hi hey hello! i've survived the hell known as distance assessments and wrote this monster in about a week. forewarning: this is the most war-like chapter, and therefore it's not very nice. considering the present corona situation, i'm adding chapter-specific warnings in case you'd prefer to come back at a later date:
THIS CHAPTER INCLUDES:
- general war-related unpleasantness
- graphic description of injury/mild gore
- supporting character(s) death(s)
- psychological manipulation
- trivialization of death

having said that, there will be TWO more official chapters of this story, then the epilogue, and we'll officially be at the end of PMW (knowing my writing speed, that may mean another…six? months)

also, if any of you wanna come scream at me/share headcannons or w/e, find me on tumblr at itsthechocopuff!

enjoy!

While he'd snarled at Jiraiya for his reaction to the message, Orochimaru found that his response hadn't been a lie. In one of the greatest plot-twists of his life, he realised that he trusted the little assassin, and, more than that, she had no reason to lie, not about something of such importance.

Which was why, two hours after receiving the message, Orochimaru sent his snakes out to patrol the perimeter of the Village and all but drag Jiraiya into his office for some strategic planning.

Four hours after receiving the message saw him walking through the streets of Oto, quietly instructing civilians to take their most valuable belongings and all the food they could safely carry and prepare to temporarily seek refuge in the Hidden Hot Water Village.

Six hours post-message, he was addressing his shinobi. Those he'd found and recruited, those he'd stolen and enhanced, those who'd come to him of their own accord, seeking a second chance, a better life – it didn't matter. He was their leader, and they were his shinobi, and he would look after them. This wasn't the legacy he was promised and had stolen from under his nose; this was something he'd built for himself, with his own two hands, and he was going to honour that.

"This is not a fight I expect you to fight for me." He told the gathered crowd of around a hundred and eighty-odd shinobi after he explained the situation. It buoyed him to see Juugo's relaxed face, clearly visible in the sea of heads due to his height, or Suigetsu and Karin's noticeable hair; they were here, not by Sasuke's side, and that meant their loyalty somehow extended to him, too.

While the crowd was probably less than half of the force he'd commanded while under the influence of Danzo's seal, he didn't regret his decision to allow all who had wanted to leave a free passage, without fear of being hunted. The result meant that all those who stood before him now, like Sasuke's friends, all bore the Oto insignia of their own free will, and he would not trade that loyalty for anything, especially not something as mundane as numbers.

"Once again, I remind you that, if you choose to leave, you will not be judged, nor will you be pursued. If you choose to stay but prefer to guard the civilians or the jinchuuriki, you will have my gratitude. If you choose to stay and fight, I will be honoured. I want you to make a choice, just as the one you made when you chose to stay after my own seal had been removed. I will be by in two hours to check the final numbers; if this is where we part, may your paths in life be free of obstacles."

He could see the lingering traces of shock at his address, at the open-ended approach, but he was not a dictator. Not of his own free will, and not outright.

(Manipulating and outmaneuvering didn't count. Yes, his morality was dubious at best and completely skewed at worst, but he was not what Danzo and Sarutobi had forced him into.)

Eight hours post-message, he came back to the main assembly hall, ready to assign the meager crowds to their posts, and stopped in the doorway, momentarily speechless.

Of the hundred and eighty that had formed part of his shinobi force, more than sixty percent had chosen to stay. Orochimaru cleared his throat before he addressed them, hoping none of them noticed his temporary shock.

"As I said, I will need three groups. One to guard the jinchuuriki, one to escort the civilians to Hot Water, and one to meet Obito."

He wasn't surprised when the last group had the fewest shinobi in it, but it still comprised almost two dozen, and that was more than he'd expected.

Orochimaru took a deep breath, and when he let it out, his lips formed the closest he'd come to a smile in two decades.

He wasn't a good man. But he was a damn great shinobi. He knew how to fight, and he knew war.

Obito would not live to see dawn.

Chojuro had ended up on the Ame front, likely not far from wherever Sakura was fighting with her partner, but he recognised nobody around him, too dazed to pay attention to headbands or outfits, only focusing on those that looked like they'd like nothing more than to tear out his internal organs with their teeth.

Orochimaru's experiments, he'd heard someone say, either those who'd been liberated and chose to join their tormentor's old boss or Obito had otherwise acquired their allegiance.

Chojuro didn't particularly care: Hiramekarei's handles were firm and familiar where his fingers wrapped around them, and he watched as the bandages snapped and unravelled under the pressure of the chakra he'd stored in the blade being finally released. He hefted the hammer-shaped construct that encased his sword and bared too-sharp teeth in a mockery of a smile at the approaching experimental beasts.

Then, he swung, proving to all who dared bare witness that the title of Kirigakure no Kijin wasn't unique to monsters like Zabuza or Yuki.

True monsters could hide their sharp teeth behind shy smiles, stutters, and servitude, and nobody would be the wiser until they chose to bare them.

With no more shackles to bind him and months' worth of chakra stored in Hiramekarei, Chojuro didn't kill the attackers.

He massacred.

At least, he massacred until a human-shaped bullet came flying at him, spinning far too quickly for him to dodge or swat aside, the chakra-construct around his blades waning with his fatigue, and the collision lifted him off his feet and launched him through the air.

He smacked against something solid and cold, his skull reverberating like a gong had been banged right next to his ear, something wet and warm sliding down his neck. Then, a sharp pain registered in his abdomen, and he blinked his eyes open – when had he closed them? – and found a blurry image of a snarling beast of a man with what looked like claw-tipped wings protruding from his back, and one of those talons was currently digging into his stomach and trying to gut him like a fish.

Chojuro tried to lift his arm and throw his assailant off, or lift a leg and kick them away, or do anything really, but the pounding in his head was making concentrating on moving his limbs impossible, and all he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep-!

And then, the creature above him tensed, then dropped, like its strings have been cut, before being unceremoniously thrown aside by thick black tendrils.

Shadows.

He didn't know why the thought brought him so much relief, but he slumped against whatever was supporting him, letting his eyes slide shut, at least until he felt someone kneel by him and lightly shake his shoulder.

Chojuro stirred with a hiss, blinking his eyes as fast as he could manage in an attempt to clear the fog that blurred his vision to no avail, but he managed to make out a green high-collar jacket and dark hair in a spiky ponytail. The name escaped him, but he knew those features meant safety, and he was almost relaxing anew before he was shaken again.

