Adult-FanFiction.org : Naruto

ᗰOᑎᔕTEᖇ	By : Sessakag Category: Naruto > Het - Male/Female > Naruto/Hinata Views: 44706 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 19
- 20
- 21
Part Two
Creating A Monster
Chapter Twenty
S.O.S

March 7, 2010

All throughout the labs, was mind numbing silence.
The screams had stopped.
The vibrations gone.
And the yawning hush that took its place was slowly pushing Takahiro to the edge of insanity.
The silence, the quiet he’d prayed for time and again, was eerie, unnerving and unwelcome. Crawling over his skin and settling like a rock in the pit of his stomach. Anxiety tightened his insides, the empty muteness chaffing his already frayed nerves. The legless scientist was on edge, jumpy and tense. His mind was engaged in a constant search for sound, any subtle sign of life other than the occasional blinking and breathing of the jubokko. The jubokko hadn’t made a sound since the tree began its baying hum. Usually howling with hunger, the jubokko stood perfectly still, staring at the wall separating their cell from the fleshy, singing tree. They were starving to death, falling over from the brutal effects of malnutrition in their single minded enthrallment with the hum coming from the walls beyond their containment. They’d stopped eating each other to sustain their bodies, were no longer interested in clawing the walls in search of prey.
For seven days, the song was all that retained their attention.
The song that, thankfully, he could no longer detect with his human ears. The readout from his computer was his only awareness that the hum continued beneath the deathly quiet of the lab.
Dark eyes moved slowly to the demented psychopath still staring into the pit.
His heart ached, sharp pain filling his chest as he took in the tall, gaunt form of Kohei’s occupied husk. Toriyama had not moved from his plastered position against the plexiglass in a week. Hadn’t spoken or made any movements that indicated he was aware of his surroundings.
Ensnared, enraptured by the creature’s trill as deeply as the jubokko.
With his captor so entranced, situation was more than ideal for escape.
The silver haired male had thought of nothing but freedom since the beginning of the trance like state of the labs occupants. The burning desperation to put as much distance as humanly possible between him and the raving madness filling the confines of this place, was a constant needling entreaty. An all encompassing animalistic instinct to flee that he struggled to shove to the back of his fraught mind.
Takahiro couldn’t afford to get sloppy.
Didn’t dare give in to the compulsive need clawing through his brain.
Not when his chances of a successful escape were zero to none even with Toriyama’s disturbing captivation with the man eating flesh plant. The alien had clearly known what his reaction to the growing fruit would be, and had planned accordingly.
Takahiro’s murky orbs moved up to the corner of the room, meeting the lifeless eyes staring back at him. A shiver of unease slithered over his spine. Dread and nauseating anxiety contorting his stomach into knots. The unsettling puppet had climbed up the metal wall minutes before the trance began, settling into the high corner to watch him with an unblinking, intimidating gaze. Unmoving in its corner of the ceiling, the pale, female form was child sized with stringy white hair attached to its slightly elongated cranium. Its expressionless face was human, but lacked eyebrows and a nose. The shinny, dilated, bottomless depths of its glassy black pupils nearly overshadowed the whites of its sclera while its bloodless, thin lips were stretched into a razor toothed grin that split its face from ear to ear.
Its body was backwards.
Encased in a snowy white dress and gleaming black shoes, the puppet had climbed to its perch, then spun its head one hundred and eighty degrees to focus its attention on him.
And there it had remained.
For the past seven days.
The constant presence of Toneri’s monstrous creation added to the unease raising goosebumps along his skin. Feeding the burning fear and mind rending panic he fought daily. Contributed to the further degradation of his sanity.
It wasn’t the only puppet in the room. Two less threatening female puppets with the strength of three men stood on either sides of the lab entrance, poised to assist him when necessary. They were of average adult height, had normal human features and lacked the murderous grin of their companion. Their jobs entailed bring him tasteless bowls of gruel and assisting him from the wheel chair for bathroom breaks and fretful nights of sleep on the cot shoved to the corner of the room. The soulless puppets didn’t disturb him, didn’t fill him with dread and horror like the one watching him from the ceiling.
He swallowed, shifting his gaze back to the monitors on his desk.
On one panel of the four way split, the jubokko stood unmoving, turned towards the far wall in the direction of the flesh tree. The second panel focused on the gooey, skinny branches waving back and forth, their dance hypnotic and graceful. The third camera angle was zoomed in on the trunk of the crimson tree. He grimaced at the mushy mess of internal organs and left over skin of its victims. Digestion had slowed over the past few days, leaving four, vaguely humanoid shaped collection of exposed bones, twitching entrails, and pulsating hearts wrapped around the human consuming plant, held in place by thick black veins. Takahiro had long since muted the audio. The hum of the tree had reached a pitch unheard by his human ears, but its effects still whispered over his psyche, coaxing him to leap into the pit and add his body to the mash of bloody mess dripping from the trunk.
The muted call to death wasn’t what he wanted to tune out.
It was the noise of the tree consuming its prey, the loud suctioning that made his stomach turn, the low groans of the purest agony that left the lips of the humans turned meal. Takahiro wasn’t sure if the people glued to the trunk of the tree were actually alive or if the sounds of torment flowing from the mangled remnants of their mouths was a trick of his traumatized mind.
