Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto

~ 家路~
"The Path Home"

13.

"I have to go."

"There's a toilet in the morgue?" I asked, baffled by Pein's statement. If he needed the bathroom so badly, why tell me? Wait, wasn't Pein a corpse? How will he answer Mother Nature's call—did it even call to the Deva Path? I reeled back to look at him in a new light. I had a tough time imagining him with constipation complications.

The darkness hid Pein's reaction though I heard a push of air that might've been an exasperated sigh from him. "Not to the toilet, Tomoe. My presence is required in the front lines. Let me rephrase: I need to leave—for a while."

I bit my inner cheek. It was unlikely he'd let me follow him. I let go of his cloak, reluctantly so. "Here," There was the crinkle of paper and something was pressed into my palm. "Flow chakra into the paper."

I did as instructed even though I already knew my chakra signature—I blanched when fire erupted before me. I reeled back and my spluttering chakra flow broke off. The fire died. "What's …?"

"You must conserve your chakra; use it only when the darkness is truly unbearable," Pein warned, "This paper needs to feed off your chakra to light the area around you."

"It's like the paper that tells you your chakra nature," I commented.

"Konan made it, and yes, it stems from the same concept."

"Tell her I said thank you." I smiled, knowing that he could see it in the darkness that shrouded us. I heard the clangs of blades as the Akatsuki members sparred, counting on their chakra sensing skills to tell where their opponent was. Frankly, I was amazed they could fight so well in the dark. "Oh, and good luck to you in battle, I suppose," I added as an afterthought. Did he even need luck?

I smoothed paper from the crinkle at one of its edges. I figured fūinjutsu was used here because I had no affinity for fire.

"I feel so insignificant next to Konan," he muttered.

"What?" I asked loudly.

"Nothing." A swish of cloak, air brushed my cheek: he'd turned away. "Don't wander off if you know what's good for you." He was gone, soundless and stealthy.

I ignored Pein's warning to conserve chakra and kept the fire going regardless or not the darkness had gotten overbearing. He was kind and intelligent, but he couldn't empathize. He'd never sat in a cell in complete darkness and waited with bated breath, wondering if the darkness hid what would make that breath your last.

"Tomoe-chan?"

I blinked away the drowsiness startling to crust over my eyes. The fire flickered and died away as my concentration faded. "Swuh?" I clutched the paper as tightly as possible to my chest, rubbing my eye. "What?" I asked again.

"You're the girl we found in Hanzō's lab, ne?" came the same woman's voice again. Girl? Oh, wait, obvious mistake to make. I didn't know what to say to that. My physique was male, my psyche was somewhere between that and female. While I was having an identity crisis, the woman plowed on. "I'm Kukuri!" She chirped energetically, as I'd forgotten that bit. "Would you like something to eat?"

"It's morning already?"

"About eight," she agreed. Then sounding apologetic, she added, "I only have sweets though. Midori-kun hasn't returned with rations yet. Want one? Can you restart the fire again?" she laughed nervously. "I can't see you at all."

"Oh, right." The flame spurted weakly from the paper. I saw the kanji for flame and many katanaka blending in a linked circle. I finally saw Kukuri's face: she was dark-haired and green-eyed, pretty in an unobtrusive way—you know, the obtrusive way that made you feel like a troll.

She had already unwrapped the candy wrapper for me. I accepted it with thanks and popped it into my mouth. The sweetness of the candy was a nasty shock. I spat it out before the anesthesia could take effect but the smell was already invading my senses—the sickening sweetness that erased consciousness and rendered me a hapless victim.

Bile surged from my gut and before I could stop myself—ground myself—I hurled.

With the remaining vestiges of the fire Pein had given me, I fled.

~{XIII}~

If there was one thing the darkness was good for, it was to hide you. Still, I ended up in my hiding place: Kuraokami's mouth. Dawn was about as bright as twilight in Ame but I was grateful for the faint lighting. Until my chakra reserves were refilled, I'd stay here.

I heaved a miserable sigh. The bitter aftershock of vomit lingered in my mouth, curling around the curves of my tongue, and my humiliation. Wow, barfing because of tasting something sweet. I'd hit all kinds of low. I was feeling thirsty and hungry.

