#roadkill writes

If Sakura were honest, she had contemplated trying to dodge Retsuma in the mornings before school, the way she had tried to escape Tatema. But, she figured that Retsuma would be just as capable as Tatema at finding her. Sakura waited nervously for him instead, wondering if Tatema’s threat was enough to keep Retsuma from laying another genjutsu on her again, if he really had just been in a bad mood and not prone to tricking people. 

She glanced out of the curtains again. This time, Retsuma was at the end of the walk to the road. He looked just as pretty as he had before. His hair was still in a low ponytail and drawn over his shoulder. It served to soften the sharp line of his jaw. He was in another floral printed yukata with wood sandals. He didn’t look anything like a shinobi at all, or even dangerous, really. Sakura narrowed her eyes. Maybe that was the point. 

Sakura slipped out the front door and cautiously approached Retsuma. He turned and smiled at her, face as pleasant as Tatema’s ever was. There was the family resemblance that she had been looking for. Both pleasant looking and both just as dangerous in some inexplicable fashion. Sakura waited for that light, airy sensation of Retsuma’s genjutsu to come over her again. When it didn’t, she stepped closer. 

“I’m ready to go now,” she said. 

Retsuma tucked his hands into his sleeves and turned away. His gait was a smooth glide and his sandals made no noise on the ground. Sakura stared with jealousy. He was prettier than Ino and even more graceful. 

“Are you coming?” 

Sakura shook herself out of her thoughts. “Yes!” She dashed forward to catch up to him. Standing next to him was even worse for her self esteem than just watching him. It wasn’t fair how effortless he made everything seem. He wasn’t even wearing make up. 

They walked together in silence for awhile. When she wasn’t looking at Retsuma, she was able to drag her mind away from him. The problem was she wanted to know about her temporary keeper. Every time she so much as glanced at him, she was struck again by his beauty. 

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “How do you look like that?” she asked in frustration. 

Retsuma didn’t even pause as he glanced down at her. The sun glinted off his light brown hair until it was the color of honey. His eyes seemed soft at first glance, but Sakura knew there was a sharpness to Retsuma that lay under the surface. The yukata emphasized that he didn’t seem armed in any fashion, and turned his broad shoulders into a frame that seemed slight and willowy. Fragile. If Sakura passed him on the street, she would never guess that he was a shinobi. 

“Like what?” 

Sakura flushed. There was no way he didn’t know what she was talking about, which means he was going to make her say it again. “So pretty,” she grumbled. She kicked a stray stone out of her path. Was it better or worse to have a cousin prettier than even Ino?

Retsuma surprised her by laughing. It was light and airy. It made Sakura want to write some ridiculous poetry about it. It also made her want to punch him in the face a bit. He was so perfect, it just wasn’t fair!

“The feelings I invoke in other people are through a genjutsu,” Retsuma said. 

Sakura stopped along the path, dread and panic sliding down her spine. Tatema had broken the genjutsu on her last time, but he wasn’t here, which meant that Retsuma could cast any genjutsu he liked on Sakura. 

She swallowed. “Tate-Tatema said you weren’t allowed to cast genjutsu on me. He said he would tell your mom.” Sakura cringed. It seemed silly to threaten a grown man with his mother of all people, but it seemed to work yesterday. But Sakura knew she didn’t like it when people did it to her and she doubted Retsuma would be amused. 

And yet, against all expectations, Retsuma didn’t become annoyed. 

“Yes, in the way of youngest siblings everywhere, Tatema does know how to get his way, usually by tattling to mom. But I’m not using a genjutsu on you. The genjutsu has been laid on myself,” Retsuma explained. 

“What?” Sakura gaped at him. Who would put a genjutsu on themselves?

“Keep walking or you’ll be late to class,” Retsuma said. He resumed his glide down the street and Sakura had to scramble after him. 

“There are different ways to categorize genjutsu, and one of them is if the genjutsu directly affects the target or if it is an environmental genjutsu. The one I used on you yesterday was direct. Likely you’ve learned from the Academy already that genjutsu works by manipulating someone else’s chakra flow. In an environmental genjutsu, the jutsu is layered on the environment or an object within it. It then passively affects people who are within range. Usually this is to direct them elsewhere or keep them walking in circles,” he told her. 

Sakura thought about his explanation. “So...you have a passive genjusu on you to make you pretty?” Was he really not pretty at all? Was his face a fake? Sakura squinted at him suspiciously. 

“Not quite. The genjutsu I am using amplifies feelings people feel when they see me, to the point of distraction. It also directs their attention towards me instead of away, until all they can think about is me.” 

“That sounds silly. Why would you want everyone to know where you are in a fight?” Sakura asked. 

Retsuma smiled his not nice smile. “To keep their attention off my teammates while they are eliminating the enemy.” He paused. “The distraction element also prevents people from thinking more logically, unless they have a stronger will power. For some, they become jealous. Others are charmed by my aesthetics. And there are others who...well, you’re six, at the moment, aren’t you? Your parents will explain what adults do behind closed doors when you’re older.” 

Retsuma flicked his hand, and suddenly, the gloom that had fallen over Sakura when faced with just how pretty Retsuma was disappeared. She blinked in confusion. Retsuma was still pretty. His hair was still the color of honey, his eyes were still a crystalline gray color, and his walk was still better classified as a glide. But he was no longer unnaturally pretty. Her thoughts weren’t consumed with how inferior she was in his presence, and she could recognize that they had nearly arrived at the Academy while she had been thinking about how pretty Retsuma was. Sakura swallowed again. That had to be a deadly technique in battle. 

“I’m surprised you noticed something was strange. Your aptitude for genjutsu is higher than I thought, but then, I wasn’t in a charitable mood yesterday.” Retsuma tilted his head in an avian fashion. “I won’t be using genjutsu on you again, little cousin, unless it is in a spar. It is not my intention to hurt you or scare you. We are kin.” Retsuma reached out and patted her on the head. 

She blinked owlishly at him before her thoughts kicked in. If he hadn’t wanted to scare her, maybe he shouldn’t have used genjutsu on her. And she wasn’t stupid. Tatema told her Retsuma was both a genjutsu and a poison specialist. He could stay true to his word and not cast an illusion on her, but he never said anything about not poisoning her. She absolutely would not trust Retsuma. 

The rest of the walk went on in silence. Sakura was no longer consumed by Retsuma’s appearance and instead could look forward to her day at the Academy. If there was one thing that being made to join the Senju clan had done for her, it was improve her physical scores. Sakura had always scored perfectly on every theoretical exam, but practicals were different. She had been weak and slower than the rest of her classmates until now. Now she was average and if she continued this rate of improvement, would be above average even. 

But that didn’t compare to having two friends, Ino and Hinata. Sakura bounced slightly as she walked. She wondered if she could convince them both to have a sleepover with her. Ino and Sakura had done it before, but Sakura had a feeling that Hinata’s father was stricter than Inoichi. And this time, Sakura thought gleefully, they could have it at her house. Sakura and her parents had been forced to leave their little house in the civilian district behind, so she might as well get some use out of the big house the Senju had made them move into. 

Satisfied with her plan, Sakura gripped her school bag tighter. She would be at school soon, and once she was there, she could set everything up with Ino and Hinata. She couldn’t wait. 

--

Sakura may have hated her training with Tenjouma, but that wasn’t the case when it came to taijutsu training with Enchuuma. That wasn’t to say that Enchuuma didn’t push her hard; Sakura’s taijutsu barely passed muster at the Academy, to say nothing of what the Senju wanted out of her. But Enchuuma never made Sakura feel stupid for her failings. Instead he encouraged her successes and was unfailingly patient and jovial. It certainly helped that he was also a man that genuinely enjoyed taijutsu not just as a tool in a shinobi’s arsenal but for its own sake. It made it hard for Sakura to decide if she liked him better or Tatema. They were probably the only Senju that she liked. 