He spent as little time as he could observing that grotesque process.
Takahiro instead focused on the most important piece of the tree.
The small, lemon sized sphere hanging from the tallest branch of the tree. It was the culmination of his research, the hard fought efforts of the aliens holding him captive. And it was growing.
Day by day.
Hour by hour.
Gradually expanding in size. The red fleshy sphere was surrounded by a thick, hazy black glow that continued to darken in slow increments. The misty substance had started as a thick gray cloud, but now was blacker than the darkest black.
Repelling all light, natural or artificial.
The tiny fruit was the climax of several years of planning, rivers of blood and countless sacrifice, both willing and unwilling. The embodiment of a near perfect balance, far superior to their previous experiments. Takahiro found himself fascinated over the possibilities it represented, excited to begin testing despite the inhumane actions taken to reach this cursed point. The lure of new knowledge pushing back the paralyzing terror hanging around his neck. Somewhere inside him was as sick and twisted as his captors. Morbid fascination rose unbidden to his mind as he watched the sphere pulsate. His mind already turning over the potency of the serum the fruit would create, the effectiveness of the new formula. The results he anticipated it would produce were enough to make his constant, knowledge starved brain salivate. In times like this, where curiosity rose to the surface, his own ruthless nature floated to the forefront. The cruelty and savagery he himself was capable of in the pursuit of scientific discovery.
He’d stained his hands long before Toriyama and Toneri had come along.
Had been more than willing to sacrifice whoever he needed to in order to further his ambitions.
Even with his legs gone, his freedom a distant memory and the man he used to call brother dead, Takahiro felt pride in how far he’d come. Sick, disgusting, burning pride in the heinous acts he’d participated in while creating the jubokko. A sense of fierce satisfaction settled over his withered soul every time he looked at the growing fruit.
He was well aware that he was as sadistic as they were.
Unhinged and homicidal.
Even so, and with Kohei gone, he had no desire to remain beneath the thumb of beings crueler than he was.
Dismissing the video feed, the legless male opened a program on his computer and began typing, each stroke of the key careful, each word deliberate. The information was interlaced with a hidden message. An encrypted code of SOS tucked within sensitive data that he was certain would be of particular interest to a certain nation. If they took the bait and responded to his plea, he wouldn’t need to take a risk in trying to get out by himself. He could instead wait for rescue. Takahiro had never been a shinobi of worth, didn’t have the ability to fight with his handicap nor did he have any significant ninjutsu he could utilize that would lead to a successful escape, but he did have the latest in technology at his fingertips and the intellectual capacity to utilize it for his own gain.
Crippled and overpowered through he might be, his analytical mind was fully functional. He had watched his hated captors closely, and made use of the camera system throughout the facility to listen when they spoke.
Had done his own research under the guise of furthering the numerous experiments taking place.
There were things he knew about his alien tormentors.
Things they didn’t want him to know.
Information he could use not only as leverage to negotiate his release, but as a weapon against his enemies. Caught up in the excitement of bringing their ambitions to fruition, the careless arrogance with which they cloaked themselves in provided vital insight into the inner workings of the scheming beings.
Revealed weakness the pale aliens harbored.
Secret hideouts they’d carved out around the globe.
Location of other, more vulnerable Otsutsuki.
And the all important knowledge of what the Otsutsuki truly wanted.
Information was and always had been his greatest weapon, his best form of currency.
Takahiro pressed down on the enter key, watching the transfer until the gray bar filled green before a message popped up on his screen, confirming the transfer was complete. The hollowed pits of his soul twisted with malevolent triumph and quaking terror. He recognized his actions would have far reaching consequences, for him and the world at large. Even so, he felt no regret. No anguish over it. The Otsutsuki had taken from him, everything that had ever meant anything to him, ripped away parts of him both physically and emotionally, pieces that he would never get back.
Could never get back.
It was only fair he return the favor.
xxxxxx
April 5, 2010
Shikamaru strode down the dark halls of the Anbu headquarters, determination and an inkling of urgency in his step. He turned left at the next hallway and made his way to the single elevator at its end. Once inside the lift, he lifted his eyes to the square, metallic device above the doors for the retinal scan. The machinery shifted behind the circular lens at its center, producing a red light that glanced over his orbs before a soft click reached his ears. He turned to his right and placed his hand on the digital, palm shaped scanner that would unlock the elevator buttons. The scanner beeped, then retreated into the wood paneling, rotating to reveal silver buttons labeled with numbers with the exception of one that bore no marking.
He pressed the unmarked button, then waited as the doors closed and the elevator began its descent.
He stared back at his haggard reflection in the shinny steel doors.
He was more exhausted than he could ever recall being. The endless days and nights of responding to one disaster after another left him stressed and tense. Far from the carefree days of contemplating slowly drifting clouds or playing a game of Shogi. He was running to and fro, buried beneath paper work and civilian distress calls when he got a chance to sit at his desk. The number of towns and villages calling on the Hidden Leaf shinobi grew daily, while the amount of able bodied ninja continued to declined. Whether it was inside or outside the walls of Konoha, it seemed as though he couldn’t catch a breath. The pressure bearing down on his shoulders was mounting at an alarming pace. Coupled with the outside chaos was the internal intrigue slowly slithering through the ranks. The nagging suspicion that left him drenched in a cold sweat at night.
