Chapter 40: FortyChapter Text
CHAPTER FORTY:
Jiraiya wasn't Root, but he was a harsh teacher. Sansa had been hoping to find Tama and thank her, or to try and reel Kakashi into spending more time with her and Naruto, stress-fear-grief his all-too constant companion as he hovered at the edges of their lives, but the day after she agreed to be trained by him Jiraiya woke her at dawn and took her to the training grounds where he had her run six miles.
And it all went down from there. Somehow.
She walked five dogs, weeded two gardens and caught the most murderously unhappy cat in the Fire Country then had a brief break for lunch before participating in two gruelling hours of taijutsu training followed by an introduction to ninjutsu.
Jiraiya had to carry her home at eight in the evening, long after the sun had sunk below the horizon, where she managed to force down the dinner that Naruto had prepared– it was surprisingly good, and she was as proud as she was saddened that he'd come a long way in the years he'd been alone– before changing out of her filthy, sweat-stained training clothes she had borrowed from Naruto that morning and collapsing in bed.
It felt as if she had barely been asleep twenty minutes before she jerked awake, instinct alone tearing her from sleep, her body already moving to throw herself sideways to avoid the bucket of water that was splashing down where she had been resting just moments before. Jiraiya stood over her, smirking, empty bucket in hand.
"Good morning!" He said cheerfully, even as Naruto, who'd also jerked awake, growled at him, claws out and teeth bared. Glancing out the window, Sansa could still see the stars blanketing the velvety night sky and felt like growling herself.
Damn everything to the Seven Hells.
It was almost like being back in Root. Gruelling twelve to fourteen-hour days filled with back-to-back D-ranks, hours of taijutsu and ninjutsu training, and impersonal interactions consisting only of criticisms that pointed out each and every flaw.
A normal child would struggle under such a harsh regime. Sansa suspected she was supposed to be struggling. That like Danzo, Jiraiya was trying to break her down in order to build her back up in an image of his own choosing. She knew it for a fact when a week in he started to give tiny little scraps of praise. She was supposed to hunger for that praise, to act according to his desires in order to receive it.
And there was a part of her that was tempted. A part that, after a week of being beaten down and torn apart so brutally, couldn't help but yearn for it, for those brief, fleeting moments where he smiled at her, when he told her she'd done well. But Sansa had learned her lessons from Petyr and Cersei and Danzo. She knew how games like this worked. She wasn't a beaten bitch to go begging for scraps at the feet of her master. She was a She-Wolf of Winterfell and she knew her worth.
At some point, she knew that Jiraiya had realised she knew what he was doing. It even became somewhat of a game between them; he was cunning, as much as Sansa loathed to admit it. He had to be, despite the public persona he wore, to run such an extensive information network as he boasted. But Sansa was cunning too, and there was a certain thrill in finding a worthy opponent to dance with.
She wouldn't forgive him. She never would. Not for the tears Naruto had cried over his abandonment, for the loss on her little brother's small face, the heartbreak in those big blue eyes. She wouldn't forgive him, but in the time she had given Jiraiya before the Chūnin Exams she would give him the closest version of her true self that anyone but those in her Pack got to see; for the efforts that he had once made, to keep her out of Danzo's reach, he deserved that much. But he would get nothing else from her.
Kakashi didn't approve. She could tell by the way he hovered, uncertain of his welcome yet at the same time unwilling to leave, his eyes tracking the bruises Jiraiya left, bruises that would always vanish overnight, his chakra flaring with rage. Sansa would always lean into him, tug on his hand until it was wrapped loosely around her neck, where he could feel the steady beating of her pulse and his chakra would ease into something less violent and furious, blanketing around her, as protective as the one who wielded it.
Sansa had fretted that without her influence, Kakashi would keep his distance from Naruto. Originally, it seemed as if her fears held true; Naruto never spoke of spending time with Kakashi while she was training with Jiraiya, nor did she find Kakashi lingering around the apartment when she returned in the evenings. But then came the day she staggered home from training to find Kakashi awkwardly helping Naruto make dinner, hovering behind the small boy as Naruto lectured him about the amount of spices to put in and how finely they should chop the vegetables and the ideal heat of the frying pan.
Sansa had paused in the doorway to the apartment, delight bubbling up inside her as she took in the sight, tears threatening to obscure her vision. It was everything she wanted for them both, a bond tentative and fragile but crafted of limitless potential. Watching Naruto beam up at Kakashi and watching Kakashi tentatively ruffle Naruto's sunshine-bright hair, Sansa knew it was the beginning for them, the beginning of something beautiful.
And then she broke her wrist during training.
Sansa had broken bones training before; Root was not a kind place and at one point the medic-nins had wanted to test how quickly her bones could heal after breaking. Jiraiya at least took her to the hospital to get it healed, but it was still bandaged when she returned home and when Kakashi saw it his face went blank and his chakra crackled with fury. He disappeared before Sansa could say a word and he didn't return.