"Hey, hey, kid, stay with me, Shikamaru won't be pleased if you pass out in the middle of a battle."

Shikamaru.

He blinked again and tried to focus on the face in front of him, but all he managed was noticing the scruff of dark hair that covered a chin and two dark, jagged scars that framed an eye.

Not Shikamaru.

The disappointment he felt would've made him cry if not for the fact that everything was starting to hurt and crying seemed like it would take a lot of effort.

"Oi, Ino, can you fix this? Kid looks like he's about to faint on me."

"I can fix his headache and maybe the gash in his stomach, but I'm not a med-nin, Shika, I can't do anything about the concussion or his spine."

His spine? There was something wrong with his spine?

Shikaku's sudden twitch jarring his shoulder made Chojuro's foggy brain belatedly inform him that he'd spoken out-loud, and in the back of his mind, panic began to rise, speeding up his heartrate and intensifying the pounding in his head until he was no longer sure what was up and what was down and he had to take deep breaths to not projectile vomit in his saviour's face.

"Well then." Not-Shikamaru sighed, a complicated emotion buried in his voice, but that was the moment that Chojuro noticed a man the size of a small mountain fighting away the still-coming waves of enemies, while the man dubbed 'Ino' zig-zagged between those fallen-but-still-twitching, touching their foreheads until they stopped moving altogether.

"I guess Chouza and I will have to guard him until you find someone who can." Not-Shikamaru continued, and Chojuro wasn't the only one who seemed to have lost the thread of the conversation, judging by the blond man's reaction.

"Guard-? Shika, what?"

"I'm not leaving him here. You're the fastest. I'm best suited to defence, and I'll have Chouza to deal the hits I can't. I won't let him die, Ino."

From there, Chojuro only heard scraps of the conversation, his consciousness coming and fading in waves.

"So you'll die with him instead. Because that's such an improvement."

"Ino…"

"Don't make me have to bury another friend, Shikaku. I won't do it."

"You won't have to."

"That's not a promise you can make!"

"I can try."

"…I guess that will have to be enough."

He was almost asleep when the Shikamaru-lookalike still crouched by him squeezed his shoulder and offered him what was probably intended as a smile.

"Stay with me, kid. I won't let anything happen to you." And then he stood, and- oh.

The very sky around them seemed to darken as shadows leapt out, swirling around the man like sentient vines, each tendril writhing with pent-up energy and destructive potential. Chojuro looked on, helpless and awed, his head spinning, as the man spread his arms out, the shadows stretching around his body like a natural extension of his self, and then the silence that had fallen around them erupted with screams, and a dark even more oppressive than the shadows of the field swallowed up Chojuro's consciousness once and for all.

He came to with a foreign hand on his forehead, his body awash with energy that was not his and a severe frown marring features half-obscured by a Kumo forehead protector.

"Hmng?"

Dark eyes flickered to his, a glimpse of sympathy slipping through a mask of concentration and icy professionalism.

"I'm a med-nin. I healed your concussion, but don't try to move – your vertebrae are out of alignment, you probably don't have feeling in your legs."

The blond sat back on his heels and looked up at the man Chojuro vaguely recalled from earlier, the one dubbed 'Ino'.

"I've done what I can to make him safe to transport, but I won't be able to treat him fully until I get him in the medic tents. Trying to heal his spine now could do more harm than good."

"I understand." 'Ino' nodded tightly, expression pinched with pain. "Thank you, C-san. I'll have him brought over as soon as- as I can find someone to carry him."

'C' stood and laid a hand on the other blond's elbow. "It's my job. And, for what it's worth…I'm sorry about your friends, Yamanaka-san."

At that, the taller of the two winced, his eyes gravitating, as if drawn by a magnetic pull, away from 'C' and Chojuro, somewhere outside of the latter's range of vision. More than a little curious and scared of the little voice that told him what he'd likely see, Chojuro tried to push himself up on his elbows to see better.

Tried, being the imperative word.

A sharp, piercing pain shot through his back, so strong his vision whitened out, and he crumpled to the ground with another whimper once his back made contact with the unforgiving ground, his head spinning.

The med-nin was on him, aggressively demanding something that sounded like '-at part of "don't move" did you misunderstand?!' but Chojuro was no longer listening – the wave of pain brought with it a wave of darkness that had been creeping at the edges of his vision since he woke up, and he passed out without fanfare, no longer registering anything beyond the white-hot, pulsing pain in his back.

Soon, even that stopped registering.

Shikamaru cursed as he stumbled upon landing, the disorientation of the hiraishin still foreign, looking around even as he popped another soldier pill.

They'd defeated Hoshigaki. The shark-like member of the Seven now lay at the bottom of the river at the Valley of the End, the irony of which was not lost on Shikamaru.

But it didn't come without a cost.

Chouji hadn't responded to any of Hinata's attempts at medical-ninjutsu, Ino was half-blind after trying to snare Hoshigaki in her mind-transfer and ending up with chakra over-saturation in her right eye when the ex-Kiri-nin had just pumped the mental link with chakra until she was forced to let go or risk total burn. Akamaru had almost drowned, the nin-dog even less used to water-combat than his partner, and Shino had likely lost half of his colony trying to suck Hoshigaki dry.

But, they'd won.

By the skin on their teeth and likely more than a couple miracles, they'd won.

After, they'd split: Team 8, mostly unharmed, if a little shaken, headed for the frontlines; Neji and Tenten not far behind. Lee, being the fastest of the group, offered to take Ino back to the Village, while Shikamaru took Chouji in a side-along hiraishin, his best friend having suffered the most at Hoshigaki's hands.

Mere minutes after depositing Chouji in the hospital back in Konoha, he was crunching a soldier pill and seeking the tag he'd placed on Chojuro's sword, cursing his past self for not thinking to tag Sakura too.

He let the whirlwind of chakra and nausea take him to his destination, but, upon landing and taking in his new location, he was struck by a distressing realisation: Chojuro was nowhere in sight.

His sword lay a mere two metres from where Shikamaru now stood, however.

"No…" he breathed, heading to the sword on suddenly-weak legs, not yet recovered from the fear that gnawed at him when he thought of Chouji. His wild eyes took in the mangled, decapitated, and otherwise pulverised corpses that littered the field, all bearing the signs of coming across the wrong end of Hiramekarei, and he swallowed, willing the tears that blurred his vision away.

