Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Time is strange. Being is strange. He is. He is.

Is he?

For a long time—for time—he is. Then, he is but also other things are. Maybe other things were, all along, he just wasn’t enough to know that. To know them. Trees? Yes, trees, but also ground. Leaves. Air—wind—birds—birds?

Birds leads to sky leads to sun leads to warmth. He doesn’t know why warmth matters, but it does. He likes warmth, which means he doesn’t like cold? Maybe? His body—

It shifts again, shuddering and in pain. Pain isn’t good, he doesn’t think, but it is and being is good in itself. So. It shifts again. Unlike being, size doesn’t matter, but some forms feel more natural than others. More comfortable. Not for long, though. Some forms can’t see well, some can’t see at all, and some can see in different ways. He thinks he could, maybe, control it, but doesn’t know why or how or what he should aim towards.

Something with fur? Fur is warm and warm is good and sun and not-cold. But fur means a warm body and a heart that beats too quickly and feels too much. Ears twitch and skin prickles with fear and—

And fear is much worse than cold.

No fur. Scales. Scales are much simpler. It is cool, not cold, especially since he is in the sun. It warms him quickly, quicker than he thought, and to a comfortable point of neutrality. Not too warm where his heart would race and thoughts would slash and spike and cut. Not too cold that would hint at dark and wrong and small-enclosed-pain-fear-alone—

Scales are good. Snake. The form feels broadly correct, but it still shifts. Adjusts. There are many snakes. The small ones are too dependent on sun and warmth. Small—bigger—thicker—leaner—

There is no sun anymore. His form shudders and catches fire. This is—Pleasing. Sun is better, but in its absence, he can make his own flames. Burning is fear but these are his flames. His flames don’t burn. This is right.

He learns how to move after he learns how he could want to do such. His form still changes, eager to please, which makes it easier. He crawls and flies and climbs, but he tends to remain a snake. As beautiful as the sky looks, it brings with it concepts too intense to be endured. Snakes are safe. Snakes fit best. Soon, he learns that some places have more sun than others. Trees, he discovers, aren’t good or bad, but they do make things less warm than they could be.

So he moves and flies and climbs, burning when he needs to, until suddenly there is water and salt and sand and rocks and brightness. It is good. It’s better. The concept of better, now that there are many good things makes his spirit writhe for a while, form flickering helplessly. A useful lesson he learns, however, is that the spirit-hurt will pass, if he lets it. The feelings come and go. He can enjoy the good, but he can endure the bad, and sooner or later both will go away and leave him in the even grey.

It is a very comforting lesson.

Water is engrossing. His body is drawn to it, shifting forms as if to entice him to take advantage of it. Some of his forms are good for basking in shallow puddles, some are good for floating on top. Some are good for swimming and diving. Some are good for killing things that also live in this space. A second useful lesson is that, as they would like to eat him, he can instead eat them. He doesn’t know that he needs to, but he can, so he does. The idea of being more like other living things is—intimidating. He doesn’t know that he should or shouldn’t, or that there is any definitive authority to consult. He knows he is and he knows he changes, therefore he lives. That said, there seems to be a large gap between him and other things that live and change, and he feels like he should acknowledge it. Respect it, somehow.

After some time, he finds himself abandoning the beach. It is nice but his body wants to move more. Once it started eating, it also started breathing and flickering less often. The first form he finds himself inhabiting for a longer period is a large sea serpent. Unlike other types of sea serpents, this one heats the water around it and moves much quicker than what he observes is normal. He likes the convenience of it, he thinks. Warm but also water.

When he reaches the island, he doesn’t think he will end up staying for long. It’s not a bad island, not at all, but it smells and sounds—active. More active than the beach and much more active than the deep sea. At the same time, there is something special in the air. It has a sparkly, tingly taste that makes him think of life and fight and together. Together is a strange one, he doesn’t know he likes or understands it. He knows what not-together is, knows what alone is, but together feels much bigger and more complex than those. He thinks he could be a bit afraid of it, but he respects it, too, for the complexity if nothing else.

Plus, it is very pretty, and his scales appreciate the smooth texture of the rocks. After a few nights, his form shifts again; a minute change, this time, that brings with it unprecedented goodness. He sees colour, now, more than his snake-body is used to. As many as a winged-creature, he knows and doesn’t know how because he hasn’t dared claim wings once; hasn’t even come close. Either way, the first time he experiences the brief time between sun and not-sun when the sky turns the gleaming shore blood-red, he learns awe. Every night, the island bleeds, dies and is reborn again in the gentle, orange flickers of the morning. He adores the unflinching brutality of it all.

Some life forms try to eat him, but not as many as had tried when he had first woken up. He is too big, maybe. Other life forms explore him, in their ways. When they discover he isn’t interested in hunting, they relax and immediately stop paying attention. They can’t eat him, he doesn’t care about eating them, and that’s as far as that relationship needs to go.

Most of the time, he is asleep, body woven around the rocks, head resting atop of his coils on the highest, sunniest part. When it is dark, he heats the air and makes it bright. It’s a bit uncomfortable in the beginning—the rocks heat up quickly, and he is a sea serpent—but not for too long, and the pleasant cycle of sun-blood-dark-birth is much too rewarding to pay too much attention to the trivial concerns of the physical.

There are, he learns with curiosity, humans here. People. There is a distinction there. People and humans, humans and people. Not the same, but not-not the same. They aren’t precisely good—like the dolphins—or bad—like the squids and their irritating ink—but familiar. They are even less predictable than other, less excitable animals. Because he is big and calm and sleepy, they don’t try to eat him, like most things don’t, but they try to manipulate the world to harm him. Or at least scare him away.

He doesn’t appreciate it, but the attempt was polite enough not to warrant a counterattack. Instead, his form shifts and shifts again, scales thickening, layering and magnifying until he knows very few things will bother him. It takes some time to wind his suddenly unwieldy body around, and his new shape doesn’t like the water, but the favourite part of the day is about to begin, which makes all thoughts of pushy humans and inconvenient shapes evaporate from his mind.