It was for that reason that Sakura looked forward to training with Enchuuma. Taijutsu was an excellent way for her to vent all of the emotion she was suppressing in order to stop the Mokuton from going out of control. There was no emotion in taijutsu nor chakra use that would accidentally disturb her latent bloodline ability. There was only Sakura’s fists and her burning to desire to land just a single hit on Enchuuma. 

He dumped her in the dirt again. 

Sakura wheezed into the ground. She knew logically that he had to be pulling his punches; she had seen him break trees after all. But it certainly didn’t feel like he was holding back. She pushed herself upright but stayed sitting on the ground. 

Enchuuma smiled. “Is it time for a water break?” He didn’t wait for her to respond, but instead retrieved their water bottles from a few yards away. Sakura drank from hers gratefully. 

“How are you so strong?” Sakura asked when she was finished. “Is there a special technique or something?” 

“Training and experience is the key to all shinobi arts, but none more so than taijutsu. With genjutsu and ninjutsu, you can learn more jutsu, more techniques. But in taijutsu, all you will ever need is your body,” Enchuuma said. “However, in more advanced taijutsu users, chakra is used to augment the body’s physical abilities.” 

Sakura contemplated what little she knew of Enchuuma’s abilities so far. If all it took was a little chakra, then the next logical step was for some kind of insane strength technique. 

“So...you could probably do something like destroy the whole Hokage Tower then, right?” 

The Senju elder chortled. He sat down across from Sakura, prepared for a long conversation. 

“That is the obvious conclusion, isn’t it? You aren’t the first to think so. Yes, it is true that all shinobi to some degree or another boost their physical abilities with chakra. The only limit is your body’s tolerance and your creativity. Your body’s senses, it’s resiliency, its strength, speed...all of these can be increased through yang chakra. Many taijutsu users concluded that even monstrous physical strength was possible, and what an idea! It could change the tide of war if people could end their enemies with a single blow.” He smiled at her again, his expression turning sly. “But there is only one shinobi ever known to have done it. Can you think of why?” 

Sakura frowned. The teachers at the Academy had stressed the importance of monitoring internal chakra activity, as it could be an indicator of several things about oneself. The most important, they had said, was making sure chakra levels did not dip too low, or else chakra exhaustion would set in. It was why they were cautioned never to practice the leaf exercise without a shinobi adult. 

“Chakra exhaustion?” 

“A good guess, but no,” Enchuuma said. “The reason why such extremes of physical strength are not possible is because of the recoil. The energy in such a blow would destroy your limbs.” 

She leaned forward, invested in this explanation. “But you said that there was someone who figured out how to do it. How?” 

“The theory is simple enough. I thought of it myself when I was a youth. The trick is to create two layers of chakra. The first, outer layer is for impact. It needs to be precisely released to cause maximum effect. The second layer is to cushion the user from the sheer force they generate and prevent their bones from disintegrating. At a more advanced level, this technique can be used not just at point of impact, but throughout the user’s entire body to increase their overall strength. Not only could they destroy an entire building, but they could lift one as well. Of course, by maintaining two layers of chakra to protect the body, it means the concentration of chakra in the coils is higher, which increases the rate at which you approach chakra network burnout or chakra exhaustion,” Enchuuma finished. 

“So…” Sakura started. “So a person would need both absolute chakra control and large reserves to make this their primary fighting style.” 

“Exactly.” Enchuuma smiled again. His pride in her prompted Sakura to smile back. 

“There have been plenty of shinobi with the reserves for this technique, but it is rare to find someone with the necessary control. I myself lacked it, and so I am unable to destroy the Hokage Tower.” He winked at Sakura. 

“Who was the person who did it before?” Sakura asked. 

At this, Enchuuma seemed to freeze. “Ah. Yes, of course you would want to know.” His smile became sad. “It was our own Senju Tsunade.” 

“Tsunade?” Sakura prompted. No one in the Senju clan talked about her, for all that she was a famous figure in the Second War. All Sakura knew was what Tenjouma had told her. An heir who had run away from the clan. Sakura wondered how she did it. 

“Yes. Tsunade was a genius. She didn’t have Hashirama-sama’s Mokuton or even Tobirama-sama’s mastery over Suiton, but she did inherit their drive and ferocity. In many ways she was the best of both of them...and perhaps the worst. As a child, she worked out the theory for the strength technique, and with her precise control, was able to use it in battle before she was a teenager. Total mastery of it was not long in coming for her after that,” Enchuuma said. “She was a hero, the pride of the Senju. And then she left.” 

Sakura nibbled on her lip. The history books never mentioned Tsunade after the Second War, only that the medical jutsu she invented were fully implemented during the Third War, giving them an advantage over the other shinobi nations. And Tenjouma had never explained why she left either. If everyone thought she was so great, why leave?

Her thoughts must’ve shown on her face, for Enchuuma continued. “War takes someone from everyone, and Tsunade lost more than most. She felt too deeply, a trait from her late grandfather. I believe she was unable to stay in a place that only reminded her of what she had lost.” 

“So she left,” Sakura finished. That was different from the defiant rebellion that she had been picturing. Sakura imagined that Tsunade had been stifled by the expectations of the Senju clan just as Sakura was, but instead, there was a possibility that Tsunade was just like them. But, Sakura supposed, leaving was still leaving. It was more than what Sakura was doing. 

“Indeed she did. I hope she will return someday, but the clan needs practicality, not hope. Before, it looked like our next heir was going to be Chikama after Tenjouma. But now we have you.” Enchuuma ruffled Sakura’s hair as he stood. 

“Now, I think that’s enough rest for right now. Let’s get back to training.” 

Sakura made a face at his words.  He laughed at her expression. 

“Don’t make that face Sakura,” he said. “You’ve improved by leaps and bounds since we first started. You still have a ways to go, but when it comes to taijutsu, you’re a natural. Come on now, up you get.”

Her heart lifted. “Yes, Enchuuma-ojiisama!”

--

Sakura was beginning to wonder when Tatema would return. It had already been a week. Retsuma wasn’t bad, she supposed, but she was just getting used to Tatema when she got stuck with his older brother. Retsuma was like Tatema in that he didn’t push her to speak unless she felt like it. Unlike Tatema, Retsuma gave off an air of poise and grace even without his genjutsu, which made Sakura feel like she had dribbled all over her shirt like she was four. Hardly the kind of person who made her want to chatter about her school day and her friends. 

But the fact was, there was no one else she could ask about the Senju besides Retsuma, at least until Tatema came back. Tenjouma would either brush aside Sakura’s questions, or tell her all about the glory and strength of the clan. Sakura didn’t care about that. She didn’t care about how strong the Shodai was. Everyone already knew he was the God of Shinobi, that’s why he had been the Shodai. 

She wanted to know about Senju Hashirama the person, and how he managed the Mokuton. While the strange elder, Danzou, had encouraged her to look up to the Nidaime, Sakura still felt a strange kinship with the Shodai. She was his descendant, wasn’t she? Both of them had a powerful ability that no one else in their lifetime had. The Shodai had had to master it all alone. Maybe Sakura could draw guidance from the Shodai’s experience. Which meant she didn’t need glory stories. She needed the truth. 

Sakura peeked up at Retsuma from the corner of her eye. Could she stand to wait for Tatema to come back home…? 