Jiraiya said nothing during their training the following day, but that evening Kakashi didn't show.
He didn't show the following day either.
~
With the stress of her training and Kakashi's disappearance, Tsukiko's warning of the Full Moon Hunt had slipped Sansa's mind entirely, which was why it was such a shock when she found herself unceremoniously and without warning reverse-summoned to the clearing where she had first been introduced to Sayomi.
It was the middle of the night, the full, heavy moon having reached its peak in the sky. Tsukiko, Lady and Lady's litter-mates were not alone in the clearing when Sansa arrived. Instead, there were sixteen spirit wolves present, including Tsukiko, Lady, Gin, Haya, Katsu and Suki. Sayomi stepped forwards to greet her, the midnight-dark wolf almost blending in with the dark of the woods until she stepped under the moon and its glow turned her fur almost silver.
"The light of the mother moon blesses our meeting on this night, Sansa Stark Uzumaki Fuyuko," she rumbled.
"May her light bless us as we go forth and Hunt," Sansa replied, meeting Sayomi's eyes without letting her chin drop an inch. She could feel the growing pressure of Sayomi's will pressing against hers. But she remembered what Tsukiko had told her; she had to assert her will over the Pack. She could not back down to Sayomi, the Pack's alpha.
Sayomi's lips pulled back, revealing jagged teeth as large as daggers as she snarled, a terrifying sound that ripped through the entire clearing. Sansa bared her own teeth, small but just as sharp, reaching for that place inside her, that part of her soul that was so deeply intertwined with Lady that they were one even where they were apart, that part of her soul with claws and fangs wrapped in silvery moonlight, and she snarled back.
Sayomi relaxed from her hostile posture almost immediately, now radiating approval. "You pass the first test," she said. "Now, it is time to Hunt."
Sansa nodded, and closed her eyes for a moment, letting her senses search for any trace of life. Every creature, even some plants, had a spark of chakra in them, and Sansa had enough practice tracking with Lady's littermates through the forest that she suspected Tsukiko had been training her for this since the beginning.
"Lady," she murmured, finally locating the spark she was looking for. Lady loped forwards, ears alert and excited. Sansa easily climbed onto her back, as at home there as she would be anywhere. She slid briefly into Lady's mind, showed her where their prey was, and then Lady was running, howling for the pack to follow.
It was exhilarating. Leading the pack, feeling the bonds of the other wolves, feeling the thrill of the Hunt around her. The full moon seemed to have stirred something within them all, something primal, and Sansa's heart was thudding in her chest, her blood singing, a howl of her own trapped between her teeth, waiting to be set free.
Their prey was alone, grazing when they found it in a clearing of its own.
The elk was magnificent. Pure white fur with a rack of antlers nearly five feet in length on either side, the enormous beast could crush Sansa with one stomp of its hoof. The wolves surrounded it, Sansa still on Lady's back, and it backed up, lowering its antlers threateningly. Sansa silently slid off Lady's back, darting on silent feet around to its hind-legs, away from the threatening antlers. It paid her no attention, too focused on the threat of the wolves. The chakra seal blazed on Sansa's hand as she pressed it against the hind-leg closest to her then sprinted back, out of its way as it jolted, staggering several steps before collapsing, its heart having abruptly stopped in its chest, just as Danzo's had.
Once the elk was down, Sansa didn't hesitate to lunge forwards, leaping on top of the downed elk. Tsukiko had been clear that she was expected to eat first and eat the best parts of the kill. Lady approached and Sansa didn't move when she used her teeth to tear open the belly of the elk, ripping through muscle to get to the organs inside.
Another of the wolves, this one young-looking with fur a light brown that almost appeared golden, saw that Sansa wasn't chasing Lady away and tried to get close only for Sansa to snarl, letting Kurama's corrosive chakra flare in warning. When the wolf continued to approach, head lowered to snatch up what looked like a piece of liver, Sansa lashed out and the wolf yowled as Kurama's chakra burned.
"I am Lady, Lady is me," Sansa declared as the wolf back away, snarling. "We are one soul. This is our kill. We feast first."
But the wolf did not back down. They lunged forwards for her again, lashing out with claws that raked a line of burning pain down Sansa's hip. She gritted her teeth against the pain, Kurama's chakra flaring again to get the wolf to back away. She reached for Lady, her mind brushing against her wolf's, and they moved as one.
Lady was smaller than the other wolf, but she was vicious with it, faster, more agile, as she kept the wolf off Sansa, kept them distracted even as the wolf kept dancing away from Sansa, from the danger of her hands. The wolf was undoubtedly more experienced then Lady, but Lady fought as one who had already tasted the bitter, sharpened steel-edge of mortality, who had felt death's greedy grasp, and eventually the other wolf was forced to focus their attention fully on her and Sansa was able to slam her palm against one of their legs.