Humans aren’t as practical as birds and crabs and snakes, most of which have long since learned they can use his body as a soft surface to nap on if they are careful to avoid his head. They try to turn the elements against him a few more times, which is annoying in that it often messes with his basking-rocks, but is silly enough that he can ignore it.

He learns about anger, when a group of humans attacks, actually properly attacks, using their spirits to try and lock him away. Tendrils of spirit-force-energy-power try to hook themselves into him, try to bind and burrow and subjugate. To take him away from the salt and the sea and the bloody sunsets. Unlike most other things, fury comes easily to him. Too easily. It’s next to impossible to remember his lessons about transience in the face of the consuming, howling rage. The shock of it is what helps him return, he’s pretty sure. As natural as it was, as comforting as it was to sink under the force of anger, it is also disconcerting. He never came close to not-being than he did, then. He doesn’t even recall what happened, except that it left the group of humans dead and his immediate surroundings ruined with ash and blood.

He would sigh if snakes could sigh. He should leave. Shift, at least. He doesn’t like the potential for not-being, and it seems the humans are inherently destructive, foolhardy creatures who can’t leave well enough alone.

On the other hand—he just doesn’t want to. He likes it here. It’s nice. Why should he have to leave? They can leave. He is fine where he is, thanks.

But—What if they anger him even more somehow and he loses even more time? How long can these blank states become? Is it possible to get so angry to be lost in it forever? Something tells him that there is, and—

But why should he leave? The animals learned quick, but maybe the humans will learn, too? In any case, he can always leave later. If they make it miserable for him, he will leave then. Why should he lose his sunsets before he has to?

He learns about relief, when humans do, in fact, learn. They aren’t happy with the fact he killed their kin, but they are pleased he doesn’t stop them from recovering their remains, or so he thinks. His form doesn’t hear as some others might, so their attempts at communication fall flat, even if he was interested in cooperating. Which he isn’t.

As soon as they came, they leave, taking their remains and their pain-fear-anger-awe with them. He continues watching the sunset, considering if he could, perhaps, shift his form to like water and be unyielding and impenetrable. It should be possible?

Surprise and disbelief come hand in hand, when, for some reason, humans once again start visiting him. Except they’re tiny, now, and filled with excitement-thrill-shock-awe. It’s a game. They’re playing a game, daring each other who can come closest. He wouldn’t move either way, but he finds himself consciously strangling the little, unthinking movements a body as big as his makes. He—doesn’t want to scare them.

They don’t come every day, but each time they do, they come closer and closer. All too quickly—far too quickly, they’re smaller than his fangs—he feels a tiny mammal-warm hand touch his scales. If he wasn’t already careful to keep still, he’d have flinched. It’s so warm and happy-laughing-curious-thrilled. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow he will move his head to see the children properly.

The shift, when it happens, isn’t surprising. He has come to expect that his body knows more than he does. So, when he can suddenly hear and not just taste and see, he learns gratitude. It’s that strange familiarity again, he thinks, basking in the sound of whispers and giggles, of incomprehensible gibberish that is possibly their spoken language. He doesn’t feel this way about birds singing or hedgehogs wheezing. Somehow, the children fill him with—lightness. Like the sun and the warmth and together.

He doesn’t blame the adult humans for the racket they make when they discover what their young are doing. It is beyond reckless. They have graduated to fully climbing his folds, giggling and competing who can climb and slide the furthest down his body without pitching sideways. He isn’t interested in hurting them—the idea of hurting them hurts him—but they don’t know that. That said, he doubts this will be the end of their visits. If their young had any sense, they wouldn’t have come here at all.

He is patient, now that he has something to look forward to.

The more they keep the children away, the more determined they are to come, and the more of them there are. It began with five. Now hundreds of them come sneaking through the forests, scaling the cliffside, digging underneath the earth, through rock if necessary. He doesn’t know how long it took for their numbers to grow this large; the bubble of warm-dry-cosy-safe he keeps around him keeps the wind and rain away. He thinks it’s not more than two seasons if they measure time in seasons at all. He is so much of an attraction that there are beaten paths to his cliff, started by excited little steps and finished by stressed, adult ones. That said, even the adults don’t smell of panic these days, just weary caution, increasingly laced with humour.

The seasons change, and he starts counting them in fours. It takes two such cycles for him to break his pattern of enjoy-bask-soak when the younglings are around. He’s learned about them, too. Most of the humans on this island have red hair that matches the sunsets. The adults all have—spiritual power of some sort, but not all children do. Most, but not all, and the mundane children are typically escorted by an enhanced one. Looking back, it’s shocking it took that long for the first accident to occur. This is not to say that the sight of a youngling—one of the smallest varieties, too young to even walk properly--goes and pitches off the cliff, without even having enough sense to scream and alert its caretakers.

Stillness is good but dead-youngling is more and worse. He catches the kid by launching his upper body and carefully catching it on the widest, softest part of his snout. It’s not a test, he knows, but depositing the youngling into the shaking hands of her elders feels like an accomplishment. Like pride.

He moves more, after. They know he can so he might as well. Not a lot, because they are still small and easily spooked, but more. After the adults gave up on the pretence, his cliff became something of a playground. Oddly, the fact he can move means he sleeps more, since he doesn’t worry so much about his tail flinching and damaging the air of happy-bright-warm the children bring with them. Sometimes, when the urge strikes him, he winds himself into a tight spiral for the younglings to climb. With their magic, it would be easy, but they don’t dare use magic on his body, which is understandable after the debacle with the spirit-chains. Left with only their wits and strength, they come up with all sorts of amusing solutions, from standing on each other to a complicated system of ropes they wind around his body.

Seasons pass in calm, weightless contentment. He is beginning to lose track of time and change. Other than his sight and hearing, he hasn’t shifted in years, comfortable in the haze of being the monster pet kept around as an attraction for the children.

