This chapter is a long read for one sitting, bordering on 16k+ words. I foolishly thought after an early appointment this morning I could post it by noon. It is now dinner time. To think, it was actually going to be even longer, with two more POV changes. But I figured readers got spoiled enough and my hands needed a break.

Chapter warning, if it even needs one: Sakura's kind of a pervert in this chapter. There's a more intimate tone in places, a touch of the sexual tension people might have been craving. Just a peek. Some parts of the chapter are more of an M-rating for that reason. Just a bit, though.

There was so much activity, it was hard to immediately notice anything had changed. Hashirama stopped to wait patiently as a young man herded a flock of chickens down the street, enticing them with crumbs every few steps.

An exhausted-looking woman, baby bundled on her back and a whining toddler pulling at her yukata, tried to hush her third child, who cried over a toy, as far as the Hokage could tell.

Some people swept their doorsteps, and a few looked up from sipping tea on their engawas to nod his way. He enthusiastically grinned back. There was once a time when a Senju strolling through the Uchiha compound would have been a practical declaration of war. Not so now. Well, here and there Hashirama felt weighted stares, heard the unsubtle whisperers.

But for the most part, things had progressed beyond die-hard alliance to a clan. There would always be that pride and community, but now it also extended to the village, which most Uchiha proudly called home and worked to make better. He passed a group of young children being instructed, running through their katas with Hikaku.

They weren't quite old enough to enter the academy, but shinobi clans long held the tradition of training children for battle from the age they could competently hold a practice weapon. Even with the new learning system in place that probably wouldn't change. Some fighting styles and secret techniques could only be passed down that way.

Still, Hashirama held high hopes for a new attitude melding clan traditions and loyalty to the village taking root with the next generation. It was a childhood dream being realized. He absently realized he had arrived at the right house, a middle-aged Uchiha medic stepping outside just as he reached the door. The older man smiled politely, "Ah, Lord Hokage, I'm sure they're expecting you."

"Thank you." Hashirama returned, slipping inside and beginning to remove his shoes. No sooner did he have them off than shuffling caught his attention. A weary Izuna was carrying a tray out of the kitchen.

"Hashirama, perfect timing." Carefully, Izuna gestured back to the room he'd just left. "I can get the food in Madara's room a lot faster with some help."

Not hesitating, Hashirama stepped forward. "Of course."

Together, the two men returned to the clan head's quarters with everything Izuna prepared. Setting down the pitcher of water, the Senju took in the half-empty bowl and discarded rags.

Just as with the last time he'd visited, and the time before that, Madara lay still inside his futon. Sighing, Izuna immediately began propping his brother up with an arm around his shoulders.

Settling quietly on the other side of his friend's unconscious body, Hashirama crossed his legs, placing his hands down on his knees. "I take it nothing's change."

"No," Izuna spooned a small amount of cooled soup past Madara's lips. He swallowed reflexively, but didn't stir otherwise. "Three days of the same thing."

Hashirama's frown deepened. First the amnesia, now the sudden catatonic state. No matter how many times he had examined Madara, he couldn't find anything truly wrong. Nothing that could be immediately pinpointed as the cause of his coma.

On the first day, Izuna explained Madara snuck off with a lot of food, but didn't come back in a reasonable amount of time. Curiously, his younger brother had searched his usual haunts, not having to go far to find him at the edge of the forest surrounding the village.

"Hashirama…" The quiet call drew him out of his musings, and he stared into Izuna's concerned face. His devotion was admirable. Through it all, he had been managing the best he could, looking after Madara and handling daily clan affairs.

"Hm?"

"You know with everything else that's happened these last few months, this feels suspicious."

Hashirama straightened up, eyes widening. "How so?" Tilting his head in consideration, he focused on the rise and fall of Madara's chest.

"What if…he had all that fruit because it was an offering?" Izuna mumbled, lowering his head. "I couldn't find any of it with him."

It didn't take much to see where Izuna's train of thought was headed. "You're saying…you think he met one of those deities that Sakura-san mentioned?" The thought hadn't crossed his mind, truthfully.

Though he still had yet to meet one of the supernatural beings—and was content not to—Sakura-san's tale about the happenings on Sekai had raised a lot of questions. Some of them had been answered in the face to face mission report, but a lot had arisen since.

Not wanting to overwhelm her, or make her feel too put upon after Tobirama's ultimatum, the Hokage told himself he would simply wait for the right time. But so much had happened so quickly and now the only person who might be able to shed some light on things was away from the village. "What led you to that speculation?"

"I've met some." Izuna grimaced, giving Madara more broth and then dabbing his forehead with a wet cloth. "If there's one word I could use to describe them, it's vindictive." Hashirama waited for him to continue, watching more sustenance get coaxed into Madara. "The shinigami we battled was angry and kept mentioning she wanted my soul. Her master, the God of Death confirmed it…should have become his before the peace treaty was signed."

The soft confession was news to him, and Hashirama's mind flew back to that day. The battle where he had offered to end the fighting once and for all. Izuna, mortally wounded, had urged Madara against it.

Even then, secretly he had been incredibly worried for the younger Uchiha's fate. He knew Tobirama had defeated him with his new technique Hiraishingiri and the resulting injury was severe. To see Izuna alive and at Madara's side during the next battle was as surprising as it was relieving.

"You didn't mention that in the mission report…"

Izuna laughed a little, pushing a thick lock of hair out of his face. "Weren't things tense enough?" Putting the empty soup bowl away, he picked up the water and poured a cup. "Besides, shinobi live their entire lives marked for early graves when you think about it. The only revelation to me was that the afterlife without a doubt exists. And so do petty, cunning shinigami." Hashirama nodded slowly, unable to deny that truth.

His brothers, whose lives had been snuffed out so soon. The countless children from other clans he had faced and killed to keep living himself. There was even room for sympathy in his hearts when he thought of adult shinobi who died untimely deaths in battle.

Their futures, families and aspirations left behind. Losing Izuna felt like it would have been the last push Madara needed toward the edge. While he may not have agreed with Tobirama's theory of the Uchiha clan and the Curse of Hatred, he knew they loved deeply and wholly. For Madara to lose his final brother might have made him a very different man than the one he called his best friend.

"There's something I'm sure I'm not understanding in all this, though." Hashirama studied Izuna again, taking in his normal pale complexion, the slight bags beneath his eyes, but the overall appearance of a very much alive and healthy man.

"How I survived Tobirama's attack?" Izuna's lips curled a little, his expression wry. "According to Madara, a goddess came and restored me before I took my final breaths. She was adamant I needed to live, according to him."

"A goddess saved you?" Hashirama slowly digested the information. "Well, the Senju are already fairly spiritual. For a shinobi clan anyway. As a child, the oldest members were convinced I was absorbing good karma from a previous life." he chuckled briefly. "Although there are quite a few deities in the pantheon to my knowledge. I wonder which spared you."

Izuna had Madara sip down the water, then helped him get comfortable on his pillows. "The very same one that granted Sakura the power of a godslayer."

He only shrugged over the Hokage's gawking. "It's not something we found out until after meeting Sakura. But that's why I…" he paused, closing his eyes. "It's going to sound childish, but that's why I'm fine with how things turned out. If I'd died, who knows what would have become of Madara. And I never would've seen Konoha become a reality. I never would've met her." There was such a tender warmth in the depths of the Uchiha's gaze, Hashirama felt a subtle heat crawl up his neck.

He found himself looking elsewhere. "Izuna, you…" he cleared his throat.

Noticing his wince, but clearly misinterpreting it for pity, Izuna went on, "I want to tell her that myself soon. If I get out of my own head long enough. I'd worked out what I wanted to say to her at the New Year's festival." A self-deprecating laugh bounced out of his throat. "That didn't exactly work out though."

'So I wasn't the only one hoping for Sakura-san's company that night.' Then, maybe her being unable to attend either celebration was the best thing. It might've hurt to hear her rejection in favor of spending time elsewhere. She was her own person, of course, free to come and go as she pleased.

The Senju just couldn't deny that he was also delighted to spend time with her, and since the conversation with Madara, he himself had started to wonder if that was all it was.

He enjoyed being around his clan, his friends, and his villagers. But the connection when he talked with Sakura-san under the stars, or shared gardening tips while they repotted Bukkai, the bubbling well of happiness when he watched her instruct academy children so carefully. Could it all be nothing more than friendship? Then there was the now infamous trip to the hot springs.

"Something on your mind?" Izuna prodded.

Realizing how far he'd been lost in his head, Hashirama offered a small grin. "You're pretty intense in your own way, Izuna."

Surprisingly, the Uchiha flushed. "N-no. It's only because," Madara groaned a little, the first sound to come from him since he was retrieved from the forest. "I guess the focus really should be on making sure Madara is comfortable. I don't think there's much more either of us can do for him. He just has to decide to wake up on his own."

Rubbing anxiously at the side of his neck, Hashirama swallowed, oddly relieved for the shift in conversation. Though it had made him aware Izuna also had a keen interest in the kunoichi's return. "You're right. Hopefully, it won't be much longer."

"Excuse me," With just those two words, Hashirama watched all the light drain from Izuna's eyes, replaced by a lead curtain of wariness.

"Yes," he called, his tone clipped, no longer carrying the soft note of reflection from before.

"It's Maro. Is this a bad time? I'd heard Lord Madara wasn't well and wanted to pay respects."

The twitch of the Uchiha's jaw was the only other indication of displeasure. "Come in." he said, and the shoji doors slid away to reveal an older man Hashirama could remember seeing on the battlefield before.

He was fierce, slicing through his foes with heavy sword strikes or pinning them in hellish genjutsu with his Sharingan. Here he sauntered in with a purpose, oozing intimidation with dark eyes made of flint. A deep scar curved up one side of a tight jaw, his oily brown hair tumbling over one shoulder to rest at the collar of his midnight yukata. The loose clothing did not hide the fact that his body was still well conditioned for a seasoned shinobi.