That was all it took.
There was a reason shinobi had spoken of Uzushio seal-masters and terror in one breath. There was a reason Kiri and Iwa had slaughtered the people of Uzushio then hunted down the survivors of Uzushio's destruction to slaughter them too, so their knowledge was forever lost, but for a dead woman whose ghost lived on in chakra and blood.
Seals wielded by a seal-mistress of Uzushio were terrifying.
'You're going to be one of the greatest seal-mistresses alive' Shin had told her.
In this moment, as the wolf fell, paralysed by her seal, and Lady gently but pointedly rested her teeth around their throat in a show of dominance, applying just enough pressure for it to be felt, Sansa could believe Shin.
Sansa released the wolf from the paralysis and this time they did not try to come at her again, instead hanging their head and backing away, shuffling close to the ground, a new respect in their dark eyes. Victorious, Lady returned to their kill, Sansa close behind her. It was time for the last (and worst) part of the Hunt.
Steeling herself, Sansa leaned down and picked up the least objectional looking piece of... meat. It was just meat. She could do this. Taking a deep breath, she blocked her nose and just... chewed.
And chewed.
And chewed.
And, finally, swallowed.
She almost brought it back up, but after retching twice, Sansa managed to convince her stomach to keep the raw, fleshy piece of... meat down and, triumphant, she looked up to the moon and howled. The pack joined in, the sound of it almost shaking the earth around them as it reverberated through Sansa's body, to her very soul.
Once the feasting was over, Sayomi approached her. "Sansa Stark Uzumaki Fuyuko," she said, and her voice carried across the small clearing to all those within it, "you have defended this Pack, you have led us in battle, and now you have led us in a Hunt under the sacred Full Moon. You have the Heart of an Alpha and the Soul of a Wolf."
Two of the other spirit wolves walked over, and Sansa was surprised to see they were carrying the antler racks from the elk in their jaws. "Your prize," Sayomi said warmly. "From your first Hunt. May you use them wisely."
"Thank you," said Sansa, not quite sure what she would do with them.
"And a gift," Sayomi said, "hold out your wrist."
Sansa did as she said and Sayomi bent her large head, opened her massive jaws and very delicately... bit Sansa.
There was a flare of pain as dagger-sharp teeth cut into delicate flesh, but there was also a strange, shivery feeling of chakra that wasn't her own, pouring into the wound. When Sayomi released her arm, there was no wound, only a silvery scar that resembled a full moon.
"What– what was that for?" Sansa asked, confused, staring down at the strange scar.
Sayomi looked amused.
"I made you pack now, in truth," she said. "You are pack in the way only another wolf can be pack."
"I'm not about to turn into a wolf, am I?" Sansa asked, alarmed. "I have too much I need to do in the human realm to turn into a wolf!"
Sayomi laughed. "No, you won't turn into a wolf," she assured her. "But you will feel the bonds of pack more keenly, now. You were already Alpha in all but name to Gin, Haya, Katsu and Suki, now you are their Alpha in heart and soul. Kita is... unusual. I'm not sure what you are to her. Or what she is to you."
"We are one soul, in two bodies," Sansa answered immediately, and Sayomi dipped her head.
"As Taiyō lost his challenge to you, he is also now yours to call upon," she said. "You will no longer be able to call upon us all, as you have done previously; now, you have your own Pack to call upon." Sansa nodded her understanding of this. "A sacrifice of blood over your mark of the moon will summon your Pack to your side," Sayomi continued to explain. "It is your duty as Alpha to train with them and grow strong together."
"I will take care of them all," Sansa vowed solemnly.
"I know you will," Sayomi agreed, the she-wolf sounding fond, "and I wish you many blessings in the years to come. May you find the peace you long for."
Sansa hoped so too.
She also hoped that someone would have an idea of what to do with a monstrously large pair of antlers, because she and Naruto certainly had no room in their apartment for them.
~
Jiraiya had given Sansa Sundays as her day off from training, making him a kinder master then Danzo– which he really hadn't appreciated her pointing out, sugar sweet with sharp teeth to match. She didn't care. If he didn't wish to be compared to Danzo, he shouldn't treat her as Danzo did. Like her choices didn't matter. Like this training, becoming a shinobi, had ever been something she'd wanted, and her soul didn't bleed in protest with every kata, and her heart didn't weep at the callouses on her hands, a warrior's hands.
Sansa had never been ashamed that she was not a warrior; she was a diplomat, a lady, and that had always been enough for her– she had been able to start and end wars just as effectively, if not more so, and more decisively so, then any warrior without ever needing to wield a sword.
But in this world, they equated strength with bloodshed and so Jiraiya was training her to be a weapon for his master to wield.