Change does come. He isn’t ready for it, but he would lie if he said he wasn’t made to handle it.

—pain—fear—rage—wrath—no—please—avenge--kill—

He jerks. What—Where are—No children?

Where are the younglings? It is nearly—What is that noise? The typical shimmering that he knows now is their, human magic is tight with protect-alarm-defend. What—Attack?

He moves, leaving his cliffside for the first time since he found it. His body isn’t meant to move through the trees, but the air around him is thick with his energy. The trees fall before and around him as he all but flies through space, heading for the—

His sight is too delicate for this. His body is too unwieldy, his sight too sensitive. He can’t make out what is happening in the chaos except that there is a city and things are attacking it. Beings like him, except different. He—

The city smells like his humans, and it’s under attack. They’re killing his younglings, or they’re going to after the creatures and other humans finish breaking the magic protecting it. They’re already killing his adults with steel and magic and—

He shifts, climbing up-up-up, body shrinking and growing and changing—It doesn’t hurt, shifting never does, but it takes a moment to understand his shape, feel his legs—Four legs, tail, round barrel chest—Wings—

The cat wouldn’t have stood a chance against a dragon, and he is more than just a dragon. She tries to fight, sort of, except—Except he can taste her frustration, feel her helplessness and fear and rage. She doesn’t want to be here and—something is making her. Because it’s not a cat, like he isn’t a dragon. They’re whatever they want to be, only she isn’t free. The spirit chains, he thinks as his claws rip into her body and jaws close around her throat.

Unfortunately, slave or not, she attacked his younglings. His neck twists up, his front legs twist down, claws shredding what little was left. With her shape ripped to pieces, her energy dissipates into the air, and all he has to show for his efforts is a pile of ruined human.

The tide of fighting changes, because as quick as he was—and he was as quick as a dragon fighting a cat needs to be—the humans are quicker. Elemental attacks batter his body. Fire and water and lightning—He snarls, anger slowly rising. It’s not painful, mere pin-pricks, but there’s a lot and he can’t fight properly, not when they all look the same to him—

An octopus-like creature barrels into him. The final hold on his fury snaps; he can almost hear the sound of it ripping in the air. He doesn’t bother with even pretending to give the enslaved creature a chance to fight. Instead, he grabs it by the throat, slams it to the ground and breathes out—

It would have been kinder to rip it apart, because, unlike his fellow slave-monster, fire consumes, or at least his does. Once the shape is destroyed, which is almost instantaneous, the octopus doesn’t get to dissolve in the air. Parts of it immolate, energy steadily drawn into his flames, which only makes it burn brighter, which means more of it is consumed.

He lets it go before it burns up completely, but not before more than half of it is gone. Whatever the monsters are, they should be able to recover from it, should they have the good sense to hide and not be chained down by humans and forced into suicide combat.

There was one more monster, he’s pretty sure. A slug-thing. Except it’s not there anymore. It was probably put back wherever it is humans keep their chained monsters, while its Master retreats. It’s a good strategy. Whoever these humans were, they realised fighting a dragon is a complicated undertaking, especially a dragon like him who is only nominally bound by the physical.

Shifting again would be wise. He is enormous, easily four times taller than the tallest building, and human attackers are small and difficult to pinpoint. He should shift so he can pursue. A smaller dragon could see, it could burn them with flames so hot it won’t even leave ashes behind. He could vaporise them, how dare they—

Except—Except his humans are right here and they’re screaming and dying and—And he can’t help, because what does he know of healing—Except his wings are wide and impenetrable and some of his humans are pursuing but most aren’t; most are safe behind walls of magic and power. The younglings are safe, for now, and what if he leaves to kill and the slug creature re-appears to tear down the magic and slaughter the children? What then?

So he stands, turns his back to the sounds of battle, hunched over the injured and the dying, sheltering them from further violence. There is—relief, now, winding through the hate-pain-fear-cold-please-no. Faint sense of victory, which is appropriate. The battle, such as it was, is won. It would take a lot of doing to get through his wings, even if he is too much of a coward to use them for anything other than shields.

The sudden eruption of emotion leaves him dizzy and breathless, but he needs to last it out. He plops down on his hind legs, winds his tail around himself so it doesn’t hurt anybody and settles down to wait.

Chapter Text

His humans are better at healing than he is. The battle isn’t even done before they abandon the safety of their walls and storm the battlefield. Thankfully, they only have to walk for a couple of seconds until they’re safe again, beneath his wings. He hasn’t met healer-humans before, he doesn’t think, but they glow with life-grow-soothe. Unlike the creatures, his humans are but sparks of power individually, but there are many and they are determined. The island will long smell of death and pain but the acute, urgent edge slowly slips away.

When the pursuers return—in fewer numbers—they weigh the air down with rage and fear. For a moment, he isn’t sure if they should be allowed to mix. Surely all those bad smells will be bad for the younglings? That said, it’s not his place. If he wasn’t as afraid of his anger, he could have razed the city himself in a hurry to destroy those who would dare attack his humans. He can only wait until the healers fix what they can and give mercy to those beyond it.

Wait and maybe—A dragon has no use, here. It is a big and unwieldy creature. Aggressive and vicious. For fighting, yes, for killing and destroying it’s appropriate. But the fighting is done, now and it’s getting dark. This shape needs warmth, he can feel his lungs squeeze with the need to breathe flames to curl up in. The humans don’t need a complication like that, now.

The shift is a relief. His wings are the first to go, his whole body shrinking and rounding and softening. At first, he thought it would be a snake again, but—He is freezing. The violence burned through him and left him shuddering, sick with all the grief-scents and fear-sends and pain-scents—

He is a bantha. A measure of panic-cold-fear disappears immediately. Bantha are calm creatures by design, and their hair is thick and his hair is extra warm and soft. He was already sitting down, so it’s only natural to continue the movement and fold down and to the side, head cushioned by a tangle of gold curls. He gives his humans one loud mournful croon and closes his eyes to sleep. It’s been a long and terrible day and he will deal with the fact he is probably sleeping on mud-blood tomorrow.

