Hey guys. This is my third attempt at a Naruto fanfict. Now, before I get too far into it, I want to lay down a few ground rules. #1 you are allowed to review, but NO FLAMES! I deleted this story once and I won't hesitate to do it again. this time, for good. flames aggravate me. i hate them. so don't write them. this counts for every chapter in every single one of my stories. #2 don't take this story too seriously. naruto fans, apparently, have a tendency to do that. i'm just writing this story for fun, nothing more. #3 i don't want to see this show up in any community pages. i'm not looking to join a community. like i said, i'm writing for the fun of it.

sorry, i had to rant. but there you have it. if you want to see how this story ends, be careful what you say. and don't ruin it for others.

This is a 3-in one chapter: forward, prologue, chapter one. i'm a tad ocd and i like the chapter numbers to line up with the actual chapters.

I do not own Naruto. Hoshi is mine and so are any characters you don't know about.

Foreword

Konohagakure. The Village Hidden in the Leaves. The Hidden Leaf Village. The Leaf Village. The Leaf. All of these are names pertaining to one village in the Fire Country: Konohagakure.

It was a relatively young village. Only little more than three half-centuries had passed since the First and Second Hokages, Hashirama and Tobirama Senju, stepped into this region and built the forests and stone walls around what was to be a new village. Since that day, Konohagakure was born.

Over the years, three Hokages—Ninjas of great skill—came and went; each one doing something different for the village. Each one left behind a legacy to be admired, followed, protected, and exceeded by the next generation.

Despite the First Hokage's building of the forests and the Second's creating of the small culture, no one could surpass the Fourth's legacy; capturing and sealing the Kyuubi—the Nine-tailed Demon Fox—into an infant boy . . . at the cost of his life. After all that, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, had a lot to make up for after claiming the seat a second time in the Fourth's stead.

Lord Sarutobi was loved by a great many people and he loved them in return. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the people of his village. After all, it was the Hokage's duty to take care of everyone he ruled over like family. The Third Hokage was a leader, teacher, father to the fatherless, and grandfather to the grandfather-less.

For all his greatness, Lord Sarutobi had another name; although no one who really loved and appreciated him ever said it:

Hiruzen the Fool.

Prologue

The chilly night air swept in through Konohagakure; raising goose bumps on the bare skin of anyone that could feel it.

Lord Orochimaru tugged his cloak closer to his body and stared down at the village he had once called "home". Now, he hated the village and everything it represented. He hated its name and its location. He hated the great mountain onto which the four stone faces had been carved: the four Hokages—Hashirama Senju, Tobirama Senju, Hiruzen Sarutobi, and Minato Namikaze. He hated the red, domed-shaped building where the Third Hokage now lay sleeping. He hated the temples where all the major clans were living. He hated the restaurants and pubs and apartment buildings. He even hated the Academy where his life as a shinobi (Ninja) began. He even hated the Hokage, himself: Old man Hiruzen.

So why was Orochimaru standing on a hilltop overlooking Konohagakure? He was imagining its destruction. Picturing, very clearly in his mind, all the buildings aflame and the Hokage faces crumbling. He imagined the bodies piling up one-by-one—from the very young to the very old. Such thoughts caused a shiver of delight go up his spine and he smiled.

But that wasn't the only reason Orochimaru stood looking down at the pitiful Leaf Village. He was waiting on the appearance of his loyal spy, Kabuto Yakushi, who was coming up to meet him.

And he was not alone.

/|\

Hiroshi Hyuga was emotionally torn. Not that Hiashi—leader of the Hyuga clan—could blame him. Hiroshi was known to be generous, but quite forgetful and a little negligent. Two reasons why he never made it as a shinobi.

Hiashi couldn't count the number of times he had gotten his younger cousin out of bad situations. All of them had been Hiroshi's fault. Now, this situation was beyond Hiroshi's fault. This incident was unforgiveable. Hoshi, Hiroshi's nineteen-month-old daughter, had been taken. Worse was the face she was most likely in possession of the clan's most notable trait—a trait the Hyuga jealously guarded with their lives.

