Chapter Text
Minato frowned.
“Do it again,” he said.
Rento complied.
The sheet, already applied, was triggered.
The prisoner vanished.
After a pause, long enough to allow Minato and the surrounding ANBU to confirm the lack-of-any-presence, Rento withdrew his chakra from the sheet.
The prisoner reappeared.
Alive.
“That… isn’t how that seal is supposed to work.”
Minato knew the seal well. It was a brand new one, a sort of storage seal that could be directly tattooed onto human skin. A very reasonable starting point for temporary tattoos, he supposed. He’d been thinking of getting the seal himself—storage was always so useful.
“Correct, Hokage.”
“Why did you choose to use this seal in particular?”
“Chuunin Nara volunteered to write them out for us. She’s the creator of the seal and quite proud of the accomplishments, and we thought—given that it had already been tested on animals and humans—”
“Except this seal, as applied, doesn’t let someone carry spare kunai. It lets someone be carried.”
“Yes, Hokage.”
Minato glanced down to the sheet he’d been handed. He’d seen the seal before, read it over, wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that this was even possible. “Do you know why it is working like it is?”
“No, Hokage. We… we have no idea. Chuunin Nara is pouring over all her notes, but—she’s just as surprised as we were.”
“Well, it’s certainly useful.” Useful. What an understatement. The ability to store living cells had been—well, Minato hadn’t expected the problem to see a solution in his lifetime.
And now—
Now—
Minato turned his attention to the prisoner. “What does it feel like?”
The man grunted. “A bit like holding your breath. Time doesn’t really seem to pass, though. Does this mean I’m not gonna be killed?”
Minato glanced at the prisoner’s summary sheet.
The man was a highway robber, banished from Tea, who had seventeen murders that could be tied to him with certainty. Had a nasty habit of torturing his victims. Some of his victims were children.
“Perhaps,” Minato said. “I’ll look into granting you life in prison instead.” He ignored all the eyes staring at him. Yes, life in prison was an excessive expense, but he wanted to look into rehabilitation of even the most severe cases anyway, and the man had been very compliant throughout this whole process. “For the moment, though, let’s get you back to your cell.” Minato gestured; the prisoner disappeared. “How expensive are the materials?”
“The transfer film is very complicated to make, unfortunately, and the current process is rather expensive. It is as complicated as it is, though, because it was intended to leave the ink on the person’s skin, allow for application by even non-sealers. Given that the ink stays on the film, we could look into cheaper materials?”
“Do that.”
If it worked—
If this worked—
Minato could see it now. Threats could be eliminated, deaths could be avoided, bargaining power could be raised, and all the while the known costs of war prisoners could be all-but eliminated.
Minato—
“You have the full resources of Konoha at your disposal. I want these mass-produced ASAP. The lower cost the better, but regardless of the price I want manufacturing to start by the end of next week.”
“Next week?!” Rento yelped.
Sakura put a hand on her nephew’s shoulder. “Hai, Hokage.”
Minato met her eyes.
She understood.
“Dismissed.”
The researchers shuffled out of the room.
Minato let his eyes slip closed.
This—
This could end the war with Kumo.
This could—could eliminate wars entirely.
And if it did, then Minato had plans.
A smile began to slowly grow on his face.
Sometimes Minato had to fight and scrape and kick for even the slightest edges of progress.
Other times, other times genius landed in his lap.
And Minato wasn’t about to let any opportunities go.
.
Yasuo winced when Sozoku whipped around to face the wall, refusing to even acknowledge him standing on the other side of the jail cell’s bars.
“Hey, Sozoku.”
The man didn’t respond.
Yasuo didn’t expect him to.
They’d been friends since before they could run, been friends since before they could write.
“…” Yasuo didn’t know what to say.
He wanted—
He wanted to tell his friend that it was his fault, that if he didn’t want to be arrested for pimping then he should—well, not pimp.
He knew Sozoku wouldn’t see it that way.
Would see it as Yasuo going out of his way to get him in trouble.
The problem was, he’d been so obvious about it being something Yasuo wouldn’t approve of. He’d spent so many days going back and forth, had even gotten into a fight with a gang member he knew Sozoku associated with—ended up stabbed for his trouble—and…
And in the end, there was only one thing Yasuo could do.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Not sorry enough,” Sozoku snarled.
And Yasuo—
He wasn’t wrong.
“I’ve—I’m talking, to the Criminal Court judge in charge of your case. I might be able to get you into a rehabilitation program, which means you could get out sooner.”
“Why bother?”
Yasuo sighed.
Perhaps, one day, Sozoku would understand.
In the meantime, Yasuo had to get to his students; he had a sneaking suspicion that they were planning to do something stupid, so he’d given them the day off so he could track them down, figure out what nonsense they were planning.