If Chojuro had gone down, he hadn't gone down without a fight, but that fact was not enough to comfort Shikamaru or shake him out of the spiral of despair.

He searched near-feverishly for any sign of powder-blue amongst the mutilated corpses, but everything was so smeared with blood, both drying and fresh, gore and soot, he couldn't be sure of anything.

"Oi, Nara!" a familiar voice screamed his name, and when Shikamaru turned, it was just in time to come face-to-face with a respirator-wearing Ame-nin who'd succeeded in sneaking up on him despite the whoosh of said respirator, but Shikamaru had been too out-of-it to hear him coming.

Even now, confronted with a shinobi clearly intent on causing him harm judging by the poison-tipped claws heading for his flank, Shikamaru felt like he was too busy watching his world come crashing down around him to do anything more than mechanically grab a kunai and try to clumsily redirect the weapon away from his body, to mixed results: yes, he changed the trajectory of the metal claws which would've likely gutted him, but he earned a heavy kick to his abdomen instead, making him release his grip on the kunai and stumble back, winded, until he tripped on the handle of Hiramekarei and fell on his ass, staring up at the nin who would likely become his executioner.

And then, the tip of a sword was suddenly protruding from his attacker's own abdomen, before it headed up, carving through flesh and bone and organs like butter, dissecting without a care.

Once his would-be attacker dropped like a marionette with its strings cut, one more to add to the piles of bodies around them, the stench of stomach acid and excrement making Shikamaru gag, his eyes fell on his saviour, and he relaxed unconsciously, despite the dread still weighing him down.

Wild, iridescent green eyes and an unhinged grin of sharp, blood-stained teeth greeted him, as well as a hand that, upon sheathing the Sword of Kusanagi, extended to help him to his feet.

"What the hell happened, shadow-boy?" Yuki asked once he'd hauled Shikamaru to his feet and stabilised him when he stumbled, shock and nausea shooting his balance to all hell. "Decided to take a nap in the middle of the battlefield?"

Wordlessly, Shikamaru indicated the discarded Hiramekarei, and Yuki's eyes widened before his grin dimmed, becoming a fierce snarl, but it was the figure that appeared at the assassin's shoulder that caught Shikamaru's attention.

Ao's face was shuttered as he considered the abandoned sword, then he bent down and picked it up, hefting it on his shoulder like it weighed nothing, then reached around Yuki and smacked Shikamaru over the head.

"Shelve your panic, Nara. You're a strategist. Do your job and figure out how to deal with this." he ordered, waving the arm he'd used to smack Shikamaru to indicate the oncoming mass of enemy-nin, easily fifty, maybe sixty attackers, versus Shikamaru and the less than two-dozen Kiri-nin now gathered around him.

Shikamaru blinked, sluggishly at first, then, once he felt concentration returning, more determinedly, to clear the unshed tears and blood that dripped into his eyes.

"Taijutsu and bukijutsu users meet them head-on, ninjutsu around the sides; try to surround them before they can tear through our ranks. I'll trap as many as I can to give you windows to attack."

Ao nodded, turning to relay the instructions, while Yuki grinned, raising a green-glowing finger to heal the gash on Shikamaru's brow.

"Let's dance, shadow-boy."

A scream broke through the air on the thirteenth hour since he received the message; but not a human scream.

Snakes. His snakes.

Orochimaru staggered when he felt the physical pain of the links between him and his summons being brutally severed, and he almost didn't need the confirmation that came from the explosion that shook the entire village moments later.

Obito had come.

And he was out for blood.

"Jiraiya, go to your godson." Orochimaru snapped, batting away the oaf's hand when he reached to steady him. "You should find two platoons of my people there to help you guard him."

"Sasuke," he turned to Sasuke and his brother, and oh, had finding Uchiha Itachi coming to him voluntarily been the highlight of Orochimaru's decade, even if the boy had shown little more than scorn and paranoid concern over his not-so-little brother since he stepped foot in Oto. "if you want to be with your idiot best friend, go with Jiraiya now."

The shock on Sasuke's face would've been funny once, but Orochimaru was all too aware that they were carving the time for this conversation out of his shinobi's lives.

Sasuke, it seemed, was aware of that too, because his expression quickly steeled. "I'm your Jounin Commander." He said, matter-of-factly. "My place in this battle is with you."

Orochimaru tried to mask his surprise, even as Itachi didn't bother; the Sannin was sure he'd have been gaping at Sasuke if his genes had allowed it.

Orochimaru himself…hadn't expected the show of loyalty.

"Besides," Sasuke continued, a trace of that cocksure smirk he hadn't shown since he misguidedly violated his old teammate's mind, making an appearance, "it's time for me to meet Uncle Obito, don't you think?"

"He's not someone you can just arrogantly dismiss." Itachi admonished, far harsher than his usual calm tones, and Orochimaru reasoned Sasuke's raised eyebrow was completely justified. "He convinced the world he was Madara, Sasuke."

"I'm not dismissing him." Sasuke snarled back, stepping away from his brother and closer to Orochimaru. "And he didn't. He hid behind a dead man's name because he knew nobody would ask questions. That's not strength, that's cowardice."

And then, because while Uchiha Sasuke had many things, impulse-control was decidedly not one of them, he leapt out of the window of Orochimaru's office, heading straight for the epicentre of the blast.

Itachi cursed, ugly and angry, and jumped after him, leaving Orochimaru and Jiraiya alone in the room.

"Guess this is it, huh?" Jiraiya mused absently, and Orochimaru couldn't hold back the bitter snort even if he'd tried.

"Astute as always." He commented blithely, then headed for the same window the Uchiha brothers had jumped out of.

"Orochi," Jiraiya called after him, and when Orochimaru froze in his steps, not having heard that…that name in over three decades, he continued, "don't…don't die out there, yeah?"

Orochimaru stood still for another few seconds, even though he adamantly refused to turn and face his old teammate, then, finally, he managed a quiet; "You too." And leaped out the window.

What greeted him was a massacre.

Shikamaru's strategy was working, for the most part.

The enemy-nin outnumbered them by a considerable margin, but there was something to be said for the viciousness of Kiri-nin in battle. At the very least, the stereotype of Bloody Mist was not undeserved.