“What is it?” Retsuma asked. Sakura startled, then flushed. He wasn’t supposed to realize that she had been staring. 

“I just…” she trailed off in a mumble. Where to even start? Sakura didn’t know how to say the feelings that bubbled in her chest. She wanted to know about the Shodai and yet she didn’t. She wanted help with the Mokuton and she wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. 

“How does anyone know I’m really like the Shodai-sama?” A person was more than just their jutsu abilities, surely. Sakura was more than just her shinobi training. 

“You are whatever the clan wants you to be,” Retsuma said simply. “And if you are not, the clan will make you what they want you to be.”

‘But what if that’s not what I want?’ Sakura wanted to ask. There was no use; she already knew that her complaints would be ignored, just as they had been so far. 

Instead, she said, “Did the Senju really want Shodai-sama to create peace with the Uchiha?” 

“Hashirama-sama was very wise, and saw that if things continued the way they were, it would mean doom for the clan. For our betterment, he reached out in peace towards the Uchiha,” Retsuma replied. 

“But is that what the clan wanted?” Sakura pressed. 

He hesitated. “I don’t know what the internal politics of the clan were during that time. However, given Hashirama-sama’s power, and the support of Tobirama-sama, it is unlikely he was opposed.” 

In other words, the Shodai and Nidaime were too powerful for anyone to say no to. That was how they accomplished what they desired. And Tsunade had too, Sakura recalled. It was her power that let her leave the clan with no consequences and remain unfound. So if Sakura gained enough power, then she could also defy the clan. 

“What was Hashirama-sama like?” Sakura asked Retsuma. 

“Well, he was very wise, as I said. He was the pinnacle of shinobi. His strength was nigh unmatchable, and he used it to lead the Senju to many victories, and eventually to peace,” he said. “But I’m afraid if you want to know more, you would need to ask Tenjouma-ojiisama. Shodai-sama was far before my time, but Tenjouma-ojiisama knew him.” 

That didn’t really tell Sakura anything about what the man was actually like. But Retsuma’s reason was fair enough, she guessed. The Shodai had lived a very long time ago, after all. 

“How did he learn about his Mokuton? How did he master it?” she continued, warming up to this topic. 

Retsuma looked amused by Sakura’s curiosity. “I don’t know how he found out he had it, precisely. There are some journals of his that have survived that perhaps you’ll be allowed to read. But I do know that it was due to his genius that he was able to master the Mokuton so effectively. In his prime, he could grow entire forests with barely a thought. The village infrastructure was almost entirely his doing.”

“He left journals?”

“Yes, he and Nidaime-sama both left journals behind, among other things. But the journals are considered clan secrets; you probably won’t be allowed to read them until you’re older, and when you are, it’ll only be in a safe, secure location,” Retsuma explained. 

The idea of journals sounded promising to Sakura. Those would be words straight from the Shodai and Nidaime, with no room for other people’s interpretations. And, if anyone had a right to them, Sakura did. 

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” she pressed. Maybe she wouldn’t have to wait for these journals, if Retsuma would just tell her. 

“Like what?” 

“Like...like, a mistake Shodai-sama made, or something. Tenjouma-sama told me Tsunade left the village,” Sakura clarified. 

Retsuma paused in his stride. Sakura might not have noticed if it weren’t for how gracefully and smoothly he normally glided across the ground. Sakura looked up at him, but from her vantage point so much closer to the ground, she could really only see his jaw and the curve of his cheek. 

“Retsuma?” she prodded. 

He smiled blandly at her. “A mistake? He never made one.” 

Sakura stared at him dubiously. “Never ever? Are you sure? Because Mama told me that everyone makes mistakes sometime.” 

“Sakura-chan, he was the God of Shinobi. Of course he didn’t make mistakes, or no one would call him that. He was too strong and too wise,” Retsuma shook his head, as if Sakura was silly for thinking such a thing. She scowled at Retsuma. It was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask!

“Not even a little mistake?” Surely he had to have. Maybe he forgot someone’s birthday, or called an important person by the wrong name. 

“I said he didn’t,” Retsuma said sharply. Sakura recoiled from the edge in his voice. She was used to Tenjouma being curt with her, but not the other Senju. They did things she didn’t like but they never sounded mean. Not like this. 

“Okay,” Sakura mumbled. She had only wanted to know more. Mama said it was never bad to ask questions. Even the Academy instructors encouraged it! An inquisitive, curious shinobi made for excellent intelligence gathering. 

Retsuma sighed. “I’m not angry at you. It’s just that it’s silly to think of Hashirama-sama making a mistake, no? He did many things, all of them great.” 

Sakura nodded along while a kernel of resentment grew in her chest. The Shodai had made a mistake, she knew it. And Retsuma didn’t want to talk about it. Sakura would prove the Shodai was no god, but a human, just like her. She would rub that knowledge in the Senju clan’s face, and then she would leave, just like Tsunade. No one could stop her if she was strong enough. 

After all, no one had been able to stop Hashirama from making the village. 

--

Sakura came home from the Academy one day to hear her mother and father arguing with Tenjouma. Her heart thudded in her chest. Some unspeakable fear gripped her as she hovered in the entrance of the house. She crept closer to hear the argument. Her parents hadn’t seemed so unhappy about moving across the village. It didn’t make sense that they would be having an argument with Tenjouma now, instead of at the start of this whole mess. 

“-you have inserted yourself into nearly every part of our daughter’s life! She is more than just a shinobi, she is just a little girl, and she deserves to see her family!” her mother shouted. 

“She is a little girl now but she is destined to be the head of this clan. She is already behind her peers; she needs to become the best shinobi as possible and to become an effective leader. There is no time for her to spend gallivanting with civilian children that can offer her no future advantages,” Tenjouma replied. His tone was annoyed, making Sakura wonder just how long they had been at this. It took a lot for Tenjouma to start to lose his calm. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that this is too much pressure to put on a child? She’s supposed to be enjoying herself and playing with friends, not spending every afternoon training so hard that she comes home exhausted!” A chair scraped along the floor. 

Tenjouma’s voice sounded like Ino’s when she thought someone was being remarkably stupid. “Generations of Senju have endured the same training. Harsher, even, during the days of the clan wars. Sakura need not to train as hard as that; she won’t be seeing combat until she is twelve at the earliest, later if I can prolong the length of time she does D-ranks. But we have already lost six years of time that she could be learning about the clan and her duties. We cannot afford to lose anymore.” 

“And what, exactly, is so important that she needs to do, that she has to miss seeing her cousins?”

“She will be meeting with the Uchiha. They have extended a formal invitation to treat with us, in order to meet the Senju heir,” Tenjouma replied. 

“What? You want her to miss her family to meet a shinobi clan that lives here in the village that she could meet with any time?” Mebuki’s voice was at a level of outrage that Sakura had never heard before from her, or even thought she was capable of. Her mother had always been more quick tempered than her easy going father, but Mebuki also calmed down quickly and forgave easily. Sakura cringed just at hearing her voice. Her eyes stung with tears. If only, Sakura thought, she had never awakened the Mokuton. 

“These sorts of meetings are more important than you could know,” Tenjouma said with censure. “In place of open warfare, we have politics. Meeting with each other and establishing alliances within the village is how we pass policies and create village infrastructures. The Uchiha remain one of the most prominent clans in the village, and the Shodai’s and Nidaime’s names mean less and less every year. The Uchiha are our greatest rivals, yes, but they could also be our greatest ally within the village. I will not snub them by refusing them the chance to be the first to formally meet Sakura.”

