Ch. 31 preview – much longer!

Author’s note: I’m so sorry this chapter’s taking so long. My rl is just very busy at the moment. So to help, here’s another longer preview!

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Sakura wiggled her wet toes and stepped into another pool of golden light. Streams of morning sun angled down through the canopy of Konoha’s ancient forests, dappling the shinobi trails. Scuffing over a patch of moss, dew flung out from the ends of Sakura’s shoes and sparkled in the air in front of her. She smiled, relishing the early morning solitude.

Sakura had always loved the deep forests that hid her village. As a child she would peer out wide-eyed at the green-black world beyond the huge gates. The woods were so full of mystery to her.

But as she grew older, became a shinobi and ventured beyond the safety of the walled village, her childhood awe of the great woods dimmed. Sakura recognized it was a tactical necessity, a defensive zone encircling Konoha that was in turn patrolled and protected by her shinobis. And she knew now that all the hidden villages had similar defensive barriers. Each dangerously beautiful and deceptively empty.

But in that first year of becoming a shinobi and shedding her childhood views, Sakura had discovered a cool pocket of the great forest that was still special. Still mysterious. And neither time nor experience diminished it.

She turned at a familiar bend in the trail and breathed deeply. The path curved and dipped down into a quiet glade. The trees stood closer together here, casting the area in perpetual green shade. A haze of moss clung to the trunks.

She followed the trail down and the trees closed their ranks around her. The deeper she went, the more the moss covered everything, creeping over the ground like a thick carpet. Even the path was soft.

The area always felt hallowed to her. And perhaps, that’s because it was. To someone, at least.

Sakura slowed, craning her neck and watching between the huge trunks for a glimpse of the small misshapen stone that marked this spot as different. And on the rare occasion, she was at the right spot to see the tall misty shape, hovering beyond the farthest line of trees like a ghost.

Another step, and there it was: She had come even with a small grey stone far off the shinobi path. It tilted cozily toward the base of a tree, half-sunk in moss, as if an errant river rock has been washed up in the green tide. But even from the path, Sakura could see it smiling at her.

The dimpled roundness caught her eye years before, when she was a fresh genin and she should have been paying more attention to her team. But her attention flitted to other things…like her hair…and Sasuke-kun…and strange rocks that seemed to be smiling at her….

In those first harrowing years, she adopted the quiet space and the little rock as a talisman. When her feet padded over the soft ground she knew she was close to home.

But one afternoon a bird happened to find the moss on Sakura’s funny little rock much more appealing for her nest than any other. The bird plucked up a thatch and flew off. And Sakura nearly tripped over herself on the path.

A round eye squinted out. That fat little stone really was smiling at her! 

Ahead of her, Team 7 bobbed over the hill and out of sight. Sakura gave in to impulse. Dress whipping at her knees, she dashed off the trail toward the rock, squashing deep footprints into the green carpet behind her.

Sakura hunched down and quickly flaked off the rest of the moss until she uncovered the smiling face of a little monk. She sat back and beamed at her discovery.

Only the slightest carving had been done to accentuate the natural shape of the rock, but she could make out clasped hands and the edges of a robe under the cloak of moss. Round head tipped to the side, he smiled up as if he were in on some secret that Sakura was only just figuring out.

In fact, he was so jubilant, so captivating with his great dimpled smile, that the question of why he was in a dark corner of the woods came only as an afterthought. Sakura pushed the long hair out her eyes and looked around. The area was beautiful and dreamlike in it’s haze of green, but it didn’t quite make sense why a monk would be out here in the middle of the woods.

That is, until she saw it. Something old and grey and lurking in the deeply shadowed woods behind the small statue. She rose slowly and cautiously made her way toward it.

Back on the path, Sakura smiled at the memory and tucked her short curls behind her ears. She may be older, but the mysterious qualities of the glade had never waned. In fact, it had become even more special to her over the years.

Giving in to impulse again, as she had done when she was 12, Sakura left the path. But this time her footsteps were soft and soundless, and, out of habit, she left no trace on the thick moss.

She paused at the monk’s little round head and brushed off a stray leaf. The green haze of the moss had crept back over his face. But Sakura didn’t disturb it. He still grinned up as cheekily as ever.

She passed him by and wove down through a line of enormous grey tree trunks until she came to a place where the land rose sharply.  The shadowy hollow, surrounded by columns of trees and backed by a wall of land, seemed to make a natural shrine.

