KONOHA
A Week Later.
It was a cool, sunny day today.
The leaves on the trees had begun their metamorphosis; vibrant hues of red, orange, and gold spread throughout the village. The towering trees that surround Konohagakure toed the incorporeal divide of the seasons, their canopies a kaleidoscope of colours, creating a stunning backdrop against the clear blue sky. The streets were carpeted with fallen leaves, crackling softly underfoot with each step we took.
Nature exhaled, her breath sharp with a mild crispness tinged with her earthy scent. She appeared sleepy to our senses, breathing and swaying easing with the rhythms of the season.
Today was a horrible day.
We allowed our cheek muscles to contract, and contort our lips into a fond smile. With that manufactured smile we saw off the departing silhouettes of Naruto and Sakura. The pair stopped just beyond the village's main gate, Sakura's smudgy figure turning around to wave back at us with the blonde beside her waiting expectantly, his arms crossed. Even from where we stood at the other end of the street—with both our Sharingans inert and our right eye barely functional—we could still imagine the intensity of the glare the boy was shooting our way.
Just ahead of them was the famed Jiraiya Ogata, known alias, Jiraiya of the Sanin, the Toad Sage. When Naruto came to visit, bragging about his very, very important mission to locate and retrieve Princess Tsunade we knew we had to send an extra pair of eyes along with him. The boy's perception of reality was a bit warped and tunnel-visioned, two traits that render his memories unreliable as reference materials. Sakura on the other hand can be considered a much less compromised asset… in matters that matter at least.
For this reason, we insisted she escorted Naruto, giving her strict instructions not to let the boy out of her sight for even a moment. And despite it being glaringly obvious that she was against the idea, our words might have been an edict from the Kami themselves.
Oblivious as usual, Naruto was jubilant upon hearing that the object of his affection would be escorting him on his mission. His bull-headed persistence made it impossible for the Sage to reject the girl, despite the obvious suspicion the bore towards our motives. The tangy taste of scepticism tinged his aura; the emotion made all the more obvious the way he surreptitiously checked her chakra network for signs of mental compulsion.
It's been two days since, and now the heroic trio finally depart to begin their long, arduous search for the one capable of treating our beloved sensei. A noble Senju Princess!… who also happened to be an irresponsible, debt-ridden alcoholic.
And owns a pet pig.
We dared not forget about the pig.
We turned around and began slowly making our way to the Mission Assignment Building. Just a few dozen meters away, hidden amongst the shrubbery, our interim Jonin sensei spied on us. An ANBU squad bracketed the area, their perceptions trained us.
They were a nuisance. One we itched to reduce into blood smears of the concrete floor. Our progress in general had stalled by half just as a result of their presence and discreetly shedding our tails, while not impossible, was a much more tedious and risky endeavour. As we predicted, the village was not one to overlook any opportunity, however flimsy, to grant us a just and proper hiding.
They've declared war.
Again.
One might perceive our words to mean there was ever a chance at peace between Konoha and the Uchiha. If true, then they are very much mistaken. The clans may have moved on from the fiery wars of the warring period, but Tobirama's policies were the initiation of a new conflict. A cold war, one might say. The Leaf, under Hashirama's iron-fisted rule, became a hegemon, a force to be reckoned with. The system, and all the little shinobi running around in it, justify it being a hegemon.
But what use is all that power if not to obliterate nuisances?
The Uchiha doomed themselves because they bought into the Senju rationale, forgetting that the Will of Fire was never theirs, to begin with. It was simply an ideology that bred radical intolerance towards differing views and oppression. One that would cease to function at the slightest dissidence no matter how just.
The Senju are the leaf. Their will is the embodiment of this… Will of Fire. There was no way an alliance in the shape of the Leaf would have ever worked. It was a fool's dream, and the Uchiha collectively, were the fools. The Senju demanded an erasure of a community and their target was the clan that functioned as the villains to their story since time immemorial. The Uchiha were erased—disgraced—and in turn, the Senjus thrived. As heroes! As a culture that endured.
One look at the mountainside overlooking Konoha was all it took to realise this. The faces of the Leaf's past leaders—all bearing more than significant ties to the Senju mind you—carved into the granite; a reminder. The Senju are the Leaf.
They are the Will of Fire…
.
.
.
Now all we have to do is smother it.
Easy.
***
We arrived at the Mission Assignment Building to find our new teammates waiting for us.
"Good morning," We greeted as we walked up to meet them.
"...Good morning, Sasuke-san," Tenten replied hesitantly. She seemed unsure of what to make of our presence and her gaze kept subconsciously flickering to where our right arm was meant to be. Beside her, Neji stared at us impassively.