Upon their eyes meeting, he stopped, something dark passing through his eyes before he hid it behind detached civility. "I wasn't aware Lord Madara already had visitors." The following bow was so rigid it must have pained him. "Hello, Lord Hokage."

Perfectly aware of the restlessness brewing in the room, Hashirama dawned his own mask, becoming the diplomatic leader of Konoha. "Yes, I wanted to visit for a while. Maro-san, wasn't it? I don't believe we've ever spoken before."

"Indeed," Maro agreed. "And it's a shame. Such a long history between our clans. Thankfully put to rest at last." He took a few small steps further into the room, but Izuna's harsh stare gave him ample reason not to fool himself into thinking he would be visiting Madara's side. "It pains all of us to hear of Lord Madara's recent decline in health."

"His health hasn't declined." Had he not been a shinobi his entire life, Hashirama may have been startled by the abrupt change that had overcome Izuna. Once a young man yearning and lamenting over his feelings, he had evolved. Sitting in front of him was the cold second-in-command that had engaged Tobirama so viciously in battle over the years.

"Oh?" Maro hummed. "I see…I was led to believe he had collapsed from mysterious circumstances."

"I can't imagine by who," Izuna replied lightly, an unspoken promise to find whatever Uchiha healer had been speaking too loosely. "But fatigue from chakra depletion is common, as you're aware, and the best cure is rest."

Maro stroked his chin absently. "Yes. That our esteemed leader would push himself to that degree is still worrisome, wouldn't you say? I will join the rest of the clan in hoping for a swift recovery."

The hairs along the back of the Senju's neck rose. He was sure if Tobirama were present, he'd be agitated by the aura of deceit that wafted from this man. Regardless of his courteous words or the stoic façade, there was something duplicitous there, of that he had no doubt. All decent ninja were master manipulators of course. It was heavily tied to the traits of the profession. 'But this goes beyond that.'

"My brother would be pleased to see our clansmen rally around him." The younger Uchiha smiled thinly. "Is there anything else you needed?"

"Ah, yes, actually." Maro cast a long look in Hashirama's direction. "Although I feel it may be best to keep clan matters within the clan. No disrespect Lord Hokage."

"I understand perfectly." He assured. Maro kept staring pointedly, but Hashirama didn't make much effort to stand. Izuna smirked.

"Maro-san, while I'm grateful for the visit, as I'm sure Madara would be, the Hokage's taken time out of his day to see my brother, his oldest friend. We were also already talking before you arrived. Depending on the urgency of the issue, it'd be better if you returned later."

All pretenses of pleasantry had dropped, the message no less clear than it would have been if Izuna had simply growled a "get out".

Maro's face slipped, giving away a small amount of contempt, but he nodded. The smart thing to do was back down before the subtle bit of red in Izuna's eyes grew more pronounced. It was a lucky thing the Uchiha didn't possess the fangs of the Inuzuka, or Izuna might have been baring them.

"Very well. I'll return at a more suitable hour. After all, this was an unannounced visit." He shuffled back toward the door, his lips pressed tightly together to keep himself from saying more. Izuna outranked him, but Hashirama could see it chafed at Maro's pride to be rebuffed. "My regards, Lord Hokage. Take care."

They listened to his retreating footsteps down the hall, and waited a beat longer still. When all traces of Maro—save the foul atmosphere he'd left behind—were gone, Izuna picked up the ceramic bowl once holding the broth and flung it to pieces against the far wall.

To see such an enraged side emerge, and outside of battle at that, nearly made Hashirama jump. Izuna scrubbed a hand down his face, long fingers parting to expose glittering ruby irises. "They're getting bold." he seethed.

"He didn't have killing intent, but it was close enough to be uncomfortable." The brunette was sure he didn't need to state the obvious, but Izuna was already worked up anyhow. "What's going on?"

"He's been displeased with the direction Madara has been leading the clan for a long time." Hands still shaking, he busied himself cleaning. "When he agreed to the treaty, it was all the proof Maro needed to say he didn't have the clan's best interest at heart. Privately, anyway."

That was absurd! Right there on the wall, painted to perfection and hung in an expensive, hand-made frame, was a picture of Madara as a child with his entire family. All four of his younger brothers and his parents.

The painter had managed to capture the roundness of youth in the children's cheeks and the glimmer of pride in Tajima Uchiha's eyes. His mother's dark hair even had a noticeable shine. This was no doubt an image his friend treasured to this day. "I can't think of a man who loves his clan more than Madara. That's precisely why he chose the treaty."

"He's too attached to the old ways to see that. To Maro, choosing the clan means doing so above everything else. I've been tracking his movements, waiting for him to expose himself for what he is. I know he's trying to gather enough dissenters to cause problems. Maybe openly contest the validity of Madara's appointment as clan head to the council." Taking a deep breath, Izuna picked up a large shard from the floor. The Sharingan receded, but the storm remained under the curtain of long lashes. "I'm acting clan head until Madara wakes up. Coming here today was just to size me up. It might as well have been an open challenge."

With more understanding of the situation, Hashirama felt fully prepared to take up the cause too. It wasn't the proper, impartial thing to do as the Hokage, but Izuna was correct that he was Madara's oldest friend. He refused to see him deposed for wanting what was best for the Uchiha, for wanting his clan to have a chance at knowing peace.

Sensing his feelings before he could voice them, Izuna firmly shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, but you can't. Interference from you would play right into the narrative Maro's spinning."

Hashirama pressed his lips together hard, knowing he couldn't protest. He was right. This wasn't a matter he could openly get involved in without making it worse. "I trust you know what you're doing," bowing his head in defeat, he took in the patterns stained into the wood floor. "I don't have to ask you to keep protecting Madara."

Izuna's cloudy expression finally lightened. "I use to wonder why Madara admired you so much. If I'm being truthful I might have even been jealous…but, you're a good man and a loyal friend, Hashirama." He returned to his spot near Madara's shoulder and got comfortable on the zabuton again. "Now we only need him to wake up so all this can be handled."

"Yes," The Hokage laid solemn eyes on the unresponsive Uchiha. "Let's pray that's soon."

ASiT

The path stretched out was as inky and foggy as before. It felt like no matter how far he walked, he got nowhere, and he hadn't seen a single person the entire time. Though, that could probably be attributed to where he was—which wasn't in the waking world anyway.

'I know I spoke to that god Omoikane and retrieved my memories. But something was wrong with them.' After that, Madara assumed he had passed out. Shameful to think he could succumb to a fainting spell from shock alone, but here he was. At least in the endless trek toward…something…he hadn't grown tired. Or hungry. Or anything. 'This is already growing old. I should have woken up by now.' The mist was up past his knees, but he didn't even feel the chill of it.

"…Aim a little higher when you throw. That's how you get the knack of it!" The sudden voice had him reflexively reaching for a weapon he didn't possess.

"But I recognize that voice well. In fact, that memory in particular…" Madara paused.

"W-Who asked you?! Wait, who are you?"

The foggy image grew steadily clearer before his eyes, and he was staring at the scene from his childhood when he had first encountered a boy named Hashirama. The person who would become his lifelong rival…and closest friend.

Madara chuckled as the Senju introduced himself just like he remembered, getting lost in the conversation that followed between Hashirama and his younger self. Deciding to move on as the boys' began speaking of more serious things, he had to wonder what had suddenly triggered that.

"Am I finally moving toward the end of this boring hell?" he asked no one. "I suppose journeying on is the only true way to be sure."

It didn't take long to hear his own voice, spat in the direction of a buxom, blond haired woman he had never seen before. They stood opposites in battle as he sneered taunts at her. "Weak people are ugly…" he said. "And weak Senju are even uglier." Strangely, he didn't remember ever battling that woman. As she released a seal upon her forehead that was identical to the one on Haruno's, he was further confused and intrigued. She and the four other shinobi with her engaged he and a multitude of clones in a fierce, high stakes battle.

And as the fight raged and the version of him fighting continued to throw out snide comments, Madara recognized it all for what it was. He of all people could recognize when he firmly had the upper-hand, and when someone was actually managing to apply pressure to him in battle.

"Is this what I was warned about?" he mused. "This is clearly me, and yet I have no recollection even with my memories." The way the woman dressed was unusual, firstly. The other four also appeared to be from different regions outside the Land of Fire.

And never in recent memory could he imagine a time when such diverse groups of shinobi would come together no matter what was at stake. The thought of the Uchiha and Senju putting aside their differences to live in harmony as a village was hard enough for the rest of the world to digest as it was.

Rubbing at his chin, he allowed himself to keep thinking aloud. "Something isn't making sense here. It's just like when I saw myself stabbing Haruno."

Something bright but distant flashed in his peripheral, and Madara turned to see light rising from the fog. More memories. All of them recent. All of them with Haruno. As if speaking her name had been the key to initiating something. There laid before him were the events he had only just gotten back.

A disdainful grimace overcame Madara at the sight of a sailor plummeting down onto him. Then Haruno's bright eyes set into a horrified face popped into view from the hole the impact made.

Teasing her relentlessly multiple times just to see her reaction was also frequent in his line-up of memories. Viewing how he had handed her a necklace without much thought got him wondering, though.

Helping the child was of course a motivating factor. But deeper than that, some primal, puffed up sense of pride wanted to prove how easily he could provide her with whatever she desired.

Even then, when his main reason for being around Haruno was to amuse himself, something was different. Seeing the way he let himself be toppled by falling rock to save her life had him thinking. It was only now that he could watch it all in hindsight that he was privy to the immediate aftermath. Odd, because he thought he was fully unconscious after the hit he took to the head.