It's just as I feared! With Hoshi's being from two powerful clans, no wonder someone's taken her! I'm just surprised someone hasn't taken her before now.

Hiashi shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that despite Hoshi's double lineage, she was still a Hyuga and, therefore, needed to be treated like a Hyuga. So, Hiashi was obligated to search for her just like he would for any other Hyuga child who had gone missing. Looking at Hiroshi's pleading expression, Hiashi knew his decision had been made for him.

"Sound the alarm! Alert the others!" Hiashi ordered.

"Yes, my lord." Hiroshi bowed and took off to do as was instructed.

/|\

Orochimaru watched as Kabuto approached his hill; walking nonchalantly with an air of smugness wafting around him. At first, Orochimaru wondered why Kabuto was bringing someone with him—a small child, no doubt—and was about to voice his concern when Kabuto spoke up.

"I believe she'll be of some use to you, Lord Orochimaru." Kabuto's voice was of a pacifying tone. One that Orochimaru hated to hear from him and would have gladly killed him for it—if he didn't need Kabuto so much, that is.

"Why would that be, Kabuto?" Orochimaru asked his child-spy, his voice tinged with venom.

"Look at her eyes." Kabuto said, gently pushing her forward.

Orochimaru lit a glow stick to see her face. By doing so, he bathed all three of them in a greenish light.

Kabuto was a handsome boy with black eyes nearly hidden behind circular glasses. His gray hair was kept in a ponytail and his short bangs framed the Konoha headband tied around his forehead.

Orochimaru had extremely pale-white skin with waist-length black hair. He had amber eyes with reptilian pupils and purple markings around each eye. A pale-white hand clutched the cloak to his throat and blue tomoe-shaped earrings hung from his earlobes, giving him a savage appearance.

While Kabuto was handsome and had an endearing aura about him, Orochimaru was the exact opposite. He wasn't handsome, and he wasn't ugly either, but there was an evilness that lurked about him.

Orochimaru knelt and held the glow stick aloft; illuminating the child's face. At once, he decided she wasn't much to look at. Only about average size and weight. She had skin the color of light-honey, black hair, and eyes the color of darkened metal. She wore a gray-white robe that extended to her bare feet and a peach-colored sash tied around her narrow waist. A blanket was draped across her shoulders. She stared at him with a thumb in her mouth.

"Tell me, Kabuto, what clan did you take her from?" Orochimaru asked.

"The Hyuga clan, Lord Orochimaru." Kabuto answered, with a smile that suggested he knew more than he was telling.

"Hyuga, huh? Perhaps she could come in handy with as powerful bloodlines as that." He gently took her face in his pale fingers. "But she's not pure Hyuga, is she?"

"Of course not, Lord Orochimaru. Look at her eyes. Are those the eyes of a Hyuga?" There, Kabuto had a point.

The Hyuga clan were renowned for their pale-lilac eyes—as well as the power behind them. The Hyuga clan had a strange and powerful kekkei genkai1 called the byakugan. A formidable dojutsu2 that gave the user nearly x-ray-like vision. Other than this, Orochimaru knew nothing about the Hyuga clan's kekkei genkai. The clan protected its uses to the extreme.

Orochimaru touched the girl's forehead and dove deeply into her conscience. "She has incredible power." His mouth—already too wide for his face—split into a huge grin and his long tongue lazily swiped his nose tip.

"She should, Lord Orochimaru. She's half-Uchiha." Kabuto said.

"Both?" Orochimaru was surprised by this. Although it wasn't unheard of—of course it was rare—for people to marry and bare children outside their own clans, it was nearly inconceivable for a child to be born to two people of rival clans.

The Uchihas and the Hyugas were two, very old clans. In fact, they were the oldest clans within Konohagakure. However, they had different ideas on living. Or had very different stances on engagement in combat. The Hyuga believe that there can be a peaceful outcome and will only establish their fighting style when there is no other option. The Uchihas tended to rush in and take out the enemy, without any thought of peace.