The alarming haunch that Myoku Yagutsu was not who or what he claimed to be.
A belief he share with the Hokage and Sai. The question of who or what the pale adviser was turned his blood cold. While they were trying to avoid jumping to conclusions, Shikamaru had a sinking feeling that the one he’d been mulling over would prove true. The frightening possibility that Myoku was in some way connected to the Otsutsuki. That he was using his authority and influence to not only shape the village to further some nefarious plot, but that he’d infected a number of higher ups, including the daimyo with his ambitions. It was a haunch he and the Hokage discussed only when certain listening ears were out of range of their hushed conversation, pouring over the alarming reports from the travelling Uchiha while the potential threat within Konoha was quietly investigated by their new Anbu Captain appointee, Sai.
The former Root member was a Godsend. His familiarity in navigating the inner workings of the shadowy extension of Konoha, his ability and willingness to be ruthless in the protection of the village had become key in the expulsion of compromised Anbu members. The socially awkward painter had settled into his position with scary efficiency, weeding out those that sought to side with Myoku’s suggested appointees, while nimbly avoiding the quiet attempts to end not only his reorganization, but also his life.
The pale adviser was fighting fiercely, silently to topple Sai. Had more nin working to do his bidding than Shikamaru and Kakashi had first anticipated. How and when the Anbu had become so deeply compromised was an open question that worried all of them.
One they didn’t have the time or resources to figure out.
Removal, voluntarily and involuntarily, of those tainted was their top priority. If they were going to trap and expose the ring leader, Myoku, they would need to dismantle the support he had and stop his influence from spreading.
The elevator stopped and the metal door slid open.
Shikamaru knew the adviser was aware that they were suspicious and without doubt knew they were investigating him. Overly confident and coldly egotistical, the adviser made no secret that he knew. Would taunt them with an arrogant curl of his pale lips when Shikamaru looked his way. The mildly amused, inky black stares Myoku leveled on him coupled with insinuating comments he tossed out on days Sasuke’s messenger hawk paid a visit left little room for doubt. The adviser knew he was being watched and didn’t give a shit. Found their actions contemptuous and comical. His reaction did little to ruffle the dogged determination Shikamaru felt. It made him all the more determined to prove what he already knew. To find out how far the poison had spread, and how much the daimyo knew about it.
Shikamaru trekked down the dim hall, up a flight of stairs and stopped in front of a wood door. Knowing Sai was already aware of his arrival, he skipped his customary knock and turned the handle.
Sai stood leaning over his desk, a large open map littered with bright red X’s and big circles. Shikamaru knew what the X’s represented. Areas officially declared dead zones were marked with an X. Areas where the population had been wiped out due to weather anomalies or jubokko attacks while the circles highlighted pockets of civilization that had ceased communications and were scheduled for further investigation. Two masked nin stood at his side, listening as Sai spoke. The dog masked male pointed to a circle, then ran his finger along side the depiction of a river before making a comment Shikamaru couldn’t hear. The room itself was wide and the walls lined with cubbies, shelves and file cabinets of priceless scrolls, documents and assortments of shinobi tools. The rounded table Sai stood before was off in the far corner of a low level den. It was customary for him to wait while Sai finished discussions, but with the information he had, Shikamaru couldn’t wait. What he had could place them closer to answers.
He moved further into the room, the low conversation beginning to reach his ears.
“Kusagakure is gone,” the crow masked male confirmed, his tone grim, “We spent days looking for bodies. We found a doze or so, carved into pieces and littered throughout the town but the rest have vanished. There’s no trace of them. May have been the jubokko but there’s no way to confirm it. No tsuchi left on the body parts, no eye witness accounts, nothing.”
“That would explain the radio silence.” Shikamaru commented as he reached the table.
“The shinobi we sent to investigate along with the border patrol are gone too,” Sai said, intense dark eyes moving over the map, “Kusagakure is the first country to go under completely.”
Sai reached for the red marker at the top of the parchment and marked the small land with a bright X.
“Any sign of the prisoners?” Shikamaru asked.
“Hozuki Castle was deserted. Blood splatters and a couple of limbs, other than that, nothing.” Crow responded.
Troubled by the news as he was, Shikamaru opted to hold his questions for the later briefing that would follow hours later.
“The intelligence department received another transmission,” Shikamaru informed the trio, tossing a folded piece of paper onto the map.
Sai picked it up, reading the brief message and following coordinates.
“A Hyuuga?” Sai asked, straightening to meet the other male’s eyes.
“’These coordinates contain answers. You’ll need a Hyuuga to discern its secrets’,” Shikamaru recited, “That’s all the information he left this time.”
“You think its a trap?”
Shikamaru shook his head.
“His last two transmissions panned out. He led us to a group of jubokko and the information he shared about tsuchi led to a medical breakthrough this morning,” Shikamaru reasoned, “he wants our trust bad enough to throw out some pretty valuable pieces of information but he’s got to be sitting on bigger pieces of the puzzle. We need to know what he knows. Its a risk but I don’t think its a ploy.”