And tired. Very, very tired.

It was to the thought of my broken family that I slumped into slumber to.

Waking up brought nothing remotely pleasant for me, except for a cramping stomach and dry throat. Crying would make things worse. I didn't know how many hours had passed but the sky had darkened since I last saw it. I stroked the paper Konan had made, pumping chakra into it.

That my chakra was lightning-natured didn't seem to make a difference: the fire flamed. I entertained myself briefly by increasing and decreasing the volume of chakra influx. Basically, I did what Fugaku had disdained me for: laze around.

Thinking about my father's disappointment and disdain just brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. My relationship with Fugaku had always been bad. I got hurt without realizing it and I could always see his eyes clouding in disdain whenever we ended up in the hospital due to my carelessness. I was lazy; I didn't train half as hard he wanted me to, not realizing—or ignoring—that my interest never lied in becoming a shinobi. He chided me at every turn and criticized my halfhearted progress.

Useless and weak and lazy were simple adjectives but they cut much deeper than humanely possible. To spite him, I'd purposefully remained stagnant. Consoled myself with the thought that if I'd really wanted to, I could've done it, but it was a lie and I knew it. I wasn't a natural prodigy like Itachi and Sasuke were; it sucked that I had to work twice as hard for it and it just made me feel lazier.

I was no Rock Lee. I didn't care if I became a mediocre shinobi. I didn't need power to protect my brothers—they did fine themselves, even without me.

Useless. A pointless existence.

I failed to muffle a sob.

In morbid retrospect, only Hanzō ever thought me useful. I was resistant to his poisons, he was interested; he kept me alive, he rewarded me for good behavior, he talked empathetically to me, he made me feel, in the most horrible way, that I was useful. He was never cruel; he was just being technical, doing what he had to do. I couldn't feel pain anyway, what was I holding a grudge over?

And, to top it all off, I was sick of being in Ame, I was sick of relying on Pein's hospitality.

Going back to Konoha would make me feel a thousand times worse.

What would I do even if I go back? Crawl back to Danzō knowing that he'd pull another betrayal of epic proportions? And perhaps, this time, there would be no Pein to offer a shred of sympathy and kindness—thus, a worse situation.

And going back meant seeing how hurt Sasuke had been by my existence. Probably worried himself sick. Should I even—

"Tomoe?" I sobbed, so grateful for the distraction that I didn't even jump in shock. I turned around to see the orange-haired, Rinnegan-eyed man who'd taken me in. He looked mildly bewildered by the tears. Embarrassed, I struggled to swallow the lump in my throat. Then his face clicked into one of neutrality, sending me the silent message he wasn't judging anything.

He closed the distance between us, crouching on one knee before me. "Kukuri was worried about you," he started softly, "why did you run away for one whole day?"

One whole day? Had I really slept that long?

"I hurled on her," I mumbled, slurring the words together. Pein's hands were callused from years of handling weapons and he thumbed the tears away.

Pein looked at me doubtfully. "Is that really what has upset you?" he inquired. Pity. Always pity.

I screamed, wrenching myself away from his touch. "I hate it! I hate being so dependent. I hate it even more when being dependent is the only way I can survive," I choked out, hating how my life and death depended entirely on him—on others' pity and cruelty, always balanced by others' whim. Oh, that kid's useless, let's use him as bait. "I'm dependent to the point of being a burden—I am a burden. I feel worthless."

Pein frowned. "Would you rather be fighting in the frontlines? Listen, Tomoe, you are a child." The word struck a chord within me. I'd died when I was a sullen, spiteful, emotional fourteen-year-old. Being pampered by Mikoto hadn't helped my mental development, which I know. "Children are naturally dependent creatures. You need the help. Someday, as you continue to live, you'll grow out of it—pain will teach you to be independent, it is a lesson you learn as you grow."

I appreciated that he tried to comfort me. Really. But I was an adult, if you added fourteen and eight together. His saying that I needed help didn't make me feel better about myself.

"What else is troubling you?" he prompted.

