弥彦

Yahiko kept pace with his monstrous companion just a step off-beat to avoid the jut of that massive, bandaged blade resting across his shoulders as they inspected what remained of the place. There had been people here. Once. Maybe yesterday. Maybe a week earlier. The hearths had all gone cold though, and the wardrobes had been thrown open in a hurry. And, of course, that pervasive stench of blood. Amidst the huts with doors ripped off their hinges, where glass crunched underfoot, there stood one with its door fast shut and the shutters down across the windows. The sight slowed Yahiko’s steps until he was standing at the head of the path that wound between the rocks toward its entrance, thoughtful, but reluctant to alert his partner right away.

They were here in search of the Five Tails, but it looked like someone had gotten to this village first. By all appearances, the place was deserted, so a single, in-tact hut stood out among the ruins. A makeshift bunker for survivors, perhaps. Yahiko’s eyes darted toward Kisame’s back. He didn’t know where his partner fell among the sliding scale of the current Akatsuki’s moral bankruptcy, so what it came down to was a split-second decision.

“Someone might be in here,” he called and nodded his head toward the hut, hoping it’d turn out to be the right choice. Without waiting for Kisame to catch up, he set his hand on the hilt of his sword and started up the path to the door. Once he was close enough, he crouched down and crept to the wall to listen for any sounds on the other side.

Nothing.

A wooden door like this one couldn’t withstand a few solid kicks, but of the two of them, Kisame was better built to be the muscle. Yahiko signaled with a nod for him to break the door down.

It’s happy alternative reality that we deserved, guys :’’’3 There is also a bonus of how lil naruto sees all of his nee-chans and nii-chans ahaha

Whoever had plucked these rats from the perimeter of Hanzo's base had done a number on them. On Yahiko especially, who was still bloody in the face from the ordeal and slower to wake. Frankly, they were lucky to have their lives; caught unaware like they were, it would have been all too easy to kill them right then and there. Instead, their captors had gone through the trouble of lugging them to some small, underground cell and tying them up.

"Ow..." Consciousness finally brings all the aches and pains front and center. "Konan? That's you, right?" Pulling weakly against the ropes binding them to the chair, Yahiko twists as much as he's able to, but then he groans again - this time not from the pain - and sinks against Konan's back with his chin lifted toward the damp ceiling.

"Looks like my screw-up got you caught, too. I should've known..." He trails off. Too foolhardy and headstrong, he'd charged off after the echo of a metal pipe bouncing off the ground, thinking he was slick enough to get the jump on someone. Of course it'd been a trap. Of course...

Yahiko shakes his head, mournfully at first and then more resolved, and starts to pull against the ropes that bind his wrists together. There was no way he was going to just give up like that. For such a cheap trick!

"But I'll get us out of here, okay? Hang tight, I've. Urgh." The rope doesn't give. "I've. Got." The back of his chair smacks against Konan's as he fights with the restraints. "This!"

No he doesn't.

"What the heck are these ropes made of?!"

“Ah, surprised to see you here.”

He should have known better; if Obito wasn't around, then someone would be here to be his eyes, and there was no telling when and where Mikoto would show up.

By now, two seconds had passed without a word from him, and that was two seconds too many. Yahiko shut the box he'd been digging through and turned around. He'd never worn well the kind of seriousness this Akatuki demanded, but what might have been a smile in another world had been dampened to a nod of acknowledgement.

"Bringing supplies for your family?" He tilted his head toward the goods in her hands. Family - what a rare phenomena among this bunch. Yahiko would've envied Itachi and Obito if their familial relationships weren't so fraught with trouble.

Just the thought of a hard-faced Suna shinobi staring sourly into the rain makes her bite back a smile, but she swallows it with as much grace as she can manage.

Laughter is a welcome break from the somber notes of mistrust that had sat so heavily between them, and a smile creeps to her face unbidden. She’s been to Amegakure proper only a handful of times, and she knows it to be a gray, cheerless place - she can imagine it doesn’t get a lot of foot traffic by civilians.

If he’s tagging along to try and weasel information out of her, he’s picked a good time to do it, and a very disarming persona to do it with. But even if he’s only looking for answers, it’s neither her nature nor her intent to let him stew in uncertainty and apprehension, so she offers him what she can. She cannot tell him her purpose here, but she is honor-bound to present rank when asked.

“I’m part of Konoha’s Retrieval Corps,” she says softly by way of answer.