“So we’re just supposed to tell our family that Sakura can’t meet them because of politics?” Mebuki asked snidely. 

“Yes.” 

“How dare you!”

“Tenjouma-san, it is unreasonable for Sakura to cut off contact with her extended family just because she is a part of a shinobi clan now,” Kizashi started. Sakura pressed herself a little closer to hear her father’s quieter voice. “And I also find myself curious where you expect us to be while you take our daughter off to visit strangers.”

“If it pleases you, you are free to go on this excursion. I will make sure someone is available to accompany you. But Sakura will be with myself. If it is her safety you fear for, that is unnecessary. The Uchiha are an onerous, prideful lot, but they’re Konoha shinobi; they’re hardly a threat to her,” Tenjouma said. 

“That’s not my point at all,” Kizashi replied patiently. “I have no doubt that you will keep Sakura safe. My point is that Sakura has a right to see the rest of her family, especially during one of our most important family gatherings, and that you shouldn’t be making decisions about her future without input from us.” 

Sakura shrank back as Tenjouma responded, and then her mother started snapping in anger once more. Tenjouma didn’t want her to see her family anymore. She clenched her fists. Every summer Sakura traveled with her parents to outside of the village to a town nearby to celebrate its founding. Family legend had it that Mebuki’s ancestor had helped to found the town, and so her family from all across Fire Country came together to celebrate. Her mother’s family had no political power, nor did the small town, but it was a grand party nonetheless. This would be the first time Sakura had never gone. 

She knew Tenjouma barely tolerated her parents. She knew he wanted her to forget anything about being a civilian. Tears pricked at her eyes. She just hadn’t realized how far he was willing to go. Sakura couldn’t imagine never seeing the rest of her family again. By the sound of the argument though, she had no choice. Ino’s dad had said Tenjouma could take Sakura with no consequence. The Hokage had agreed. Retsuma told her that Tenjouma would mold her into whatever the clan needed. 

“You,” Obito began, “have been a giant pain in my ass.”

Sakura focused on keeping her breath even. She couldn’t distract Obito with any sarcastic remarks, so instead she had to make sure she didn’t let any of her reactions show in her face.

Obito settled back against the desk behind him. His expression communicated just how frustrated she had made him this past year. Sakura felt a rush of smug satisfaction from Shisui.

Obito helped manipulate the massacre of the clan. Obito kept Itachi under his thumb by remaining an ever present threat to Sasuke. Obito was going to destroy the village.

Shisui was going to kill Obito.

But first, Sakura had to figure out how to get herself free from the ropes restraining her. And then they would need to run, because she wasn’t up for a round with Obito after having extracted her pound of flesh from Danzou. Dealing with Obito would take time and planning, because none of them had realized exactly who it was pulling Akatsuki’s strings, only that it wasn’t Uchiha Madara. There was no way Sakura was going to let him get close enough to Naruto to steal the Kyuubi from him, no matter what Konoha thought of her now.

“I admit, I was a bit disappointed after you killed yourself, Shisui. That really is you in there, isn’t it?” Tension seeped out of Obito’s frame. He had all the time in the world, and Sakura couldn’t do anything about it. She blinked back Obito. Don’t react, don’t react.

“I really could have used your other eye, but Itachi disposed of it well. A pity he couldn’t get the other from Danzou. But I suppose you’ve taken care of that now, haven’t you? You’ve learned quite a few tricks from the Godaime Hokage.”

Sakura worked at keeping her heart rate steady. Obito didn’t know Haruno Sakura still existed. He thought Shisui was just using her identity as a convenient front. Obito might be able to predict Shisui’s motives, but he didn’t know Sakura’s, didn’t know her fighting style.

‘Let me handle this, and I’ll get us out of here,’ she said to Shisui. There was a small wave of acknowledgment.

She didn’t know how exactly she was going to do that, but it needed to be her, not Shisui. And he was still recovering from his fight with Danzou anyway. Shisui could take over later.

“Now then, let me tell you what’s going to happen. You’re already a missing-nin of Konoha, and you know they won’t take you back, not after murdering the Sandaime and now one of their precious elders. So you’re going to do exactly what I tell you, and if you don’t feel up to it, I’ll kill Itachi and make you watch. Is that clear?” Obito tilted his head.

Sakura couldn’t hold back her incredulity from her expression. Who did Obito think Shisui was? She knew they hadn’t been close, but surely Obito knew something of his cousin at least by reputation. Shisui wasn’t the type that could be manipulated that easily, and not with simple threats to people he cared about. Itachi might let himself be bound by those kinds of threats, but Shisui always, always put the village first.

It was all right. Itachi would understand. They were all shinobi of Konoha, and they would do whatever it took to protect the village. It wasn’t like Sakura and Shisui had much left to lose.

Obito tsked at the look on her face. “Shisui, don’t be foolish. There is nothing you can do. No one is coming to save you. I’ve already told Itachi you died fighting Danzou, and it would be such a pity for him to find out you’re alive right before I kill him. Then again, I don’t have much more use for him anymore anyway. Perhaps Sasuke is a better hostage, hm?”

Sakura didn’t have a chance to communicate exactly what she thought of that idea. Right then, the wall of the room they were in exploded inward. She bodily rolled herself out of the way of the rubble and away from Obito.

‘I think this is that opening you were looking for,’ Shisui said, voice faint with exhaustion.

She didn’t bother responding, instead rolling to her feet, spurred on by Obito’s cursing.

“What a moron,” came a painfully familiar voice. “As if it would be so easy to kill me.”

“What are you doing, trying to act so cool?” The dust slowly settled, and there, in the newly made hole, stood the rest of Team 7. “Everyone knows the only reason why you’re hard to kill is because they would have to go through me.” Naruto’s smile was too toothy to be nice.

Sakura’s stomach swooped at the sight of them. It never got any easier.

“Maa, maa, calm down boys. Focus on the mission,” Kakashi said. His single gray eye swept over the room, glancing at Sakura before narrowing on Obito. “Sorry we’re late, Sakura-chan. You were quite difficult to track.”

“How did you find this place?” Obito was on his feet, chakra burgeoning in preparation for a fight.

“Ah, we had a little help. A birdie told us the way,” Kakashi answered cheerfully.

“A bird-?” Obito’s brow furrowed. A new chakra presence flared to life beside Team 7. Sakura smirked behind her gag. Kisame always had trouble suppressing his chakra.

“You,” Obito hissed. His single eye glared at Itachi, who coalesced into being next to Kisame.

“My apologies, Obito. I’m afraid I’m handing in my resignation, effective immediately,” Itachi said. “I find I prefer being a free agent. I’ll be taking Shisui with me too. We come as a pair. I’m sure you understand.”

It was a thrill to see her old team again, but it was a relief to see Itachi. There was only one person Sakura and Shisui could trust, after all.

Obito’s chakra churned with fury. He hadn’t accounted for a rescue, and especially not one mounted by both Itachi and Konoha shinobi. Then, as suddenly it flared, his chakra settled into a low simmer.

“Of course,” Obito said. “Let me just get you your severance package.” His hands flashed through a set of seals.

Pain punched through her chest. Sakura retched around her gag, tasting bile and blood. She glanced down with hazy vision.

A thick branch pierced her chest. Mokuton.

‘That’s not good.’

Himiko suppressed a shiver as she followed after Touka. She would never be comfortable in any Senju home, no matter the reason she was there.

“Tobirama has been vulnerable to genjutsu and the Sharingan in particular since Izuna,” Touka admitted. Himiko couldn’t help but hear the accusation and she struggled not to bristle. Her father’s grudges weren’t her own, and they were well deserved in any case.