I scowled at the ground. How did he know? "I just want to go home." At least I knew Sasuke wouldn't pity me. I couldn't even describe what I was feeling. This world in general made me feel worthless—wherever you were, it sucked to be the extra, unwanted one. Everything worked out fine without me. Why was I born? That was an issue I needed to work out on my own. "I miss my brother. And I've got a bone to pick with my stupid teammates. It hurts to be here."

Hurts to be so far from my brother; hurts to be here because it is proof I've been ditched by people I consider my friends.

Nonō warned me. I got too attached; I was too naïve, too trusting, too stupid. My fault—again.

Pein blinked slowly. Then his face softened. "Wars do this, Tomoe." He shifted his eyes to the scenery of the crying village Kuraokami's gaping mouth provided us. "Separate loved ones, possibly permanently. You shouldn't count your stint in Amegakure as a bad experience best forgotten." He sat down, legs pulled loosely to his chest. "What has happened will leave a scar to commemorate the pain of war and betrayal. Take this experience and wizen up, never repeat the same mistakes that had led to this situation."

"Uh?"

His eyes found mine. "Now that you've learned how much it pains to be betrayed, perhaps you will think twice before inflicting the same pain onto others."

I broke eye-contact, staring listlessly at the rainy horizon. "I can't feel physical pain but—"

"I'm indifferent to physical pain as well," Pein inserted, tone colored by empathy, "but that doesn't mean we are insusceptible to emotional pain—you understand, don't you?"

"We're an odd pair," I muttered, unsure if this was a good thing or not. Probably not. If there was anything I'd learned, being odd meant you were the freak everyone isolated and looked down upon. "I'm glad that I've met someone almost like me."

The pitter-patter of the rain let up slightly. It was drizzling; people might actually be able to move about in this weather. I turned back to Pein and saw two slices of bread and a cheese being handed to me. Noticing my surprise, he arched a brow, "Aren't you hungry?"

Now that he'd brought it up, yes. "Un." As I nibbled on the bread, repulsive of the bland taste, Pein spoke.

"Once you've rested," he said, "we'd do something more productive than sulking—together."

I swallowed the cheesy taste and said, "Training," the same time he did. Unexpectedly, he smiled. "That's more like it."

~{XIII}~

"I can't see a single thing," I complained to the blind dark. Pein's eyes glowed faintly only, barely enough to provide light. I had Konan's fire-paper tucked safely away. It could've been my overactive imagination but the darkness at the edges of my eyes lashed and writhed like snakes. I gritted my teeth against a violent shudder.

"You will soon," promised Pein. Electricity cackling reached my ears first. I cocked my head in the direction of the sound, pivoting on my heels to see Pein cupping a ball of electricity in his hands. The metal of his Akatsuki ring fizzled but he seemed completely unbothered by it. "Raikyū," he said at the expression of wonder on my face. It was bright enough to lit the fifteen feet of distance between us though it did not give me a full view of the spherical room we were in.

Pein pressed his palms together, clapping, and when he stopped, his chakra expounded and flared, electrocuting at a huge range.

My hair stood on end. I hurried to smooth it, weirded out by the sensation, though it felt nearly ticklish. Darkness fell once more.

"It's like magic," I remarked.

Pein relit the area with another ball of electricity, this time fizzling in one hand. "Magic? That's a first. No one has ever described ninjutsu to be like magic tricks you see in circuses. I'll teach you the hand seals but I think you don't need to focus to change your chakra nature."

I nodded. I clapped my hands together and concentrated. The light behind my eyelids dissipated. Distracted by the impending darkness, I sparked electricity. It was small in comparison to Pein's but it could improve.

"Is it childish to think it's like magic?" I asked.

"But I like how you said it," Pein replied. "Far too often, its beauty has been shrouded by the violence of war."

I mustered a faint smile his way. "Then please teach me more magic tricks, Sensei."

~{XIII}~

Pein was an exceptional teacher. His seemingly endless patience seemed to be the key. Whenever I was confused and simply didn't grasp the concept, he would explain and simplify the initial explanation then he'd pull off a flawless demonstration that left me in awe.

I was glad I had training as an excuse to be busy. Thinking left me depressed; basically, whenever I had nothing to do, I sulked.