Shikamaru was keeping out of the worst of the fighting, keeping to the shadows or in pockets of Kiri-nin and snaring as many of their opponents as he could, giving his side the split-second windows they needed for their preferred quick but effective take-downs, occasionally using his shadow threads to turn a few enemy-nin into pincushions when he needed to buy time.

Suddenly, he found himself on the edge of the fighting, away from any support and running low on chakra, even as more enemies closed in on him.

Shikamaru wasn't helpless. He was a genius, and a jounin, and the best strategist of his generation.

But physical strength was never going to be his forte.

He whipped out kunai and shuriken and Asuma's blades, tearing through opponents and jumping on the tiniest weaknesses his eyes found, but the numerical advantage the other side had over them was finally showing.

Or, rather, someone had finally clocked on to who was helping the Kiri-nin get their hits in, and called the cavalry.

Then, a Wind jutsu stronger than anything he'd ever felt knocked him off his feet, and as he hit the ground, a quick doton snared his right hand in a layer of thick rock, pinning him to the dirt and making hand-seals impossible, and he could do little but use his left hand to send his remaining shuriken at the five advancing enemy-nin, eyes searching desperately for an out.

Only to come to the realisation that there wasn't one.

And then, just as Shikamaru was about to embrace the fact that this was as far as he went, a familiar broad, kimino-covered back appeared between him and his attackers. Shikamaru watched, horrified, as the blades of the enemy-nin pierced right through Ao's chest and through back, tearing his robes, the bloodied tips glinting in the setting sun as they skewered the jounin.

Ao coughed, then ripped one of the swords stuck through him out, and with a half-turn and a burst of chakra, beheaded all five opponents in one fell swoop. He staggered then, turning to Shikamaru as blood dribbled past his lips and down his chin, his torso looking grotesque with four sword-hilts protruding out of it, and offered Shikamaru what may have once been a smile.

"Consider…my debt… repaid." he wheezed, then closed his eyes as his knees buckled under him and he fell, first to his knees, then sideways, where he lay motionless, and Shikamaru could do nothing but watch as precious seconds ticked by and Ao's eyes turned glassy, then unseeing.

"No!"

He smashed at the earth that kept his hand captive with a fist until it broke apart, uncaring that he was likely breaking fragile bones. He shook himself free as soon as he could and scrambled to Ao's side, but Ao's chest was still, his eyes blind, and his lips twisted into a small, resigned smile.

He forced his brain into gear, but there was only one instance he could think of that the Kiri-nin would've incurred a debt with him. A life debt, at that: the Hyuuga affair. But that wasn't-!

"There's no debt, you idiot!" he screamed, aware that Ao likely wasn't hearing him anymore, that he couldn't hear him because he was-! He was-!

Shikamaru stilled when he felt something drip on the hands he had balled into fists on his lap, realising with an odd sense of detachment that he was crying.

He almost didn't notice Yuki coming to kneel on Ao's other side, nor the unusually sober expression on the assassin's face, so consumed he was by his thoughts. Then, he froze.

"Kid?" Yuki asked roughly when Shikamaru began to hyperventilate, shadowed green eyes not leaving Ao's body. "What's the matter?"

"I'm- I'm going to have to tell Chojuro that- that his mentor is dead because of me." Shikamaru gasped out, absently realising that his hands had started to shake in his panic, and he squeezed his eyes shut, no longer able to bear looking at Ao's mangled body nor his glassy eyes or bloodied hands-!

"I know you mean well, but that's just insulting."

Yuki's voice – especially the lack of the usual warmth and humour – jerked him out of his downwards spiral, and he lifted his head to stare at the Kiri-nin and his heart skipped a beat.

Yuki's face was completely closed off, his eyes were sharp, eyes a cold jade that cut deep, and his mouth was a flat line; expression devoid of the usual friendliness and craziness Shikamaru had grown to associate with the man.

"But- it's true. He died because of me. For me."

"Listen, Nara." Yuki cut him off, and Shikamaru's mouth snapped shut with a clack of teeth, unable to remember the last time the assassin had referred to him with anything other than 'shadow-boy'.

"Ao was a shinobi longer than you've been alive, and more than that, he was a Kiri-nin. No one but the kami themselves or Mei could make him do anything. Now. Do you consider his debt repaid?" he pressed, finally looking up to pin Shikamaru in place with red-rimmed eyes, and the Nara realised with no small degree of shock that the assassin was grieving.

"I- it didn't need repaying." Shikamaru settled on at last, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "And he certainly didn't need to die for it."

Yuki sighed, though the breath shuddered on the exhale.

"Look. After you reach a certain age as a shinobi, your life becomes a search for something that's worth dying for. Ao lived his life with the strict code every Kiri shinobi is taught, and he followed it to the letter. If he believed he owed you a life debt, and he chose to honour it by saving yours, don't dishonour his decision by taking on the blame. You didn't turn him into a pincushion, and you didn't physically pull him to take the blow for you. It was his choice."

"But- Chojuro?"

Yuki snorted, and as he did, the tears he'd been holding back finally spilled, painting two clear streaks down his soot-and-grime smeared face.

"For all that you and Sakura like to pretend that Chojuro's soft, he isn't. He's Mist, for one, survived the kekkei genkai culling despite his colouring, and he's one of the Seven. What, you think he carries that sword because Mei's sweet on him?"

At Shikamaru's lack of response, Yuki laughed.

"He's been trained – maybe even groomed – into being worthy of carrying the title of one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist since he graduated. He'll understand the power of Ao's choice, and he won't blame you." Yuki explained, his earlier indignation melting away into fatigue. "Just don't try to take the blame, or you won't just have a grieving boyfriend to deal with, but an angry one. And I don't think you're quite ready yet to see Chojuro angry."

"Well…what do we do now?" Shikamaru asked once he processed the advice, wiping his face on his sleeve and looking away from Ao's- from the body – feeling small and helpless in a way he hadn't since the Sasuke retrieval mission.

And Yuki smiled, a heartbroken little thing, sheathing the Sword of Kusanagi and reaching out to close Ao's eyes with a hand that, despite everything, didn't tremble.

Then, Yuki pressed half a Tiger seal to his lips, and when he opened his mouth, a small, blue ball of flame shot out, catching on Ao's robes.

Yuki stood, turning his back on the fallen jounin even as the flame spread further, the stench of burning flesh beginning to permeate the air, and Shikamaru was horrified into silence.