On the morning before Sansa left to attend her first Council meeting, she and Naruto made plans to visit the shrine together, a habit they'd started over the weeks where training had taken up the majority of Sansa's time.
Before she and Naruto left their apartment for the day, Sansa painted her face again, this time with the paints used by the "pretty neesans at Madam Ai's", as Naruto had proudly told her when he'd presented them to her with an eager smile. By which she assumed he meant the stage make-up used by the prostitutes, but Sansa was just touched that he'd gone out of his way to get her such a thoughtful present.
She'd spent her early childhood hiding her hair and whisker-marks from the villagers who vilified them for their Sacrifice, but now she painted the marks on her face bright and bold, Uzushio's symbol swirled proud on her forehead, and her hair done up in multiple little braids that were pulled back and twisted in a pattern that resembled fish-scales. The comb holding the braids together was carved from the elk's antlers; she'd sold them to one of the village's merchants, then used the money from the sale to commission from one of the antlers several pieces of jewellery.
She'd also bought a bolt of fabric the first Sunday she'd returned to Konoha, using the money from all the D-ranks Jiraiya had forced her to complete and sewn what was, by her standards, a simple but pretty dress over the last two Sundays while helping Naruto with his Academy homework, making sure that it would be ready for the Council meeting on the third Sunday of the month.
The dress was same blue as the face paints, the layers of fabric vaguely petal-like, building on each other and wrapping around the upper body. The hemline reached just below her knees and she'd bought long, tight-fitting leggings to pair them with. The purpose of the layered fabric would be to eventually conceal the seals she planned to stitch into the hidden layers of fabric when she had the time.
It was a style unlike anything in Konoha and she knew it would be eye-catching. She didn't care. She wasn't hiding, not anymore. If she went missing again, she wanted people to notice. She wanted them to ask questions. She would not slip away silently into the shadows, not again. Everybody in Konoha knew she was the one who had begun the public outcry into the Root investigation, everybody knew she had been abducted by Danzo and forced into Root. Just let them try to silence her now.
"You look so pretty," Naruto said, beaming at her. Copying her, Naruto had started painting over his own whiskers, choosing to alternate between bright orange and sunshine yellow, with a bright orange Uzushio spiral on his forehead, though she had made sure that he would tell anyone who asked it was an Uzumaki Clan symbol. She'd also put little braids in his hair at his request, just as she and Kanna had done when he was little.
People stared at them when they walked through the streets. Of course they stared. The difference was, as they walked through the Yūkaku compared to Konoha proper, not all the stares were negative. In fact, Sansa had been startled but delighted to see the growing trend of the children of the Yūkaku painting their own whisker marks on their cheeks with coloured paints. Naruto said it was Suzuki Tama who'd started it, painting black slashes across her cheeks, and after that it hadn't taken long for other children to pick it up.
"This is our warpaint," Sansa had explained to him the first time she'd ever painted Naruto's face, gently touching his whisker marks, "be proud as we wear it into battle."
Nobody else wore the Uzushio spiral and Sansa suspected that was Tama's influence too– the whiskers were one thing, the Hokage could ignore that, but having a hoard of half-feral children wearing the symbol of another village, even a dead one? That was too close to treason to be safe.
When Sansa and Naruto arrived at the shrine, they weren't the only ones present. Naruto scampered off to say hello to one of the 'pretty neesans', a freshly-folded white origami fox in his hand with its prayer carefully inked inside the crisp folds to hang on the wall, while Sansa bowed her head, letting the divine serenity cradle around her, closing her eyes and breathing deeply.
Today, her prayers were centred around Kakashi. It had now been over a week since she had seen him, but it wasn't because he was avoiding her. He was gone– Tenzo too. She'd stretched out her sensing as far as she could, but all that had earned her was a headache, blood leaking from her nose, a panicking Naruto and the certainty that he wasn't in Konoha or any of the villages closest to Konoha.
He was an active shinobi, so it was only natural that he would be assigned missions, but Sansa couldn't help the tight grip of fear that clenched her heart at the thought. Kakashi had so blatantly defied the Hokage in his defence of her and it was the Hokage who decided which missions Kakashi was sent on. What if he sent Kakashi on a suicide mission? Especially after Kakashi must have gone to confront him about Jiraiya's training... Kakashi did not have the option to say no to the Hokage. Not without it being treason, which would get him killed regardless.
And there was nothing Sansa could do about the situation except pray to Inari-sama to protect him, to keep him safe and whole and to bring him back to her.
She wondered how it was possible to miss someone so much when in truth she had only known them a few short weeks. And yet, Kakashi's chakra had hovered at the edge of her awareness her entire childhood, protecting her and Naruto, and she missed feeling it and the sense of absolute safety and security it brought her. She missed him. Her pack.
Sansa truly wished she'd had the opportunity to say goodbye– because her growing fear was that she would never get the chance again.