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arbus
Member
PROLOGUE
***
Imagine.
Hatake Kakashi sat on the edge of his bath tub and watched the droplets of water first form, then fall from the rim of the faucet in disconcerting irregularity. No echo in the almost hermetically sealed, standardized chamber that was his bathroom. The ceiling a cheap, waterproof plastic-y yellow, the floor seamless linoleum, his large feet a stark white contrast against it. He was naked and hunched with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he did not know how to proceed. The dull echo-chamber of shock held him captive and left him helpless like a bug on its back, the effort of getting back on his feet too much of a bother to even consider.
He followed the drops of water with his eyes, hypnotized, and in the back of his mind it sang: Hidan. Cyric. Hidan. Cyric. Hidan. Cyric.
Betrayal, it turned out, was a hard pill to swallow for him, an impossible one. Unthinkable, unimaginable. Loyalty, deeply ingrained in Hatake Kakashi’s DNA, made the concept abstract, obsolete, and now: unbearable.
Grief, then, was a more familiar beast. It would come in due time, trailing on the tail ends of numbness. It would stick like a long-haired ghost on his back and ride with him while he ate, while he slept, while he fought and practiced and went through the motions of yet another day, and endless array of days.
Hidan, he thought, yanking his eyes away from the leaking water and onto his open palm. His skin was scrubbed pink-raw-clean. His eyes still burnt from the smoke. Immortality, he thought. It was too big a word to wrap his head around. His fingers clenched, like claws, cramping as he formed a shaking fist. Hidan, he thought again, and the first sparks of life ran through him like electricity. Burning-cold anger a lifeboat in the open sea of nothingness. He embraced it with strained muscles, a strained mind.
*
Before.
Before the nothingness, there was excitement. A steady, underlying hum coursing through the deep layers of their skin, from the soles of their feet to the tips of their fingers. It was always like that.
Otogakure was not a shinobi village in the common sense of the word. It was hidden away in more places than one, sprawling over the rocky landscapes like metastasizing cancer cells. The location of the target’s hideout, a deep, hollowed-out cave like a gaping mouth in a formation of rocks high as mountains, had not been easy to find, nor easy to access.
The last of Rat’s messages that made it through was smudged, the code almost intelligible. The captain’s dogs were no use in this impassable terrain. It were the snakes that did the job. Anko a formidable tracker in her own right.
The infiltration was complete by then, though. The team was in position, with two of them cradled like monkeys in the cave’s uneven ceiling, a direct line of sight: the heads of a group of people, standing in a circle, waiting to convene.
Genma, codename Rat, was the only one among them immediately discernible, with the usual senbon like a bad habit sticking out of his mouth.
It was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be quick, and painless, casualties accounted for. The Hokage preferred the ringleader, a white-haired boy-man called Hidan, to be captured alive.
It was like the old ANBU days, and Hatake Kakashi was brimming with adrenaline and a masterfully hidden killing intent.
*
When the hand closed around his upper arm, Genma already felt the first sprouts of unease grow, watered and manured by the empty faces around him. Features carved in stone, unreadable. He turned his head, tongue pushing the senbon in the opposite corner of his mouth. The outer tip was layered with quick-acting poison. It needed to penetrate skin, enter the blood-stream, to render its target immovable.
Hidan, face hovering close, donning the attractive grin Genma liked in a perverse, thrill-seeking way, tightened his grip. And Genma’s instinct screamed at him to push the needle into his jugular before it was to late.
The blink-of-an-eye-possibility, and it passed, unacknowledged.
He didn’t do it because he knew his team close by, knew himself safe enough.
He didn’t do it because the thrill was like a blanket over his high-strung nerves, muffling the parts that contained reason, and fear.
He had always been like that. He thought he felt Raido’s eyes on him from the shadows but couldn’t be sure.
"What? Something up?", he asked around the senbon but by then it was too late.
It all happened fast, undeniable, sweeping him off his feet and up like a storm, like a tornado, carrying him and any thoughts and actions away in its unstoppable force. He had not realized that they were singing, or humming, or chanting. The words blurred, but one stood out like it had over the past six months he had spent amongst them, the buzzword, over and over and over again, so many times it made him sick to hear:
Jashin. Jashin. Jashin. Jashin. Jashin. Jashin. Jashin.