And it was in that cloistered spot that someone generations before her had decided to place a statue of the deity Jizo. The serene protector of travelers. Of mothers and children. Of those lost, in this world and the next.

Sakura tipped up her chin to gaze at the peaceful, standing figure.

She often wondered if those who placed him there knew how important he would be to the shinobis who were forever leaving on this trail, many never to return again. But there was no one to ask. The statue looked to be centuries old. And over time, the forest had proved to be a greater force than the original caretakers.

Moss lapped at the base of the statue. It had settled over the years, and now the Jizo listed gently in the dim green light. Which made his serene expression even more poignant. His down-swept eyes, open hands and slight knowing smile made it seem he perfectly accepted the changes around him. Though he had escaped the moss covering of the small monk, his once-smooth stone was a grey and pitted as the surrounding tree bark. It looked more like he grew there than he was ever set by human hands.

Sakura stood in front of the statue and soaked up the silence. She knew she was not the only one who took a measure of comfort from it. Over the years she noticed small offerings left at the base — nothing more than a flower or a stone — but they spoke of the obvious solace given in the face of the unknown. She wondered if they were the prayers of those leaving or of those left behind that accompanied these little gifts.

Sakura bobbed a quick prayer for protection then turned back to the path. The quiet reverence of the spot stayed with her as she walked on, following the path through the broad woodlands until the trees thinned and fields and pastures opened up before her.

Sakura let the sun warm her shoulders. Her solemn reflections burned away like morning mist. Looking out over the bright countryside, Sakura felt the familiar stirrings at the thought of seeing Katsuro. She smiled to herself and descended down the path as it wound away from Konoha’s great woods and into the vast farmlands of the Fire Country.

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Katsuro panted and pushed back his hood. But it didn’t help. The blistering midday sun had finally dropped behind some far off storm clouds. But the unseasonably warm air still felt like it was choking him.

He knew he shouldn’t even be letting this much of his face show before making completely certain it was safe. He glanced around again, puffing out hot breath. He was pretty sure he was the only soul stupid enough to be in this forsaken terrain.

Rocky outcrops shot up from the ground in serrated edges. What little flat land there was gave way to cliffs without notice, and their height was masked by the scrubby woodlands trying to eek out an existence in their shade.

It was dangerous and confusing. And that’s why Katsuro was here. Because it was the path no one else would take.

Eyes tracking the horizon, picking out his direction, he pulled his hood back over. Dry, powder rock dust puffed out at the movement. Yet he stamped his feet to shake out his soggy shoes and fatigues. His life was like that. A mixture of opposites.

And trekking through the empty terrain at the edge of the waterfall territory had him slogging through extremes. The land was nothing but unforgiving waterfalls and dry slices of heat-cracked rock. A tug-of-war in the landscape between the territories and the Earth Country. But this formidable landscape was exactly why Katsuro was here. Because no one else would be.

Even the patrols on this side of Earth were thin. If even there at all.

Katsuro ducked his head and resumed his steady leap from limb to limb. It was slow going, but the only way to get through this land and survive was to stick to the forests as they meandered through the landscape. Being out on the rocks made for quick sighting, if you didn’t get blown off by wind or burned up by the sun first.

But there was no getting out of it. And not like he hadn’t tried. Before he’d left camp the previous morning, he’d wracked his brain for any crack that he could slip through and get to her. But there was none. Itachi had hemmed him in completely with this mission.

Katsuro leapt to another tree, letting the anger of it all push him on. Away from her. But his mind drifted, as it inevitably had the whole trip, back to the events that colluded to send him clambering over nearly impassable lands….

Just as Katsuro was scooping up another bite of his dinner, sitting outside his tent, mulling his next mission assignment and which paths and weapons to take, out of nowhere a slim scroll dropped straight down into his lap.

Katsuro glanced up to find captain standing above him, a small grin on his face at having surprised the kid.

“What’s this?” Katsuro slurped up his food and cracked the scroll open partway. Inside was a small map of the territories with a heavy smattering of red dots through the middle.

“Itachi said since you enjoyed traveling you could handle these as well.” The captain dropped a round-bottomed knapsack beside the sitting teen. Katsuro looked in, jostling the dozen or so scrolls inside, before gaping up at the captain in utter confusion.