Knowing this, Orochimaru patted the girl's raven-head; marveling at her lineage. He was even more amazed as Kabuto pointed something else out. "I've already checked the records in the Hokage's library. According to her file, Hiashi Hyuga had her tested and it's been confirmed. She's capable of using both the byakugan and the sharingan."

"The Sharingan!" Orochimaru couldn't hide the quiver of excitement that ran up his body. Out of all the dojutsus Orochimaru most desired, the sharingan was at the top of his list.

The sharingan was an extremely powerful dojutsu, giving the user the ability to read and copy techniques and, thus, enabling the user to perform them perfectly. And, the very sight of the dojutsu gave the user a rather demonic appearance.

Orochimaru touched the girl's forehead, again—he was amused by how calm she seemed to be throughout all this. But, as he probed her mind, he was angered by the feeling of a Seal.

"I feel a barrier." he said, disappointed.

"Yes, my Lord." Kabuto said, looking a little uncomfortable now. "It's placed around the sharingan. Probably just Hiashi's way of making her as Hyuga as possible. The fool."

"No matter." The older Ninja said. "The seal will be easily broken. It was poorly prepared." With that, he flattened his palm against her pale forehead and raised his other hand in a half-sheep handseal. "Nemuri3." and she slumped limply into his arms. He picked her up and placed her over his shoulder.

"You did well, Kabuto."

The young Shinobi smirked and bowed. "Thank you, Lord Orochimaru. I'm glad to be of some service to you."

/|\

For the next several days afterward, the Hyugas continued searching for Hoshi; eventually having to ask the other clans and shinobi to aid in their search. Even the Third Hokage dropped everything and helped. But all their looking was done in vain. There was no sign of the missing toddler, and no body to put their minds at ease. No one knew who could've taken young Hoshi Hyuga or where she could've gone.

Except for Orochimaru's spy, Kabuto Yakushi, of course.

Chapter One
Left Behind

Otogakure—The Hidden Sound Village—had no fixed location. In fact, it moved from place to place—never staying in one spot for more than a few weeks at a time. At the moment, the villagers had stuck around in one underground dwelling just north of the Fire Country and east of the Wind Country. And we had been there for a couple months. I know, because I was one of the few who moved from place to place. And since we had been here for far longer than was normal, I was beginning to get bored.

/|\

The air in the underground arena was warm. Very warm. I felt my forehead starting to dampen beneath the hood I was wearing to keep my braids in check. My mask sucked up moisture from my breath; billowing out with each exhalation. My eyes were focused; never moving from my targets.

Yes, targets. Twelve to be exact.

My day had started out pretty normal. I awoke in my chambers under my own discipline. Brushed my black hair and quickly twisted it into three braids—one very large down my back and two smaller to frame my cheeks—washed my face, dressed into my village-issue uniform with my chosen weapon stuck into the back of my belt, and headed out to breakfast.

Breakfast in the "grand" dining hall was always a battle-zone of verbal extremities. There was never a quiet moment and the noise was nearly deafening. Genin—lower-level shinobi—shouted challenges to the other shinobi. Chunin—mid-level shinobi—both yelled out and accepted or denied challenges. And jounin—high-level shinobi—only accepted or denied challenges.

Every morning, I was assaulted by someone's desire to fight me. I had long since given up on not being noticed. Everyone noticed me. Also, over the years I had developed a reputation among the other shinobi. I was some sort of object every shinobi in the village targeted—or wanted to target—for defeat. At first it was a little odd to me to be challenged openly like that but I got used to it. And I usually accepted all challenges.

This morning was no different. I walked into the over-sized dining hall, grabbed my breakfast, and took a seat in a corner by myself. I had only taken a few bites of my hot porridge when I heard the heavy clumping of sandals against the packed earth floor. I didn't bother to look up. I could sense twelve pairs of eyes glaring down on me.

I smiled into my fruit juice. Hmm, twelve shinobi. That's a better number than yesterday.

"Chisana Ichi! We challenge you to a duel."