The encrypted SOS had reached the intelligence department a month ago, leading to cautious curiosity and a tightening of cyber security, the unexpected and unknown hack proving to be both beneficial and disturbing. The male on the other end of the breach had propositioned the village for assistance, offering life and death information in exchange for extraction. Those working in the department had brought the data straight to him, and he in turn had informed the Hokage and Sai. For the past few weeks, Anbu were sent to confirm the accuracy and validity of the claims being made, and each time returned successfully with vital information.
“Who do you suggest?” Sai asked.
“Hinata’s the only Hyuuga off duty and we can’t spare any others,” Shikamaru said, “Sakura’s been working non-stop since we got the information about tsuchi and she needs the Hyuugas assigned under her. The remainder are still trying to decode the text about Cyilo.”
“Sou, collect Hinata and bring her here for briefing.” Sai instructed.
The dog masked gave a small inclination of his head before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
“Crow, you’re dismissed.”
When the two were alone, Sai spoke.
“You’re going to have Cockzilla pelting you with questions.” Sai pointed out, his lips curled into that false smile he teased Naruto with.
Shikamaru couldn’t help but sigh with exasperated amusement at the use of the nickname. Crude as it was, the small attempt at humour briefly lightened the weight bearing down on his shoulders.
“What a drag,” Shikamaru huffed, “that guy’s gonna be an earful.”
Even as he said it, Shikamaru could sympathize with the energetic blonde. Could understand the concern he had for her safety despite his woman’s strength and training. Temari had returned Suna months ago and if he hadn’t been as busy as he was, he would have spent the time apart wringing his hands with worry while figuring out the quickest way to join her in the Land of Wind. Temari had gone back to help the struggling land organize rescue mission, fortifications and solutions to the intensifying droughts. The disasters, both natural and otherwise kept his fiancee busy, often leading to weeks on end without a single instance of communication between the two. Shikamaru often held his breath during times of silence on her end, stressed and panicked that the silence would one day mean more than just a busy schedule.
His lover’s death was a possibility he struggled to make peace with.
Contemplating the scenario made him sick inside.
Pushing it to the back of his mind, shying away from the creeping fear when her end went quiet was the best he could do. His only way of coping with the dangers that came with the headband she wore.

xxxxxx
It was the middle of the night when the knocks pulled him from his slumber. Naruto groaned, but made the concerted effort to leave the realm of dreamland. He detangled himself from the warm embrace of his girlfriend, scooped his boxers and sweats from the floor and dressed quietly in the dark. The haze of sleep cleared from his mind as he pulled the gray elastic pants up around his waist, foregoing his t-shirt tossed negligently on the window seat across the room. Shuffling and a low yawn brought his blue gaze to the naked female rising sluggishly from the rumpled sheets of his bed.
Midnight mane mussed, Hinata yawned again, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
“It’s probably for me,” Naruto muttered with a sigh, ruffling his hair, “A few shinobi haven’t come back from the eastern region and Kakashi-sensei mentioned he might need me to pick up the slack.”
She nodded, but instead of lying back down, rose from the bed and trekked to the bathroom. He sighed glumly as supple flesh and gentle curves disappeared behind the door, but turned his mind to the possible upcoming mission, running through scenarios that would warrant a late night visit. He moved with ease through his dark apartment to the front door and swung it open. Cerulean orbs widened slightly at the sight of the dog mask starting back at him. The ninja was as tall as him, burly and garbed in a sleeveless black top beneath a gray flak jacket and black pants. Not the late night guest the blonde jonin had been expecting.
What the Anbu wanted from him, he couldn’t fathom.
“Excuse the intrusion,” the masked male began in a low voice, “I have orders to retrieve Hinata Hyuuga.”
Surprise washed over him.
“Hinata?” he repeated.
The Anbu gave a short nod.
“Please inform Ms.Hyuuga of my request.”
While he was overflowing with questions, Naruto held his peace and turned back to the apartment, leaving the door open as he back tracked. He’d get nothing from the disciplined nin.
“Hinata,” he called as he walked through his bedroom door, “The Anbu are here for you. He said he needs you to go back with him.”
Hinata stepped from his closet, his mission gear clutched to her bosom. She’d taken the time to slip on the t-shirt he’d ignored and had been in the process of helping him get ready for an impromptu mission.
“Me?” she asked, brows creasing in confusion.
“Yeah, you think it has to do with your decryption assignment?” Naruto asked.
She thought for a moment, then shrugged.
“Maybe,” she murmured, “But I’m not due back for at least another week.”
The intelligence department had composed a rotating schedule for the Byakugan users, one that reduced the chance of eye strain. Hinata was currently on her off week. Unless one of the Hyuuga on duty had come down with eyes strain, Hinata wasn’t due back for a while. The summons could also stem from the medical bay. Developing treatment, testing techniques for the restoration of tenketsu had put the Hyuuga in high demand within and outside the walls of Konoha. Even in that case, Anbu wouldn’t be the shinobi to escort her to the medical labs. One of Sakura subordinates were usually the ones to come knocking, not a member of the mask wearing covert group. While he knew there were some thing she couldn’t talk to him about, new discoveries and information she wasn’t authorized to share, this was the first time it truly bothered him. He could deal with the hushed mouths, the rebuffs to his numerous inquires, but this whole scenario disturbed him.