“I told you I would try to help as much as I could, but I’m not my father. My skill isn’t in genjutsu or compulsions. You need Naori for this.”

“Tobirama trusts you, and no other Uchiha,” Touka countered. Which was fair; Himiko wouldn’t want someone with genjutsu abilities digging around in her head either, especially if she had a history of suffering from mind altering genjutsu. Her forearms tingled in remembrance of her past with medic ninja.

Touka slid open a door and let Himiko inside. Tobirama was pinned to the floor by Hashirama’s Mokuton, his head held still so he could only look up at the ceiling. The sight of any of his kin drove Tobirama to a murderous rage, and it was sheer luck he hadn’t managed to kill one of his cousins so far. Hashirama carefully kept himself out of Tobirama’s line of sight to prevent an explosive fight.

“She’s here, Tobirama.”

Himiko knelt next to Tobirama. This close, she could see his pulse hammering in his throat though his breathing was still even. Touka stood behind her and not for the first time, Himiko wished one of her own cousins could have accompanied her. It felt too much like the past, enclosed in a room by herself with only Senju for company. But the fragile trust was on the verge of breaking with one Uchiha’s stupid, traitorous actions, and so Himiko had to go by herself to fix it.

“I don’t know how long this will take me. It will depend on how deep the compulsion was placed and how complex it is,” Himiko explained. “My Sharingan is more powerful, but this isn’t my area of expertise. Don’t rush me.”

“But you’ll be able to fix this?” Hashirama asked.

Himiko nodded. “I think so. There may be lingering after effects, and it might take time for all of the urges from the compulsion to fade, depending on how strong it is, but I should be able to.”

She leaned forward over Tobirama. His jaw was clenched tight and his eyes were resolutely focused on the ceiling.

“Tobirama? Look at me.”

His red eyes, so like the Sharingan, met hers. He relaxed incrementally when he saw her doujutsu was still dormant. That didn’t mean that Himiko couldn’t spot the fear there. She could ruin his mind before Touka or Hashirama could stop her, and everyone here knew it. She wanted to reassure him. Their past was tangled and messy, there were things Himiko would never forgive Tobirama for, but she knew she didn’t want to hurt him. Not permanently. She stayed silent.

“Do it,” Tobirama said.

Himiko placed her hands on his face, using her thumbs to tug down on his skin to widen his eyes. With a blink Tobirama’s face sharpened with unnatural clarity. Another blink and the Mangekyou whirled in her eyes.

“Shisui, please.”

Ragged breathing filled her ears. There was a burning ring around her wrists and when Sakura glanced up, she saw that she was chained in too tight cuffs that had rubbed her wrists bloody. Even before she could catch her breath her heart was already pounding in her chest with fear.

“Please,” the voice broke into a sob. “I can’t take this anymore, just kill me. Don’t let them have my eyes, Shisui, please.”

Sakura’s head turned without permission and every iota of her being rebelled at what she saw.

A young shinobi was literally pinned to a chair, stakes driven through his hands and arms to the chair. Below, his ankles and legs were similarly staked. Blood dripped everywhere from him, but the most horrific part of the scene was his face. Her eyes were unwillingly drawn to the eyeball that dangled freely from the socket, only connected by a strand of nerves. Dimly, Sakura realized that the boy was a Hyuuga.

“Nikkou…” Her voice was raspy and yet familiar to Sakura, despite not being her own. Shisui. She was reliving Shisui’s memories.

“Nikkou, I can’t – there’s no way out of this. I’m sorry.”

“C’mon Shisui, you’re a genius, you’ve gotta think of something. Anything, I don’t care, just don’t let them take my eyes, please.” Nikkou’s remaining good eye rolled wildly in his head. It occasionally fixed on Shisui, teary and wide eyed with terror and pain. Sakura struggled to look away from the sight of his bruised face, but Shisui’s gaze remained focused on Nikkou and his ruined eye, and so did Sakura’s.

Before Shisui could reply, the door to the cell banged open. Both of them startled badly, Sakura’s heart beating a sharp staccato rhythm in her chest.

A Kiri shinobi strode into the room. He was older than Shisui and Nikkou, with the beginnings of craggy lines on his face, and his hair styled into something resembling a fin. Sakura had no idea who he was, but there was a foreign swell of resignation and fear and hatred in her chest.

She watched him circle around the room like a shark, slowly closing in on Nikkou. Nikkou’s breath escaped him faster and faster until he was almost hyperventilating, his good eye hyper focused on the foreign shinobi. On his hands specifically, which held clippers. The shinobi considered Shisui.

“Well, Konoha? Do you have anything to say yet?”

Nikkou’s eye snapped to her. “Shisui, tell him something! Tell him what he wants to know! Please!” When she remained silent, Nikkou tried again, his voice becoming a ragged scream. “Shisui, please!”

Her mouth moved. “I will not betray my village.”

The Kiri shinobi smirked. “I didn’t think any of you Konoha shinobi had it in you.” He jabbed Nikkou in the shoulder with his elbow in a seemingly friendly gesture. “Too bad for you, kid.”

He reached forward to grasp Nikkou’s dangling eye. When his fingers made contact, Nikkou began screaming, the sound echoing in the cell.

“Not my eye! Please, not my eye! Take anything else, please!”

Revulsion rose, with Sakura unable to tell if it was hers or Shisui’s. There was a layer of understanding that Shisui had that wasn’t hers; an understanding of the fear of losing an eye. The hatred was turning to outright loathing as the shinobi pulled the string of nerves taut and brought the clippers close to the end where they were attached to Nikkou’s skull. He took his time, drawing it out, stroking the blades along the length of nerves. Nikkou was wailing and Sakura was unable to look away when, with a quick snip, the shinobi took his eye.

Her upper lip curled with a rage such that she had never known. She memorized the way the Kiri shinobi casually dropped the eye and its attached nerves into a sterile bag. Nikkou sobbed brokenly, defeated.

“Thanks for the eye, kid. It’ll come in handy. I’ll come back for the other one later, unless your teammate here decides to talk. See if you can convince him while I’m gone.” The shinobi spun the clippers around his fingers in a goodbye, and left them alone once more. Sakura tracked his movements the entire time.

If it was the last thing she did, she would kill him.

Sakura woke with a gasp. Before she even fully understood what she was doing, she was moving, ripping her blankets off her body and stumbling to the bathroom. She made it to the toilet in time to vomit her dinner violently. Her stomach heaved over and over, even after there was nothing left, and only strings of saliva and bile clung to her lips. She barely had the strength to spit into the toilet. She pressed her face against the cool porcelain and wept.

When her shoulders had stopped shaking, enough time had passed that Sakura could address the silent presence in her head.

“What the hell was that?”

Shisui was silent for a long time, long enough that Sakura started to doze with her face on the toilet. And yet every time she drifted off too much, the image of Nikkou’s eyeless socket surfaced. With the image came the foreign tangle of emotions that had to be Shisui’s association with that memory. Sakura had certainly never hated someone so much in her life.

‘I never would have wanted you to see that memory,’ Shisui said at last.

But I did, Sakura thought to herself, and felt Shisui’s slight flinch when the stray thought reached him.

She stayed silent, and so did Shisui, as she struggled to process the nightmare. She didn’t even know what she wanted to ask Shisui first or if she even wanted to learn more about it at all, and as she thought, his words from before floated across her mind, I was on the Kiri front during the Third War.