I've always contemplated why anyone would give me such an obscure nickname. Chisana ichi meant "little one", and I was not little in any sense of the word. I was of average height and weight for a fourteen-year-old girl, and I was skilled far better in weaponry than anyone else in the village (I had learned weaponry 101 when I reached the age of five, which is unusual for anyone who aspires to be a shinobi). I also had a large library of special jutsus—techniques—at my disposal to use (a knowledge not near as large as my Shishou's, but still fairly vast). I had undergone a rigorous training regiment since I was three—also unusual for an aspiring ninja but Shishou wanted me in prime condition.

I had learned how to expand my lung capacity for wind techniques and had the palms of my hands and the inside of my mouth hardened for fire techniques (my two primary nature types). I had obtained the speed for lightning techniques, the strength for earth techniques, and the flexibility for water techniques. (I was capable of learning jutsus for all nature types.) Still many referred to me as Chisana Ichi.

Though, now that I consider it, some of the shinobi within the village were bigger and heavier than me, so I probably was chisana ichi to them. However, I found the nickname to be somewhat insulting because the words chisana ichi could also be retranslated as chisana on'nanoko—"little girl". Some have called me chisana on'nanoko before and such words usually ended badly for them. So has utsukushi (beautiful), kawai (cute), and kanari (pretty). Only two men were allowed to call me such things. One being my Shishou, the other being the boy who saved my life: Kabuto Yakushi. And they used those words far less often than the jerks in the village. Usually Kabuto called me by my name: Hoshi.

Most of the time it was just chisana ichi or chisana on'nanoko, just to rile me up—which always happened to work. And I would respond with an insult in kind. Usually shibō (fat), busu (ugly), kōshū (foul breath), and noroma (slowpoke).

"What say you, Chisana Ichi? Do you accept?"

I slowly put the glass of juice down and scooped another spoonful of porridge into my mouth; swirling the warm mush between my cheeks. I knew, by now, my challengers were fuming. And I was enjoying every minute of it.

"Hey! Didn't you hear what I said? We challenge you to a duel—all twelve of us against you! Do you accept?"

I scooped another spoonful into my mouth; still ignoring his request. Shishou told me not to be quick about accepting challenges. If someone wanted it badly enough, they would be the more persistent ones. I agreed with him. Only my philosophy was, one had to be persistent and lack hesitation before I would even consider accepting the challenge. If I was going to fight, it had to be worth my time.

Apparently these guys thought they were worth my time, for the loud-mouthed speaker grabbed my porridge bowl and threw it at the wall.

There goes my breakfast! I thought, coolly setting my spoon down on the table and wiping off my mouth on a napkin.

"You know, it's very rude to interrupt someone while they're eating—and even more-so to take their food away?" I said. I didn't expect them to answer my question and, thankfully, they didn't.

"Like I care." the speaker said. I immediately dubbed him the name Oshaberi—loudmouth—for his incredibly loud voice. "Now, are you going to accept our challenge or not?"

I sized them up. All were males in their early to mid teens or twenties. All carried a weapon of sorts. And they were taller and burlier than me. Their eyes stared down at me with the seriousness of an adamant challenger. But I wasn't completely convinced.

I scanned each of their faces; noting the stony set of muscles in their cheeks and jaws and the fire of battle in each of their eyes—each unique to the person. Once I realized their faces wouldn't give them away, I tried their eyes; scanning each colored orb with care until my gaze was drawn back to the face of the youngest one in the gang.

A boy of only sixteen. His auburn eyes suddenly flashed with hesitation, the expression quickly disappearing as fast as it had come. But it was long enough for me to see it and give me reason enough to deny them the right to challenge me.

I finished my fruit juice, wiped my mouth, and made my way toward the cafeteria exit—my appetite ruined by the sight of porridge running down the wall.

"Move it, Busu! Come back when you are truly ready to fight me." I said, darkly brushing by them.

"We are ready!" Oshaberi snapped, impatient that I was denying him his right to challenge me and angry that I had just insulted them. He whipped out his broad sword and laid it against my neck and shoulder.