What did the Anbu need from his other half?
And how much danger was involved?
Hinata retreated back into the closet before returning with her own gear. He watched as she shed his shirt, searched the drawer for undergarments, then began to dress.
“I don’t like it, ‘ttebayo,” he told her, crossing his arms over his chest, “Anbu showing up in the middle of the night? Seems excessive for you to need an Anbu escort back to the labs or the intelligence department.”
Naruto couldn’t keep the worry from his voice. It was hard enough leaving her behind while he took his team to and fro around Fire Country, memories of returning to a village flattened by Pain at the edge of his mind each time he left. Even with that worry, he’d held on to the comforting thought that while she was here and engaged in decryption and medical advancement, she was at least off of active duty. Away from the increasingly dangerous times they lived in, far from the jubokko, Otsutsuki and whatever else was out there that was responsible for murders and mysterious disappearance of a significant amount of shinobi from every nation.
She buckled her tool kit around her waist, then followed him out into the hall. They stopped near the kitchen. Luminous lilac orbs met his, the gentle assessing look pinpointing his current mood. She smoothed the small frown from between his brows before rising up on her tiptoes. Naruto leaned down and accepted the quick peck on the lips she gave him.
“If I can tell you what’s going on when I get back, I will. Try not to worry, okay?” she asked, this time smoothing her fingers over the whisker marks of his right cheek, “if you worry, then I’ll worry about you worrying and then we’ll both be worried.”
He gave a small curl of his lips when she smiled, appreciating her attempt to lighten the seriousness of the situation, though apprehension crept back into his expression the second she turned back. They continued on to the Anbu still standing just outside the threshold of the door.
“Hinata Hyuuga,” the Anbu said from behind his mask, “I have orders to retrieve you. Please come with me.”
His pale girlfriend nodded, gave him another reassuring kiss and wave, then followed her escort, leaving the young Uzumaki on edge. He was half tempted to wring his hands with worry. Angst twisted his gut.
‘You’re worse than a mother hen with a flock of chicks.’ Kurama grumbled.
“Can’t help it, ‘ttebayo,” he muttered to the kyuubi as closed the door.
‘Give the female more credit,’ Kurama rumbled, ‘She’s no push over.’
Over the last few months, the fox and his girlfriend had gone from familiar strangers to good friends, often chatting together during the increasingly frequent days he returned home to pass out, completely exhausted from back to back missions. Naruto didn’t mind Kurama taking over to chit chat with Hinata, but he found it weird to fall asleep in his bed only to regain consciousness on the couch watching a movie or at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in his hand.
‘After all, she knocked you out last time,’ the Kyuubi gloated, ‘Or did you forget waking up in a puddle of drool?’
Naruto grinned at the memory. One of their taijutsu training sessions had gotten particularly heated. He was good at taijutsu but Hinata was a beast in close combat. Having learned his lesson about pulling punches in fear of hurting her, the blonde Uzumaki had long since taken off the kid gloves. While sparring kept her skills up to par, the back and forth had also honed his own skills. Feeling a bit cocky, he’d convinced the reluctant Hyuuga to utilize Juuken along side their hand to hand combat, next thing he remembered was being face down in a ‘puddle of drool’.
His gentle girlfriend was deadly when she needed to be.
‘Upsetting yourself over it isn’t going to change anything.’
“I know that,” Naruto pouted as he ambled to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice, “She can take care of herself but what do you expect me to do when the Anbu shows up in the middle of the night? You’re worried about her too.”
The sly fox offered no denial, merely huffed his exasperation with his troubled host.
“Have you heard back from Shukaku?” Naruto asked, moving from one worry to another.
‘No.’
The growled negation held an undercurrent of tension. Though he tried to bury it beneath a facade of nonchalance, Naruto could tell Kurama was concerned about his bijuu brethren. The two shared mental space, were connected in a way that left little room for private thoughts and feelings. Naruto didn’t remark on Kurama’s worry, knowing the fox wouldn’t admit to it anyway.
He fished a glass from the cabinet, then poured himself a glass of orange juice.
“Has he ever been quiet this long?”
‘Not since he was put inside the brow-less kid.’
“Gaara,” Naruto supplied absently as he took a sip, “Maybe he’s ignoring you again. You did call him a weakling and made fun of his tail last time he answered. He’s sensitive about stuff like that, dattebayo.”
The two bijuu often argued with little heat, their dynamic much like his and Sasuke’s. The boisterous, often confrontational tanuki hadn’t seemed anymore affronted than usual after Kurama’s teasing slight but maybe he’d taken it more personal than they thought. The single tailed bijuu wasn’t responding to repeated attempts to contact him through their shared subconscious channel.
‘Even if he was still mad, having all of us reaching out to him over and over would be enough to irritate him into answering one of us. He would have thrown one of his tantrums long before now.’