"C'mon, shadow-boy." Yuki called, hefting Hiramekairei from where Ao must've dropped it in his haste to aid Shikamaru. "The war isn't over."

"I- he was your friend!" Shikamaru managed at last, stumbling to his feet because the fire was quickly spreading out of control and it was almost to him now, his eyes still refusing to unglue themselves from Ao's corpse.

"Yeah. And now he's just another dead friend." Yuki returned flatly. "The best I can offer him is a purpose after death. Ash is an excellent fertiliser."

The words and the lack of inflection in the assassin's voice made Shikamaru snap his head around to look at him, and what he saw made him swallow.

The outline of the enormous sword over his back, the matted tendrils of his hair, and the way the setting sun turned the green of his eyes into eerie emerald; it all reminded Shikamaru of the children's stories he used to read about yokai. The comparison of Yuki now, grief-stricken and half-mad, with a yurei, shook Shikamaru enough to jolt him out of his horror.

"Sorry." He sighed, finally heading over to Yuki and absently eating another soldier-pill, despite the tips of his fingers starting to go numb. "You haven't answered me. What do we do now?"

Yuki waited until the surviving four Mist-nin fell into step with the two of them, and bared his teeth in a snarling smile.

"We survive."

Orochimaru felt a rage he hadn't experienced in decades take over him when he arrived at the battlefield and took in what Obito had wrought.

At least a dozen of his shinobi had been torn apart, pulverized, their bodies so mangled they were beyond recognition. Those still standing were almost all nursing injuries or bleeding profusely, faces streaked with blood and tears despite the battle having lasted mere minutes before Orochimaru got there.

Itachi and Sasuke were double-teaming Obito, moving disjointedly but in an oddly-complementary manner considering the decade that had passed since they had last trained together. Sasuke led with his chokuto and his lightning, while Itachi was utilising the full might of the Mangekyou Sharingan and his speed, but even then, they seemed more like flies bothering Obito than worthwhile opponents.

And then, seemingly growing bored, Obito performed a palm-strike at the air, and even as he felt himself be forced off his feet and thrown backwards, along with Itachi and Sasuke, Orochimaru noticed that all of his shinobi had unanimously leapt up, a good forty feet into the air, and seemed unaffected by the Shinra Tensei blast.

So there's a reach limit.

He picked himself up and glanced again at the bodies of his shinobi strewn around the field, certain now that most of them had fallen victim to the same jutsu in what must've been Obito's version of a 'preliminary attack'.

But then, something worse happened.

Blue flames erupted around the clearing and two of Orochimaru's shinobi screamed when the fire caught on their clothes and burned through flesh and bone alike until the screams abruptly cut out. Itachi grabbed Sasuke by the nape and pulled him along into a shunshin that deposited them not far from where Orochimaru himself now stood, eyes trained on the figure that emerged by Obito's shoulder.

A face he was familiar with only from Bingo Books, but it was familiar nonetheless.

Nii Yugito. The Two-tails jinchuuriki.

One of her eyes was Rinnegan-grey, the other the red-and-black of Edo Tensei. But how-?

"I've got Kabuto-kun to thank for that." Obito informed him casually, suddenly mere feet away, spitting black flames that would've incinerated Orochimaru where he stood had he not moved out of the way at the last second.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Nii and an enormous man in red armour Orochimaru vaguely remembered from the Third War engaging Sasuke and Itachi, but his attention was on Obito.

"Apparently even you weren't enough to satisfy his ambition." Obito continued cruelly, Sharingan spinning besides the childish orange mask. "Shame he was killed before he could help me bring back Madara."

The bitter taste of betrayal burned at the back of Orochimaru's throat, and he found himself thinking that being beheaded and quartered and burned to ash and dust was a far kinder end than his old apprentice deserved.

"So, I'm here. In your pitiful excuse of a Village." Orochimaru swiped his hand at the Uchiha, wind jutsu extending from the tips of his fingers like claws, but Obito brushed it aside with another pulse of the Rinnegan, and Orochimaru staggered then smacked his palms to the ground, turning the earth under Obito's feet into a ravine.

"Now, will you come along willingly, or do I have to destroy you first?" Obito asked, an arrogant lilt to his voice, so similar to Sasuke's but sharper, more fragile, and Orochimaru bared his teeth.

"You talk too much." He snarled, Fūton: Daitoppa falling from him with the same ease as all other Wind techniques, and the destruction a C-Ranked technique in his hands could cause made Obito stagger this time.

It seemed Obito was no longer content with just monologuing, or Orochimaru had finally irritated him into actively fighting, because a moment later, the destroyed ground between them erupted with hundreds of roots and branches, a vile, wild and uncontrolled mockery of the Shodaime's revered Mokuton, but destructive all the same.

"Then let's see if I can convince you with my actions instead." Obito hissed, and then they clashed.

It went on like that for long minutes, the time blurring into something insignificant while Orochimaru was seized by the primal instinct to survive, or kill the other one first. It was…interesting and mildly disconcerting at the same time to realise that Orochimaru couldn't immediately get the upper hand. For all that he was crafty and could merge jutsu together into something most people would've died by before they had the chance to fully process what it was that he'd thrown at them, Obito's intangibility, the Rinnegan, and the predictive ability of the Sharingan made him unusually slippery, and Orochimaru found himself growing frustrated.

Then, Nii fell with a sharp cry, and Itachi was suddenly at Orochimaru's side, meeting Obito's overlarge and curled kunai with one of his own standard ones, his expression its usual placid calm, his Sharingan active, but still only in the first stage.

Obito seemed greatly displeased by that fact, and Orochimaru imagined that if his face were visible, he'd have been scowling nastily.

"What's the matter, Itachi-kun?" he mocked, twisting his wrist to catch the younger's blade then spitting a small fireball straight at Itachi's chest, snarling audibly when Itachi burst into dozens of crows and reappeared at Obito's back. "My clone and my other four Paths have just killed Jiraiya. Don't you think me enough of a challenge for your true Sharingan?"

Itachi flashed closer, into Obito's guard, dodged the kunai then spun, his foot coming up in a high kick, his heel catching the bottom half of Obito's mask and making the bottom part crack and fall off, revealing a sharp chin and a mouth curled in a cruel smile.

"How about now?"

Orochimaru stilled, and for a second, nothing happened.