I stopped and waited. If he truly wanted to, he could lop off my head and I wouldn't fault him. But I knew he wouldn't dare kill me here and now. Doing so would make him a coward and in our village, cowardice was not tolerated. Our village had no place for cowards, and he knew it.

"Not all of you are." I said. "One of you hesitates. Now, I will give you the option to remove the one who is not ready, or all of you must withdraw your decision to fight me."

Oshaberi looked back at his companions, his sword hand never wavering—which was impressive to say the least because sword was huge.

"Which one of you is it?"

No one spoke and all their faces were evenly composed. It occurred to me they were all afraid of me, but were more afraid of Oshaberi and, therefore, would not willing to say a word. So Oshaberi returned his attention to me.

"Nice try, Chisana Ichi. Perhaps it is you who hesitates. Perhaps it is you who is not ready to fight us."

I closed my eyes and smirked. "I don't hesitate, nor am I never unready to fight anyone."

The loud mouth pressed harder on my neck with his blade until the edge nicked my skin. "Then fight us!"

"No thanks, Busu." I said, dropping my shoulder and moving out of line of his sword; I started out the cafeteria toward the training room where I could practice in peace. Then, he said something that stopped me in my tracks.

"Are you afraid, Futatsu no Shizoku no Musume?"

I looked over my shoulder at my twelve competitors—not one of them was the least bit hesitant now. But that wasn't what concerned me. What had was the fact he had used one of my names: Futatsu no Shizoku no Musume—Daughter of Two Clans.

I was known by two titles, but everyone knew me by my first and only a few knew me by my second. Futatsu no Shizoku no Musume being the one that referred to my double lineage—a descendant of two powerful clans with very strong jutsus.

"So, you know me? Or, at least you know of me." I said, coldly.

"Of course. You are Deshi no Orochimaru. The one chosen to walk beside him on his journeys." Oshaberi said.

Deshi no Orochimaru—Apprentice of Orochimaru—was my second title and referred to my once lofty position beside Shishou. But everyone who used this title took for granted the fact I was no longer as close to Shishou as they assume.

"In that case, get some more fighters. You're going to need them." I said.

"Nah. I think twelve will be enough." He said. He pointed his sword at me, bolstering his companions' confidence. "Do you accept our challenge or not?"

I looked at them a minute. Then, "Very well. Meet me in the arena. We shall see who is greater in battle. Me—Deshi no Orochimaru—or the twelve of you."

So, we met in the arena. All twelve of them armed to the teeth with their chosen weapons; me with only a cob of wood and eleven years of training.

I stood in the center of the arena, my opponents arranged themselves in a circle. They checked their weapons for sharpness, weight, and stability. I patted my right thigh—where I kept my kunai holster—and my left back pocket—where the pouch of my ninja tools were kept—and the back of my belt—where my cob was kept. Then, tying my three braids together with a leather thong, I tucked the lot up inside the hood I always wore in battle and covered the lower half of my face with a mask.

We waited.

Then, one shinobi stepped forward; swinging a long, thin katana in a meaty fist; cocky overconfidence flashing in his yellow and purple eyes. It surprised me that Oshaberi wasn't the one to come at me first and I silently called him a coward.

"Yah!" The katana-wielder shouted.

I stood there as though I didn't even notice him. At least, not until he was almost on top of me. Then, I dropped on one knee—tripping him as he hadn't expected me to do that—and shut my eyes.

"Shyakugan!"

Suddenly, I could see everything. I saw the outlines of the people around me—white with flares of blue in their cores against a black background. And I could see their every angle in their body. I could predict their every move as if it was already happening in slow motion.

I stayed down and took out my short cob of wood. I grasped it in both thumbs while forming the snake handseal around it.

"Mokuton: Nagai Mokutsue no Jutsu1!" Instantly, the cob lengthened into a long fighting staff.

"Yah!" The katana-wielder shouted. He had already gotten to his feet again and was coming at me.

I spun, caught his sword arm with a swing of the staff and struck him hard int he gut with the flat of my palm.

"Kaze no Kabe Sho!2"

Bam! His Chakra network was blocked. He staggered and I whacked his legs out from underneath him.