The kids love his bantha-shape because of course they do. It’s hard to say if these humans are smaller or if he scaled himself up by accident, but it feels off. Not that he has any real awareness of what a bantha is. All his animal-knowledge comes from the same ethereal place his mind doesn’t have access to but his body does.

All of which is to say that the younglings spend days and weeks braiding his hair and weaving flowers and trinkets into it. He is only a little less lazy now than he was as a snake, in that he consents to carry them around a bit when he feels like it, but he doesn’t move from the same clearing in front of the gates of the city. Why would he leave? Yes, the cliffside was nice, but he was a snake, then. He thought in long, slow beats and had, in fact, stayed still for years. Now, he’s a bantha; a bantha surrounded by a sea of humans who mean him well and brush his hair and give him cushions to lie on. Children climb him and hug his legs and pet his nose and it means more than it had to a reptile.

The adults agree, in a sense, because they build a pavilion above him, unearth bigger and bigger cushions and tempt him with any number of foods a bantha might enjoy. More tellingly, they weave their magics around his clearing and remove all evidence of battle. The soil smooths over under their hands and they plant trees and flowers to make it pretty.

Whatever the conflict was about, it seems to be over. Or, at least, over for now. He can smell the magic in the air change day by day, as they tighten the invisible walls and, presumably, hunker down. He doesn’t know what the city was like before, but now humans rarely leave the city walls other than to visit him. Maybe that’s normal?

Whether it is or not doesn’t matter to his peaceful bantha-brain. Everyone seems happy enough and he is fawned over and can watch the sunsets here, too. The walls of the city are built from the same bleached stone his cliffside was, and it looks every bit as beautiful tinted blood-red. The only real difference is the noise, but he is a bantha; he can sleep through sandstorms and hurricanes. A little urban noise doesn’t measure up.

The more he interacts with his humans, the more they want to interact with him, which means all sorts of happy-friendly-curious smells, which makes his mammalian heart squeeze. After a few weeks, the humans up their efforts at communicating with him. He can sense their intent in their smells as well as the determined sounds they make at him. If he wanted to, he thinks he could have resisted the urge to change, but, well. He doesn’t want to. The next phase has come. He’s had peaceful years as a sunbathing snake, then a pampered bantha and now he will be—something else.

His body shifts so eagerly, he can almost taste its triumph-finally-not-alone as he shrinks and grows soft and pink and small—

And now they’re not small. Now they’re normal-sized, and he can make out their features properly. He takes stock of his shape—bipedal, in theory, sitting in a pile of flowers and trinkets that used to be in his hair. Human-shaped. Paler than most of the humans making human noises at him. About the same size, maybe a bit bigger. Staggeringly weak-bodied. No wonder humans are so unpredictably hysterical at all times; he’d be hysterical too if he had a body without a single practical trait he can place. Not even hair, except the random tufts on his head and groin. No sharp teeth, no thick scales, no comforting layer of muscle and fat, nothing. He’s worse off than the hedgehogs.

The din is becoming dramatic. His humans always had a tendency to swarm, but it’s different when he’s a big snake, or a dragon or even a bantha. Now, a hundred humans—and incoming—are a bigger deal. His ears are ringing.

He huffs and wraps his arms around himself. It’s cold. If he—How did that go, again? He could heat the air somehow—It was so much easier to think when he was a snake and each thought took a day to finish but it came predictably and reliably. Now, all the sounds and smells and feelings and—

Someone puts fabric over his body. He considers the red-white-soft-warm thing. Clothes. That is what it is. Humans wear clothes. This is nice, smooth—not as soft as his bantha-hair but much better than this pile of trinkets digging into his soft, defenceless flesh. He sends the human who gave him the clothes a wave of gratitude with his spirit. He hasn’t yet figured out his body enough to communicate with his humans. Instinctive knowledge is coming to him when prompted but only then. Until then, he’s in the dark, which makes it difficult to plan ahead or, really, think.

The clothes are soft, however, and the attention and the noise are draining. He curls into his clothes and lays down for a nap. They usually know to leave him alone when he wants to sleep.

Life as a human is much more dynamic than what he expected. He continues to spend most of his time on his cushions in front of the city, but the relationship he had with the other humans change. Before, they were happy to treat him as an animal; a clever pet that could understand simple emotions and had a tenuous grasp on abstract thought. They were right to treat him like that, too. His shapes limit and determine what he is. If he is a snake, he is slow and calm and sleepy. If he is a bantha, he is slow and calm and sleepy. If he is a human—

So there are some similarities, but the overall makeup is vastly different. If you have a snake-brain, you will think slow, linear thoughts. If you have a bantha-brain you will think friendly, short thoughts. If you are a human, you will think fast, omnidirectional thoughts. It’s part of the deal.

The children are the first to cotton on that he doesn’t understand this shape as well as he could. It’s possible the other snakes thought so as well, or that the banthas would have thought he is a disgrace, but they haven’t tried to correct him. The humans do, which means there are suddenly reflective surfaces next to his pillow, and children trying to demonstrate facial expressions, gesticulation and such.

It is intuitive, which he is grateful for, but also exhausting. He isn’t a shape-shifter in the way that they think he is, he knows that much. He is a human when he is a human, but also not. His shapes—shape him, but he is as much a human when he’s human-shaped as he was a dragon. He is not a dragon that is learning to act human or snake or bantha. He is all things and none of them, so the only real purpose of the bizarre human-lessons is to make him care more. The more effort he puts into it, the more fleshed out his shape becomes, and the more he learns or remembers or absorbs from it.

That said, figuring out the speech part of humans is a trip. Communicating with his body takes a few weeks and accepting the fact that he should learn or at least understand the basics of culture and social convention of the humans takes about as much. The rest of it, he will absorb through osmosis, or he will not. He enjoys this shape well enough but it isn’t end all and be all.