Then, roots burst from the ground once again, some the width of his torso, others thinner than his wrist, but they didn't come for him or Itachi, oh no.

Instead, they appeared right next to where Sasuke was finally pinning Han down with the combination of his chokuto and lightning jutsu, and the youngest Uchiha had no time to react: the roots pierced through his turned back and writhed and burrowed through his body until they tore through his chest too, wood and vines stained black with blood.

Sasuke stumbled, staggered, turned his head towards his brother and Orochimaru comically slowly, childish confusion writ clear on his angular face. Then he fell, like a marionette with its strings cut, finally still.

There was a moment of silence, of utter and absolute stillness where nobody dared move, the deadly calm before the storm.

And then, Itachi's chakra raged.

Orochimaru himself felt as if he was underwater.

Jiraiya. Sasuke. Jiraiya. Sasuke. Jiraiya-!

His body moving without conscious commands from his mind, he called on the one snake he'd never used in battle, the one who seldom ventured into the human world despite being the best of all his summons at human speech. He felt his mouth move, relaying an appeal that was too toneless and toeing the line between desperate and demanding, aware that only two people would be able to access it, but that should be enough. He sent the snake away and felt his calm leave with it; he became fully aware of Itachi destroying Obito, wild and fast and unreserved, finally unleashing the destructive potential that had always lurked beneath the skin of a boy who had been labelled a genius since toddlerhood.

Orochimaru also gave up on subtlety and moderation, his fingers falling automatically into his strongest technique, the Yamata no Jutsu greeting him like an old friend even as he felt the enormous, eight-headed serpent rise up in him and swallow him whole, aware of only his grief, his rage, and his desire to annihilate Obito.

Sakura landed in chaos.

She used the tag she'd stuck to the hilt of Kubikiribocho, and wasn't surprised to see Suigetsu not three metres from where she landed, battling a-

-a jinchuuriki?

"Haruno!" a voice called, and Sakura turned, eyes falling on the redhead she'd gifted books about Uzu history to – Karin, if memory served.

It seemed that her books had been useful, because the girl was on all fours, shining adamantine chains protruding from her back, holding another hanf-transformed jinchuuriki in place.

"Some help?" Karin demanded as the jinchuuriki writhed, and Sakura flashed through the seals of the Bringer-of-Darkness technique, and the beast stilled.

"What's happening?" Sakura asked as she helped Karin to her feet, noting another fallen jinchuuriki and a great white mane a few dozen meters away, and hints of familiar red armour peeking through.

Jiraiya.

"Crazy Uchiha can command the dead jinchuuriki!" Suigetsu called from his battle with what looked like human-shaped lava.

"Jiraiya sent Naruto and B-san to Mount Myoboku." Karin added, her eyes flickering unconsciously to where Jiraiya lay, still and defeated. "Why are you here?"

"Orochimaru called." Sakura replied simply, wondering whether that was truly where her reasoning began and ended. "Where is he?"

"On the other side of the Village, fighting the Madara pretender with Sasuke and his brother." Karin relayed, and Sakura offered the other girl a tight smile, clasping her shoulder quickly and squeezing comfortingly.

"Good luck." She offered, then she was off.

When she arrived, she found an enormous eight-headed snake battling a half-demasked Obito, Itachi flickering in between the serpent's strikes and delivering what on any normal shinobi would've been mortal blows.

Because she didn't let her eyes wander from Obito's face, she saw the moment his lips curled into a vicious snarl, and he disengaged from Itachi long enough to flash through five seals, and then the very earth around them shook as a gigantic wood dragon came into being, wrapping its body around each of Orochimaru's serpentine heads and restraining the beast, before sinking fangs into one of the necks, which released such a concentrated pulse of chakra that Sakura felt it even from where she stood.

Obito, having dealt with the problem that was Orochimaru's participation, turned his sights on Itachi. He spat a handful of wooden projectiles that stuck to Itachi's clothes that did not immediately pierce skin, but proceeded to multiply. Sakura watched, horrified, as the pellets grew into branches and pierced wherever they stuck to, tearing off a sizeable chunk of Itachi's forearm and digging deep into the meat of his thigh.

When Itachi wavered and stumbled, Sakura shunshin'ed to cover him, meeting Obito's wooden staff with the flat of her daito.

She met the surprised Sharingan that was visible through the hole in the mask and smirked, then twisted her blade and cut Obito's staff off at the hilt, scoring a gash down his wrist before he turned himself intangible and created distance between them.

Sakura then watched as the small gash she'd made healed before her very eyes, with no need for medical jutsu from Obito's part.

"I know you." The Uchiha announced, shooting a dismissive fireball her way and forcing her to jump out of its path or be burned alive. "How would Hatake feel, knowing another of his students has aligned themselves with a man who betrayed everything he stands for?"

Sakura hid a wince. While his words were true, she would sooner die than allow herself to be emotionally manipulated and throw five years of T&I training to waste.

So, she made sure her smirk stayed on and shrugged, twisting out of the way of more roots that shot her way.

"Probably the same as Rin would feel if she could see what you've become, Obito." She offered, and watched, vindicated, as Obito's expression became even more unpleasant, his attacks more vicious.

"You know nothing." He hissed, throwing out another fireball that broke into dozens of smaller ones, each curling towards Sakura with unerring accuracy. She managed to dodge all but two, and while one hit her back, minimising the burn, the felt the sharp sting of shuriken pierce through her flak jacket, while the other shuriken-less fire burst burned her forearm into an ugly pink.

"I know more than you." She shot back through gritted teeth, compartmentalising the pain and reducing Obito to just another T&I prisoner that was hers to break. "You think Kakashi killed the girl you were obsessed with? You're a fool."

"I was in love with her!"

Sakura laughed, even as a stray root clipped her side and opened up a long gash and turned the last notes of her laughter into a pained wheeze.

"No, you weren't." she corrected, like one would a small child. "If you loved her, you'd have known that she would sooner die for Konoha than allow it to come to harm because of her. She killed herself. Kakashi was merely the tool she used to do it. But you know that, don't you?"

She twisted between the branches he sent at her, sank underground when he sent a jet of fire to set aflame the forest he'd ensnared her in, and surfaced behind him, a chakra scalpel in one hand glancing his side, while the other wrenched the mask fully off his face, revealing mismatched eyes and deep, unmistakeable scarring.