The next one obviously thought he could do better. He threw a string of shuriken at me. I easily deflected them; my two dojutsus (the sharingan and the byakugan) showed me the direct path they were traveling. He ran at me with a few more shuriken in his fingers. I dropped down and kicked him underneath the chin with one foot and floored him with the other.

Two more rushed forward, hoping to confuse me with a combined attack. I jumped out of the way, disabled one with my staff, and pinned the other to the wall with eight kunai knives. I disarmed seven others using nothing more than taijutsu—body techniques—even turning their own weapons against them. I kept working until there was only one left: Oshaberi.

And his big sword would do little to protect him.

I laid the staff down, widened my stance, and leaned over with my arms stretched out wide—one higher than the other.

"Hakke Rokujuryon Sho!3"

What happened next was faster than the eye could follow. As he rushed at me with his heavy blade raised, I ducked underneath his downward swing, and tagged him in two spots with two fingers. "Ni sho!"

I tagged in him two more spots. "Yon sho!"

Four spots. "Hassho!"

Eight spots. "Jyuuroku sho!"

Sixteen spots. "Sanjussho!"

Thirty-two spots. "Rokujyuu yonsho!"

Oshaberi fell over, his chakra points had been collapsed. I straightened up and stared down at him. "How? How did you do that?" he asked.

I touched my face where my two dojutsus were still alight above my cheeks. "My shyakugan allows me to see your chakura keiraku—chakra network. You can't hide anything from these eyes."

He closed his eyes, now ashamed he had misjudged me. "I'm sorry. I should've known better than to challenge you, Deshi no Orochimaru."

I ignored this and looked around—I was also a scavenger and I took what I liked from the enemies I defeated, and as long as I had use of them, I kept them. I saw the katana, a few shikomizus (cane swords), a shirasoya (white scabbard sword), a hachiwara (skull breaker sword), two nagamaki (long wrapping swords), a wakizashi (side inserted sword—a very thin weapon), a kusarigama (chain sickle), a bisa-to (pole sickle), and a tsurugi (broad sword).

I had a collection of weapons I almost never used because my staff was all I needed. Sometimes, I used the weapons I took but only if I thought the staff wasn't going to be enough. Today, I picked out the tsurugi, kusarigama, and bisen-to.

When I was finished, I heard clapping and I looked up at a twenty-year-old man standing on a balcony overlooking the arena. I knew the man as Kabuto Yakushi, my savior from all those years ago, and I respected him more than most Ninja here.

"Well done, Hoshi! Well done indeed!" Kabuto said.

I stuffed my staff back into my belt, hung the tsurugi sheath diagonally over one shoulder, looped the kusarigama over my other shoulder, and stuck the bisen-to through it. Then, releasing my two dojutsus, I jumped up onto the balcony beside my favorite shinobi.

"About time you got here." I said. "You need to find me better contestants. These guys were pathetic . . . and there were twelve of them! Hardly worth my time."

Kabuto chuckled. "Unfortunately, Hoshi, I'm sure you've beaten everyone in the village. At this point, there is no one else who can challenge you and expect to come out the victors."

"You're wrong about that, Senpai. I have not beaten you or the Otokage."

I did not miss the smile tug at Kabuto's face when I called him by the title of respect. But, when I mentioned my desire to fight him and Shishou—the Otokage—he stared at me, hard. I knew what he was going to say.

"I can't fight you, Hoshi. I'm busy. And so is Orochimaru-sama—Lord Orochimaru. Neither of us have the time for your petty battles of power."

"Petty? They challenged me and they were really persistent about it." I pointed out.

"How persistent?" Kabuto asked.

I pointed to the owner of the tsurugi. "He lead this band, kept calling me out, called me Chisana Ichi or Chisana On'nanoko. He threw my porridge at the wall. If that's not persistence, I don't know what is."

Kabuto followed the line of my pointing finger. "Who?—" he said the guy's name but I didn't pay attention to it. To me, the baka 4will always be Oshaberi.