The rain poured in a torrent around them as Haruno kneeled in the rubble with his head on her lap. Distinct trails of water came from the corners of her eyes, causing a devilish grin to unfold. She had mourned him. His sacrifice meant more to her than she'd let on (aside from the undercurrent of guilt he would see in her eyes).

To Madara, the one tragedy of the situation was him being too out of it to appreciate his head being pillowed on Haruno's thighs. The next time he saw her, he'd have to take steps toward rectifying that. The memory cut out, leading him to believe he really had passed out after that.

"This is pathetic…"

"Be nice!"

"He's passed out in broad daylight."

Madara would have to agree it wasn't a flattering look. Although it wasn't him who'd said as much. Everything around him shifted, darkness and fog falling away until he felt the padding underneath him. Was he…back home?

His eyes adjusted to a bright room. It was cozy, definitely lived in, but not entirely familiar. Two forms leaned over him, and he started to squirm away. "Izuna…Hashirama?" If there was going to be anyone fussing over him when he woke up, it would be them.

"Damn, how out of it are you?" the voice on his right grumbled. It was young, but surprisingly gruff, a little concern leaking through. Madara stared straight up and into a pale face, beginning to choke.

"Oh, hold on! I'll help you sit up," The lighter voice on his left declared, before small hands lifted him by his shoulder. Through the haze of his bewilderment, he realized he was being offered water, and drank slowly.

The whole time, he kept his eyes on the unimpressed face. More importantly, on the impossibly green eyes framed by thick, sooty lashes. If not for the more narrow shape of them, he would think they belonged to—

Another face was hovering close, big eyes and pouting lips forming the worried countenance of a young girl. Her plum-colored hair was long, wavy and parted in the middle to reveal a large forehead. However, given her age, he supposed it was endearing. "What's wrong? It's just Tsuki-Tsuki."

"That's a ridiculous name." he rasped.

"Nickname." The boy corrected. "But yeah, it is. Anyway, guess this means you're just fine after all."

Well, he really begged to differ. He didn't know where he was, or who his apparent young caregivers were. Reaching up, he placed a hand to his head, feeling for any obvious bumps. Instead of Izuna bringing him home, it had been two children young enough to be academy students who saved him?

The girl threw herself at him with an audible breath of relief, arms locking around his waist as she squished her cheek against his heartbeat. "You know, that was reckless. We were worried." Pulling away, her cheeks inflated, and without warning she struck him hard in the stomach.

"Urgh!" Madara crumpled just a little. Of all times to regain the ability to feel pain… He'd taken worse hits, but for a girl no more than twelve, her strength was pretty impressive. In a few years half-hearted punches like that would prove lethal. The girl swiped at her face with a sniffle, as if he had been the one to cause her a great deal of distress.

"Unmannerly brat…" he groaned, rubbing the spot he was sure would bruise heavily.

"Stupid old man." When Tsuki-Tsuki shook his head, Madara noticed that it was cropped on one side. He had a full head of short hair otherwise, whorled in a wavy mess across his forehead with a stubborn piece hanging between his eyes. Slowly rising to his feet at the sound of a whistling tea kettle, his change in position revealed his hair fell to his nape in the back.

In past generations it had been fashionable for Uchiha men to wear their hair half-cropped in all manner of styles. Plus, with how thickly their hair tended to grow, it provided much needed relief in the unseasonably hot months without shaving completely bald. Craning his neck allowed Madara to see Tsuki-Tsuki preparing tea and…his mouth watered. Inari-zushi.

"Still trying to relive your glory days?" the boy called.

Madara knew these two were half his age, but they must have imagined he was ancient. "Glory days?" he glared. "I'm twenty-three, you whelp."

That earned him a smack to the forehead, the girl peering down at him with a frown. "Hurry up, Tsuki, it's worse than we thought!" Madara wrenched her—once again uncomfortably strong— grip away.

"Enough of that!" he hissed. "Has anyone ever informed you that you don't know your own strength? You're going to knock me out again."

"You're the one being difficult for no reason. Just shut up and eat something. Ma'd be on our case if we didn't at least make sure you ate." The tray was unceremoniously dropped onto his lap, and only his quick reflexes kept the tea from spilling.

Who raised this boy? His hair, his demeanor…it felt like there should have been a moment of recognition, but Madara was also positive he didn't know the kids. The more he tried to puzzle out why his mind was drawing a blank despite the tug of familiarity, the heavier his eyelids felt.

Moving the tray over, he closed his eyes, settling back down again. Someone was speaking to him, but there was no way to concentrate. He was falling into the dark again.

The icy shock of falling coupled with the smothering darkness had him struggling for the surface. Propelling up in spite of the fact that the water offered zero visibility, his head broke through, reveling in the air.

Unwilling to stay in the spring defenseless, Tobirama swam for shore, intent on giving the mujina a peace of his mind. Haruno swore their help was necessary. He still thought otherwise. At this point they had traversed most of the way to the exit according to the big-mouthed leader of the mutated raccoons.

Speak of the nuisances, they were gathered in a cluster around something, and Haruno was nowhere in sight. Panting a little, not expecting the short swim to wind him so much, Tobirama swiped the hair from his face with a scowl. "Your idiotic bickering is getting out of hand." He froze. Those were undoubtedly his words, but from the sound of it, from Haruno's lips. But…where was she?

The mujina spun around, some of them getting up on their haunches. Tsubute squinted in his direction skeptically. "Something isn't right here."

A low, groggy moan came from the spot they were congregating around. Slowly, a head rose from among the whispering mujina, hair spun from moonlight. "That hurt…" he recognized that currently pinched timbre.

Gracelessly stumbling closer, Tobirama peered down— vaguely wondering when he'd gotten so much closer to the ground—taking in the sprawling form with widening eyes. Snatching up the closest mujina, he shook it.

"What game are you playing this time?" Haruno's voice again!

Much to his ire, the creature merely laughed. "N-no way!" It pointed at him with its disgusting paw and continued cackling. "Who…who knew that orb would do this?" That's right, this was the female mujina who had been tampering with that damned thing to begin with. Whatever happened was her fault.

Testing his theory, he snapped his head to the man on the ground, "Haruno!" he barked, only to watch in immense mortification as the head turned in his direction.

"Hey, that sounded just like—" Sitting up, she gaped back at him. Undignified as it was, especially when she pointed a shaky finger, he couldn't say he blamed her. "Wh-why'd you transform into me?"

Dropping the giggling beast without much care if it landed safely, Tobirama surveyed her (himself really) blankly, taking in the defined jawline, the wet, white hair, the mesh peeking out from under the blue kimono shirt. "Haven't figured it out?"

She blinked innocently. The exasperated man flinched. When had he ever looked that naïve? "Stand up, Haruno." Possibly because she was too perplexed to argue, the kunoichi stood obediently, the mujina widening the circle to give her space.

As expected, she paused over the strange sensation, glancing down and noticing her attire. "These aren't…my clothes." Patting the side of her (his) face, she squeaked. It was utterly humiliating to hear that sound come out of his mouth. "This isn't my face!"

Tobirama followed as she sprinted toward the spring, already knowing what he'd find. There it was, all the confirmation needed that they had landed in another steaming pile of peculiarity.

Staring back with fierce irritation was the smooth face of a pink-haired young woman, slightly bruised and with a small seal centered on her forehead. There was a chill from the dampness clinging to the torn, light-weight clothes, and he had to stop himself from wrapping an arm around his (her) chest. Those were not supposed to be there.

A petrified yelp came from his side, and there was no need to look to see Haruno had fallen to the ground, staring into the pool dejectedly. "We switched bodies?!"

"How much proof needs to smack you in my face before you realize the mujina are nothing but reckless?" Tobirama scolded. Turning to the group of nuisances, he glared. Hopefully the same message was delivered even with Haruno's delicate features. "Make this right."

"Huh," Tsubute fluffed out his tail. "Funny as this is, we can't get outta here if they're in the wrong bodies. Her soul." He pointed over to the sulking Haruno. "Needs to be in her body for it to work." He waved flippantly in Tobirama's direction.

'…Miserable rodents.' he thought. 'Waking up to shrink seven inches wasn't a goal I'd planned for the day.' Even the voice in his head sounded just like Haruno's.

"Fix this, Komugi!" Haruno demanded, finally finding her—his—voice again, along with some appropriate vexation. The Senju would appreciate it if she didn't stomp his foot, though. "You had that stupid orb."

All eyes locked dangerously on her, the long-haired mujina refused to meet anyone's gazes. "I…well, ask Tsubute!" she stammered. "He's supposed to be leader. Plus, he's the one that made me drop it."

"Drop it where?" Tobirama wanted to know, advancing on her with killing intent crackling from his skin.

"H-How'm I supposed to know that?" Komugi wailed, darting away to hide behind other mujina. "S-somewhere in the water?"

Growling, Tsubute pointed at a random mujina who immediately dashed to throw himself into the spring.

They waited in tense, agonizing silence as the lone yokai presumably searched as deep as possible.

It didn't feel like he'd been down long enough before he sprung out again, shaking out his fur like a wet dog. "Well?" Tsubute prodded.

"Nothing." He sighed. "Too deep and dark even for me. Plus my nose didn't tingle at all."

"Great." Tsubute smacked both paws over his snout. "Natsume's the best treasure scout we got. If anything valuable's in the area, he's pulled to it like a magnetic. He couldn't miss it if he wanted to."

"T-Then are they trapped?" Uzuki fretted. Somehow, Tobirama found he knew all their names, something he hadn't cared to pay much attention to before. Now the knowledge was just…there.

"No, can't be!" Tsubute pulled at one of his ears. "We got so far…we were so close." He paced around on all fours. "We're gonna keep moving. There's all kinds of toys down here that could make them switch back. Something'll work."

"And if it doesn't?" Ubagabi whined, rubbing against Haruno's pants. "Sakura has to go back to normal otherwise cuddles won't be the same."