The captain laughed. “Yeah, he said they’d take you a while. Better get to it, kid.” He turned and strode off, leaving leaving a steadily fuming Katsuro and his steadily cooling dinner.

“Hey! This— I-I can’t do all these!” he shouted at the captain’s back. But the older man just shrugged and kept going.

Itachi had already assigned him the mission near the old Rain Country borders. It was the farthest, most time-consuming assignment they had. But these — he shook the bag, peering in, shocked to find even more thin scrolls hiding at the bottom — would easily take him several months. Especially if he had to go back a few times.

Katsuro fully unrolled the map scroll and a small paper fell out. It carried precise instructions for the handling of each, as well as when and where he was expected to report.

The message was clear: Itachi wanted him accountable for each and every movement. His days of freedom were over.

Katsuro stared at the fire, anger warring with the hopelessness that had taken hold. The scroll shifted in his lap. He felt like hurling it into the fire. But he couldn’t. This was his life, his responsibility as a shinobi. He had to get these jobs done, because he knew what was riding on it.

But he wanted to see Sakura. More than anything. But there was no way around this.

His grip tightened on the curled edges of the map. He scanned it distractedly one more time, then shoved the map into the rucksack with the rest of the scrolls.

The fire danced merrily. His dinner sat half-finished. But Katsuro’s stomach was tight as a drum. He left his bowl untouched.

Flopping back in his tent, he stared up at the ragged seams in the flickering darkness. Instead of his missions, Katsuro went over every way he could possibly think of to get to her. But there was none.

At some point, the fire guttered out. And some time much later, sleep finally claimed him.

In dim haze of morning, activity buzzed around him. Katsuro pushed back the tent flap, squinting in irritation. Smells of cooked food hung in the air, as did soft clinking of weapons and the quiet conversations of men straightening gear and tightening boots. Normally, the activity would have Katsuro fired up, but this morning, he begrudged it all.

Everyone seemed to be up before him. The anticipation of Itachi’s new assignments had them all moving, even the ones who weren’t on active squads.

In front of him, the unfinished dinner bowl and the blackened fire all dredged up memories of last night. When everything went wrong. But another waft of cooking breakfast smell hit him like a wave, and his stomach growled loudly.

Katsuro clutched his gut, dropped his eyes to the ground and set off through the camp to the cook fire. Every step made him feel awful, but there was no other choice. It had to be this way—

Wei’s voice suddenly sounded down the row of tents beside him. Katsuro glanced over to see black-haired nin giving orders to two bulky men. Katsuro knew them by sight. They were thugs. Killers. They had some combat training, but they weren’t ex-soldiers or shinobi, so they were expendable. They were the favored dogs of the squad leaders…at least until they got killed.

“You’ll need extra kunai for this one.” Wei pointed toward the munitions tent. “You should never underestimate—”

He locked eyes with Katsuro, but this time there was no smile. Instead he pivoted smoothly, turning his back to Katsuro and continued his conversation in a whisper.

Katsuro didn’t care. He kept going. Activity was equally brisk in the center of camp. Men eating, coming and going.

Looked like everyone was antsy with this one, Katsuro thought dispiritedly. Everyone except him. He scooped some food and headed back to his tent. Within an hour he was ready to go.

Scroll-laden knapsack on, weapons strapped in, cloak fastened at his neck, Katsuro stared up at the trees beyond the last lines of tents. It was in the opposite direction he wished he was going. But there was nothing he could do.

Katsuro twisted the fabric of his shirt. His chest ached, in a completely new and awful way than it ever had with the kyuubi.

He knew this was the life of a shinobi. His life, the one he so desperately wanted as a child. But damn if he didn’t wish he could change one thing.

He wished he could put aside his obligation to Itachi, just this once, to go to her, see her, explain to her a little of what he felt, and why he couldn’t see her again. And then he’d walk away….

Katsuro’s chest ached again. He grit his teeth against the empty feeling that had settled there.

He couldn’t go to her. It was impossible. He’d just have to move on, and hope he’d run into her again. And he no hope of knowing when.

But he was a ninja. And he had a job to do. So Katsuro forced it from his mind, bit his lip, dipped his head and lunged for the treetops.

But hours and hours later, sweating out in the forsaken land at the edge of the Earth Country, Katsuro knew those thoughts had burdened each step. He had tried to run from it. But it stayed with him.

Katsuro wiped the sweat from his brow and surveyed the harsh landscape. It felt like he’d been running from her ever since he left.