Late last night, he had taught Hidan how to use the senbon, and promised he would continue teaching him.
There had been talks of a feast for the honor of the Great Lord Jashin, at the full moon a month from now, and Genma had inquired if they were to dance naked around a fire, cheeky.
Now, he did not even feel the sting that drew blood. He had learned many things in his endless weeks with the Jashinists, but one thing above all: Don’t let him have your blood.
He had relayed that information to Iwashi, their middleman.
He expected the team to spring forward, now, because the blood bloomed bright red from the minuscule wound where a senbon, one of his very own, had pierced his skin on the back of his hand. He looked at it, looked at Hidan again, looked at the sickening, winning smile on his face, and waited for Raido to storm in, for the rest of the team to follow in a flurry.
Nothing happened, and he was swept away.
*
There was electricity in the air. Each and every one of the faithful ready, eager, anticipating this day for some time now. It will be a glorious victory worthy of their god. A sacrifice like none other. A step forward to demonstrate power, influence, terror. Such formidable offerings were sure to gain his attention, and in hopes, his blessing. A gift, perhaps. Each and every one of them craved it.
Hushed tones were about. One in particular, Cyric, quietly briefed their messiah on the current state of affairs. A fly on the wall danced with intention out of view from an unwanted audience. It fed their messiah's right hand the information he needed.
And then HE appeared, their latest initiate.
Malevolent tones turned seamlessly to cadence, a prayer. Our Jashin, our savior, who dwells in darkness, hollow be your heart. The others had turned away, positioning themselves best to serve. Hidan, their messiah, approaches the sinner, greeting him with a charismatic grin. Thy name be known, your glory shown, to fools who turn against you. He took to the outsider's side, pulling him in, a grip on sin, directing it to damnation. He was his to do with as he pleased. Grant us your power, our daily torment, and raise us above all mortals. The Shepard guided this lamb to the center of his wolves, so close yet just out of sight to those who would interfere. To let your faithful spill sinners' blood in your unending kingdom and sacrifice their souls to you.- "I like you, Genma. It's time I show you your surprise."
Amen
-First blood. The sight, the smell, the knowing had ravenous wolves upon their lamb in moments. Hands, reaching, everywhere, all for their sacrifice, all for the lord! Limbs restrained, pulling, tugging, then lashed to splay their victim for all privy to see, helpless and exposed. There were eye bolts anchored to the ceiling and the ground. A new addition for this special occasion. And once Genma was secured, a chosen few would gather by Hidan as he stood upon his ritualistic rune as the others surrounded the scene in a circle.
All were donned in familiar white robes. Genma would know from his time spent posing as one of them. They were symbolic. White to show the blood they spill. White to revel in massacre. It was a symbol of pride, many of them still stained with past offerings. Soon enough, they will be stained anew.
Meanwhile, a team specifically picked by our right hand were standing at the ready for the inevitable assault. Cyric had made his way through the narrow scope of the offending team's perception and into the obscurity of the larger cavern sitting at the end of the tunnel entrance. He had focused effortlessly on his chakra, walking up the cavern walls and silently positioning himself right above the tunnel entry. Two had flanked the tunnel entrance ready to deploy their custom-made device as soon as they were given the signal. One was hiding in plain sight. A fly on the wall danced in their figure eight.-
"Pain is a gift."
-Hidan began, lapping up the conduit to Genma's righteous judgement.- "And we're going to explore that pain to its fullest extent. Together."
-That grin twisted, painfully so, madness gleaming in the masochist's eyes.- "Aren't you lucky."
-There was some mocking bite to that last part as the killer's appearance changed to match that of a skeletal figure, death incarnate.
Hands raised heavenward, Hidan wordlessly invited his followers to explore his curse, and in turn, experience a taste of immortality. They were hungry. Those closest would inch forward, eager to indulge in this gracious opportunity. The unholy man's gaze was locked on Genma's, savoring every moment of fear portrayed, searching for doubts, regrets, APREHENSION. It was never enough. The wolves had exposed their claws as they tore into their savior.
-Daggers drawn from their respective sleeves, the cultists converged. One stepped ahead, pressing cold steal to Hidan's bare chest, unzipping his flesh as they drew it from his shoulder crossway to his abdomen. Another skewered him right through his thigh. Seeping red plasma painted the surfaces below and began to gather in drops to the ground. Hidan gasped, body shuddering, chest hitched from the stimulation of it all.
