The graves are empty.

It is supposed to be a routine mission. A simple search and destroy, with targets who can no longer see him coming, can no longer flee, is a welcome change of pace from his usual assignments. His gut instincts still scream that it's too good to be true. Faced with two empty holes in the ground, he cannot ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach in favor of bittersweet closure.

He hates being right.

The news arrives five days earlier in the form of a knock at his sister's door.

He is visiting Sayu after a lengthy job, pestering her to see a doctor about some minor injury. He thinks nothing of the knock, thinks nothing of his sister getting up to answer the door. It is not until he recognizes the woman, Akane, by the pattern on her mask, that his ordeal begins.

"Is your brother here?" she asks, without preamble.

He joins his sister in the doorway.

"A report just came in from Konoha," she says. When his eyebrows draw together, she adds, "it's about some of our rogues. You'll want to hear this." Her voice is heavy with some meaning she won't reveal in front of his sister.

Sagasu's throat goes dry.

"I understand," he says, and leaves with her, putting on his mask as they walk.

He tries not to guess what information is waiting for him, although he thinks he already knows. It's his day off, so the report has to contain some information vital to the tracker corps, or even Sagasu specifically, and he tries not to think about what that might mean. Instead, he wonders how Konoha, a village they don't have particularly good history with, could possibly be involved.

He finds the rest of the tracker corps waiting for him in the Mizukage's office. Expressionless masks turn to face him. A few give small nods, but no one speaks.

"Have a seat, Sagasu," the Mizukage offers.

"No thank you, sir."

"Suit yourself." Yagura sighs and leans back in a chair that dwarfs his slender frame. "Momochi Zabuza and Yuki Haku have been reported dead by a Konoha jonin."

Sagasu does not so much as blink in reaction. "I see."

The Mizukage scans the open letter on his desk before continuing. "They were apparently working as mercenaries when the Konoha nin encountered them in a conflict and killed them. He recognized them and reported the incident, and has given us the location of their burial sites. As a gesture of good faith, I assume," he adds dubiously.

He looks up and makes eye contact with Sagasu through the mask.

"Certainly a more dignified ending than traitors could ever hope for," he says.

"I can make no argument with that, sir."

"No, you can't," Yagura agrees. "You'll need to confirm their identities and dispose of the bodies, of course. The sooner, the better. It's been unseasonably cold lately, but I'm sure they're already starting to rot." The room is so silent and so still that it could be empty.

"Yes, sir," Sagasu says.

"I'll have a completed draft of the mission sent over to you later today," he says, thumbing through a stack of papers that consists of the missive and two open file folders. His rummaging uncovers soft brown eyes staring out of an old photograph, and he leaves them uncovered. Sagasu can only guess this is by design.

"The boy was a student of yours, wasn't he?" Yagura asks, but because he knows the answer, he does not wait for a response. "Would you like to enlist any assistance for this task, to ensure it is completed properly?"

"That won't be necessary, sir."

"You are all dismissed, then."

The silent figures begin to file wordlessly from the room. Sagasu heads for the door as well, but stops short when his Mizukage calls him back.

"Sagasu?"

He winces.

"Sir?"

"I hope this finally allows you some measure of peace," Yagura says. His voice is even and sympathetic, but his eyes are cold.

"Yes, sir."

He leaves the Mizukage's office without breaking character. He goes back to his sister's apartment and apologizes for leaving so abruptly, but she tells him she understands that he can't discuss what goes on in tracker corps meetings. They go back to their conversation as if nothing has happened.

He leaves before she can invite him to stay for dinner.

Alone in his own apartment, Sagasu takes his mask out from underneath his flak jacket and hurls it across the room. He slowly sinks to the floor, one hand pressed over his mouth, and sobs in relief.

But now the graves are empty, because things can never be as straightforward as they seem. If he lets his mind wander, Sagasu can conjure up all kinds of gruesome images—of what happened on the bridge, of what's been done with the bodies. He will not, cannot, allow himself the notion that the graves have been dug out from the inside, although all his training tells him it must be so.

The dead do not walk. The graves are empty, so Sagasu does what he's always done.

He keeps moving.