Yahiko doesn’t answer right away, continuing to stare silently out at the rain for some time longer. He knows he shouldn’t press the stranger to elaborate, but it’s never been in his nature to read between the lines. He’s always left that up to Konan and Nagato, and briefly wonders how they would react to this Leaf nin traveling all by herself through the muddy Ame countryside.

“… so that means someone important has died here, doesn’t it?” he says at last, solemn still. Perhaps even a simple yes or no would be too much for her to divulge, and he turns back to her with a helpful smile.

  ☇     Sasuke wasn’t entirely sure he’d call what happened to Konoha a tragedy, but many people still speculated over the Uchiha’s questionable loyalty even after his time spent imprisoned, his cooperation, and duties to the village. The man wasn’t there at the time of it’s happening but he’d heard about it numerous times from various people. He’d been questioned over it several times by Ibiki just to be sure he was telling the truth when he said he knew nothing about it and quite frankly didn’t care about Akatsuki’s motives. They were a stepping stone, not an end game for him.

The truth was, his loyalty was to Naruto and - to a lesser degree - a few other’s. As he continued to slowly climb out of that darkness and relearn what it was like to be human his general care for the wellbeing of others once again surfaced. He’d never have the wealthy heart that some people had but he no longer wished the whole of a village to suffer. Even if the blissful ignorance crawled under his skin.

              “Not his jurisdiction,” was the reply. Although Sasuke was certain that if Naruto was allowed to overlook the entirety of the country, he would. What would that be like? A Daimyo that wasn’t completely useless. “But we’ve been contracted to deal with it anyway, so you’ll be seeing him either way.”

Yahiko’s stare didn’t go unnoticed, but the Uchiha said nothing. Rather, he pulled out a kunai and walked up to the other man, crouched down, and cut the rope. In the distance he could already hear shouting over his actions before the other shinobi tried to assure them all was well. Accusations that they were working together; that they’d betray the village and in turn the country all over again. None which seemed to disturb the man.

              Sasuke brushed off the apology stating it wasn’t necessary and offered a hand for him to get to his feet. “They don’t,” a notable statement. Not we, not I, but they.

The ropes fell away and Yahiko rubbed the reddened bands they had left around his wrists.

“It sounds like these people don’t trust you much either,” he observed, taking Sasuke’s hand and rising to his feet. He didn’t know much about the Uchiha, but he had heard the rumors, and Konan had filled him in on what she had learned through Akatsuki. The boy’s brother had been employed by them, Yahiko had heard, but that was the extent of his information. Itachi, from Konan’s report, had been notably reticent, too, even among a group of asocial rogue ninja.

“I guess it will always be hard for civilians to trust shinobi,” Yahiko added, dusting the dried leaves and dirt from his robes - simple and grey, with its characteristic high collar, but lacking the blood-stained clouds that had terrorized the world over the last decade. “The rural parts of my country are no different. Death follows us everywhere we go.”

He glanced toward the crowd, now restrained - but not entirely placated - by the Konoha shinobi.

   His amusement for the situation was so immense and difficult to conceal, he can’t help but let himself chuckle at the sight of the other man before him. His laugh was almost sinister, fluctuating between a higher and lower tone before he concedes, the thick mist around them slowly dissipating.

   Nuibari was held firmly in his grasp, but it’s wiring was laid out, surrounding the group like a fence caging in cattle. None of them had tried to flee, and that, he could give some mild form of respect. It was disappointing that no blood had been shed, but he’s more than certain that their journey will lead down that path sooner or later.

   “I’m the real deal, believe me,” He releases his hold on the wires, them whipping and curling back into his grasp like a cable, or a serpent bending to the will of it’s master. His Longsword rests on his shoulder, his piercing gaze never once leaving the small group before him. “I can prove it.”

   Another cackle arises from him, but quickly fades as soon as it came.

   “I can promise you, you’ll have my protection.”

Recognition dawned suddenly and Yahiko’s eyes widened. That thin, needle-like sword was too unique to be just an ordinary blade, and the man it belonged to…

“You’re one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, aren’t you?” Whispers started up amongst the group behind him, but Yahiko did not dare glance away from that eerie mask. They had received instructions about meeting with a ninja skilled with a sword, but he hadn’t thought much of it. After all, in some circles, he could be called “skilled” with a sword, yet his swordsmanship looked like child’s play beside a member of that group.

He released his hand from his hilt as the swordsman retracted his own, and quietly sized him up.

“Very well,” he agreed solemnly. “As long as we’re in this partnership, you can call me Yahiko.”