Another approached. He stalked up from behind his savior and pressed up against him. Each hand held a dreaded tool of torture and his arms wrapped around. One dug into Hidan's side, ripping through the connective tissue between two ribs and piercing right through, popping the lung just beyond. And the other? It trailed up to the hollow of our masochist's throat and invited itself in, flesh pushing inward to accommodate its guest. "It feels... s o g o o d."
-Hidan wheezed as blood bubbled from his mouth to trail down his chin.
Radio won't inform Kakashi's team of what was going on in here. There's just something interfereing with their means of communication. But if the inevitable sounds of distress were not enough to tip them off, then the sudden smell of iron and the increasing pool of blood expanding into view will. This day won't end until the entire floor is covered in it.
*
"Your plan failed."
"I know."
"You gave us only half of what you promised."
"I know."
"Guess your plan wasn't worth the shit you made it out to be."
"..."
"You've robbed us of one too many sacrifices. That really pisses me off! You know what happens when you interfere with the work of our faith... Don't you?"
"Yes..."
"So what are you going to do about it?"
"Our sacrifices will not escape their fate for long. I'll bring each and every one of them back, and they'll suffer more than any before them. By our hands... Especially-"
"You'd better hope you don't fail us again. I pray to Jashin for mercy on your soul. I'm done with you. Go away."
"Understood."
***
Hawkmoth
Дš Двovё : ₴o Bєloш
Six months prior:
"A new initiate, ah? Is it genuine? Or do you think it's one of those phonies?"
"We're about to find out. If not, we could j-"
-Two true and tried holy men of this newly populating faith were conversing with one another. It was only recently had they received the news. It struck them curious. Their voices were cut off as another suddenly made their appearance.- "I know you two aren't slacking off on your jobs. Because if you are, then you'll be surprised to find our next sacrifices will be made sooner than you think."
-Hidan was only half joking. The leader of this very group had positioned himself between the two, an arm reaching over each shoulder and pulling them in a little bit too uncomfortably close.- "Ah, n-no, brother. We were just about to leave."
-Hidan rolled his eyes.- "Yeah whatever. Get out of here already. Make sure our new friend doesn't arrive with any uninvited guests."
-Without further instruction, the two departed. A reasonable ways away and one looks to the other.- "Do you really think Hidan-sama would do that to us?"
"Nah! Only if we turn our back on our brothers and sisters."
-They grinned at one another, then split.
Good... Good. Everything is set. Things have changed once their numbers broke a certain threshold. Surrounding villages began to grow with unease as the number of missing people reports increased. Their numbers were still far too low for Hidan's liking. The idea of factions was a pleasant surprise. He'll have to celebrate the success of his follower's ideas soon. He was still their messiah, but now he had priests to form and lead their own initiates. Most importantly, these factions were in different locations. This allowed them to grow and defend their numbers more effectively, or so he's been told. If one faction was discovered, then the others would learn of it swiftly and adjust accordingly. So far so good.
Once Hidan returned to the predetermined meeting spot, all he had to do was wait. It was a new member or death. There were no other options.
Two additional followers were there with him. There was a harsh gate keeping mechanism in place to separate the devout from the rest. If their new friend wanted to join, then he'd have to pass the test. With that in mind, the immortal addressed his fellow.- "She ready?"
-The only answer came in a solemn nod.- "Good"
-He waved them off and the test was hidden away. Before anything escalated, they wanted to meet and greet the new guy.-
There has been a very dangerous change across the land. One after another, village after village, the Kage of the five great shinobi countries noticed it. It began with Konohagakure. Then followed Yugakure, Takigakure, and Kumogakure. It was a plague of sorts, only it contained a plethora of diseases rather than one virulent strain. People were dying. Shinobi and civilians alike were falling victim to contagion. The strange thing is, many of the identified diseases were considered easily containable, what with common hygiene and medical practices. It just so happens that the threat of the Jashinist cult rose shortly after sickness became a primary concern. Was this correlation or causation? Have more people, in there desperation, turned to dangerous sources for relief, or was there more to it than that?