There was the unspeakable horror of Nikkou staked to the chair and the Kiri shinobi clipping out his eye while Shisui watched. There was Shisui’s absolute, resigned refusal to give over any information to the interrogator. There was the question of how he escaped. There was the niggling wonder of why the hell bad things happened to eyes around Shisui. But most of all…

‘What happened to Nikkou?’  Sakura asked at last.

‘He’s dead.’

Despite her exhaustion, the images from the nightmare - Shisui’s memory - drove Sakura out of bed to avoid enticing their return. Which is how she ended up running laps in Konoha before dawn, before pre-dawn even, the sky still blanketed in stars. She had several canteens of water buckled to her waist as the only things weighing her down. When her lungs burned for air and her legs felt limp, she stopped to drink. All too soon, the vivid images would return and spur Sakura into continuing her laps.

Sakura turned towards home once the sky began to lighten. The first rays of dawn once again swept away the worst of the night terrors until she felt almost normal again. At least, normal except for the dead jounin haunting her. She kicked off her shoes and made her way towards the shower to wash away the sweat and the remnants of the sickly feeling from vomiting.

Showering led to redressing, which led to breakfast. By now Sakura was ravenous and dreading the day’s work. What had she been thinking, running laps for hours? How was she going to be able to train? How was she going to complete the mission?

‘Oh, relax,’ Shisui said in the face of her fretting. ‘Training should always push you to your limits. The run was good for you. You should do it every morning.’

‘I should’ve known you would suggest more running,’ Sakura grumped. She hated doing laps. And yet, this was the second night in a row she had nightmares from Shisui’s memories. She would have to do something to keep them from lingering. At least running had long term benefits. ‘I’ll think about it.’

It wasn’t long before Sakura was ready for the new day. She eyed herself in the mirror. There was no outward hint of the nightmare she had suffered last night, nor of her ghostly tenant. She just… looked like herself. Sakura leaned forward so she could peer at her eyes. They did say that eyes were the windows to the soul. But there was nothing.

She shook herself. At this rate, she was going to be just as obsessed with eyes as Shisui was. She needed to get to training. Hopefully it wouldn’t be as bad as it was yesterday.

When she arrived, Sakura found that she was earlier than any of her teammates. It was a pleasant change from being late the day before. It also gave her time to sit and relax. The weather was warm and breezy, but thankfully not humid. All in all, a good day for training. If only Sakura had any idea of where to even start.

‘I can help guide you through a few things. You should work on your conditioning and basic taijutsu and weapons skills before you think about fancy ninjutsu or genjutsu,’ Shisui offered.

Sakura narrowed her eyes at the sky. ‘What’s in it for you?’

‘I don’t die again because of a genin’s stupid mistake,’ Shisui said dryly.

That sounded believable, especially after his insistence yesterday that he wouldn’t teach her anything.

‘You start with conditioning first, to prep your body for the strain of jutsu, right?’ she asked.

‘That’s part of it. But there will always be a time when you don’t have enough chakra for any jutsu, and how well you know basic taijutsu can save your life.’

Sakura looked down at her hands thoughtfully. ‘Alright, I’ll listen to what you have to say. But nothing too hard! Who knows what kind of training Kakashi-sensei is going to make us do.’ Sakura said.

‘That’s the spirit. Now get up. There’s no time like the present.’ Shisui urged her.

Sakura rolled to her feet. There was a moment’s pause when she pondered what exactly she should do to condition herself. Then, with hesitant strikes, she began working through the Academy practice routine. Neither of her parents had styles to call their own, not like clan children. They had always encouraged her to make the best of her intelligence and what the Academy taught her. That had been enough to get them to chuunin, after all.

Shisui didn’t speak, or even give any indication he was paying attention besides a sense of watchfulness that Sakura couldn’t explain. Since he didn’t stop her, she continued with the series of simple katas that she knew. The style was mostly built around redirecting a stronger or faster enemy’s force, under the assumption that the user was smaller and less experienced. Sakura definitely counted as that.

As her routine came to a close, Shisui began to offer her pointers. They were, to Sakura’s relief, far more useful than the ones he had given her yesterday.

‘Your stance weakens when you punch with your left hand. Watch the placement of your feet,’ and ‘Lead with your opposite foot to strengthen that strike,’ and ‘If you follow through, you can turn this kata into a hold,’ were all patiently explained to her. It was at odds with his patronizing attitude the day before. Sakura couldn’t decide if it was because Shisui was, contrary to first impressions, actually a good teacher, or if he still felt bad for the nightmares his memories had given her. Either way, she didn’t question it.

Shisui hummed thoughtfully. ‘Your grasp of the Academy basics is solid, though you do need lots of conditioning. But I only know how to teach speed.’ Sakura got the impression of a shrug. ‘So I will teach you what I know. My style is far different from the Academy’s. At its most complicated, it is a very fluid style that requires a lot of flexibility and makes equal use of every part of the body. I combined it with my speed to dispatch enemies as efficiently as possible. At your level, you will need to do the same.’

‘Okay, makes sense. So where do I start?’ She was tired and her thighs weren’t exactly happy after her impromptu morning run, but she also wasn’t bone dead exhausted. She could do this.

‘With stretches. Lots of stretches,’ Shisui said. From there, he talked her through several exercises that were new to Sakura, and that were barely even the beginning of Shisui’s personal style. There was a lot of ground for her to cover, and not much time to do it in. Training wasn’t going to be something she did just with her team, but a new hobby that she did constantly.

That morning, Shisui only had time to teach Sakura one of the beginning forms. But combined with the other stretches and his advice on her use of the Academy style, it was enough. She even felt ready to go another round with Kakashi. There would be no way that she would win, but she wanted to try out what she had learned against an unsuspecting opponent.

Sasuke soon arrived at the training grounds as Sakura finished her stretches, and then Naruto showed up five minutes later. She had timed it so that her teammates wouldn’t spot her. She had no idea how to explain to them how she was suddenly learning non-Academy forms. Besides, this way, if Kakashi was anywhere near as late as he was yesterday, she would have plenty of time to rest before more training and possibly another mission.

Sakura peeked under her lashes at Sasuke. He looked so cool, leaning back against a tree, the sun catching his pitch eyes just right so that the pupil was discernible from the iris. She felt her heart flutter against her ribs. He was so smart and talented, sure to be the brightest star of their generation. Heat rose to her face.

‘So...what do you actually know about this kid?’ Shisui asked.

Sakura startled out of her musings. ‘What?’

‘Well, you keep going on and on about your infatuation with him. So you must know a lot about him, right? What is it that you like about him besides his talent? Konoha has plenty of talented and skilled shinobi,’ he elaborated.

‘Well…’ Sakura paused to organize her thoughts. ‘He likes tomatoes, I think. They show up the most consistently in his lunch. He’s not very cooperative on teamwork tests at the Academy, but that’s only because he can do everything himself! And…’

She frowned. What did she know about Sasuke? Why had she started crushing on him? He wasn’t always such a loner. In fact, a few years ago, he had been...friendly. Competitive, certainly, but outgoing and playful. She had liked him because he had never bullied her or avoided her. He didn’t go out of his way to talk to her, but he had never been cruel, not even in the thoughtless way that kids could be. And then Sakura found out that Ino had liked him too, and that was the final straw.

Sakura shook herself. Things about Sasuke. ‘He says he doesn’t really like or dislike anything, or have any hobbies. He doesn’t have a dream, but an ambition. To kill a certain man, he said, and restore his clan.’

‘That’s ominous.’ Shisui’s presence seemed to ripple a bit. It felt weird, like her brain was tingling.

‘It is,’ Sakura agreed, subdued. She wondered why Sasuke wanted to kill someone so badly. What was it that this person did that made Sasuke think only of killing him? What did it take for a person to feel that way?