A pulse of chakra forced her back, swept her feet from under her and sent her flying until her back met one of the trees scattered around the clearing and she crumbled at its roots for a second, before she forced herself back onto her feet.

"Why then this grudge against Kakashi, this farce of world peace?" she wheezed, stumbling for a few paces before she regained her balance. She met Obito's water dragon with a wall of earth and roots, the landscape around them turning to something unrecognisable. "Unless, of course, you're worried that even if Rin were alive, she still wouldn't choose you?"

Sakura knew she'd pushed too far when Obito's chakra blazed, and a veritable inferno shot towards her, all-consuming in its might and unhesitating in its path.

Her options narrowing, Sakura dropped to the ground and smacked her palm against the dirt, tugging on the strongest link tying her to her summons.

Geruda appeared from the smoke, his enormous copper bulk coiling around her with ease, shielding him from the flames with his body until the inferno died down, Obito's chakra unable to keep it alive further than fifty metres from him.

"An Uchiha." Geruda hissed disdainfully, uncoiling himself carefully, the side that had weathered the brunt of the flames tender and badly burned. "Can I eat thissss one, at least?"

"I would be eternally grateful if you did." Sakura replied, pushing to her feet, Geruda's charge at Obito buying her a few precious seconds to push Obito further.

"Why would she choose you, after all?" She mused, raising her voice to make sure Obito heard her, then dismissing Geruda when the roots that wrapped around him would've killed him if she'd kept him fighting any longer.

"Little, good-for-nothing Obito-kun, not good enough to develop the Sharingan until his dying moments, not good enough for the girl of his dreams, not good enough to conquer the world without hiding behind the legend of a dead man. Who would choose you?"

"SHUT UP!" Obito roared, sending another pulse of destructive chakra towards her, but Sakura stuck her feet to the ground with chakra and felt her ribs crack and break under the pressure, but she held on.

She couldn't stop her mouth even if she tried.

"You reek of your inferiority complex, Uchiha." She hissed back, every bit the snake she commanded. "Every one of your actions is pervaded with it. Using the name of Uchiha Madara to strike fear into your enemies, because nobody would fear little Obito. Stealing the Rinnegan because even with the Sharingan, you're barely better than a non-Uchiha transplantee who should've been sucked dry by the doujutsu but made a legend of his own with it instead. Coercing dead jinchuuriki into fighting for you, because even without their bijuu, they're ten times the shinobi you'll ever be. You can't even claim to have come into the Mokuton honestly. Really, Obito-kun, why even bother?"

Blood dribbled past her lips and her lungs protested with every breath, but finally, she felt Obito snap.

"Because I won't need any of those powers to kill you!"

She couldn't have avoided the massive wooden dragon that flew towards her even if she had tried; for the second time in the battle, she was lifted off her feet and flung through the air like a ragdoll, her back meeting one of the Village walls with a sickening crack.

Still, she locked the pain down and threw away the key, shifting onto all-fours, then to her knees, until she finally stood and faced Obito again.

When she was sure she had his attention, Sakura bared her teeth in a mockery of a smile, despite her head spinning with blood-loss and what was likely a Grade 3 concussion.

"I am the legacy of monsters." she announced gleefully, not letting her smile drop even as her head pounded and more blood dribbled past her lips as she coughed. "I'd like to see you try."

Obito lunged for her then, his fury making him forget about Kamui, about shunshin, even about the Mokuton in his cells – he lunged like Naruto, deadly in his anger and far faster, but predictable in his trajectory, and Sakura palmed a seal with a shaking hand and held her ground.

The chakra-charged kunai that pierced through her kidney brought tears to her eyes, as did the clawed fingers that dug into the torn meat of her abdomen, but Sakura wrapped a hand around Obito's wrist and held him in place, while her other reached up and slapped the same seal she'd used to disarm Sasuke all those months ago onto his forehead, charging it with the last remnants of her chakra. She held Obito's gaze until his Sharingan flickered and disappeared, the Rinnegan following suit.

There was a moment of startled stillness, and then Obito's chakra roared.

If Sakura had thought him angry before, it had nothing on the fury that now rolled off of him in waves, and she became painfully aware of the fact that his kunai was still buried in her kidney when he wrenched it up and Sakura's insides burned as the blade tore through her skin and organs alike, not even stopping as it ripped into her stomach.

Then, Obito's body grew spikes sharper than the kunai still inside her, and she knew that she would meet her end by that technique. She fought the instinct to close her eyes, but couldn't help tilting her head away to hopefully not have to witness her own demise.

Suddenly, instead of pain and darkness, she was being shoved aside, Obito's hand and kunai leaving her in a spray of blood and hydrochloric acid, and Orochimaru was in her place, more snake than man still, but on his feet and fighting, pressing the advantage of a disorientated, Sharingan-and-Rinnegan-less Obito. Itachi appeared at Orochimaru's shoulder like an avenging angel, still bleeding and with tear-tracks marring his face, his eyes a furious, unforgiving red, his grief a fury that hadn't abated any.

Her immediate concern was distance, because she hadn't looked yet, but she could tell Obito had done her a lot of damage with that last attack, concussion and likely damaged spine notwithstanding, and the abrupt removal of the weapon that had been holding most of her blood inside, where it should be, hadn't helped any.

With shaking hands and vision going grey around the edges, Sakura reached into her pouch and pulled out her bottle of chakra pills, popping three at once and swallowing, momentarily blacking out from the burst of chakra that washed over her.

She sank to her knees a safe distance away from the fighting trio, a few meters of a left of the corpse of an Oto shinobi, her hands flickering green before she brought them to her abdomen.

She hissed at the first contact, the medical chakra burning rather than soothing, her concentration shot to hell because of her spinning head-

-ah. Right. The blood loss.

She didn't have the time nor the coordination to rifle through her pouch for the necessary bottle, so she unclasped it with shaking hands and tipped it up-side-down onto the ground beside her, uncaring of the contents spilling messily as she searched for the rust-coloured pills. Popping two into her mouth and swallowing, she gave herself twenty seconds respite, then bit her lip and summoned healing chakra once again, knowing that her window to heal herself was narrowing with every second she wasted.

She was vaguely aware of her eyes sliding shut, but she didn't fight it. She was tired of being in pain, tired of getting hurt, tired of constantly fighting and bleeding and killing; she just wanted sleep-!