Regardless of the answer, this plague was predicted to spread further to effect all great nations and surrounding villages of note. Small hamlets were largely spared. Their population curbed the number of cases in their favor. In addition to that, it appears the village hidden in sound hasn't faced any consequences of this epidemic, despite their seeming location in the eye of the storm. Suspicious. It was largely speculated that legendary sanin Orochimaru had a hand in this, but those accusations are unfounded upon.
The five nations, particularly Konoha were accosted on two fronts. Their goal and following efforts a forced split between two priorities: To put an end to the Jashin cult. To find the source of the collective plague.
Enter vermin. Normally he didn't wear this outfit, but his recent activity has called for it. Long black rubber gloves. Wouldn't want to touch this stuff. The results would be nasty. Leather boots! Best not to step on any syringes or senbons. You never know! He may have dropped one around here. It'd be funny if someone else stepped on it though, haha! Black collared cloak. It was easier to sneak about if you weren't wearing white, you know? Along with any other bright colors, not that he would anyway. Lastly, mask! A full faced gas mask to be exact. One of those old fashioned ones with the circular eye holes, which he tinted to make it harder for anyone to see his eyes. He'd rather not have his identity so easily revealed, especially considering the activity he's been up to. It's just that the gas mask will also come in handy in the circumstances anyone decides to smoke him, or expose him to any sort of toxic gas. He can't die now! He's got so much more left to do. Other than that, he wore his usual sound attire beneath the cloak. Oh yeah, and his necklace, but he kept that hidden beneath all layers. Best not to expose his affiliations either.
It was a delight, he thought, to be doing what he loved! He may not be as connected as his fellows were to their beliefs, but boy could he spread misery like none other. It was a labor of love.
At the moment, our doctor went over his mental checklist of all the fun little things he had at his disposal. Botulism, Anthrax, Tetanus, Lyme Disease, and, ohhhh! Rabies! He's been eager to see how well that will spread through his biting flies. It's going to be a load of fun to see the results in about, hmmm, six months. It would be like his very own sort of, ah, zombie apocalypse.
He was humming a rather chipper tune as he fumbled around his supply bag for something. His flies were hidden mostly within. Revealing one's abilities so soon was a death sentence. If he could keep his talents a mystery, then he's set up for a long time spreading chaos. There were, however, a small swarm of flies he always kept on the outside. His little scouts! It's only natural the doctor would want his privacy. If there were any nearby to see how he distributes his diseases, then that would be revealing one important card he had stowed away in his deck. The flies on the outside would fly in search of trespassers. Should one or more show, then a single fly will discretely return to inform him. From there, alternate actions would be considered. The last thing he wanted was a fight.
The jars of home-grown concentrated pestilence rattled ever so slightly as he finally found what he was looking for. Little tins, rectangular, crafted out of foil for the simple purpose of containing small amounts of liquid. The flies continued to scout for any changes in the environment as he began to lay out these tins on the ground. Today he'll be unleashing death on a different side of the hidden leaf!-
"A new initiate, ah? Is it genuine? Or do you think it's one of those phonies?"
"We're about to find out. If not, we could j-"
-Two true and tried holy men of this newly populating faith were conversing with one another. It was only recently had they received the news. It struck them curious. Their voices were cut off as another suddenly made their appearance.- "I know you two aren't slacking off on your jobs. Because if you are, then you'll be surprised to find our next sacrifices will be made sooner than you think."
-Hidan was only half joking. The leader of this very group had positioned himself between the two, an arm reaching over each shoulder and pulling them in a little bit too uncomfortably close.- "Ah, n-no, brother. We were just about to leave."
-Hidan rolled his eyes.- "Yeah whatever. Get out of here already. Make sure our new friend doesn't arrive with any uninvited guests."
-Without further instruction, the two departed. A reasonable ways away and one looks to the other.- "Do you really think Hidan-sama would do that to us?"
"Nah! Only if we turn our back on our brothers and sisters."
-They grinned at one another, then split.
Good... Good. Everything is set. Things have changed once their numbers broke a certain threshold. Surrounding villages began to grow with unease as the number of missing people reports increased. Their numbers were still far too low for Hidan's liking. The idea of factions was a pleasant surprise. He'll have to celebrate the success of his follower's ideas soon. He was still their messiah, but now he had priests to form and lead their own initiates. Most importantly, these factions were in different locations. This allowed them to grow and defend their numbers more effectively, or so he's been told. If one faction was discovered, then the others would learn of it swiftly and adjust accordingly. So far so good.