That said, it fundamentally changes his relationship with the humans around him. They immediately forget that they aren’t the same thing, and appear to embark on a mission to absorb him into their community. The clearing in which he lives is the first step. Slowly, day by day, their city grows around him, until one day he realizes that he lives inside their walls, now. Inside their magic. His clearing is now a cross between a temple and a park and is closely guarded by dozens of adults taking precise turns. Oh, the children come and go at all times, and there are at least ten adults loitering here and there, but he knows that not even a mouse can stumble across him without them knowing it. There is something about this shape that makes the humans nervous about his safety, he realises, bewildered. They aren’t afraid of him, they haven’t been for a good long while, but now that he is as small and pink and squishy as they are, they suddenly think he needs careful, loving protection.

It’s all rather charming, for all that it is idiotic. He never could have imagined it was possible to be this happy.

“Fumihito,” the boy says, interrupting the peace of the clearing.

Not being an idiot, he happily sets aside his efforts at figuring out their writing system. It’s so inefficient, it makes his teeth itch.  “Fumihito,” he repeats obediently. “Yes?”

“Fumihito is me,” he says again. The leading tone makes him smile.

“Yes.” He knows, because the youngling practically lives in the clearing with him.

“Who are you?”

He blinks. Hesitates. “Me?”

“Yes.” Fumihito nods several times in a row, brow furrowed. Several people in their vicinity stop what they were doing, trying and failing to be discrete about their eavesdropping. “Somebody needs to just ask already.”

Uh. “I am—” He shrugs. “I am.”

Fumihito nods again but doesn’t relent. He would be surprised if that was all it took, considering how even his parents couldn’t drag the boy out of the clearing for any extended period of time. “Yes. But what do you call yourself? What do you want us to call you?”

He has to think about this for a moment. It’s a human thing, but also not. Humans name all sorts of things—animals, plants, buildings, abstract concepts. Why not him? They built him his clearing and shower him with gifts and attention, they taught him their language, why not name him, too? Except, they don’t want to name him. They want him to name himself.

What would he like to be called?

“I am—” Something niggles. Some fact or idea or— It’s like with the shapes, his body knows more than he does. Maybe if he—Relaxed some more, let the awareness bubble up— “Ani. My name is Ani.”

Fumihito grins, brilliant and imperfect in a way that makes him beautiful. He—Ani thinks his face is too symmetrical, too neatly arranged. The humans are much better designed in that sense. “Thank you, Ani-sama.”

He furrows his brows. “Ani,” he repeats just in case. “Not Anisama.”

“It’s a word for respect.” Fumihito flaps an impatient hand. “Not important. Ani. I will tell everybody.”

Ani stays a human for over a full year. In that time, he learns a language, grudgingly learns to read and write, somehow gets into a habit of eating and drinking, and learns the names of pretty much every child in Uzushiogakure.

“Ani,” says Ayako says, all of five years old and determined to be a dread pirate, “can you turn into a dragon again?”

He blinks. “Would you want me to? Dragons are—” Clumsy and lumbering and a bit ugly, all spikes and scales and teeth. “Clunky.”

“Please? Mama tells us that we shouldn’t ask you to change because it is dis-res-pect-full but I don’t think it is. We are friends, aren’t we? I’d turn into a dragon for you if I could.”

Ani pats the child on the head absently while he thinks about this. He never really changed because he wanted to. There is no reason why he shouldn’t be able to.

“Alright,” he says after a beat. “But we must go find a big open space.” Which, for all that he calls it a clearing, it’s very clearly a temple, these days, built out of polished stone and warm wood, with magic circles they call seals carved on every available surface. “I can’t fit in here.”

“Ooh—Will you be a big dragon?”

He thinks about this too, while he makes his way out of the temple and toward the cobbled street leading to the city. The sight must spook the humans because the farther away he gets from the building, the quieter it gets. Oh—He never actually left the clearing before. They—

“Lord Ani, is everything alright?”

He smiles at the worried tone. “Yes. I just wanted to find an open place where I can shift.”

“Oh!” Now Daichi looks both worried and vaguely intrigued. “You do? I mean, of course, my Lord. How big a place do you need? Would you mind—Not that you aren’t free to move as you please of course perish the thought, but—” He’s blushing, the poor man, and his words twist with the local accent they try to leech out of their words when they speak to him. “Well, it would mean a lot to me if we could organise a group to—Come with you. Maybe scout out the place beforehand t make sure it is—Good enough. Yes.”

Ani pats the man’s silky hair. He’s gotten into the habit with the children and it carried over to the adults, for all that they aren’t within touching distance as often as the younglings are. “Of course, Daichi, if that is what you want. I wanted to be a dragon for a bit but—” He looks around. Other than the body of the temple, there is a decent-sized garden with a little pond and everything. He could—“Now that I think about it—Ayako, stay here with Daichi for a bit.” He smiles at Hime’s relieved exhale, as he gives himself some space to shift.

There are many types of dragon. The one he had been was big and angry and made to kill. This time, he is much prettier. His body is long and serpentine, covered in scales, yes, but with tufts of fur where spikes were. Four legs, except these feel more like paws than the reptilian, three-claw nightmares. The biggest difference is that he doesn’t have any wings, he learns with relief. That’s great. He’s basically a moderately sized snake with legs and a more expressive face.

“There,” he says, kind of enjoying the rumbly, gravelly voice. “Good.” His fur matches his hair, golden and soft and the scales are the exact shade of sunset-blood found so often in Uzushio. Colour-wise, he’s blended in well.

The first shift marks Ayako as a hero to the children and starts a trend. Ani still spends most of his days as a human, but he indulges the children in at least one shift per day. It’s an interesting exercise, and they adore it, growing bolder and bolder in their requests. Because they’re children, the shapes they choose are usually big and fantastical, but he’s also spent time as a bunny, happily being passed around for cuddles from child to child. The adults think it’s scandalous, for some reason, but they are still too intimidated to bring it up openly.