‘Clearly, you need to train more,’ Shisui interrupted, his voice lighter now. ‘And learn more about what happened. And then you can go along with Sasuke on his little field trip to kill this man. If you’re actually serious about your crush on him, that is.’

Sakura narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘Why do you care if I get a chance with Sasuke-kun?’

‘I don’t,’ Shisui said flatly. ‘But it just so happens that training kills two birds with one stone.  You get to impress your crush, and I get to stay in a body that won’t die on the first C rank mission it goes on.’

‘Does it really matter if you’re already dead?’

‘Who doesn’t want to stay alive a little longer? This is my second chance. Besides, I’m a ghost, and like all stories about ghosts, I have some unfinished business that I’ll probably need your help with,’ he said.

‘What kind of unfinished business?’ Sakura perked up. This was interesting. She hadn’t had anyone to gossip with since her friendship with Ino became a rivalry.

Shisui huffed. ‘The kind you don’t need to know about yet.’

Sakura fidgeted with the hem of her dress, feeling a bit like Hinata all of a sudden. ‘Does it...does it have anything to do with Nikkou?’

He hesitated, and Sakura got a brief flash of quick thinking on his part. Maybe deciding how detailed he wanted to be, though after that nightmare, she didn’t see why it mattered. ‘I...yeah. That Kiri nin, he’s still alive. His name is Ao. And I’m going to kill him.’ There was a rush of hatred and intense focus, almost obsession. Shisui wanted to avenge his mutilated teammate and bring home the last part of him that never made it back.

Nikkou’s screams echoed in Sakura’s mind again, causing her gag reflex to rise. She swallowed down the bile. Shisui didn’t even have to ask.

‘Of course I’ll help you kill him.’

Sakura easily committed Ao’s face to memory. Blue hair styled into a fin, slightly craggy face, Kiri fatigues. She would know him the next time she saw him.

“Wow, Sakura-chan, I didn’t know Kakashi-sensei being late made you this angry.” Naruto’s voice jolted Sakura out of her head.

Sakura glanced around. She had forgotten that she was at training with her team, waiting for Kakashi to show his face. While she had been talking with Shisui, her gaze had focused on a far off tree, and her face had done little to disguise her emotions. Even Sasuke was looking at her with a little interest. Sakura flushed. Just what had her expressions revealed to them?

“Well,” Sakura blustered. She seized upon the excuse Naruto had gift wrapped her. “Well, it’s rude! And a waste of our time! What’s the point of meeting so early if he isn’t going to be on time to help us train or supervise missions! He’s so irresponsible. We all managed to be here, didn’t we?” She gestured redundantly.

“I know!” Naruto exploded. He was suddenly in Sakura’s face, expression animated. “I could be learning a super cool jutsu! Or, or, protecting a castle from a mutiny! Not just hanging around here waiting.”

“You sure you’re up to protecting a whole castle?” Sasuke said. The fact that he was drawn into their conversation spoke volumes about how bored he was. Luckily, it had the advantage of not only getting his attention, but pulling Naruto away from her.

“Of course I am. I’m gonna be the Hokage, you know.” Naruto posed proudly. “Do you even know what you’re gonna be?”

Sasuke folded his arms. “I’m going to be an elite jounin of a village, and bring honor to my family name.” His tone made this sound like it should have been obvious. Sakura nodded along. And it should have been. Sasuke was the best.

To her surprise, they both turned to her next. After yesterday and the way they so got caught up in their rivalry, and Sakura being lost in her thoughts with Shisui, she thought they would ignore her.

“Ne, Sakura-chan, what about you? What are you going to be?”

Sakura licked her lips. Her eyes wanted to dart to Sasuke, but he had nothing to do with her being a shinobi. She had, after all, joined the Academy two years before she even started to have feelings for him.

“I…” she clenched her fists with embarrassment. “I don’t know what I want to be.” She glared down at the ground. Sakura didn’t want to see the expressions on her teammates’ faces.

‘We all start somewhere, kid. Chin up.’

She breathed out through her nose and ground her teeth together. Shisui was right. She was brave enough for this. She looked up. Sasuke and Naruto were still waiting for her to finish.

It was no small thing, creeping into a clan neighborhood with none the wiser. It wasn’t just sneaking past a dozen or more shinobi with specialized skills; clan neighborhoods resembled the clan hideouts from the old Warring Clans Era, and were riddled with traps. Nowadays, it was to dissuade foreign invaders. Before, it was to protect them from other clans in Konoha, when the village was new and everyone wary of the other.

But Tenzou wasn’t an elite shinobi for nothing. It was by no means easy sneaking through Hanarakuen. Certainly the Senju didn’t want any trouble falling upon their brand new and very vulnerable heir. But Tenzou had the benefit of not only being native to Konoha, but having Hashirama’s cells.

He tensed as Tatema drifted near his hiding place. He strolled by, naginata wrapped and balanced on his shoulder. The Raijin of the Senju was not someone Tenzou had any interest in fighting. In point of fact, Tenzou dearly hoped the Senju continued to remain ignorant of his identity. He wanted no part of clan life.

With the path clear once more, he continued on. He had already checked three training fields for Haruno Sakura, with no luck. It had taken him a few weeks to even divine her training times, and her two mentors, but Tenzou had no idea if he would come upon her training with Tenjouma or Enchuuma. He could only hope she was actually practicing with the Mokuton when he arrived.

A half hour later, Tenzou finally alighted upon the new Senju heir in the midst of her training. He covertly settled himself in a distant tree and hoped neither of them had a penchant for sensory abilities. There would be an untold number of consequences if he was discovered.

“My, she seems to have excellent chakra control, don’t you think, Tenzou?”

Tenzou didn’t hesitate in his strike, even when he realized halfway through that his target was Kakashi. The older shinobi shifted just so as to dodge the kunai that would have skewered him through the eye.

“It’s a worse idea for you to be here than me,” Tenzou replied, ignoring the way he nearly maimed his former superior officer. Kakashi was an affiliate of the Uchiha clan. If the Senju caught him, there would be accusations of spying and illegal obtainment of clan knowledge. Though there was no doubt that the Senju wouldn't be any happier by his own presence.

Kakashi waved his book. “That’s if they ever find out I was here.”

They both fell silent when they felt a burst of chakra. Below, a small girl was manipulating an undulating tree. It curled ominously around Tenjouma, all while steadily developing branches. It was indeed an impressive display of control. The effort it took was demonstrated by the sweat beading on her brow. Holes lined the back of her shirt and sleeves. She had control *now*, but it was tenuous.

“You must not falter,” Tenjouma lectured her. “Else you could kill your own allies. We will continue until this tree is five meters tall.”

“Yes, Tenjouma-ojiisama,” Sakura gritted out. The tree curled ever higher. Tenzou felt his brows lift as he noted her lack of hand seals. She seemed to have an ability to creatively manipulate the Mokuton that he had struggled for. He also noted the way her trees were natural looking in a way his were not. He took pride in the smooth appearance of his Mokuton; it made it easier to provide shelter for his teammates or experiment with architecture. But her Mokuton wouldn’t look out of place in an old growth forest. The bark was rough, the branches grew in whatever direction they pleased, the leaves were richly colored and dense.

“Low activation barrier, but difficulty in controlling it once it has been triggered,” Kakashi noted. Tenzou nodded. Without a larger population, there was no way to tell if that that was due to a difference in origins of the Mokuton or a natural difference between users.

“She has a lot of potential, if she can keep it under control,” Kakashi continued.