Naruto didn’t know what to make of that. He was holding out hope Shukaku was just being his normal childish, stubborn self and had taken it a bit far, but his optimism was fading quickly. Kurama knew Shukaku better than he did, after all. The circumstances around the sudden silence had been suspicious to say the least. A few hours after Kurama and Shukaku’s spat about tails and power, the one tailed bijuu had gone to complain to Matatabi and during that conversation, Shukaku had mentioned hearing something.
A song that ‘made him want to follow’, according to Matatabi.
Once uttering that cryptic description, Shukaku had dropped communications and hadn’t spoken again since.
‘He may have been sealed again.’
“I don’t think he’s been sealed and I asked Kakashi-sensei and he said as far as he knew the other Kage haven’t authorized any sealing. We came to an agreement after the war, there’s no reason for anybody to seal you guys up anymore.”
Kurama gave the equivalence of a shrug, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone.
‘When has agreements of peace ever stopped humans from doing anything?’
Naruto didn’t take the jab to heart. Despite the peace and understanding that had come of the war, Kurama’s mistrust and anger towards humans flared every once and a while. Old wounds reopening in the face of human atrocities that continued even after the battle with Kaguya. Comments lamenting the behavior of humankind weren’t frequent, at least not in the way it was being conveyed now. Kurama’s snarky remarks were usually made in jest or to tease his bumbling host. The flippant assertion he’d just made had come from a place of pain the kyuubi had yet to reconcile.
‘It wasn’t aimed at you, kid,’ Kurama grumbled, ‘Besides, you’re too disgustingly optimistic to be human anyway.’
Naruto sighed, opting to let the comment stand.
“He’ll turn up soon, Kurama,” he said instead, “And if he doesn’t we’ll go look for him.”
xxxxxx
Ino sucked in several breaths, beads of cold sweat sliding down her forehead. The snarling, howling creature across from her twisted against the metal restraints anchoring it to the steel gurney. The jubokko was white as sheet, his gaunt body made up of jutting bones beneath pasty skin. His gray hospital gown was stained with dried speaks of tsuchi and blood, and the dark brittle hair atop his head was torn out completely in several spots. His brown eyes were wide and wild, surrounded by reddened sclera, moving over the room in search of a meal. The moment his orbs met hers, he strained against the bindings, tearing at the metal slab beneath him, his howls desperate and ravenous.
She was inside one of the containment rooms of the underground facilities, about to delve into the mind of a jubokko that was more human than monster in the hopes he still retained valuable memories.
“Take your time, Ino.”
She glanced up at Sakura. Her childhood friend stood next to her chair, her emerald eyes tired but determined. The last time Ino had entered the mind of the jubokko, she’d lost consciousness after returning to her body. Sakura insisted on monitoring her personally afterwards and while Ino had bulked at first, her mostly absent boyfriend had backed the pinkette when he found out. Bullied on both sides, Ino had relented. She was hard pressed to admit she was glad her friend was at her side.
“I’ll be right here when you come back.” Sakura assured her.
Ino didn’t bother with the facade of confidence, or over the top bravado.
She was scared.
She released a soft breath, struggling to calm her mind. She brought her hands up, forming the hand sign that would take her to a place she dreaded.
The world faded, and she was catapulted into a mind not her own.
Her skin tingled, stomach churning, the sensation of connection jolting. Eyes held shut against the dizzying scene around her, she reached for the condensed pocket of murky psyche, wading through the stinging barbs blocking her telepathic path. A sharp pop and the sudden give of resistance signaled she’d entered the mental space of the creature. Ino opened her eyes, blue orbs moving over the dark haze filling the confines of the jubokko’s subconscious. The smoky clouds drifted over crumbled walls, the mass twisting and writhing in a pattern that seemed organic. Chills spread over her skin as she began a slow drift through the billowing mist.
She looked around, noting the lack of roots in the outer layer.
The mind of this jubokko was different from the others.
Less cluttered.
More human than the last.
A massive amount of his brain untouched by the tree’s influence.
At least for now.
It was several minutes before she reached the inner wall of his mind. The sagging, cracked wall was covered in roots.
Ino swallowed hard, the inklings of anxiety creeping up her neck.
She took a breath, then pressed her hand against the wall, forcing the roots to part as she slipped through the wall. The black haze was darker, more condensed inside. The roots thick and writhing within. Ino’s incorporeal form drifted forward through the mist, gently pushing aside thin black roots hiding beneath the smoke. Unease crawled up her spine, anxiety tightening her throat as the pointed ends scrapped against her skin. The sensation felt wrong, synonyms to claws grating against a chalkboard.
Unpleasant and uncomfortable.
She took another breath, bracing against the driving urge to disconnect and retreat to her own body. Panic teased her conscious mind, the painful quiet and dense cloudiness slowly becoming suffocating. It was full of bitter hatred and agonizing pain, weighed down with the hollowed pieces of the former human’s soul. She could feel the horrible energy sinking into her pores.
Ino gagged, placing a trembling hand to her mouth.
The psyche of these creatures was something she didn’t think she would ever get used to. The clash of their energy against hers was akin to being held down while nails were hammered beneath her fingernails.
Unbearable on a level the blonde could scarcely put into words.
The haze darkened, visibility fading. Her blue orbs widened, desperately seeking light.