Once Hidan returned to the predetermined meeting spot, all he had to do was wait. It was a new member or death. There were no other options.
Two additional followers were there with him. There was a harsh gate keeping mechanism in place to separate the devout from the rest. If their new friend wanted to join, then he'd have to pass the test. With that in mind, the immortal addressed his fellow.- "She ready?"
-The only answer came in a solemn nod.- "Good"
-He waved them off and the test was hidden away. Before anything escalated, they wanted to meet and greet the new guy.-
▼
There has been a very dangerous change across the land. One after another, village after village, the Kage of the five great shinobi countries noticed it. It began with Konohagakure. Then followed Yugakure, Takigakure, and Kumogakure. It was a plague of sorts, only it contained a plethora of diseases rather than one virulent strain. People were dying. Shinobi and civilians alike were falling victim to contagion. The strange thing is, many of the identified diseases were considered easily containable, what with common hygiene and medical practices. It just so happens that the threat of the Jashinist cult rose shortly after sickness became a primary concern. Was this correlation or causation? Have more people, in there desperation, turned to dangerous sources for relief, or was there more to it than that?
Regardless of the answer, this plague was predicted to spread further to effect all great nations and surrounding villages of note. Small hamlets were largely spared. Their population curbed the number of cases in their favor. In addition to that, it appears the village hidden in sound hasn't faced any consequences of this epidemic, despite their seeming location in the eye of the storm. Suspicious. It was largely speculated that legendary sanin Orochimaru had a hand in this, but those accusations are unfounded upon.
The five nations, particularly Konoha were accosted on two fronts. Their goal and following efforts a forced split between two priorities: To put an end to the Jashin cult. To find the source of the collective plague.
▼
Enter vermin. Normally he didn't wear this outfit, but his recent activity has called for it. Long black rubber gloves. Wouldn't want to touch this stuff. The results would be nasty. Leather boots! Best not to step on any syringes or senbons. You never know! He may have dropped one around here. It'd be funny if someone else stepped on it though, haha! Black collared cloak. It was easier to sneak about if you weren't wearing white, you know? Along with any other bright colors, not that he would anyway. Lastly, mask! A full faced gas mask to be exact. One of those old fashioned ones with the circular eye holes, which he tinted to make it harder for anyone to see his eyes. He'd rather not have his identity so easily revealed, especially considering the activity he's been up to. It's just that the gas mask will also come in handy in the circumstances anyone decides to smoke him, or expose him to any sort of toxic gas. He can't die now! He's got so much more left to do. Other than that, he wore his usual sound attire beneath the cloak. Oh yeah, and his necklace, but he kept that hidden beneath all layers. Best not to expose his affiliations either.
It was a delight, he thought, to be doing what he loved! He may not be as connected as his fellows were to their beliefs, but boy could he spread misery like none other. It was a labor of love.
At the moment, our doctor went over his mental checklist of all the fun little things he had at his disposal. Botulism, Anthrax, Tetanus, Lyme Disease, and, ohhhh! Rabies! He's been eager to see how well that will spread through his biting flies. It's going to be a load of fun to see the results in about, hmmm, six months. It would be like his very own sort of, ah, zombie apocalypse.
He was humming a rather chipper tune as he fumbled around his supply bag for something. His flies were hidden mostly within. Revealing one's abilities so soon was a death sentence. If he could keep his talents a mystery, then he's set up for a long time spreading chaos. There were, however, a small swarm of flies he always kept on the outside. His little scouts! It's only natural the doctor would want his privacy. If there were any nearby to see how he distributes his diseases, then that would be revealing one important card he had stowed away in his deck. The flies on the outside would fly in search of trespassers. Should one or more show, then a single fly will discretely return to inform him. From there, alternate actions would be considered. The last thing he wanted was a fight.