"That's your highest priority?" Tobirama sure as hell wouldn't allow the grimy little mujina to cuddle him while he was in Haruno's body, nor would he allow him to cuddle her while she resided in his.

"If it doesn't, Komugi, I'll go revive Orochi just to feed ya to him. So you'd better hope we get through this, understand?"

She saluted as Tsubute marched by with his fur prickling. The way her mouth stretched and those disturbingly sharp teeth ground together in a wobbly smile at least showed she felt the appropriate amount of fear.

Collecting the swords, he decided to multitask between plotting the mujina's demise and traveling the rest of the way to freedom. If he wasn't back in his body within the next hour, there'd be nothing left of Komugi for Orochi to snack on.

Sakura was starting to think she was a reincarnation too. She had to have lived before, as some lowlife with too many bad deeds to wash away in a single lifetime. What else would explain her long running streak of bad luck? That, or she was simply born under a bad star cluster.

She stared a short distance at the back of her head. Tsubute was leading the pack with a shamed Komugi at his side. Given that she was the cause of the whole mess and Tobirama could hold a nasty grudge, it was probably for the best. She just didn't think it was fair she had to get dragged into it.

Secretly, although she'd claim they were beneath her, Sakura enjoyed a good prank. There had even been times when she silently cheered Naruto on for his mischief. Maybe that was why the mujina's antics were somewhat endearing. They reminded her of a dear friend. On a much deadlier scale…

This was a touch beyond.

Sakura slowed, and Uzuki and Ubagabi, who had been sticking close, stared at her with concern in their beady eyes. "What's wrong?" asked the shy mujina. "Y-you've been slowing down. Um, should we rest again?"

"No," Sakura strained to say it. It was too embarrassing. "I'm fine."

"You're walking funny." Ubagabi pointed out unhelpfully. Damn him! He was cute and all, but he had the same annoying lack of tact as a certain human loudmouth she knew.

"What's the hold-up back there?" Tsubute grunted. "The sooner we make it the last leg, the sooner we can see about reversing this. I think I know a spot."

"Don't get so crabby, nothin's going anywhere," Ubagabi huffed, nudging her ankle. "You okay?"

Sakura felt the muscles of her new face contract as she scrunched her nose. "I…I have to…" They had been The Under for what felt like a week, and yet somehow she'd managed to keep pushing herself with minimal rest and food. The familiar sensation in her lower half was unmistakable, unfortunately. It was just the worst possible time! Her knees were starting to knock and she paused to squeeze her thighs (Tobirama's thighs) together, hoping in vain that would help.

"Huh?" The ever curious mujina tilted his head. "You have to what?"

"T-to," Sakura's lip wobbled, "to go!"

Still, they just didn't seem to be getting it. "We are going." Tsubute said impatiently. "Or we would be, if you'd speed it along."

"That's not what I mean," she said, feeling desperate. And Tobirama's voice really did not lend itself to 'desperate' well.

The original owner of said voice and body was watching her stoically from the windows of her own beryl eyes. "Haruno," he warned in a way that sounded like a self-chastisement, "you'd better not be insinuating what I think you are."

Sakura hardly paid attention to the displeased, biting tone, too busy looking for somewhere semi-private. "Do you think I asked for this?!" She needed cover first and foremost. The kunoichi would work out the logistics of how to do this when she got to it.

Though the Under had proven itself to be comprised of a truly diverse amount of ecosystems ranging from lush vegetation to sweltering lava pits, there was nothing in sight except dank, dreary rock tunnels. Boulders were clustered together intermittently, and she decided that although she had shot up in height, one of them would do in a pinch if she crouched.

Darting for the safety of a semi-wall of rock, Sakura peered over the edge to see the group watching her. What they could see of her, which was just her head and the tops of her shoulders.

The mujina with expressions ranging from amusement to impatience, and Tobirama downright peeved. Well. For once she might have been able to understand where he was coming from. She wouldn't be too keen on anyone becoming bizarrely intimate with her body in this way either. Sucking in a sharp breath and closing her eyes, the draft on her suddenly bare—and decidedly muscular—thighs let the pinkette know the first stage of the plan was successful. 'Pants down. Now what?' she thought, silently weeping.

"You know," a cold nose on her ankle made her skin crawl, until she finally opened her eyes to look down. "It might help if you lift your leg." Ubagabi offered, innocent eyes watching her in anticipation.

"R-Really?" Sakura shakily lifted her right leg, knee level to taut abdominal muscles. "So I'd just…" Snapping out of it, she shook her head and placed her leg flat again. "No, I'm not doing that!" In all her panic, she had actually trusted the mujina could have good advice in the area.

"You'd better do something," Tsubute yelled. "We're wasting time and I think this one is going to blow soon." Sakura's head snapped up to see Tobirama silently skulking closer with fire in his pale green gaze. Did she really look that lethal when she was angry? Maybe he just carried a strong case of resting bitch face (as Ino would dub it) wherever he went, in case he ever found himself in the wrong body.

"Do not look down." he demanded, coming too close for comfort.

"Get back over there!" she shuffled backward and nearly tripped over the pants, which were still down around her ankles. Sakura hadn't even gotten to remove the final barrier that was his undergarment.

"You're in my body," he replied, unamused.

"Exactly," she insisted. "I'm using it right now, but I can't use it until you at least turn around." She frantically gestured with her hands, "So do it and we can both get this over with that much sooner!" The countdown had begun and she could only hold it for so much longer.

Tobirama didn't make her face look the least bit happy, but slowly he turned away, moving a few steps away, but nowhere near as far as she'd like him.

'Here goes!' Dying inside, she shakily plucked at the cloth strings until she got them undone. Sakura vaguely noticed Tobirama apparently wore his underwear in a more conservative way than Madara, but that train of thought would have to wait.

She tried to find a place for her hands, tried to lower her eyes to see what she was doing without letting them dip too low. All of it was clumsy and futile and about to make her dribble on herself. "I-I've never d-done this," she whispered.

"I wouldn't have expected you to." came Tobirama's dull response.

Right. He was still right there, too.

"Fine, I'm just going to go for it!" Patting at the skin of his pale waist, and then sliding her hand lower, Sakura closed her eyes and tried to get a solid grip. She only wanted to do this once. But the unexpected shock of a cold hand—even if it was temporarily hers—squeezing a part of her that she didn't have an hour ago—caused a jolt through her unprepared system. "T-Th-that's!" She hated to admit it, but it was getting harder and harder not to look. As fast as she'd swallow the saliva in her mouth, it would fill with more. She was also worried about the tell-tale trickle starting to make her nose twitch.

The scratch of a trimmed patch of hair brushed her wrist as she slid her hand down the length, toes curling unintentionally. 'So where does it end?' Was it the time to be committing this to memory? No, definitely not. But she couldn't really help it! Her brain had always been a sponge and it greedily memorized everything.

"Haruno." Tobirama said again, sounding like he was dangerously close to just reaching around and seizing her by the neck.

"I-I'm trying but this isn't easy!"

"I told you," Ubagabi whined, having come back to stare without shame. "Just lift your—"

"No!" she wailed, almost losing her balance. Pretending no one and nothing was around to give her an audience, Sakura aimed away from the mujina and her feet. A few false starts due to nerves, but she managed to get the hand of—the hang of—no, that one was really just as bad… She managed to get it in the end.

"I-I think I'm done." She announced, telling herself it was alright to remove her hand. 'I didn't really see much, somehow, but…'

"Hm…maybe you should shake." Another mujina had come over to supervise. He was a dark brown that bordered on black, and Tsubute called him Iori.

The pinkette tentatively followed the advice, not sure if she was just supposed to let that suffice and stuff it back into her pants. Sliding both layers back up, Sakura realized she was nearly panting from the experience.

"Trust me when I say that could never be more painful for you than it was for me." Tobirama had been blessedly silent while she went through her internal struggle, but the pinched tone was one the pinkette recognized as her I'm-about-to-lose-it voice. "Never speak about that to anyone, Haruno." Ice frosted his words into a vengeful promise should she disobey.

"Y-Yeah right, who would I want to know that?!" She defended, flushing. "Just show me how to clean my hands now!"

"You could try licking them clean," Iori chirped.

"No!" Sakura and Tobirama roared as one.

"Oh for the love of…shut up and follow me!" Tsubute bit out, miffed over the delay. "I'll show you where and we can get moving again. I wanna taste topside air again sometime this millennia if you don't mind."

Avoiding any and all unnecessary eye contact, Tobirama stewed and Sakura inwardly wept, the wayward group going onward.

Feeling murderous was nothing new. Not really. He was a career shinobi, for one. And Hashirama was his brother, for another thing. But as soon as he was placed back into the correct body, he would slaughter the mujina.

He assumed they wouldn't go down easily, but with the new swords he'd acquired, it wouldn't be an impossible task. Tobirama had started out despising their presence, then grudgingly accepted they were needed unless they wanted to wander aimlessly for the rest of their natural lifespans.

But all their shenanigans up 'til now he had endured. Body-swapping was a whole new level of infuriating abnormality. To think, once he thought the mere existence of deities to be more than he could bear to stand as a man of logic and reason. Now here he was in a woman's body trapped in a dimension that wasn't even earth, traveling the pit of horror with talking, mutated, bloated raccoon dogs.

Tobirama was too dignified to whine, of course, but it didn't stop him from ruminating the shameful predicament. Breasts as it turned out were heavy, and not looking down over every damp, breezy touch to Haruno's cleavage was giving him a crick in his neck over how quickly he would snap his head up each time he started to forget himself.

It was the same chest that he'd seen a little too much of that day in the hot springs. The same chest Tobirama accidentally stared in disguised shock at when Haruno had appeared in her new clothing. The same chest that had been pressed closely to his back not long ago, something he couldn't help but notice even while fighting.