A relatively peaceful time passed, maybe a week or two. I was still the only kid, the only oddball there even though I'd apologized to Kukuri. She seemed pretty happy to have me speaking to her. Nothing seemed to give her more thrill than to hear me greeting her. Weirdo (And I'm sure they all think the same of me). I followed Pein everywhere, and if Konan was there, I'd ditch him to follow her because, obviously, she was much cooler. So yes, it was weird for everyone involved.

But, of course, it was the law of the universe that Uchiha Tomoe couldn't have a peaceful life.

I collapsed during training for seemingly no reason (however, I suspected that if I had been able to feel pain, I would've felt my organs failing me and a migraine killing my brain). When I woke up, I was back at Kuraokami's mouth—this was starting to become my most visited place in the world, second only to Konoha's hospital and wow, did that say something—and Pein was hovering over me, face pinched in concern although it still looked rather cold and dead.

"You have a raging fever," he informed me. "And rash."

"Chickenpox?" I mumbled. What must I do, I wondered, to get a contenting life?

Pein was rolling something on my forearm. I strained my neck to see what it was: a glass ball. He rolled it over my skin like a little kid playing with marbles. I blinked in bafflement. "You have symptoms of meningitis and chickenpox." And how the hell was that possible? My immune system was generally strong. I could count on one hand I'd fallen sick in this life. "I've booked a room for you at the closest motel, and I'll send Kukuri to inspect you."

I winced. "Pein," I whispered, eyelids fluttering close as I spoke, "my eyes … they feel heavy …"

"They're red." My heart jolted. The Sharingan? "Pinkeye, possibly." Even Pein sounded uncertain. Meningitis, chickenpox and pinkeye? This couldn't possibly be normal. It was like my immune system had mysteriously disappeared. Hell, how was I even alive?

Not having a functional body or skewed up perception made me feel odd though I was glad or I would've been in a hell lot of misery right now. My eyes were probably swelling, paining and itching all at once. They were heavy and I fought to keep blinking—I refused to stand in the dark. My body felt like sandbags, I couldn't even raise a finger. My throat was dry, couldn't feel any liquid. I had no doubt I had a cold, too. A sore throat was generally due to the swelling pressing on nerve endings and since I couldn't feel pain, it just felt like pressure, like someone was strangling me.

Like being unable to move was very comfortable.

I sniffled as I was moved. My head came to rest on a broad, strong shoulder. "Tomoe, can you stand?" My knees buckled and I slumped so Pein had to carry me. I belatedly realized he never carried me on his left arm, because he didn't want me to feel that he had no heartbeat.

"Feel bile," I mumbled. I was shivering, breaths inhaled and exhaled quickly, in a broken rhythm.

Pein leapt from the tip of Kuraokami's tongue anyway. Weird. Tongue? Thought they're tiny … am I tiny? I giggled. Then I stopped. My face twisted—bitterness worked its way up my throat—the rough landing of the vehicle I was in made it worse. I had motion sickness.

I twisted and gagged. Rain hailed onto my back. I shivered so badly my teeth chattered one of Beethoven's symphonies. Or something. Whatever.

"Come," urged the lollipop, "Stop squirming, Tomoe."

"Who?" I groaned. The world spiraled into the sun and the resulting crash brought darkness onto us all. Hah?

Next thing I knew, I was flat on my back, on a soft surface that sunk when I shifted. "Pain," my voice-box coughed out through a huge stone in my throat. Odd thing to say, I wasn't even in pain. Voices drifted towards me, registering only faintly in my brain.

"… septicaemia is blood poisoning, it's common to surface with meningitis," a familiar woman's voice was explaining, though in a weird language I certainly didn't speak, "What doesn't make sense is the pinkeye and chickenpox. Where has he been?"

"He has not left my side since that incident," replied a swift, toneless voice. A hand, rough and large, enveloped my own. "His hand's cold," murmured the same voice I instinctively leaned towards to, ignorant of the shivers that made my movements jerky. "Don't meningitis and septicaemia kill in hours if left untreated?"

"How many hours had it been?"

"An hour at most," the man's voice was soft, deadly. "Where's the vaccine? Cure? What did you think I hire you for, Kukuri?"

"Pein-sama, we don't have the resources or the money to—"

"Nothing?" asked the man, a faint trace of disbelief lacing his voice. "Absolutely nothing?"