She was unaware of how much time had elapsed until something barrelled into her, jarring her into consciousness, but she only opened her eyes when a hand settled on her stomach and chakra that was both healing and corrosive began pouring into her body.

Once her eyes focused, she would've recoiled if not for the exhaustion and nausea that kept her still. Orochimaru was by her side, and it was his chakra healing and hurting her at the same time, only he no longer looked human.

His skin was bone-white and writhing like wild snakes, hair that had once been black and lustrous reduced to a sharp, shaggy brown mop, while his eyes had become fully snake-like, extending to where his markings had once been, the sclera black and the iris a glowing gold.

"Don't you dare die." He hissed, and when he spoke, Sakura noticed multiple rows of sharp teeth, which made his speech even more inhuman. "No more of my legacy will die by his hands."

There was something…off about Orochimaru, and it was only when the fog around Sakura's mind began to slowly clear that she noticed that his skin seemed to writhe like snakes because it was composed of snakes. Tiny, white vine snakes that kept tearing off from his skin and slithering away, disappearing into the grass, and Orochimaru seemed to dull with every departure, like the snakes were all that was keeping him-!

The Sannin met her eyes, and despite the animalistic glint to them, the wry humour there was unmistakeable, and Sakura came to a startling realisation.

Orochimaru was dying.

The green tint of medical chakra fizzled out and disappeared, and the rate at which the snakes were peeling from his body increased exponentially. Yet Orochimaru still found the energy to shift until he grasped her hand in a deceptively strong grip, long, clawed fingers digging into her palm and wrist, the skin cold and smooth, and decidedly not human.

A pulse passed between them, like a heartbeat or a muted explosion, and Sakura watched as a flat, black snake slid from Orochimaru's arm onto her own, coiling twice around her forearm before it stilled and sank into her skin like a tattoo, a burst of chakra shocking her system once it settled.

"Otogakure…is yours." Orochimaru wheezed, each word weighted and visibly costing him effort. "Do with it what I couldn't."

And as his grip relaxed and his hand fell from hers, Orochimaru the man ceased to be. Sakura could barely track the tiny snakes that split off from what remained of the Sannin's body with her eyes, and it took a few seconds to realise that it was because her vision was blurred by tears. She blinked, clearing them away, noticed that the skin of her abdomen was mostly closed, even if the damage to her internal organs was probably far from fully healed, then focused on the battle.

Obito also no longer looked human. His mantle had been destroyed, leaving him in a half-burned shirt that had once been white and frayed black pants. Wooden spikes protruded from his torso and upper arms, and his unmasked face bore an expression of pure madness.

Itachi, in turn, was encased in an armoured, crimson chakra construct easily taller than the Hokage tower and at first glance, seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Then, his chakra flickered, whether due to exhaustion or the state of his injuries, and the very construct wavered with it.

It occurred to Sakura then that Obito was playing for time, likely aware of the limitations of whatever technique Itachi was using, and a spike of fear shot through her.

They needed to restrain Obito, somehow, but she didn't think either her or Itachi were in the state to be able to pull it off. If only she had something remote, something she could-!

Sakura paused.

She considered her chakra. Reached with shaking hands towards the spilled contents of her pack and shook out another soldier pill. Swallowed it. Ignored the dizziness that accompanied the rush of energy and focused on handseals that brought tears to her eyes.

Boar-dog-bird-tiger! Kuchiyose: Aian Meiden!

The rush of her chakra leaving her made Sakura's vision black out for a few seconds, but when the darkness receded to her periphery, she saw that a ravine had opened up where Obito had stood, Ibiki's lucky cat summon holding him captive, chakra-sealing chains wrapped all around him, keeping him still even as Itachi's chakra construct flickered for the final time and disappeared, the Uchiha crumbling to his knees soon after.

And then, a flash of white appeared a few meters above Sakura's head, Genma and Kakashi appearing from the burst of light in what could've only been the Hiraishin. Genma's gaze found her immediately, his eyes widening once he took in whatever state she was in, but Kakashi paused for a moment to take in the scene and get his bearings, then headed for the Aian Maiden, Sword of the Thunder God drawn and chirping menacingly.

"Ah, Bakashi." Obito rasped, still smirking despite the blood that dribbled from his nose and mouth. "Come to talk me into turning 'good'? I promise you, it won't wo-!"

Kakashi didn't give Obito time to finish. He lifted the Sword of the Thunder God and brought it down, the blade stabbing directly into Obito's deactivated Rinnegan eye. But Kakashi didn't stop; he kept going, kept pushing, until the tip of the sword pierced through the back of Obito's skull, chirping all the while.

Then, he let go of the sword, and took a step back. Then two. Then five, mechanically backing away until his knees buckled under him and he fell to the ground, burying his face in his hands while his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

She was struck with a sudden, vivid memory from a mere fortnight earlier, though it felt like an eternity ago:

"I'd still kill him if given half the chance."

"So will I. Not Sasuke. The other Uchiha. The fake-Madara." A pained grimace. "Obito."

"It'll break you."

"There's not much left to break."

Looking at the sobbing wreck of a man now, Sakura realised that Kakashi had been wrong: there was a lot left to break, and she was watching it all shatter now, in real time.

"Go." She whispered to Genma, noticing the heartbreak that also showed on his face, aware of the friendship that had developed between her partner and her genin sensei. "You can help him more than me."

Genma nodded woodenly, then leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, making Sakura smile despite the pounding in her head and her progressively darkening vision, then stood.

Sakura's eyes were sliding shut, but she caught movement in her peripheral vision at the last second and forced her eyes open again, watching as Itachi pulled himself to his feet and headed in the direction of Sasuke's body, his steps heavy and off-balance, but determined.

He fell to his knees by Sasuke's side, then laid his hands on his brother's chest with a gentleness Sakura couldn't mistake even as far away as she was, then Itachi's hands were surrounded by a blue glow, the shade of which Sakura had seen only once before.

It was the same shade that had surrounded Elder Chiyo's hands when she'd brought Gaara back to life.

But how had Itachi learnt it?

She didn't know, and her brain was too heavy to ponder such things in her current state, and so she watched, holding vigil over the elder brother, until Itachi listed to the side and fell, the trade of his life-force in exchange for Sasuke's complete.

As Itachi's eyes closed, so too did Sakura's, the darkness that she'd been fighting since the battle began finally swallowing her, welcoming her with open arms.

They'd won.