Sozoku… Sozoku wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Yasuo left.
.
Ryota kneeled in front of his Head.
His head ignored his presence, kept on doing paperwork.
It had been an hour, now, and even with using chakra to minimize some of the worst effects of maintaining his position—well, there was only so much chakra could do.
Ryota would do anything to move.
He didn’t.
Head Tamotsu continued ignoring him.
This, Ryota knew, was it.
If he managed to act appropriately in this conversation, he’d officially be allowed to participate in clan meetings.
He’d officially be in line to inherit his father’s formal position.
(Did he want that, though?)
If he had to hurt, then, that was only to be expected.
If anything, mere kneeling on a hard wood floor wasn’t even worth mentioning.
So Ryota held his position.
Held his silence.
Made sure his eyes didn’t even twitch as he stared at the floor.
Once, when he was younger, he’d dreamt of this day.
He’d imagined his clan looking at him, seeing someone worth something.
Seeing someone who would unfailingly work to better their position, just as his father had done.
And then…
And then life had happened.
And then Rento had started seeing things, accumulating evidence that the Shimura Clan doctrine was not always correct.
He’d never been so stupid as to speak any of his doubts aloud.
That did not mean they did not exist.
That did not mean that this day was as triumphant as it should have been.
His clan head cleared his throat.
Rento did not make the mistake of looking up.
“Stand.”
Rento stood.
“Is there any reason I should doubt your loyalty?”
“No, Head.”
The silence stretched.
Rento made sure not to allow any part of his body to tense.
“And if I were to tell you that we’d dug something up?”
“You haven’t,” Rento said. Head Tamotsu hadn’t; there was nothing to dig up. Rento’s suspicions had never been allowed to result in any real-world consequences.
“Look at me.”
Rento’s eyes snapped up. Head Tamotsu was smirking at him.
“Are you ready to truly represent Clan Shimura?”
“Yes, Clan Head Tamotsu.”
“Then do so.”
And Rento recited the oath, and knew with every syllable that he was lying.
.
Jashinists were pervasive across the world.
No one quite knew where the religion started.
When the religion started.
But everyone knew the terror of Jashin.
…Or worshippers working in Jashin’s name, anyway.
It was only Hidan who really managed to ‘access’ Jashin, though. Managed to utilize his god to commit atrocities nobody else could dream of.
As with Jashin, nobody knew where Hidan came from, how old he was.
In all, it didn’t really matter.
What mattered was what Hidan did.
And then, just as Hidan became an S-rank threat, just as the eastern Great Nations became aware that they’d pushed off dealing with him a little too long—
He’d disappeared.
And then there was Kakuzu.
It wasn’t until the two of them popped up in the west, in the Land of Contention, that the various intelligences of the Hidden Villages figured out that they’d started working together.
In hindsight, there had been signs.
Both had been last seen in the Land of Canyons.
Both stopped appearing at the same time.
Both were known to be incredibly powerful, and more than willing to use that power to achieve their aims, and yet—despite the sightings—no one had any idea why they’d gone to the Land of Canyons in the first place.
Perhaps, if the byoki hadn’t coalesced, if they hadn’t had to—well, to deal with the realities of that—perhaps they could’ve figured it out.
They didn’t.
And now Hidan and Kakuzu were in the Land of Contentions.
And it would be Iwa doing the bulk of the work dealing with them, trying to figure out what they were doing, trying to figure out how to mitigate the danger of their ever-expanding control—
But Nara Masuyo had seen the reality in the Land of Contentions herself.
The Hokage sighed. “That bad?”
“Yes, Hokage,” Masuyo said. She’d seen the reality, seen… seen what was going on.
“Do you have any idea why they are… doing what they’re doing?”
“No, Hokage.” She couldn’t imagine a single reason. Had tried, had spent the entire trip desperately wishing for answers.
Had failed.
“Do you think it has to do with Jashin?”
“Probably,” she said. “Hidan certainly has put the symbols of Jashin everywhere he could. It does not, however, seem as if Kakuzu is… actively worshipping.” Actively hurting and killing in the ways mandated by the beliefs of Jashin. “Kakuzu seems more concerned with eliminating threats to their regime, while Hidan is… responsible… for the reality in the land.”
“Hmm. Alright, thank you, Jounin Nara.”
Masuyo bowed.
Left.
Knew that she’d never forget what she saw.
(The blood. The destroyed structures. The dead eyes of those left alive. The dead eyes of the dead. The stench. The sights. The sounds. The children, the way they…
(Masuyo stopped at a bathroom to puke.)
.
Juro opened the door. Closed it.
The occupant looked up.
“Why,” he said, “did you know how to identify heart attacks when we were children?”
And Sakura… had to answer.