The jars of home-grown concentrated pestilence rattled ever so slightly as he finally found what he was looking for. Little tins, rectangular, crafted out of foil for the simple purpose of containing small amounts of liquid. The flies continued to scout for any changes in the environment as he began to lay out these tins on the ground. Today he'll be unleashing death on a different side of the hidden leaf!-
arbus
Member
Shiranui Genma had been anything but idle these last couple of weeks. His preparation had taken place in the depths of the underground ANBU facilities that were buried underneath Hokage tower and extended through large parts of Konohagakure like secret arteries. The heart of it were the cells of T&I, spoken of only in whispers like old wife tales in the dusty streets of the village's market. Genma had wandered to and fro those sterile hallways like an ant hoarding for winter, and all the time he had felt just like that: with every passing hour he was getting nearer to a barren time devoid of the luxuries of safety and laughter among friends. Raido had grown increasingly stand-offish under the mounting pressure of his approaching departure, much like he was foreboding a storm.
Nevertheless, when the time came the goodbye was gentle and pleasant, and Raido had rubbed away at the unblemished side of his face in a nervous tick Genma did not know he had developed. He did not know if it had been a wise idea to take Raido onto their task force, but Kakashi claimed to have nothing to do with it, that the Hokage had been particular in his insistence.
Genma did not leave through the village gates but an underground exit hidden away even from the villagers. It was a secret evacuation line in case all else failed, and only a handful of people knew of it at all. Genma had joked that him being in the know was not a particularly good sign about the elders' belief of his chance of success, and when Kakashi hadn't laughed, he had realized to have hit the nail right on the head.
His last moments with a friendly face had been with Iwashi, who had been a member of the Hokage Guard Platoon for a much shorter span of time than Raido and Genma (with both of them having started their duty under the Yondaime) and was accordingly nervous for his first big carrier mission. He was the messenger, which meant he was the only and therefore the most important link between Genma and the village. He was Genma's lifeline, and the reassuring squeeze of his hand on Genma's shoulder felt good. Genma smiled a careless smile and waved himself off into the inaccessible terrain that was Sound and the uncertain future that lay ahead.
It had taken the best part of three months to work his contact with the group that called themselves the Jashinists to gain access to their leader, and the initiation rite. His contact, a young, cow-eyed woman of considerable beauty and an even more considerable amount of crazy had been eager but distrusting in a way that had told Genma much about the ways of this religion. The hierarchy was clear-cut if nebulous and the methods employed were nothing but fear and unsubstantiated promises of eternal life. It screamed fraud, and cult, but Genma supposed some people were too desperate to notice. Groups like this always preyed on the weak, and the Jashinists were different only in the way of their exponential growth. The Hokage and the elders had been deeply worried about the rumors that had taken hold of vast parts of Fire Country, and even amidst a health crises of the likes they had never experienced in Konoha before, they had decided to assign an ANBU task force to make inquiries in the real or imagined dangers of this cult.
That Hatake Kakashi was to captain this task force had come as a surprise to them all, albeit not necessarily as an unpleasant one. It had been a long while since Genma last worked with Kakashi; their ANBU days were long over. Kakashi had left ANBU before Genma, but Genma had always had a special role in the organization due to his assignment as a member of the Hokage Guard Platoon. They had had few missions together, back in their early twenties, in a time it seemed unimaginable for Kakashi to be anything else than an ANBU agent, much less a Jonin sensei.
The genin Kakashi trained had changed him; Genma knew it to be a positive development for Kakashi personally, but he was unsure what his absence of the ANBU lifestyle had done to his judgement.
He had not expressed his doubts to anyone but Raido, though, who had hesitatingly, uncharacteristically, taken an optimistic stance.
Now, in the middle of a ravine with walls stretching so high into the sky Genma was reminded that he was a mere blip in the grandiosity that was nature, that optimism did him a world of good. He thought back on Raido's reassuring smile, huffed a laugh, adjusted his back bag, and carried on. All he could hope for was that the crazy Jashinist lady had told him the truth, but another hour into his hike, he finally found the path that led to the plateau she had described.
The messiah will meet you there, she had said, awestruck. Genma had made an internal retching sound. Messiah, really?
It was not the first time he contemplated the narcissistic nature of the man that called himself messiah when he spotted a small group of people in the not-so-far distance. As the crazy woman had described, one of them wore a head of white-silvery hair, and Genma, after a swerving gaze around the vicinity, kept his eyes on him as he approached. He was surprised about the man's youth.
Our messiah will lead us into darkness, the crazy lady had said, eyes wide and full of misguided hope. He'll teach us Jashin's way. He'll teach us eternal life.