"Pein-sama," whispered the woman fearfully, breath tightening over a sob of fear, "even if we provide him the cure, Tomoe-chan will still die. His antibodies are completely poisoned by Hanzō's experiments—it's highly unlikely he can live with his body incapable of fighting off even the weakest of virus or bacteria—"

"Hush, he's awakening."

"Pei—"

"Leave," intoned the man harshly. The slit I managed to open unveiled blurry orange and purple. My favorite colors.

"Dy'ng?" I croaked better than an authentic frog did.

"No, no, the poison can be kept at bay," assured the man, "I have a … let's say—a friend who can help. He's almost here. Just hold on a bit longer. Try to stay awake."

I burrowed deeper into the blanket, mind blissfully empty. "Ne, what's your name?" It struck me that this man's name eluded me completely. Why was I here again?

"Nagato," his reply was soft and was nearly drowned out by the click and opening and closing of the door. Knuckles brushed my cheek; I leaned into the tender touch. "Nagato is my name."

~{XIII}~

My name is Tomoe. The boy who lived—after being assaulted by pinkeye, meningitis, septicaemia, and chickenpox—even though I'd never met Voldemort. I had one similarity with Harry Potter though: we were orphans.

I'd been bedridden for three weeks. And in the span of those weeks, I was babysat by none other than Pein's Naraka Path. Though Pein introduced him as his uncle, Naraka-kun. He didn't know I knew the truth—that they were the same people.

I wondered if Nagato found it weird that he had to pretend to converse with himself. It always made me giggle into my pillow. Nagato obviously tried to draw some differences in case I suspected something was wrong.

Naraka was friendlier, smiled more, and was generally more lenient. I liked him. Though technically, I'd be liking the same person, Nagato.

The name had been a shocking revelation; Pein said his name was Nagato. Once I'd been in my right mind, after leaving the King of Hell's tender care, I'd asked if he was being serious.

"Yes," he'd said, "that is my name. Pein is merely an alias."

"Why didn't you say so on our first meeting?"

He smiled mysteriously. "You asked who I was, not my name."

I rolled my eyes. "It's technically the same thing."

"Perhaps it is so to you," he compromised indulgently, blinking and his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he did so, "but Pein is who I've become; Nagato is merely my name."

(Yamanaka's best psychologist would've done him good.)

I stared gloomily at the rain railing at the window of my motel room. It was homier and brighter than Kuraokami's tower but it could get dull when it was the only thing I could look at. Chickenpox won't leave scars if you didn't go out into the rain. And since the rain never lets up here, I was cooped up. I despised the inactivity but I also didn't need more scars to add to my plethora of scars. Shinobi twice my age had nothing on me.

The bandages hid the scars from Hanzō's ministrations. My arms looked like tiny mosquito bites in comparison to what my legs look like. The Naraka Path had changed my bandages while I was asleep but I'd woken up in the midst of it. And had promptly gawked.

Ever seen the moon? I mean the real surface of the moon, not the smooth white globe we see from Earth. Yeah, my leg seemed to have been carved with the moon's surface as the inspiration for the pattern. Large craters, tiny craters, inexplicable holes. How was I even using my legs!?

"The scars will heal someday, won't it?" I asked the Naraka Path.

His eyes were identical to Pein's, virtually the same person behind that face. "Someday," he echoed and finished the last loop around my ankle.

"When's Nagato going to visit?" I leaned closer to inspect the Naraka Path's expression. His expression was quite limited. "What do you do in the army? You're a medic-nin, right? I'm training to be one, too, can you teach me? And where's Konan-sama? Is she doing well?"

"Nagato is, um, coming," answered the Naraka Path slowly, enunciating the words carefully, "And yes, I'm a medic-nin so I heal the injured members. I'm not good at fighting," he revealed ruefully. A sly twinkled sparked his eyes, giving it a brighter color. "So Konan is Konan-sama, is it?"

"She's just awesome," I sighed dreamily. The female characters of Naruto were flukes, except for her. My respect for her ran deep. Plus, paper weapons. So cool … I ship Naruto and Konan more than NaruHina. Uwek. Too bad it wasn't canon. And why did she have to die? Noooo! Die, Tobi!