Tenzou frowned. “But is her potential as great as the Shodai’s?” It was a comparison he himself often heard, and failed to live up to. Likely, Sakura had the same burden already. There was nothing he could do to prevent that.

Kakashi didn’t betray his thoughts, though Tenzou hadn’t expected him to. “The young life of a shinobi,” he sighed instead.

“How many others have made it in here to see her?” Tenzou asked.

“Just us, I think.”

They lapsed into silence again, watching her train. After the exercise with the single tree, she was directed into growing and shrinking a small copse. There was a lot of potential there. Potential for success, and potential for danger. Danzou, Tenzou knew, had to be planning a way to get her under his influence. Not that the Senju would make it easy for him. There were bloodline thieves, and shinobi keen to divine the secrets of other jutsu, and Konoha’s enemies besides. The Senju would shield her from them all, until she was capable of defending herself and the clan in turn.

There was an unfamiliar seething sensation that grew in his chest the longer he watched that Tenzou ruthlessly shoved aside. What did it matter that she received the protection of a clan and he didn’t? What did it matter that she would likely never know the feeling of being poked and prodded? That she would never know what it felt like to be stored away until someone needed her? It was more important to prevent those things from happening, so that she could be not just another shinobi in Konoha’s ranks, but a symbol that the village needed. And he never wanted to be in a clan anyway, he reminded himself.

“What do you think?” asked Kakashi.

Tenzou frowned down at her. She was utterly defenseless now, whatever the future might hold, unable to protect herself, much less the village. The Senju clan might not be enough. They were small and diminished from their former glory. But, Tenzou supposed, that’s what you had shadow agents for. He unconsciously gripped the tree he took shelter in.

“What did you want?”

Various masks set in different expressions glared down at Tobirama, as if displeased that he had intruded upon sacred Uzumaki grounds. He was tempted to sneer at them in return but for the fact that they were inanimate objects. Instead he trained his focus on Mito who had yet to acknowledge him.

She painted a few more strokes on the elaborate scroll she was working on. There were a few seal matrices that Tobirama recognized. Most he did not. Several ink wells and brushes lay scattered around her, the tools of an Uzumaki fuuinjutsu specialist trained in seal work far more intricate and arcane than the rest of the continent would ever know.

At last she set her brush to the side and looked up. “I have another jutsu for you to try,” she said. Candlelight cast her face into shadow and made her appear wraith-like, a restless ghost haunting the Uzumaki shrine built for her.

Tobirama crossed his arms. “The last time you gave me a jutsu to try, I ended up teleporting into a tree.”

Mito sniffed. “There is always trial and error when it comes to the invention of new jutsu and seal work. I told you that there was a chance of distortions in time or space with that jutsu.”

“I also ended up in the ocean,” he said dryly.

“You could’ve ended up one hundred years in the past. You should be thankful there were only problems with the space matrix,” Mito snapped. “Besides, the jutsu worked out fine in the end. I’ve expanded my knowledge of the space-time continuum and you can kill other people faster than ever before.”

Tobirama ignored the dig at his motives. Instead he examined the large scroll and its intricate seal work. He still couldn’t discern the purpose of the seal, but Tobirama knew enough to know that Mito was once again pushing the limits of human knowledge and ability, if not destroying them entirely.

“What is the purpose of this jutsu?” Tobirama asked.

“You mentioned something once about winning wars without losing any soldiers. This jutsu should do that for you,” Mito said. He frowned at her seemingly casual answer. It was unusually evasive. When Mito made a discovery, she was eager to share it with anyone she thought might understand her brilliance. He glanced around the shrine again.

Finally, he said, “does Hashirama know what you’re working on?” Tobirama tapped the seal matrix that he knew for certain represented a summoning.

“Of course he knows I’m working on something,” Mito scoffed. “He might be preoccupied with Madara at the moment, but even that wouldn’t distract him from realizing his wife is missing several hours a day.”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes at his sister-in-law. “That isn’t what I asked you.”

Mito’s face was unreadable to him, but her cool chakra wasn’t. It shifted and turned with anxiety that betrayed her. He wondered when she would invent a seal that prevented her chakra from giving away her moods. It couldn’t be long in coming; she knew well that he was a sensor, and hated that he could always without fail read her moods. Under her make up, he could see faint lines of painted on seals, though he couldn’t make them out. He wondered what she felt she needed to seal inside herself today.

“Does it matter? It will do what you wish. Soldiers who cannot die. They will not eat. They will not sleep. They will only fight, until there is nothing left. Or you command them to stop.” She shrugged an elegant shoulder.

“Ah, so you have created something that even you will acknowledge has crossed some line.” Tobirama smirked. “What is it? What has made even an Uzumaki take pause in their pursuit for knowledge?”

Her jaw lifted in a proud, stubborn tilt. “It was the next natural step. While you shinobi of the continent have spent your time thinking of new ways to destroy each other, the Uzumaki bent the seas and storms to our will. With the Hiraishin, I have begun to conquer time and space. With this,” she gestured to the scroll between them, “I have gained control over the Shinigami, and so I will now begin to claim life and death for my own as well. You decide who will die. I will decide who will live.”

She paused. Tobirama parsed through her speech, reading between the lines to see what she was actually saying. A summoning seal with control over the Shinigami, that could create tireless, undying shinobi. The ability to control life and death. His eyes widened in realization.

“You found a way to bring back the dead,” he breathed.

“Nearly,” Mito said. “It isn’t perfect. They are not truly alive, and the sort of half life they have...this jutsu is perhaps best suited for our enemies rather than our allies. But it is a start down the road to a complete, perfect resurrection.”

Tobirama peered down at the scroll while he listened to her. How he wished he could divine the secrets of this fuuinjutsu. But he had never had the time to properly learn Uzumaki style sealing, which was without a doubt the most effective form of sealing the shinobi world had ever seen. It was also the most esoteric and archaic.

“What does it need to work?” he asked her.

Mito frowned. “It takes a lot of power. The kind that takes years upon years to store….or the kind found in a single human life. A sacrifice, and the blood of the person you wish to bring back.”

“Death and desecration. So this is why you didn’t want to tell Hashirama what it was you were creating,” Tobirama said, springing his trap. “You feared what he might think.”

Mito became subdued. Her lack of immediate response told Tobirama he had found the source of her unease. It was true Hashirama’s charisma made people want to be a better version of themselves. It even appeared to work on Madara. Tobirama had thought that Mito had been immune to it, but now he saw that she wasn’t.

“Hashirama has a fanciful dream for peace. And that dream is becoming a reality,” Tobirama started. “But he was also raised in an era of war, no different from me, and with a unique power of his own to defend the clan and fight his enemies. If he thought it was necessary, there is nothing Hashirama would stop at to protect this peace he has created, not even the violation of the laws of life and death.  He will be pleased with this jutsu.”

A shy smile grew on Mito’s face, startling Tobirama with its girlishness. He often forgot, with Mito’s normally reserved demeanor, that Mito had chosen to leave her clan for Hashirama as much as Hashirama had broken contract to marry Mito instead of her elder sister. They were devoted to each other.

“I should show it to him right away then,” she murmured. “I haven’t spoken with him about it at all yet. Perhaps tonight…”

Tobirama rolled his eyes. “There’s no sense becoming excited over it before we even know if it works. When do you want me to test this?”

The growing aura of tenderness abruptly fell away from Mito as her mind returned to more important matters. “Immediately, of course,” she said briskly. “There’s no need to wait. You can try it on anyone you please.” She set about rolling up the scroll and binding it shut.

“And what do you call this new jutsu?” he asked. Mito met his eyes, thrilled satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.