That dies a fiery death on an otherwise unremarkable day when he’s dozing as a cat, and Hifumi hands him to her father without prior warning. Being a tired, overworked parent, the man accepts him, hands bending in an automatic hold of experienced cat-owners. Ani’s eyes close in bliss when a large, warm hand buries in his fur, settling behind his ears for a scratch. It’s absolutely delightful, and he sees no reason to stop his nap, not when Kaito’s hands are bigger, warmer, and calmer than his daughter’s. The kids are full of love and goodwill, but they’re flighty things and their little fingers often poke and pull more than they pet and soothe. He jerks awake when the man’s spirit spikes with terror, hands freezing on his body. Is there danger? Does he need to be big?

“My Lord, I am so sorry!” Body shaking, Kaito kneels and places him on the ground. “If I knew it was you I never would have—”

He blinks at him, cocking his head, trying to figure this out. No danger-smells around. No enemies or unexpected catastrophes. So—He indulges himself in a long stretch to clear his head from the lovely nap. When he straightens Kaito retreated a few steps and is kneeling, pale-faced and terrified.

Right. He needs to shift. This will require talking, and these small shapes don’t have the volume to produce human sounds properly.

When he’s adequately human-shaped, he plops down so they’re of a similar height and clears his throat. “I am confused, Kaito. You smell frightened. Do you need help?”

“I—No, my Lord, I just—Forgive me, but we have cats, and I didn’t think—”

He nods encouragingly. “I am aware. Hifumi asked for a cat shape because of that. Do you—not like me taking cat-shapes?”

Kaito pales further. Ani, who had begun to think he was getting the hang of humans, swallows a sigh. Maybe he’s still a long way off. “No, my Lord. I am simply—I apologise for putting my hands on you. I will accept whatever punishment you set.”

Putting his hands—“You mean the petting?” He is so confused. “I enjoyed it. Your hands are warm and you never pull on my ears or bend my whiskers. But you don’t have to pet me if you don’t want to. I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise.” Best ignore the bit about punishment. What kind of a being do they think he is?

“I—” At least Kaito looks a bit less terrified. “I apologise, my Lord, but—I thought you forbid us from touching you?”

Umm. He blinks a few times, at a complete loss. “You have been petting me for years,” he says slowly. Maybe Kaito is communicating in some sort of code? “The younglings have been using my body as a slide since I swam over.”

“The children, yes,” Kaito retorts, saying very word carefully as if it might break and wound him. “Not us.”

He thinks about this. Saying you are all children to me is one option, but it’s at most partly true. Ani doesn’t feel like a temporal being most of the time. “I don’t care about that.” That, on the other hand, is completely true. “You don’t have to touch me, but I liked it when you did. Between you and me, the younglings can get overzealous at times. It doesn’t matter when my shape is big and sturdy, but when I am a rabbit or a mouse or a cat it can get a bit much. Your hands were much nicer.”

“Oh.” Now he’s blushing. “Thank you, my Lord.” The intense embarrassment radiating off the man is endearing, he has to say. “Oh—Please, here—”

With hurried movements, the man summons a pretty cloak from a piece of paper he fishes from his pocket. Ani, who has trouble remembering clothes, laughs a little and wraps it around himself.

“Thank you, Kaito. It is hard to keep track of that, but I will try to remember. I know it upsets you when I am not clothed.”

“It’s not—It’s not about that, my Lord, you can wear anything you please,” Kaito stammers. “It is just—Cold, yes. And damp. It’s one thing when you have—Fur and scales and such but—When you are human—”

“Very considerate,” he hums. “Thank you. I think it’s time to resume my nap. Have a nice day.”

Unsurprisingly, the younglings decide that the strange encounter was hilarious and immediately turn it into a game. Ani’s propensity for falling asleep whenever possible means that there are plenty of opportunities to be handed over to an unsuspecting adult. Thankfully, Kaito spread the word that he truly doesn’t mind, but he still wakes up to several frozen adults who realised they aren’t holding a normal fox or a cat or a puppy.

He has Mami to thank for his next shift in lifestyle. Being all of nineteen and, thus, dripping with confidence, she is the first one to dare and take him outside of the clearing. He is fox-shaped and dozing away in the comfy front pocket of her jacket when the racket alerts him that something is out of the ordinary.

He pops out, ears twitching, thoughts still slow and syrupy. Where—Oh. He is in the city. Fun. It’s a street? A paved clearing of some sort? He’s too small to see properly, but he can sense many spirit-sparks, most of them backing away. The big-adult is whisper-shouting at Mami—Oh, it’s Hideki. He hasn’t seen Hideki for a while, he’s always so busy. How strange that he hasn’t spotted how alike he and Mami smell. Father and daughter? No, more like brother and sister. Hideki is furious. Properly furious, and Mami is, for once, quiet and remorseful. Anxious. He doesn’t like the panic-smell on her, frankly. Is Hideki angry she took him out of the temple?

He tries to look around, and the humans, because they’re ridiculous, don’t notice his squirming. He does so enjoy that they can make such a fuss about him and still completely forget about him the next moment. So easily distracted.

He yawns, stretches as best he can in the squishy pocket and jumps out, shifting as he goes. He’s vaguely curious about what is happening.

“Hello,” he says, shaking out the inevitable stiffness in his shoulders. The sun is almost setting. He’s slept away most of the day. “What seems to be the problem?”

“My Lord—”

He ignores the sputtering man and absently shrugs on the cloak he throws at him. It’s still warm. Lovely.

“I apologise, did I scare you?”

The big man and his friends don’t for a moment stop backing away, hands full of miscellaneous weaponry. On their side, however—

“Hello,” he greets the wolf-shaped being. How curious! They are like the big creature only small and calm. Well, small in comparison. Their wolf-shape would be a head taller than him if they stood on hind paws. “I’ve never actually met one of you.”