Genma's throat felt dry. He did not have to fake the look of apprehension on his face, nor the eagerness underneath -- though he was not eager for the eternal life bullshit, but for his mission, and the adrenaline this first contact brought with it. He rolled the senbon from one corner of his mouth to the other and stopped a few paces before the group.
"So, this is it, eh?", he said in lieu of an introduction, and grinned.
It had been one of those days again: the hustling, bustling halls of a hospital that was overstuffed and, frankly, understaffed, and Sakura followed Tsunade with swift feet, despite the soreness and the blisters from rushing about since seven a.m. Her mentor listed instructions so quickly Sakura was glad she had developed a sort of shorthand for it as she noted it all down on her clipboard. Medication, patient data, treatments. It was the final round of the day, and Sakura was glad. She was sweating, tired, and hungry, even though she did not notice any of it on a conscious level. So immersed was she in her tasks that she almost forgot that even an apprentice-healer needed to eat, and sleep, at least once in a while.
But Konoha had been a mess for weeks now; people dropped like flies (as Naruto wrote in one of his letters) not only in the civilian settlements of Fire Country but in Konoha itself, and nobody knew what was going on. This not-knowing gnawed on everyone's nerves; the village was on high alert. Rumors had spread about an foreign illness brought from some other country, but Tsunade was of the opinion that it must be some sort of biological weapon directed towards Konoha. And she was not the only one: the elders had talked about it in one of their meetings, which was strictly confidential information that Sakura only came by the ways of having Tsunade as her mentor. But Konoha's rumor mill was working fast and relentless, and on the market people exchanged, among others, similar theories.
When Sakura finally left the hospital, the sun had long set, and she directed her steps towards the food mile automatically. The streets were eerily empty, and the people she did see were all in a rush. Nobody stopped to talk, and every once in a while, much more often than usual, she saw the clay mask of an ANBU soldier on a rooftop, or a pillar. Usually, Kakashi-sensei had explained to her, ANBU were instructed to remain invisible. But in times like this, their presence was supposed to show the villagers that they were being kept save. Sakura thought that seeing them in the streets like this made everything worse, as it only contributed to the sense of surreality. How she wished Naruto was here. (She did not think of Sasuke too much, because it only made her sadder than she could afford to be these days). She sighed, silently and to herself. Ichiraku was close-by, and she would console herself with a bowl of ramen and then treat herself to a bath, before she went to bed.
Nevertheless, when the time came the goodbye was gentle and pleasant, and Raido had rubbed away at the unblemished side of his face in a nervous tick Genma did not know he had developed. He did not know if it had been a wise idea to take Raido onto their task force, but Kakashi claimed to have nothing to do with it, that the Hokage had been particular in his insistence.
Genma did not leave through the village gates but an underground exit hidden away even from the villagers. It was a secret evacuation line in case all else failed, and only a handful of people knew of it at all. Genma had joked that him being in the know was not a particularly good sign about the elders' belief of his chance of success, and when Kakashi hadn't laughed, he had realized to have hit the nail right on the head.
His last moments with a friendly face had been with Iwashi, who had been a member of the Hokage Guard Platoon for a much shorter span of time than Raido and Genma (with both of them having started their duty under the Yondaime) and was accordingly nervous for his first big carrier mission. He was the messenger, which meant he was the only and therefore the most important link between Genma and the village. He was Genma's lifeline, and the reassuring squeeze of his hand on Genma's shoulder felt good. Genma smiled a careless smile and waved himself off into the inaccessible terrain that was Sound and the uncertain future that lay ahead.
*
It had taken the best part of three months to work his contact with the group that called themselves the Jashinists to gain access to their leader, and the initiation rite. His contact, a young, cow-eyed woman of considerable beauty and an even more considerable amount of crazy had been eager but distrusting in a way that had told Genma much about the ways of this religion. The hierarchy was clear-cut if nebulous and the methods employed were nothing but fear and unsubstantiated promises of eternal life. It screamed fraud, and cult, but Genma supposed some people were too desperate to notice. Groups like this always preyed on the weak, and the Jashinists were different only in the way of their exponential growth. The Hokage and the elders had been deeply worried about the rumors that had taken hold of vast parts of Fire Country, and even amidst a health crises of the likes they had never experienced in Konoha before, they had decided to assign an ANBU task force to make inquiries in the real or imagined dangers of this cult.