Naraka asked, "Why didn't Nagato get a respectful honorific?"

"Because he's Nagato," I deadpanned quickly. My preconception of Nagato was that he looked like Rem from Death Note. If he gets any thinner, he'd be Rem and even a stray dog could rip him to shreds. Huh. Wondered which mangaka borrowed inspiration from the other.

"… I see." His expression reflected the tone of my words—a complete deadpan. I wondered if Nagato had been insulted. But truth to be told … I leaned forward, tugging on the Naraka Path's hand. "Truth be told," I whispered conspiratorially, "I think Nagato's way cooler than Konan but don't tell him that."

Naraka smiled faintly. "Why?"

"His coloring is what first comes to mind," I admitted honestly, "I like the color of his hair and his eyes. And when he rolls his eyes, it's fascinating—like his eyes are really rippling."

The Naraka Path's eyebrow twitched in mild disbelief. "Just that …?"

"And his magic tricks," I added belatedly, sheepishly realizing that his prowess in ninjutsu should've been mentioned first.

The Naraka Path ruffled my hair. "It's late; go to bed, Tomoe. Tomorrow, we'll be performing a medical checkup on you." I felt a stab of worry and it must've shown on my features because he smoothed my bangs down. "Nothing to worry about, it's just for precaution," he assured me. Then he left.

I'd napped thrice today so it was hard to fall asleep right away. I thought as I whiled the hours of the night away, rolling around beneath the covers, and I realized I hadn't asked Nagato something important.

Why are you so kind to me?

You don't have to sugarcoat it, I'm an annoying wimp and a genuine pain in the ass. First, I blew up Nagato's headquarters. Second, I piled all my troubles on him without even thinking of how much pain he was laboring under. He'd been through as much as I had, if not more—with the war he was fighting and all.

No … we shouldn't compare how much pain we'd been through; we should compare how much we were left after all that we'd been through. We'd lost our respective parents. I'd staggered out from that ordeal a child who still clung to his mother's skirt and suddenly found it out of reach. But everything was still provided for me.

Nagato didn't; he'd lived in wartime, he had to find his own food when I had someone catering to me. I had my brother. He had to search painstakingly hard before he was lucky to be found by another orphan.

He made me feel ashamed of myself.

This me, I wanted to discard him.

First thing tomorrow.

~{XIII}~

Drabble xii.

"Don't do it, Pein!" Konan's voice rose the closest to a shout since Yahiko died. In the Deva Path's arms, Yahiko's arms, Tomoe's corpse began cooling. Tomoe's grip on the Deva Path didn't relent even minutes after the brain had ceased its command of the limb. Tomoe had clung onto Yahiko's corpse in the last few moments of his life. "I can't see," the boy had sniffled miserably, "it's so dark – don't leave until I wake up, please?"

And without thinking, Nagato had said, as he carded a hand through the black hair, "I won't, I promise." In retrospect, perhaps he shouldn't have said anything: the reassurance seemed to have given the boy closure to move on, to relent his grip on this life.

"- Nagato, it's not worth it –" The rest of Konan's voice was drowned away as Meifu no Ō consumed them. None of his Paths had ever been so damaged that they required the Naraka Path's mending: it was an eye-opener for Nagato as well, to be within Meifu no Ō.

Movement stirred in his arms: Tomoe shifted, his soul recalled by Meifu no Ō. And as the world tilted and warped— Meifu no Ō turning back to the land of the living, abandoning the afterlife from which the soul it desired had been retrieved— Nagato sighed.

It did not matter that he had cut his lifespan in half, left it behind in the evanid afterlife.

He knew when Tomoe woke up in the world of the living, Nagato would see the half of the life he cut away in the boy's purple eyes.

Again, I posted a drabble after a chapter - don't get used to it though XD This omake takes place after Pein told Tomoe his name is Nagato. Consider it a gift for Christmas and New Year's Eve. Feel free to derive theories from the drabble. I'll confirm it here: yes, Pein traded part of his soul to reinvigorate Tomoe's lifespan, so part of his chakra is detectable in Tomoe ... what does that imply? ;)

Question: Is someone willing to draw fanart of Tomoe? :)

R&R