“Uzukage-sama, what is this,” the big man says, as the wolf-being bends their neck in a wary but respectful nod. “That was a fox. It had a Chakra signature of a fox. Now it is a human, with a completely different signature. Of a civilian.”

“Hatake-san,” Hideki sighs, closing his eyes briefly. “I understand your concern, but trust that you do not want to even suggest aggression to our Lord Ani. It won’t end well for anybody.”

Aggression? “I’m sorry, did I insult you somehow?” He frowns, thinking back. “I suppose I did interrupt your conversation. But surely that is not in itself cause for violence?”

“Insult—What manner of thing are you?”

Ani blinks and grows even more confused when his humans all collectively bristle. “I am me,” he says, shrugging. “My name is Ani. I—like naps and sun and people petting me?” That’s about it.

“Lord Ani is none of your business, Hatake,” Hideki says, uncharacteristically curt. “And we do not appreciate your tone. My Lord, I hate to be rude, but we do need to leave. We were on our way to an important meeting when Mami—If you have more business in the village proper, I’m sure Katsu, Ryōta and Mami can assist you.”

He blinks again. The wolf-creature doesn’t seem to like him much, or at least isn’t interested in the conversation. Hideki is all sorts of uncomfortable with him meeting these particular humans, which is odd, but humans most often are. In the end, he can’t even pretend to care too much.

“I will go watch the sunset,” he decides and reaches out to pat his hair absently. He is so stressed, the poor man. He should get somebody else to lead the village, at least for a little while. It’s not good for him. “Sorry for the interruption and for scaring your friends. It wasn’t my intention.”

“My Lord,” Hideki says, blushing but pleased. “Please, we are all at your disposal. You are welcome anywhere and everywhere, at your convenience.”

What a sweet thing to say. He pats his hair again and shifts into a tusk cat, big enough for Mami to climb. He bends down, waits for the teenager to settle, nods at Hideki and his friends’ pads away. Hopefully Mami will realise he has no idea where he’s going and will direct him.

Chapter Text

Ani’s dialogue with the humans of Uzushio improves a little, after that. For one, with every passing day, a little bit of the wary superstition breaks. Ani simply isn’t that sort of being. He doesn’t notice, understand or appreciate worship of any sort. Affection and attention, he appreciates those, but this breathless, terrified awe flies straight over his head.

Now that he understands their reservations a little more, he may conspire with the children a little more. He doesn’t want to force people to pet and cuddle him, but there is a utility to it, in a way. It’s not that they don’t want to, he doesn’t think, it’s that they are afraid it is disrespectful. Since it isn’t, then it’s okay.

“Your Chakra signature,” Hideki explains wearily after they realised the cat curled up in the window of his office was, in fact, him. “It changes with the shapes you take. All creatures have a unique and immutable Chakra signature.” All except you, hangs in the air, loud and clear.

He stretches—feline shapes are some of his favourite for stretching, they are so bendy and mobile—yawns, and pours his body into the bowl on the man’s desk. It’s warm from the sun—which is why he chose it—and his throat rumbles with a purr when Hideki’s hand carefully smooths the hair between his ears, scratching at the back of his temple.

“Tani, find a nice cut of fish for Lord Ani, there’s a lad.”

It’s not that he abandons the temple, after that. It’s just that his temple sort of expands to include the city of Uzushio. Smaller shapes are more convenient for an urban environment, he learns, and many species adapted to living among tightly packed humans. Mostly, however, he takes the shape of small-to-mid-sized mammals, for obvious reasons. Why not maximise the amount of pets, treats and napping in the sunshine? After a few weeks, the last vestiges of concern crumble, and Ani is accepted as a sort of village pet, cuddled and petted by most residents freely.

This is how, ironically, he learns more about the world he’s in and the attack that brought him here.

“You’re fighting a war?!”

Hideki startles a little but his arms, guided by habit, are already draping a nearby cloak over him. There are communal cloaks everywhere in Uzushio, these days. Ani is beginning to think that he should think up a way to create some clothing for himself when he shifts into a human.

“I—We are. You saw, my Lord. The attack on Uzushiogakure was how it started.”

Ani huffs and climbs into the nearest chair, wrapping the cloak around himself like a cocoon. “Why you? You are safe here. I am here.”

The harsh lines on Hideki’s face gentle with the smile. He looks closer to his age, for once. “We are beyond fortunate and we all know it. Unlike every other country on the continent, Uzushiogakure is the only one that knows her vulnerable people are safe.”

Ani huffs. He doesn’t like the mild, serene tone. It means Hideki is resolute, and, yeah, maybe Ani could intimidate him into obeying him, but he’s pretty sure the pain of it would destroy him. “So, why don’t you stay?”

“Because Konohagakure is our sister village,” Hideki says, “and the attack on Uzushio was meant to weaken them. They need our help and they deserve it. We do not flinch from our responsibilities.”

Ugh. Honour. Gross. “Are you just sending them—Stuff, or are you giving them people, too?”

“I am not giving them people,” Hideki says, amused. “Because I do not have any. I am, as the Kage of this village, commanding troops that, yes, fight with Konohan soldiers. They are under my command, but they work alongside theirs.”

“So your people are fighting,” Ani says, just to be sure. “U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans are getting hurt and dying.”

“Some,” Hideki says, a note of caution replacing the gentle, indulgent amusement. “Uzushiogakure is a Shinobi village, my Lord. Our people get hurt and die irrespective of war. We are warriors.”

Yeah, okay, but war means something. The weight of it is written in Ani’s being. “Alright. Who are your humans on the ground? Are they grouped together?”

The spike of apprehension is—not completely unexpected but not appreciated as such. “My Lord, please, have we been unaccommodating? We are fallible creatures, but if you instruct us, I swear we will do our best to improve.”