It wasn't that he couldn't control himself. He was nothing like that slimy, lecherous snake. While Tobirama wouldn't say he ogled, he would say he noticed. Because he noticed everything. That was a very important habit that kept him alive through the bloody, uncertain times of his childhood up until now. Here, in this moment, he would gladly wish to be half as sharp, some oblivious idiot stumbling through life.

Being stuck in Haruno's body made that just one of his concerns, though. Flicking tendrils of hair away from the curvature of her neck yet again, Tobirama wondered what he often did when he saw Hashirama, Madara or any other shinobi with long hair in action. Why? It got in the way immensely.

Fed up, he grunted as he felt the holster miraculously still attached to her thigh, sliding his fingers inside and triumphantly finding a few kunai left. Seizing a fistful of pink locks, as close to the base of her skull as he could, he started to bring the kunai up carefully. Tobirama couldn't tell if it was a side effect of being in his body or not, but Haruno turned around with the wrath of an incensed goddess making her skin crackle.

"Shannaro!" she screeched, delivering a flying kick to his sternum. The mujina laughing in the background were ignored for the time being.

If his lips never formed the word again, it would be too soon. Momentarily dazed, Tobirama caught her snarling face bent above his at a reasonable distance. Finally, an expression he'd actually make. "Didn't you just remind me we're in the wrong bodies?" she spat. She snatched the kunai and pointed it at him accusingly. "Don't go making any changes like you're planning to stay in there!"

Understanding where that may have been hasty but unwilling to express it, Tobirama huffed. "I've never seen the point of long hair for ninja." he admitted. "What purpose does it serve other than to give the enemy something to grab you by?" For reasons unknown to him, her eyes widened, tensing up as if reliving something mildly traumatizing.

"It's already happened." he guessed. "And yet you still kept it."

"No," she rolled her eyes lightly. "I cut it. It was my way of breaking free in a way. I promised myself I'd only wear it long again if I was sure I was strong enough to protect myself." A small, satisfied smile briefly lightened her expression. Her eyes roved over the top of his pink head. "If you're that bothered by it, then I'll handle it. But," she sucked in a deep breath, bringing down a swift chop to the crown of his head that left it pounding. "Don't even think about trying to cut my hair."

"You're going to abuse your own body?" he complained. Thankfully, he still had medical ninjutsu whether in his body or this one.

Smiling sweetly, Haruno opted to ignore him, shuffling up close to him and then lowering to her knees. "Alright!" The word sent air down the back of his neck. "Keep still and leave it to me."

In the end, Tobirama couldn't believe he was getting his hair braided. Never in his life had he worn it long enough for that to occur. But as Haruno expertly weaved strands together, fingers occasionally grazing his scalp, all he could do was sit still and allow it. It was, after all, her own hair. And if it kept it out of his face, then so be it.

"It's been a long time since I wore a plait…" she said quietly. Tobirama didn't respond, watching the mujina attempt to copy her actions on each other's fur. They only seemed to get success with Komugi's fur, because it was longer. "There." Haruno softly patted her palm against his head once. "Never thought someone like you would be so sensitive to long hair." The original pinkette teased.

"You're pushing it, Haruno." he informed her.

"Maybe." she agreed, standing up. "I think we're ready now, sorry about all that." She was using his lips to apologize to the leader of that band of devil raccoon dogs.

Tsubute blinked, "As long as we can keep going, I guess it's fine."

The female mujina had also finished getting her fur braided, and she wandered over to him and tossed the fluffy tuft of hair out of her eyes with a smirk. "We match. How do you feel about that?"

Like he wanted to die.

Disgusted with himself, he limped back to the shelter of the hideout, already knowing what would be waiting for him. A very angry deity and mildly amused, mocking little immortal brat. His plan had been simple. Kill Mizuchi singlehandedly to prove that waiting and elaborating planning was unnecessary.

At one point he had thought he would win for sure. Transforming into iron beast state made him nearly indestructible. Mizuchi had somehow managed to pierce his chest briefly, her clawed fingers scraping around inside until she physically (though temporarily) separated him from his magical scale encasement. Winded and frozen, Cat scratched at her arm, which she plunged deep into his gut. Blood spurted, flying past his lips. He spit a wad of it into her face and struck the dragon goddess hard in the jaw.

Now, as he went back to the forge in disgrace, Cat paused to peek down at the red seeping from between his fingers. It would heal. While tethered to the goddess he had formed a contract with, he could not be killed, no matter how gruesome the wound. It was hard to admit, but he'd made a grave miscalculation in judgement by letting his guard down. Mizuchi may have been just a "lesser deity" but she was crafty and that made her powerful in a way that could not be overlooked.

Groaning, Cat kicked the shack's door so hard it partially flew off its hinges. As expected, two pairs of eyes snapped to his worn face. Kanayago's lips barely move as she advanced on him. Seizing him under the chin, she lifted his face up. "Where," she hissed, "have you been?"

Unfazed, the stupid, smirking child practically skipped over. Gleefully, she snatched his hand away from the wound and pushed harshly, delighting in the way he grit his teeth. "Isn't it obvious? He went after Mizuchi anyway. And lost."

"This," Kanayago wagged one of her long fingers, releasing her hold on him. "Is why I told you not to engage. You aren't ready. You're wild with the fires of rage, driven by a thirst for revenge, but it isn't enough. You're reckless and inexperienced."

Unable to take the blood loss, Cat sank to his knees. "Then make me better. Isn't that your responsibility?"

"Cheeky mortal," The child's touch against his face made him pull away, and she giggled.

"I could," Kanayago sniffed, walking back to her blazing forge. Cat finally noticed the lumps on the floor. Bound in cloth, ready to be thrown in the fire. So many sacrifices meant that the goddess of iron was crafting something big. Possibly as powerful as Oboro. "I most certainly could. But, what's the point in a disobedient weapon."

It pained him, but he lowered his head, knowing his attitude wouldn't get him closer to his goals. "You're right. I was reckless and childish to go off on my own. I'll do it your way."

"Yes," Kanayago chirped, "You will. With more help."

"What?" Cat picked his head up, turning as the sound of more footsteps entered the rundown forge. There was no way…but then, he was here, so why not them?

"It's been so long," one of the young men rushed forward, embracing Cat without hesitation. "It's been so—"

The second, a copy of the first save for hairstyle, patted his twin's arm gently. "Obviously this isn't the place to talk…" An astute observation, given the gloomy room and their unsavory company. "But be sure to clue us in soon."

"Surprised?" the little girl grinned evilly. "It wasn't hard, and as soon as their weapons are ready, you'll all go and confront that godslayer." Claws extended as a bit of her true form leaked from the innocent façade. They scraped eerily against the cluttered table containing tools. "And, I'll join you." she vowed.

Mind still reeling, Cat pulled away from the embrace he never thought he'd feel again. "How can you seem so sure they'll survive The Under."

"Because she's Mizuchi's godslayer. She shares the same contemptible knack for survival against all odds as the goddess she's bound to."

Cat was reminded of the hole through his stomach with a painful throb. Yes, that was a fair point, and one he would heed in the future.

The forest was unnervingly serene, as if nature was hesitant to draw unnecessary attention to itself. Or, like it was holding a secret. As she skirted the stream leading to the river, a sleek head popped up from underwater. Blinking thrice, it began to disappear, but Mizuchi waved her hand with a sigh, the water shoving the creature toward dry land.

"Tell me," she crouched as the otter got its bearings. "Have you seen a one-eyed boar?"

Sniffing at her while keeping its distance, the semi-aquatic beast stared suspiciously. "…And you are?"

"A friend of his." The goddess smiled charmingly, leaning against one knee and placing her cheek in her palm. "Finding him is important."

The otter's whiskers twitched, unconvinced. "Deities, humans…all of you make it hard to get peace." Brushing aside his complaint, she followed when he ran away.

Finding the giant boar curled in on itself in the glade, napping under a sunbeam wasn't difficult after that. Approaching stealthily, Mizuchi gave its flank several firm knocks with her foot. "You really must do something about your aversion to fighting, dear Hitotsu. It's burdensome."

The hog snuffled, lifting its head with bleary eyes. It took its time to stretch, low grunts coming from its snout until it disappeared in a swirl of green mist. Hitotsu yawned under his helmet. "Apologies." he said drily, "Though you managed just fine on your own."

"Kanayago's godslayer was formidable, and if not for his wild temper getting the best of him, I may not have prevailed." Long, dark strands moved in the wind as she pushed her hair back. "If I could hazard a guess, he acted without her orders. But she is extremely close, and likely lying in wait for us both."

"Oh, to be hunted again," Ippon Datara rolled his shoulder, slouching against a tree. "It almost makes a god feel wanted."

"You're so humorous," Mizuchi shoved at the deity's arm, grinning widely. "Neither of us has never been anything but despised by most of the pantheon."

"You've stepped on more toes than I could." The blacksmith stared down at his single leg. "In every sense."

Scoffing, the goddess leaned into him challengingly. "Is it wrong to demand a place at the table?" she questioned. "When there's plenty of room, but not enough seats, you pull one up for yourself."

"That's what makes you a target." He pointed out plainly, sitting completely on the ground. "The Heavens have never operated that way. Lesser deities, and those even lower in hierarchy than that, are expected to remain silent. You've offended them more than before…they aren't going to stop at banishment when you're apprehended." Folding his arms, he dipped his chin, "Choosing a godslayer for such an undertaking. Are you entirely sure you've made the right decision?"

"Hitotsu,"she cooed warmly, her eyes closing in content. "Could you perhaps be concerned for my wellbeing?" Taking his hand, she squeezed. "You act indifferent, but you've allowed yourself to be pulled into this as well."

"An unfortunate coincidence. I'm honor-bound to forge for your godslayer should she succeed, but…" His shoulders heaved. "Beyond that I don't have much more to do with this."