I let my hand drop. "Yeah. Him." It was getting tougher to breathe with the wet mask on, so I drew it off my face. Besides, I knew Kabuto was uncomfortable talking to me while I wore it and he wouldn't continue straight conversations anyway. "Do we really have no one better in the village besides you and Shishou?"

"What about the Oto no Yoninshu?" Kabuto asked. He smirked, already knowing the answer.

"Shishou made them off limits." I said, matter-of-factly.

Oto no Yoninshu—The Sound Four—are Shishou's bodyguards. I don't know much about them. Shishou made sure their powers (or anything else about them except for their names) were kept a secret. But, everyone could assume the four teens were powerful. A shinobi could not be in Shishou's presence, or at his side, without having some sort of power. In a way, I was envious of Oto no Yoninshu's position, because in the same day I was shoved aside and dismissed as Deshi no Orochimaru, Oto no Yoninshu was born. They were with him all the time. I only got to see him every so often. Even Kabuto got to see him more often than I did. And Kabuto didn't even live here. He was a spy for Shishou in Konohagakure and everyone in Otogakure knew it.

Kabuto reached out to touch my shoulder, only to stop in mid-motion, look over his shoulder at another shinobi hiding in the shadows.

"What is it, Ukon?" Kabuto snapped. I knew right away Kabuto really disliked Ukon. Then again, there wasn't much to like when it came to the pale-skinned teen.

"Otokage-sama wishes to speak with Lady Hoshi." said Ukon with as much politeness as he could muster . . . considering the circumstances.

"She'll be there! Now get out of here!" Kabuto shouted in a hard voice.

Ukon bowed, the arena's low lights flashed off the top of his white head, then shuffled off; back to Shishou's side.

Kabuto watched him with a deep scowl, then turned back to me. "Look, Hoshi, don't lose hope. I'm sure there are other shinobi out there. Ones that will test your abilities to your limits. Trust me, you'll find other shinobi. Ones other than Orochimaru-sama and me."

I gave him a small smile. "Arigato, Kabuto." I said.

He chucked me on the chin, then je5rked his head out the hall. "Go. You don't keep Orochimaru-sama waiting."

I saluted and headed out without another word. While I ran—my new toys making "musical" noises on my back—I whipped off my hood and stuffed it in the back of my belt and untied my braids from their thong. When I reached Shishou's throne room, I stopped, took a breath, and went in.

The first thing I noticed were the three shinobi and the one kunoichi flanking a large stone throne. Two bowls of lanterns were alive at the foot of each armrest on the floor. Then, I noticed Shishou.

From my youth, I had always considered Shishou to be a little strange—almost snake-like in appearance. His pale-white skin nearly glowed in the candle-lit darkness, and his golden eyes complete with narrow slits overshadowed by purple markings over each eye pierced even the darkest of spaces into a person's soul. He was seated in his throne; bone-white hands clenched on the edges of his chair.

I stepped into the room and knelt at the foot of his throne; never moving unless instructed.

"Raise, Hoshi." Shishou said, and we rose at the same time. Shishou stepped down off the throne and embraced me. I hugged him back, noticing that despite the fact he was in his early fifties, the man never changed.

"I'm glad to see you, Shishou." I said, gently.

"I'm glad to see you, too." he said. "It's a pity we cannot spend as much time together as we used to."

I said nothing. It was a rhetorical statement anyway.

"I have called you here today because I need you to hold down the fort until I return. I have special business in the Kaze no Kuni—Wind Country—that needs attending to." Shishou said, jumping straight to business.

"Couldn't I go with you?" I asked in half-protest.

"No. You are the one I trust most to keep everyone in line. Besides, I'll only be gone a few days. Don't worry." Shishou answered, stroking my face with his slender fingers.

Without waiting for me to respond, he left the room with Oto no Yoninshu at his heels. And I could do nothing to stop him.

1 bloodline's limit

2 eye technique

3 sleep

1 woodstyle: long staff technique

2 wind wall palm

3 Eight-Trigrams Sixty-Four Palm

4 idiot

5 Thank you