“Calm down, Ino,” she whispered to herself, “You can handle it. Don’t panic.”
Sweat slid down her spine, dread spreading in her gut.
“You’re fine. It’s not real. You’re only here temporarily and then you can go back to your body.”
Something squirmed ahead of her, the squishing sound cutting through the thick darkness and reverberating silence. Ino sucked in several breaths, hanging on to her rapidly declining nerves as best she could. The fine hairs at her nape stood on end as she drifted closer, slapping frantically at the roots gliding over her flesh. The sharp ends were growing, thickening the closer she got to the mass in front of her.
She could barely make out a central collection of contorting blackness, moving, shifting, shaping and reshaping in the surrounding void.
She stared, paralyzed as it reached out to her with a low howl she hear with her mind rather than her ears. Limbs trembling, Ino took a step back, color leeching from her face. The tugging of roots at her skin brought her crashing back to herself. She slapped frantically at the prickling growths, pulling the from her flesh. Emotions began to leak, bleeding into her subconscious through the roots she forced away, roots that were refusing to be pushed aside. The black growths swarmed, their pointed ends find the softness of her skin. They were sticking to her, burrowing beneath flesh, tunneling through her veins. Ino screamed, fighting the incorporeal binds, rejecting the forced deepening of their psychic connection.
She could feel him.
She was him.
Agony ripped through her stomach.
Hunger, so deep, so painful blasted her reeling brain.
She needed blood.
Chakra.
She was starving.
Ravenous to her core.
Teetering on the edge of insanity
It was his hunger, her hunger, the creature’s hunger.
Confused, panicked, Ino pulled away from the deeper connection. Fleeing the painful sensations, the tightening roots sticking to her body. A sob of terror left her lips as she pulled harder against the snare of gripping roots. The midnight growth yanked back, dragging her closer to the vortex of swirling mist.
“Inoooo”
The inhuman formation of her name terrified the struggling blonde. Her eyes widened, lungs seized as rational though left her mind. She twisted, clawed, an animal gripped in the throes of unmitigated horror. Sticky roots ripped at her skin, tearing her flesh from her bones, slithering through fat and muscle to sink into her internal organs. The agony, the ungodly pain shattered her screaming mind as she yanked desperately for the small line connected her subconscious to the monstrous psyche she was trapped in.
A click of connection reverberated through her body, salvation inches from her finger tips. She strained against the roots, bones snapping as she reached for the line that would take her back to sanity.
“Innoooooo!”
The voice scraped her eardrums, forcing a wail of pain from her bloody mouth.
Ino strained harder, the ripping and tearing of her flesh echoing in the dark void. Warmth filled her body, sheering the roots from her body, healing skin and mending bones, the sensation painful in itself. The world rushed by as she was ripped away from the mist and flung into the outer layer of the creature’s mind, hurtling for the doorway she’d entered through.
“Help me…please…”
The male voice reached her ears in the chaos, his plea holding a wealth of pain and desperation. A floodgate opened, memories funneled into her brain.
Flashes of a past life.
The smiling face of a much more human version of the jubokko she was connected to.
A snapshot of the man in a lab, lying back on metal table.
The dark silhouette of a bespectacled male holding a syringe.
Ino slammed back into her body, screaming, retching, her stomach twisting and contorting to expel soul rending darkness.
“Ino!” Sakura cried out in alarm as the Yamanaka turned and vomited on the floor.
Inky black liquid spilled onto the floor in a rush, filling the room with a smell that resembled a rotting corpse. Her body spasmed, shuddering violently as it rejected the negativity she’d brought back with her. Her throat burned, thick black liquid spewing from her lips. Her eyes watered, the vague sounds of shouting a distant ring in her ears. Familiar arms grabbed her, straightening her slouching body, pulling her hair back from her face.
“It’s okay,” came Sakura’s hushed voice, “Let it all out.”
The medical nin rubbed her back in soothing circles, supporting her flagging body with strong, yet gentle arms. Long moments of pure hell passed before she calmed. All the while, her best friend bathed her face in a cool cloth, washing the sweat and tears from her face.
“I think that’s all of it,” Ino whispered, her voice hoarse.
“You sure?” Sakura asked, “because if you get any of that on me its not going to be pretty, Ino-pig.”
A soft chuckle left the shaky Yamanaka.
“Can it, billboard brow. Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?”
Several people walked into the room, mops and sanitizing chemicals in their hands. Recognizing a few face she worked alongside, Ino gave a sheepish, embarrassed frown as they began cleaning the mess she’d made.
“Sorry guys,” she murmured, heat filling her cheeks.
“Don’t worry about it,” a short brown haired woman negated, “trust me, we’ve cleaned up worse.”
“Why don’t you take her out while we tidy up in here.” a tall, red haired male suggested kindly as he mopped.
Sakura wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her from her chair in a single motion. Ino leaned heavily against the white coated pinkette, her steps slow and unsure as they ambled past the unconscious jubokko and out the door. Sakura led her to an empty containment room a few doors, maneuvering her to the single bed in the room. The exhausted blonde felt dizzy by the time she sat down again, the room tilting, her lungs struggling for air. Her body felt stiff and achy, her head throbbing, the tingling warning signs of a impending migraine gathering behind her eyes. Something wet slid down her nose.