"Nonsense," Mizuchi giggled, a hand covering her mouth. "Why do you suppose it is Kanayago of all goddesses now has a godslayer? She's far from stable."

Rolling his shoulders, Ippon Datara rubbed a gloved hand over the top of his helmet. "The path of destruction left in his wake suggests the mortal serving her isn't much better. I'll have you know I repaired the town after your battle moved. And it was far more taxing than I would have liked."

He held up a hand to keep her from interrupting, "But, put simply yours has likely gotten a lot further than the Heavens expected her to. Somehow you've also evaded detection in plain sight for too long. They plucked up some angry, stupid mortal with the right bloodline and seared divine essence into him."

"It seems that way." Mizuchi peered out over the forest, still not hearing the noises she was used to. "All will be decided shortly."

"We might not live through that, but at any case we're bound together as fellow abominations in the meantime." He scratched at his neck and refused to meet her gleaming eyes.

The stretch of statues lined ominously on both sides of the way forward gave Sakura some pause. "Here?"

Tsubute nodded solemnly. Darting off, he sniffed, zig-zagging as she, Tobirama and the other mujina watched. "Natsume, come help me search." The group's best treasure-seeker scampered forward, joining Tsubute as he checked the base of every statue.

Wandering around, careful not to touch anything, Sakura checked each carving they had passed. Various figures, noble and haughty in their granite composition, seemed to stare through her. Upon further inspection she saw each had a large, sparkling orb inlaid. "These are almost like the one Komugi had…" she crouched, about to run her fingers over an amber one before thinking better of it.

"What's the plan?" Tobirama asked, staring out at the mujina. Sakura was pleased to see her braid work had held up well, although he still tossed it back over his shoulder like it bothered him.

"Find the right statue. With any luck you two stand on that and your souls will be back in the right bodies. Otherwise, we came all this way for nothing."

"Hey, hey I think it's this one!" Natsume's tail swished as he stood near one statue further up the row. Heart thrumming, Sakura sprinted over, no longer caring if her eagerness showed. The statue was of a goddess with a mysterious but benevolent smile, her arms held out on either side of her as her eyes glanced upward. The long robes she'd been carved into showed just the tops of her sandaled feet, one of which Tsubute scrambled up onto.

"Nice going, Natsume," he praised, checking the orb placed in the indentation. "Get over here, fleshlings."

Grumbling, Tobirama drew a little closer and Sakura stopped right in front of the mujina. "Heh. This is Kanzeon Botatsu's statue. Kannon to her friends. She's the Goddess of Mercy. Always gave good belly rubs too."

"Get to the point." said Tobirama.

"The point is this can fix you. The orbs have a good dose of musubi in 'em."

"M-Musubi?" Sakura repeated, eyeing the dark pink wisps in Kanzeon Botatsu's orb as if a simple glance could discern its secrets. The last she checked, that was food.

"Proper name for the divine essence unique to each deity." Ubagabi so helpfully expanded. "It's what they run on. All of them stored a little bit in some orbs and stuck them in these statues for safe keeping."

"Stand on her hands," Mio suggested.

Not needing any further prompting, Tobirama leapt deftly up until he was in the right palm. Sakura, steeling herself for whatever happened next, landed on the left. "Okay. Kannon's always had a soft spot for souls in distress. Wishing for your bodies enough ought to do it." Tsubute yelled from below. "Probably."

"Pro-probably?!" Sakura growled.

"Just do it!" Tsubute snapped. "Ya gonna waste time arguing with me when you're this close?"

Hoping it would help her concentrate, Sakura let her eyes drift shut. Immediately, she pictured herself standing there in the correct body. She pictured the color and feel of her own hair, and the shape and luster of her own eyes. Even her most recent bruises. Firmly grasping the mental image, she waited for a tingle, a small spark. Something to let her know it was working. Instead, a long silence filled the hall of statues, and nothing felt particularly different outside of the obvious. "Tsubute, something has to be missing." she muttered.

"The gods are capricious," Tobirama said gruffly, "to make things easy would be too cooperative."

"Cooperative," Sakura repeated, an idea striking in the next instant. "We're closer to the end of The Under, right?"

Tsubute used one of his hind legs to scratch behind his ear, humming thoughtfully. "To tell you the truth there's more than one way in here. Just like there's more than one way out. This place has veins all over the earth where the barrier between topside and The Under are easier to permeate for anybody with musubi."

Sakura nodded along, waiting until he was finished. "But?"

"But it shouldn't be long before we get to the closest exit." Uzuki answered.

"Then, maybe Mizuchi will finally be able to hear me,"

"Mizuchi?" One of the mujina gasped. "She's your connection?"

Startled by the reaction, Sakura cocked her head. "You know her?"

"In passing." Mio nodded. "Anyway, please continue…we'll wait quietly."

After settling herself, Sakura began to worry. So close to finding a way out, it was worth a shot to reach out to the goddess. But she wasn't even in her body…maybe it wouldn't work. Shoving those thoughts aside for later, she tentatively began feeling for a link, praying desperately.

"What took so long?" the airy, demanding voice made a gasp jump from her throat. Sakura felt tears she was sure Tobirama wouldn't appreciate prickling the corners of her eyes.

"Mizuchi," she'd never said the goddess' name so reverently. "I…I think I missed you."

"Is that so? You only think? Well, if you're still unsure, perhaps I should leave you to mull it over."

"No!" Sakura spoke so fervently she was almost positive she shouted out loud, or came close to it.

"Furthermore, something is off. You sound much too close to that charmingly apoplectic shinobi you had with you." Sakura wondered if it was an inappropriate time to roll her eyes.

"It's because…this is his body." Rushing on before Mizuchi could ask more, she continued, "There's so much that's happened, but I'm just so glad to make contact again. We've been following the mujina and—"

"The mujina, you say?" Mizuchi chuckled, "Delightfully devilish creatures, aren't they? The other gods, aside from perhaps their beloved creator Benten, looked down on their mischief. But I always quite enjoyed their antics. I too appreciate a…deadly sense of humor, you might say."

"So…it's true. They're trapped here because of that?"

"Come now, Sakura, they're yokai." She normally didn't appreciate being chided as if she were an ignorant child, but given the circumstances Mizuchi probably knew a great deal more. "Chaos and mischief incarnate. Of course they're murderous. Though, if they've allied themselves with you I suppose it's fine. They're capable of fierce loyalty once their trust has been earned. I would guess you promised them something."

"To let them out when this is over," she admitted.

"Ah." Mizuchi paused. "The mujina back on earth to sow trouble after thousands of years in The Under. The Heavens will delight in that."

"It's not like it can happen the way I am now," Whining wasn't as shameful when it was done in one's head, right? "In order to open the rift out of here, I have to be in my own body. That's what the mujina said."

"They are correct." The dragon deity sighed deeply. "I don't suppose you know the circumstances that led you to your predicament."

"A-An orb or something," Sakura fidgeted, the details honestly being fuzzy. She was hit, a sharp pain that felt like her soul was ripped straight through her chest, and then the sensation of icy water all around her.

"That is rather nondescript," huffed the goddess. "Have you sought out the Hall of Statues?"

"Yes! That's where we are now. I'm sitting on the statue for the Goddess of Mercy."

A noise of recognition echoed through the link. "Sweet Kannon. Yes, the musubi stored in her statue should have the power to resort your souls. Provided the conditions are met."

Leery, Sakura physically leaned back. "Mizuchi, after everything that's happened here I…I'll lose it if you tell me something crazy."

"Sakura, when you're dealing with the affairs of gods, what could possibly sound 'crazy'?" she quipped sweetly.

Loathe as she was to admit it, the deity had a point. "Just tell me what I need to do."

"Compared to all the other trials I imagine you've overcome, this might be the simplest take for you yet." The triumphant smirk she could just feel through the link did not inspire the confidence Mizuchi probably thought it did. "To return to your own vessel, link hands with that Senju. Think only of him, while he thinks only of you."

"That's all?" Sakura was stunned. "Th-there's no blood sacrifice or anything like that?"

"There's that flair for the dramatic that I've missed so much the last few days."

"Few days?!" The knowledge put an uncomfortable squeeze on her heart. A few days was brief, but long enough for quite a few things to take place. Was that other godslayer still slaughtering civilians and wreaking havoc? Was the Hokage wondering why he hadn't heard from them? Was Usamaro alright? Was—

"You did not truly think time stood still, did you?"

"…" She was too speechless to muster a retort.

"I must warn you, we have much to discuss when you reach me. But for now, reclaim your body. Doing so requires emptying your mind of all else but the one you desire to swap with."

"Okay…I've got it now."

"Good," the goddess purred. "I will be waiting."

The connection hadn't fully fizzled away before Sakura swayed to her feet.

"Sorry th-that took so long," she rubbed at the side of her head, and missed the way her hair would wrap around her fingers. Tobirama's was surprisingly pleasant to the touch, though.

"You're done already?" Ubagabi wondered. "You barely closed your eyes…" Huh, Sakura thought. Noted. Then, the mujina were use to a long wait.

Tobirama stared from his spot in the center of the hand expectantly. Sakura made quick work of joining him, reaching for her own hand even as she explained. "I reached out to Mizuchi. We'll need to hold hands for this. And empty our thoughts of everything but each other."

"Haruno," he drawled, not protesting as she lightly gripped the nearest hand. "That sounds as if I'm courting you."

"Call it whatever you want." She was too determined to be embarrassed. "But it's the only way we can get out of here. Are you ready?"

Staring down at the hand she'd placed in his, he readjusted to strengthen the hold into a firmer one. "Let's get started."

Sakura shut her eyes tightly, aware of the warmth of their joined hands and the person standing right beside her. The mujina fell silent. As she had been trying to do before, Sakura let herself conjure a mental picture. Tobirama Senju.