That Hatake Kakashi was to captain this task force had come as a surprise to them all, albeit not necessarily as an unpleasant one. It had been a long while since Genma last worked with Kakashi; their ANBU days were long over. Kakashi had left ANBU before Genma, but Genma had always had a special role in the organization due to his assignment as a member of the Hokage Guard Platoon. They had had few missions together, back in their early twenties, in a time it seemed unimaginable for Kakashi to be anything else than an ANBU agent, much less a Jonin sensei.
The genin Kakashi trained had changed him; Genma knew it to be a positive development for Kakashi personally, but he was unsure what his absence of the ANBU lifestyle had done to his judgement.
He had not expressed his doubts to anyone but Raido, though, who had hesitatingly, uncharacteristically, taken an optimistic stance.
Now, in the middle of a ravine with walls stretching so high into the sky Genma was reminded that he was a mere blip in the grandiosity that was nature, that optimism did him a world of good. He thought back on Raido's reassuring smile, huffed a laugh, adjusted his back bag, and carried on. All he could hope for was that the crazy Jashinist lady had told him the truth, but another hour into his hike, he finally found the path that led to the plateau she had described.
The messiah will meet you there, she had said, awestruck. Genma had made an internal retching sound. Messiah, really?
It was not the first time he contemplated the narcissistic nature of the man that called himself messiah when he spotted a small group of people in the not-so-far distance. As the crazy woman had described, one of them wore a head of white-silvery hair, and Genma, after a swerving gaze around the vicinity, kept his eyes on him as he approached. He was surprised about the man's youth.
Our messiah will lead us into darkness, the crazy lady had said, eyes wide and full of misguided hope. He'll teach us Jashin's way. He'll teach us eternal life.
Genma's throat felt dry. He did not have to fake the look of apprehension on his face, nor the eagerness underneath -- though he was not eager for the eternal life bullshit, but for his mission, and the adrenaline this first contact brought with it. He rolled the senbon from one corner of his mouth to the other and stopped a few paces before the group.
"So, this is it, eh?", he said in lieu of an introduction, and grinned.
*
It had been one of those days again: the hustling, bustling halls of a hospital that was overstuffed and, frankly, understaffed, and Sakura followed Tsunade with swift feet, despite the soreness and the blisters from rushing about since seven a.m. Her mentor listed instructions so quickly Sakura was glad she had developed a sort of shorthand for it as she noted it all down on her clipboard. Medication, patient data, treatments. It was the final round of the day, and Sakura was glad. She was sweating, tired, and hungry, even though she did not notice any of it on a conscious level. So immersed was she in her tasks that she almost forgot that even an apprentice-healer needed to eat, and sleep, at least once in a while.
But Konoha had been a mess for weeks now; people dropped like flies (as Naruto wrote in one of his letters) not only in the civilian settlements of Fire Country but in Konoha itself, and nobody knew what was going on. This not-knowing gnawed on everyone's nerves; the village was on high alert. Rumors had spread about an foreign illness brought from some other country, but Tsunade was of the opinion that it must be some sort of biological weapon directed towards Konoha. And she was not the only one: the elders had talked about it in one of their meetings, which was strictly confidential information that Sakura only came by the ways of having Tsunade as her mentor. But Konoha's rumor mill was working fast and relentless, and on the market people exchanged, among others, similar theories.
When Sakura finally left the hospital, the sun had long set, and she directed her steps towards the food mile automatically. The streets were eerily empty, and the people she did see were all in a rush. Nobody stopped to talk, and every once in a while, much more often than usual, she saw the clay mask of an ANBU soldier on a rooftop, or a pillar. Usually, Kakashi-sensei had explained to her, ANBU were instructed to remain invisible. But in times like this, their presence was supposed to show the villagers that they were being kept save. Sakura thought that seeing them in the streets like this made everything worse, as it only contributed to the sense of surreality. How she wished Naruto was here. (She did not think of Sasuke too much, because it only made her sadder than she could afford to be these days). She sighed, silently and to herself. Ichiraku was close-by, and she would console herself with a bowl of ramen and then treat herself to a bath, before she went to bed.