"How is a cripple like you still fit for duty?" he finally said in lieu of a greeting.
"Neji!" Tenten gasped.
For a microsecond, we froze, processing the implication of what the boy had just accidentally initiated. A moment later, a genuine smile blossomed on our face in response. Our gaze remained locked with the boys. His usually impassive eyes were enlivened with anger and resentment. Yet, we could sense a tinge of reluctant regret sufficing his aura; the words were most likely impulsive. A spur of the moment. A product of a volatile mix of emotions. Most likely, he was already thinking of a way to apologise without opening himself to further embarrassment.
That didn't matter to us though. Although his outburst was unexpected, it was a major strategic windfall just when things were starting to veer off course. We had been searching for something like this for a while. And since he had so willingly offered himself as a conduit, it would be improper to turn him down.
"I can understand if you still feel disgruntled about your loss," we said into the ensuing silence, "but what gave a mere slave like you the guts to speak to your better in such a manner?"
Tenten turned to face us, eyes googled in horror. She seemed shocked. Why? Was she expecting us to just overlook the boy's arrogance? The Hyuga in question stood frozen, seemingly unable to parse a response.
"...What did you just call me?" he asked.
"A slave?" we replied, feigning confusion. "Isn't that what you branch members are? To be honest, I find it disgraceful the Hyuga would let their property wag its muzzle at the patriarch of a fellow clan. I will be seeing Haishi about this later; he ought to put you on a shorter leash lest you bring further embarrassment to the Hyuga."
We found ourself growing amused at the sight of the boy's gradually contorting expression. His killing intent flared and his face twisted into a snarl. "Die!" he declared charging at us.
Impassive we watched him draw his arm back to deliver a killing blow to our heart. Impassive still, we watched Might Guy blitz beside him to catch his outstretched arm. His open palm stopped mere inches from connecting with our chest cavity.
"Today's youth sure are pretty lively, aren't they!" the Jonin said with false cheer. His eyes were dark and tiny eddies formed in his chakra as a result of faintly expressed anger. "Now, now, Neji. I know you might be a bit excited but this is no way to treat a comrade. Right?"
The boy said nothing, his murderous glare still trained on us. He did retract his arm though, taking a few steps back even as his anger simmered menacingly inside him. He must have really respected the Jonin for him to let the matter drop this easily. In the rear, Tenten watched with an increasingly alarmed expression.
We said nothing into the ensuing silence, staring placidly at the Jonin who stood between us and his precious students. It amused us to no end how the man refused to make true eye contact with us, his gaze shifting off-centre every single time to focus on some other part of our face.
"...Sasuke," he finally said, "I take it you are already acquainted with your new teammates so I will skip any further introduction. You've read the mission brief I sent you?"
"Yes, Guy-sensei," we replied.
"Good. The mission is an easy one, much easier than the last one you completed. I believe you should have no problems—"
"I don't need to be coddled, Guy-sensei. I can carry my weight well enough for something this easy."
"...Ok. Understood. Let's go—"
"Wait!"
We both turned to face Neji who continued to glare at us.
"Yes, Neji?" the Jonin sked.
"I refuse to go on a mission with that cripple," the boy sniffed, raising his snout imperiously at us. "He couldn't even defend himself just now. How can we trust him not to drag us down out in the field?"
"Neji—"
"I will not risk my comrades' lives to protect your fragile ego, Uchiha. I won't be going anywhere until you prove you won't be a liability.
"...And how do you want me to do that, Slave-san?"
The Hyuga snarled. "Fight me!"
We stared at the boy, our head tilted in amusement.
"Fight you?" we asked.
"Fight—" A shadow clone peeled off from the adjacent wall, gently placing the sharpened edge of our poison-coated tanto on the boy's pale neck. We smiled as he froze in horror, the skin around his neck necrotising just from touching the corrosive poison.
"...You forget, Slave, we are assassins, not sumo wrestlers. Glorified murderers-for-hire, that's what we are. This isn't the chunin exams; I have no need, nor inclination, to make a battle between us a long and drawn-out affair. Rather, If I want you dead, you would be the moment I lay my eyes upon you. Understood? Good."
The shadow clone melted back into the wall, disappearing from view.
"You might want to get him to see a medic," we turned to face the pale-faced Jonin, tossing him a vial which he only barely caught after visibly fighting down the instinct to bat it away. "That's the antidote to the poison. It might save him, but given how much of it came in contact with his skin I wouldn't put much stock in that."
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