She saw the man with his arms crossed and a scowl, wearing the blue breast and shoulder plates of his favorite armor.

Swallowing, Sakura noted she felt nothing, and assumed she wasn't thinking hard enough. Mizuchi's emphasis made it clear that Tobirama had to fill her every thought, his name a steady mantra from her heart.

What else was there? His hair. All her life people had remarked on the unusualness of her own hair color. But seeing Tobirama's was a strange comfort. Not everyone had a color that could take attention from her own.

It was short and wild, a radiant ivory that made like colors look inadequate in their sheen. The pale light of the moon, the first snowfall of winter, the puffy fullness of spring day clouds. All those things in comparison were duller.

It was far from just that which made him captivating to look at, but his cat-shaped garnet eyes, when not glazed with suspicion, were equally beautiful. They were such a deep, vibrant shade, and Sakura had more than once thought it was unfair someone normally so cold could have such a penetrating stare. One that pulled anyone who dared to look too long into their depths, left them locked there.

When he wasn't sneering, Tobirama's face was incredibly handsome. His chiseled jaw could cut diamond, and the red markings Sakura had come to learn were tattoos were so complimentary it was criminal. In a daze, she had once imagined tracing them, maybe asking when he had gotten them and why. Before seeing him at the hot springs, the pinkette had even daydreamed about if there were more in places not usually visible. The ink would suit his pale skin.

Skin that covered a scarred, strong back, the toning from a shinobi livelihood evident. Sakura remembered his bare torso, the water sluicing down over solid pectorals and venturing into the dip of defined squares that made up a fit stomach, before running down under the towel covering his cinched waist.

This excursion in the wrong body had made her closely acquainted with even more of him. The kunoichi admired the firmness and power of his upper legs, admittedly drooling over what she fleetingly touched in between them.

Tobirama wasn't the kind of man to gloat or draw attention to his physique, but Sakura appreciated it nonetheless. Outside attractiveness, there was his personality… At first glance, cold and unattached. He was probably satisfied with others seeing him that way. But Sakura knew better now.

There was more than meets the eye under the surface, a whole range of emotions from him catching her off guard as of late. While still rough around the edges, Sakura knew he was far from without feeling.

In his fitful, mujina-induced rest, he was panicked and vulnerable in a way that seized at her sympathy. In the encounter with Orochi he was almost…protective of her, demonstrating that he had her back as much as he trusted her to have his. Before, when confronted with the attachment of the orphaned otter, he was gentle, quietly nurturing even.

Even during their first encounter after Sakura stumbled into the past, while abrasive, he had still escorted her to the only home she had ever known. And under the biting quips (many of which were unintentionally funny in hindsight) and barked impatience, there was kindness…in his own way.

Her chest burned, a throbbing which spread down her shoulders and through her limbs. Though uncomfortable, it was encouraging, and Sakura kept Tobirama's name and traits and face firmly locked in her head. Assumingly, he was thinking deeply about her in turn, or it wouldn't have been working.

Maintaining their grip became difficult as exhaustion sapped at her, making her legs quake. Pushing closer, until they were chest to chest with no fraction of space in between them, Sakura let her weight sink against him. She was dizzy, but the small gasp of pain sounded more like herself.

"Something's definitely happening!" an eager Tsubute announced.

She kept going. Her breasts were pressed so tightly against him it hurt, but that was all the more incentive not to stop. "Tobirama," she breathed his name in a warm gust, balancing on her toes. There was so little distance. Their faces had never been so close. They might have been too close, but Sakura knew instinctively the closer the better. "Tobirama." Fingers flexed around hers in response.

His name was on every exhale, a drone of sound until the sensation of vertigo stole her breath. Steadying hands clamped around her waist, and when she opened her damp eyes, liquid exertion clinging to her lashes, there he was. "Tobirama," she said once more.

"Haruno." It wasn't even her given name, but the intimacy of the moment reduced her to a fleshy casing of warm goo when it rolled past his lips. Pulling away, Sakura beamed at him, something sealing in place. The shared ordeal made her soft, she reasoned. That was all it was. His face didn't light up with a sunny smile, but the weight of his deep stare felt different now, and his mouth wasn't in a hard line but edged with a gentle upturn.

"Everybody back where they belong?" Komugi laughed.

"No thanks to you." Tobirama stepped back as well, agilely making his way to the ground. Once she had breath back in her lungs, Sakura followed, the warm flush from moments ago still lingering.

ASiT

It was strange how circumstances affected perspective. Sakura had, for years, found reasons to pick at some part of her appearance. Either because of the unkind things said by others or because compared the beauty of some of her friends, she felt like a late bloomer up until recently. But after finding out what it was like to be in someone else's skin, being back in her own body felt so freeing. The pink-haired kunoichi could have sworn she was running for the first time.

Keeping up with Tsubute, Ubagabi and the countless others was easy with that burst of energy and motivation thrumming through her. "That's the spot," Ubagabi cheered. Stopping short, Sakura stared, wide eyed and relieved.

Far, far above, a rippling spider-web of white pulsed with a heartbeat. One of the veins that connected to topside. The pinkette wet her lips and told herself she tasted wet soil, fresh air and freedom. "Let's do this!" Komugi lifted a paw to the air, the colony of her fellow mujina roaring with the thrill of liberty in the air.

"Hop on!" Ubagabi transformed in a flash, a large, dusky bird again. Sakura scrambled onto his back, Tobirama accompanying her this time. The rest of the mujina shifted easily, a chorus of leathery, flapping bringing attention to the swarm of bats everywhere.

Leading the charge, Ubagabi rocketed upward with a screech.

"Do you know what you're doing Haruno?" Tobirama shouted over the wind whipping through their ears.

"No!" she raised her voice, "but I'm a fast learner!" Readying a fist, charging it with a handful of musubi, Sakura braced.

'This is it!' her thoughts raced frantically. The speed they were traveling at was so fast, if the hit didn't open the vein they were bound to die. The loud, tinkling was the simultaneous shattering of hundreds of glass vases, but then there was open air, a whoop.

The joy was short-lived, Sakura finding herself tumbling too quickly to really comprehend what was happening. Whipping her arms around uselessly, she chuckled hysterically over the irony. To escape—but had she escaped?—a place like The Under and probably die immediately after.

There was too much wind in her face to open her eyes, but at least she'd kept her promise to the mujina. It didn't even seem like such a big deal after everything they'd been through together.

Hard, smooth cushioning knocked the wind from her, but at last Sakura found some purchase again. Cracking her eyes open, a pang hit her as she rolled smoothly to the grass below from the back of the dragon, which had made a graceful landing. Sitting up with a blink of confusion, Sakura realized she was being offered a hand. The dragon goddess was almost cheeky after saving her in the nick of time. "I did promise I'd be waiting."

The state of the once-wrecked town was the first change he took note of. Where before, carnage and charred buildings had been everywhere, it was again the same calm and peaceful place prior to the masked man's rampage.

Etsudo greeted him as though he'd come home from war, ushering him inside her inn and running to prepare a hearty meal. Normally, he would have brushed her offer aside.

But Tobirama couldn't deny how famished he was, something that hit him full on as soon as they left The Under. Good riddance to that realm. They agreed on a day to recover before reconvening.

Cat had left town, giving the shaken little village a chance to tentatively recover. The townspeople heaped praises on the enigmatic Ippon Datara, their apparent savior who had come and rebuilt everything in the blink of an eye.

Tobirama still didn't trust a deity. Any deity. But it was nice to see the village who had always shared such a close relationship with the village no longer suffering. That lives were lost senselessly because of that godslayer's vendetta would be yet another thing Tobirama would seek retribution for.

Peering out the window, he idly noted the sun's position in the sky. Somehow, Haruno had roped him into meeting up with her later in the day. She, under the care of her goddess, was resuming her trials.

After delivering the hard-won iron to Ippon Datara, she had passed another portion of them. Now, as far as he'd heard, Mizuchi had her in the forest preparing for the Third Rite. Strapping on Nuke-maru and Kogarasumaru, Tobirama slipped out of the inn, getting another fond farewell from the chipper Etsudo before she was pushed back to the kitchens by her long-suffering son.

The people of Tenryu were as friendly as ever, one older couple even stopping to offer him thanks for saving their daughters. The two young girls hugged him, and Tobirama petted both their heads, unsure what else they expected him to do when they stared up at him with such big, gleaming and reverent eyes. He took an inaudible breath of relief when they let go and skipped off, resuming his journey to find Haruno.

Four days had passed while they were trapped in The Under. And, it had barely been a day and a half since they returned to the surface world. But the absence of her presence was acute in a way it wasn't at any time she wasn't around before.

Sighing, Tobirama reflected back to the exact moment he felt the indescribable shift inside. Such a small thing, too. Hold hands and think only of her. It was maybe a little vain under normal circumstances to demand that from someone whom you had only just gotten to know better.

But unwilling to fall short of the challenge, the Senju took her hand in his and mentally mapped every part of Haruno that had stood out from their first meeting until the present. There was no getting around that her hair pulled his attention toward it straight away.

When he pulled her limp and barely breathing from the water, Tobirama instantly ran through any clan that might possibly possess the same color hair. Any who might prove to be enemies. Never one to mince words, the man had meant it when caustically telling her it was loud.

What he hadn't said, of course, was it also reminded him of the fluttering petals that drifted past his window in spring. The very essence of the season. As the cherry blossoms bloomed and then died, Tobirama would stop whatever he was doing and just watch for what felt like hours, a child of winter basking in the springtime sun.

Likewise, Haruno's chakra was the same way. A warm, gentle tickle against his skin, a sliver of the spring sunrays filtered through the shady branches of a cherry blossom tree.