“Ino, you have to slow down,” Sakura rebuked, her voice tinged with anger and fear as she dug into her pockets, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.
Sakura handed her a tissue, watching quietly, worriedly, as Ino wiped blood from her nose.
“You’re only scratching the surface of what’s inside the mist and it’s already this bad.”
“I didn’t pass out this time.” the Yamanaka pointed out, wiping her stinging eyes.
“Is that supposed to make it better?” Sakura asked, “You might as well have lost consciousness compared to what just happened.”
“The point is, I didn’t lose consciousness because I’m starting to get used to being inside. I have to build up a tolerance. It sucks but that’s how it works. You think this is bad, you should have seen me when I first learned to enter other people’s subconscious. I was a wreck for two weeks.”
Sakura wasn’t moved by the assertion, her expression arranged in disbelief. Ino sighed.
“I’ll admit, they’re worse than humans,” she shivered, dread tightening her chest, “much worse, but I can handle it and I didn’t come away empty handed this time. At the end, before I disconnected he spoke, showed me memories of the time before he became what he is now. It was covered up underneath the mist.”
“That’s all well and good but you can’t go that deep into their minds when you can’t handle it. You’re adding stress to your body. Traumatizing yourself physically and emotionally over and over again.” Sakura argued, “For goodness sake, Ino, your body purged involuntarily. That’s never happened before. How much of that energy did you bring back with you for your system to react that severely?”
Ino swallowed, her queasy stomach reliving the black embodiment of negative energy that had flowed from her mouth. Purging orally was not something she’d ever done, having no control over the purging process was also an alarming development she hadn’t even known was possible.
It was something she would need to be careful of, something to think about…
Later.
She couldn’t think about anything right now.
She hurt too much.
Pain lanced through her eyes, threading through her cranium and settling at the base of her skull. She bit back a groan of discomfort, bringing her hands to her temples.
“All I’m saying is that you need to slow down.”
“Its easier said than done, Sakura. A lot people are depending on us,” she reminded her friend, “You know that even better than I do.”
Sadness filled her chest as concerned emerald orbs turned haunted. Ino regretted her words as naked pain and torment etched across Sakura’s face. Ino knew well the burden crushing her friend. The sleepless nights she suffered, the weeping spells before she went in to work, the deep wounding of her soul on days she lost patients. Sakura had an even tougher road than she did. One that seemed determined to crush her best friend.
“I’m sorry.”
Sakura shook her head, then sucked in a stabilizing breath.
“Don’t be, you’re right. A lot of people are depending on us, but we can’t let that sense of urgency make us reckless,” Sakura reasoned, “We’re no good dead on our feet.”
Sakura turned away, her body lined with tension.
“We…have limits,” came her painful admission, the words hallow, “I can’t save everyone and neither can you.”
There was a wealth of shame, anguish and resolve in her whispered words. The tone resonated with the haggard Yamanaka.
“Listen,” Ino said, “Sai’s gone for the night and we both need a break. Let’s go to my place and recoup.”
Sakura seemed hesitant, her lips moving to form an excuse to stay closeted in the lab. Ino grabbed her friend’s hand.
“Work will be here in the morning and I could really…” Ino felt her eyes water, “I don’t want to be by myself tonight.”
The horror would come back soon. It was nipping at the fringe of her mind, a looming shadow waiting to take her under the moment she paid it the slightest attention. Tonight, sleep would be a nightmare, she knew that, was preparing for it, but even so, she needed someone to hold her hand through it.
Sakura’s face softened.
“Sure, Ino. Give me a minute to get someone to cover the rest of my shift and we’ll head out.”
Ino nodded, and Sakura stood.
The moment the door closed behind the pink haired woman, Ino collapsed forward, gagging. Her body shook, quaking. Sore muscles tensed and the maw of terror crawled up her spine. She panted, struggling for breath, twisting in the grips of panic. Tears of stress slipped down her cheeks, fat droplets dripping down her chin. A soft noise in the corner of the room brought wide blue orbs swinging around. Heart pounding, Ino strained, staring hard into the darkened corner of the room, half expecting to see slithering roots and a mass black smoke reaching towards her.
The corner was dark, but empty.
“I’m fine…”she whispered, “I’m fine…”
xxxxxx
Apologies for the delay, I have a lot of shiz going on. The holidays really suck. As some of you know I’m still dealing with my little brother’s death back in May so going through the major holidays without him for the first time is tough as hell and for some odd reason a lot of family members have gotten really sick to make matters worse. I have my maternal grandmother here and I’ve been volunteered to help her, so things are really off track. Once stuff gets settled down I’ll be able to write more but with all this shit going on its hard to focus.
Anyway, this chapter begins part two and I’ll warn once more, things are gonna get really ugly, real painful and real dark, if it’s not your cup of tea, I’d recommend hopping off the train now while you still can. Hope the chapter came out the way it was intended and not too many errors, I was a little distracted though. Let me know if I screwed up anywhere. Next chapter, we get some action. A couple of fight scenes and a traumatic incident.
Don’t forget to review and I’ll see you in the next chapter.
Laters
~Sessakag
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