunned. She never imagined it would be like this. The billowing white clouds above her, the shining silver city behind her, and the blue water below her were beautiful. It was almost as if the sight took both her breath and fear away with it. Most impressive of all was the silence surrounding her unlike anything she’d never heard before. It both soothed her and cleared her mind. Free from the restraints of fear, Shiori realized what she needed to do, and free from all distractions, it just might work.

Below her, Oonoki flew ever nearer to the scroll. She would not make it in time, but perhaps she could distract him, cause him to lose sight of the scroll just long enough for it to fall into the lake. Hopefully, the scroll would not survive. Better lost forever than in the hands of the enemy.

She had only one shot and one technique that had never succeeded. But today it would work. It had to. Raising her arms and hands into position, Shiori envisioned her bow as she had done countless times for Rika and Hanzō. With Rika, she had only managed to set an actual bow and arrow on fire. In her training with Hanzō, she had fared a little better. She had begun to mold her chakra, but the shaping it into anything more advanced than a cylinder had been beyond her. Today, she finally understood. Using the mental image as a template, she traced the bow with fire as an artist traced a stencil with ink. The envisioned weapon blazed to life before her, the elegant bow curling slightly from her head to her toe. Despite its size, she pulled the flaming bowstring taut with ease. Locking onto her target below her, she positioned the vicious, golden arrow to strike.

“EXCUSE ME SIR, BUT THAT SCROLL BELONGS TO ME!” Shiori cried, firing the flaming missile.

Alarmed by the sudden surge of chakra headed his way, Oonoki spun away from the scroll just in time to detect Shiori’s arrow. “BLAST IT,” he cursed, abandoning the scroll and speeding sideways to safety.

With Oonoki no longer obscuring her path, Shiori could see the scroll descend below her, now nearly above the water’s surface. It was safe.

But then she remembered she was not.

Bracing herself for impact, her eyes suddenly landed on a figure springing from the waves below. Catching the scroll before fully exhumed from the water, the man steadied himself on the waves, crouched, leapt into the air, and raised his arms. “SHIORI!”

Hanzō!, Shiori exclaimed in a silent prayer of relief moments before crashing into her husband.

With a strained grunt, Hanzō gripped Shiori to his chest and struggled to remain on the water’s surface while the force of Shiori’s fall pushed them downwards. “Shiori, are you alright?”

“Yes–I think so,” she gasped.

“Can you walk?”

All traces of Shiori’s former confidence evaporated as she glanced dubiously down at the water flowing beneath them. “Not a chance.”

This was bad. Hanzō’s relief at Shiori’s successful rescue would be short–lived if he couldn’t defend them both from the ground. Above, Mū’s apprentice calculated his next move while the two kage would likely arrive any moment. With Shiori stuck in his arms, he was severely disadvantaged.

“My lord!” a voice called from behind. Out of the corner of Hanzō’s eye, a figure sprinted into sight from the shore, clutching a large hat to its pale green head. Tanaka Rika. The sight flooded Hanzō with relief. With Rika on the ground, he could pass off Shiori and fend off the others until reinforcements arrived.

“Is that Rika?” Shiori strained her head for a better view as her former teacher arrived. “Rika! It is you! What are you doing here?”

“Covering you, of course,” Rika smiled, “just like you told me to.”

“Rika, return Shiori to the city,” Hanzō instructed, “and direct reinforcements to this location.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” a voice spoke as the body of Mū materialized before them. “Oonoki, what’s the hold up?”

“Oh, there’s no hold up! None whatsoever, Lord Mū!” the aerial shinobi reassured waving his hands. “The girl took me by surprise for a moment there, but I assure you everything is under control.”

“The girl?” Mu asked, noticing the woman in Hanzō’s arms for the first time.

“Lord Tsuchikage?!” Shiori gasped in disbelief. “I am Shiori Hattori, sister to the Land of Fire’s daimyo and first lady of this city. Under different circumstances, it would be a pleasure to meet you, but I regret to inform you that this man here,” Shiori flailed in Hanzō’s arms to point to Oonoki, “is guilty of trespass and theft.”

“As I am well aware since I ordered him to do so. Now, I suggest you leave, Lady Shiori before the situation escalates.”

“And I suggest that you not tell me what to do in my country.”

“You would be foolish to risk your life over this scroll,” Mū’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. From the start he had wanted to minimize civilian casualties. Shiori’s presence was a major complication.

“You’re wrong,” Shiori countered. “If I let even one of Amegakure’s secrets escape under my watch, I’m not fit to lead it.”

“You should leave the heroics to your husband.”

“Wrong again,” Hanzō intervened. “In Amegakure, everyone is expected to protect the village with their abilities. Shiori’s gifts belong to the village as much as the village belongs to her. The same can be said for this scroll,” Hanzō said, shaking the parchment in his hands. “Its purpose is to protect this village, not yours. If your aim is to steal it, then you must believe your abilities are not enough on their own. As long as you believe that, you’re right. They aren’t.”

Hanzō’s words stunned the aged Tsuchikage into contemplative silence. He was right. It was only recently that Mū began to feel his age and doubt whether he would ever soundly defeat Gengetsu. Fear had driven him into this mess and blinded him to such obvious manipulation. Mū bowed his head and clenched his fist feeling both ashamed and embarrassed.

Before he could respond, the water underneath them pulsed in agitation. Slowly, an enormous beige shell rose from the depths, showering its spectators as its two halves parted to reveal a thick pink tongue, Gengetsu, Kanzo, and two squads of men. “It’s over Mu!” the Mizukage shouted, stomping his foot on the pink tongue. “You see, I owe Hanzō a big one for this misunderstanding, so you and your trained monkey up there have me to contend with as well!”

“Calm yourself, Gengetsu,” Mū rolled his eyes at the rival kage. “Oonoki, I’m calling a retreat.”

“But sir!”

“I’ve had a change of heart. Gengetsu, I will defeat you. But when I do, it will be using my own strength, not strength stolen from others. Lord Hanzō, Lady Shiori, thank you for pointing out the error in my ways. You and Amegakure have earned my respect.”

“And mine,” Gengetsu interjected, not to be outdone. “I’m almost sorry our fight ended so soon, Hanzō. I would have liked to see it through to the bitter end!”

“Remain any longer and you’ll get your wish,” Hanzō threatened. “Shiori, return with Rika while I tie up these loose ends.”

Shiori, reluctant to be parted from his arms, squeezed him tightly and raised her mouth to his ear. “You saved my life,” she spoke softly.

“You saved our village,” Hanzō responded, returning her squeeze lightly before dropping her into Rika’s open arms. Secretly, he was as reluctant to let Shiori go as she was to leave. He was unspeakably proud and amazed to find someone whose conviction equaled his own. While the scroll he held in his hand was a priceless treasure, Shiori, he realized, was even more so.

Clinging to Rika, Shiori watched her husband and the kage fade farther and farther into the distance as Rika carried her to shore. “Are you sure we shouldn’t stay? What if Hanzō needs you?”

“You need a bath more than Hanzō needs me.”

“Why?” Shiori glanced at her, puzzled.

“Because, no offense my lady, but you smell like a buzzard.”