The youthful, vivid shade of her eyes brought further reminiscence of spring. Often, one way or another, when the first little saplings started to poke up from the ground, Hashirama would drag him to go and look. That color was such a distinct shade, new growth, and he saw it every time he met the kunoichi's gaze.

Tobirama envisioned the myriad expressions her heart-shaped face could make. The scrunch of her nose in displeasure or the wide pull of her pink mouth when she was pleased. He also saw the angry slash of her pink brows pulling down and her eyes flaring up when Haruno was ready to knock someone flat. The small, symmetrical seal on her forehead was sometimes a point of focus when he didn't want to get pulled into that open, green stare.

Moving on from that, filling his head with nothing but Haruno required him to forcibly recall her small shoulders, which he didn't doubt were capable of carrying far more than they appeared to, physically and mentally.

Not only that, but twice, Tobirama had gotten an eyeful of her chest. It wasn't his intention to gape in either instance. Seeing part of her perky, naked breast made a shudder skitter down his spine in the hot spring.

And it was only because of the damnable mujina and the body swap that he became so aware of how much her clothing had torn under the abuse of their misadventures. The same went for the tapering of her hips, the full swell of her backside, the well-founded might of her biceps and thighs…and the fact that Haruno was pathetically short. Meaning for the miserable amount of time he was her, he was pathetically short.

What was more than trading vessels, Tobirama was made hyper-aware of just what it meant for Haruno to carry around the goddess-given force that she did. The immense burden it was actually putting on her body, or would be without the proper amount of control.

Being born a sensor-type meant that Tobirama filtered much of his opinions about others through the lens of how they felt to him. The other presence he now knew was Mizuchi's musubi that lurked inside the pinkette gave him reason to step back and assess, to tread cautiously.

So many times, he had stayed late in his office, alone as he scribbled up countermeasures in the event they should ever be needed against her. He could see now she had a tight regulator on what she housed, because although the musubi was wrapped into her very soul (if he understood the concept correctly), the traces of it were locked into every cell of her body.

Definitely not as much as it held when her soul was where it belonged, but plenty enough to have been suffocating. Tobirama struggled to move, to breathe, and to function with that power trying to batter at his soul from all sides. Haruno coexisted with it daily, maintaining her autonomy and bending it to her will.

In short, he recognized she wasn't likely to lose sight of herself and fall victim to the alluring pull of corruptive, all-consuming power.

Haruno was outgoing, short-tempered, and often times assertive bordering into the territory of bossy. All in all, she wasn't without a set of counterbalancing merits.

Tobirama had witnessed her gentleness many times, her soft spot for children, and inexplicably Izuna Uchiha. For Hashirama as well, really. Her mind was sharp, scarily so, and while it gave him reason to have his guard up in the beginning, rarely did he converse with people who could follow along with his theories so effortlessly. It was stimulating to be matched in wit. The tenacity that had helped carry them through The Under was a vice-grip that could bend steel.

The vast combination of things that melded together to form the young kunoichi were at the forefront of his mind as Tobirama let himself sink into reflecting on her, only noticing in the aftermath that there was a lot to reflect about.

Treading lightly through the woods with his sensory perception acting as his compass, he pushed aside branches, so nimble a grazing deer didn't lift its head as he passed within a hairsbreadth of it. Animated voices carried to him on the short breeze, one doubtlessly recognizable as Haruno.

The others, he abhorred to realize, were several of the mujina. Since joining the residents of earth once more, they had stuck to Haruno. They gathered around at her feet, her strange cat also in attendance, listening closely to her explaining something. One hand on her hip, she pointed off to the side with a pout.

Breaking through the tree line, her head swiveled in his direction. Rushing over, her eyes shone faintly in the sunlight. "You decided to join in after all, huh?" There was a little playfulness there that usually wasn't directed at him. "Tsubute said you wouldn't, so he owes me lunch." She threw a smirk over her shoulder.

The beast ran up to them, already protesting. "I didn't say he wouldn't for the record, I said I hoped he didn't!"

Their eyes connected and Tobirama found himself trading disdainful expressions with a talking badger. "I don't advise eating anything his grubby hands touch."

"You think you're so much cleaner?" The other mujina waddled over sluggishly as Tsubute's fur spiked.

"I can assure you I don't lick myself in place of basic hygiene." Tobirama scoffed.

Tsubute growled in preparation to pounce, but the flash of sudden danger in the air was piercing, only giving the Senju enough time to draw his weapon.

"You actually managed to escape. I guess that means it's time for me to stop underestimating you."

Haruno tensed, moving a little closer with her hands balling into fists. The mujina scrambled to surround them. He very much doubted they knew the swordsman and the additional two individuals facing them, but if nothing else they were protective of the girl who freed them.

"It doesn't matter, though. I think it might even be better this way. I told you I wanted you to die in agony, didn't I Tobirama?" The laugh from under his mask was hollow.

"Are you really still convinced you're in the right?" Haruno asked. "You're the one that cut down civilians! You should be preparing to answer for that!"

"After Tobirama's out of the way, I'll handle you." he explained. "And when it's all over, I'll atone, but…" Cat was so much faster than before, air warping as he ran with his masked comrades flanking him. A roar of rage cut the air, the divine sword splitting into segments to extend its reach, just like before. Tobirama smirked.

They were on a far more equal playing field when he too had a formidable set of weapons. Drawing out Nuke-maru, he did as the sword prompted, slashing diagonal, vertical and horizontal.

Cat and his team were blown back as if caught in gale-force winds, the fearsome Oboro buckling in on itself and almost striking its owner. Forced to evade it, Cat swung his weapon so that the tip landed in a row of trees.

'We're not done!' Tobirama broke from the circle of mujina, dodging a fireball jutsu with time to spare from the unidentified goon on the right. Cat pivoted, dragging Oboro through the trunks of at least a dozen trees, stalling the white-haired ninja's advance. In the debris that rose into the air, he sensed Haruno flickering to his side.

"He's above us!" she cried, spin-kicking the crow-masked foe away. Heeding her warning, Tobirama snapped his head back, Cat descending fast with his sword poised for a devastating blow.

Tugging itself from his grip, Kogarasumaru, clashed with the divine blade, pulling it out of the way and continuing on an unobstructed path for the godslayer's face. Cringing at the sight of it, Cat attempted to maneuver away before it made contact. The deadly tip scraped harshly against the porcelain of the mask, Tobirama watching as Wither activated.

The material began dissolving rapidly, until the glaring face of a young man had the Senju stumbling. "Y-You're…you can't be here." he croaked.

The will to fight completely drained from his blood, allowing "Cat" to advance unopposed. Haruno yelled her quirky "Shannaro!" fending off the other two at once. That was, until they revealed weapons of their own.

"Stand down." he heard one tell her. The mujina were balls of furry fury, distracting the fighters and evening the score.

Tobirama couldn't really move, let alone help. His opponent kept advancing, chillingly calm. "Done just like that?" The swing of his sword grazed at the Senju's cheek, not even the trickle of lifeblood from the slice registering. "I think this is the most human I've ever seen you act. You actually look…scared. Am I scaring you Tobirama?"

"You're dead." were the only two words he could force past his lips.

Snorting, as if that were only a trivial technicality, he shrugged. They stood chest to chest. "Death doesn't keep an Uchiha down when there's vengeance in his heart."

"You were a child…how did you age?" Tobirama shook his pounding head. "How are you here, Sanna?"

The slam of the fist to his jaw was packed with the burn of hatred, so intense it seared deep. "Because I hate you, Senju scum." Fingers dug into his hair, clawing at his scalp. "And I'm about to show you just how much."

"Tobirama!" Haruno had stolen a black dagger from one of Sanna's accomplices, slashing at the owner to force him further and then flinging it with all her might straight for the Uchiha looming over him.

Sanna caught it without looking. "Let's settle this score."

This arc is almost over, and I hope everyone has gotten a kick out of the journey. I will say, I plan to try to wrap everything up in the next 1-2 chapters and it will probably be an undertaking. I've been eager to write out the events of the upcoming chapters for well over a year, and I'd really appreciate support in the form of reviews. I know some people review periodically and some review nearly every chapter, but there's been a lot going on with the stress of work, plus still dealing with people who plagiarize or do translations without permission, and trying to maintain motivation.

If reading this made you as excited as I was to put it out there, it'd be nice to know, basically. I thank everyone for the continued support because I definitely would not still be writing this fic otherwise. I don't know exactly how long I plan for this fic to be, but whether you're new to it or have been following along from the beginning, shout out to everyone who has commented and encouraged thus far. Readers have made me laugh, pulled my attention to subliminal messages they enjoyed, shared what made them think, what made them emotional, etc and all of it means a lot.

I can't believe some of you guessed there would be a body swap! Poor Sakura probably never thought she'd have to be acquainted with a man's anatomy quite like that. Having smart readers makes it hard to be sneaky. But! I can confidently say I doubt anyone was expecting Madara to end up where he did. Was it in his mind or briefly in reality? Who knows.

Also, yes, Sakura's perverted inner tendencies rise to the surface yet again. This time poor Tobirama's the target. I really do love him, but someone reading this chapter might not have been able to tell that. He had it rough. The mystery of Cat's identity and his vendetta against Tobirama has been revealed too. Expect everything to come to a head very, very soon.

Again, if you liked this chapter, it'd be appreciated if you'd take time to review. Until next time.

P.S. One important note is, due to a lot of inside jokes among friends, heights for the Founders have been…altered. Basically we thought it'd be hilarious for multiple reasons if they all dwarfed Sakura. She is still 5'4. But Izuna and Madara are now both 5'11. Tobirama is 6'0 because it's funny if he has exactly one inch over Madara to taunt him about. And Hashirama, who was already pretty tall at 6'1, is now around 6'3. This has always been the case in the ASiT-verse. I just forgot to mention it I guess. But it should help explain why Tobirama and Sakura were so disturbed by not only the body swapping but the new height reversals.