Right. Ani lets his nose wrinkle. “Stop that, please. You make me happy, and I had not known that was even possible for something like me. You are wonderful.”

“Then why—If I may be so bold—”

Patience. Remember your snake-brain. Remember waiting for a day simply to move your head so that you can see the younglings better. “Please talk freely. I never understood your subtext well and I care for you too much to let myself be offended by accident.”

Hideki nods and takes the time to run through a very human focusing technique that involves such brutal compartmentalising, Ani is morbidly impressed. He is using his spirit to leash parts of his spirit into compliance. It’s almost vulgar in how ruthless it is. “Uzushiogakure is the first village that can count itself a real haven, possibly since humans have existed. Between our own efforts and your grace, we are confident our homes are safe from outside violence. Nothing is worth compromising that. Every warrior would sooner die than even suggest it.”

Ani nods and waits to see if more information is coming. “Alright. I didn’t think you were asking me to leave. I don’t see what frightens you so.”

“Isn’t that what you were hinting at? That you would leave to—guard our Shinobi and Kunoichi?”

“Yes?” Ani blinks. “Oh, I see. My apologies. I would be here, too. I wouldn’t leave. Why would I leave? I like it here, and you like me here. But U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re—” He needs to learn how to pronounce the word properly. “—people are out there, alone and scared. I don’t like that. Especially if they are fighting the same people who attacked you with slaves.”

Hideki’s spirit-construct wobbles, intent expression cracking to show the vulnerable hope beneath. “You—Note, please, that I am not asking it of you. But if I understand you correctly, you mean to send a—a copy of yourself? To be with our people? On the frontlines?”

Ani shrugs and nods. It’s a very complicated sequence of gestures that teenagers have down to a science, and Ani has been practising for weeks. His shape isn’t young, it’s a bit older than Hideki, but some of his features are more youthful than is expected for a middle-aged human shape. “My focus isn’t great,” he says apologetically. “I don’t know how many shapes I can keep going, but two is doable. Just ship me off with the next batch of soldiers, because I haven’t yet figured out how to move through space other than walking.”

The flurry of activity that happens after his little talk with Hideki is amusing. Splitting shapes is simple in theory and trippy in practice. Maybe after time and effort, he will learn how to truly split his attention two ways, but for now, his conscious awareness resides in one, while the other operates on a sort of auto-pilot.

“I will be doing a lot of napping I think,” he says. He is holding himself in a fox-shape with his human hands. It’s a very disconcerting sensation. He doesn’t think he likes it very much. “It is me, still, but most of my attention will be outside.” Nobody looks alarmed, but he decides to reassure them just in case. “But I am both, so if something happens, it will be simple to shift the bulk of my attention from body to body.”

“Does it hurt,” asks Akari. Like it is so often the case, the crowd around them quietens. It always goes like this. The adults will be curious about something but wouldn’t know a tactful way to bring it up. Inevitably, a youngling will get fed up with roundabout speech and will just ask it directly. Ani suspects the adults have started instructing the children to do it.

That said, Akari is a smart girl; she deserves a thought-out answer. “I don’t hurt like you,” he says, after a beat. “I am not a physical being like you are. The only thing that hurts me are things of the spirit. Like sadness.”

“So making you sad is like cutting your body?”

He nods, easy and honest. “Yes. I am, for all intents and purposes, sentient energy. The shapes focus that energy and give it structure, but losing them doesn’t mean much.”

“Oh. Cool. And also maybe scary? I’m not sure.”

Ani smiles and gives her his fox-body. “I suppose I can be frightening, but I try not to think about that. It upsets me, which, as we’ve already covered, isn’t good for me.”

“We will keep your Uzu-shape happy,” she says. “And the grownups will keep your Outside-shape happy. That’s fair.”

He nods. “I think so, too.”

A woman called Rinka is in charge of the team of thirty that heads out to Konohagakure, where the bulk of Uzushio humans are stationed. They all move quick, using their spirits to enhance their speed. It is not an intuitive method for Ani. He can halfway understand why—they are bound to one shape, so they adapt their methods around it. It doesn’t work for him, because he would simply change his shape to suit.

Whatever. Point is, Rinka is happy to keep him in her front pocket, arguing there is no reason for him to move when he doesn’t have to. It is good logic, even though he has odd objections he can’t quite name. It’s a three-day trip to Konohagakure if they travel straight, or a six-day trip if they are cautiously moving around battlefronts to avoid stray enemies. Since they have Ani, they figured they can handle the fighting.

They only encounter one group of enemies, which he happily eats. It’s not—On some level, Ani knows he doesn’t need his body to fight. If he wanted to, he could force himself to remember how to reach out with his mind and impress his will upon the world. He could absorb these humans, not just kill them. But—

It’s not that sort of world and he doesn’t want to be that sort of being. Once that becomes an option, he knows he will instinctively use it, and—He doesn’t want to become the danger that the humans have to unite to destroy. They already have creatures and monsters; if he is clever, he can limit himself to being better than them, but not so much to make them know just how dangerous he can be.

He shifts from lothwolf to dragon to a vulptex to an acklay. The acklay, he realizes, was something of an overkill, because even Rinka is pale-faced and shaking when he shifts back into a human.

“I can stick to mammals if you want,” he offers, accepting the robes. “But the element of surprise is useful.”

“It is, at that,” Kouki says, going for lighthearted and ending up closer to trembling-shock-fear. “The crystal fox was very pretty.”

He smiles and sits back to the place at the fire he had occupied when the enemy attacked. “Vulptex. Thank you. Flashy, but sturdy. Not many things can shatter the crystal faux-fur.”

“And—the thing. At the end?”

“An acklay. It’s—” An unholy hybrid abomination. “A sort of reptile. The variety you saw was modified specially to kill humans.” Humanoids, but close enough. His humans sort of know he is not of this world; he’s spoken about his shapes to the children for long enough that they understand they are alien species and not just figments of his imagination. Still, he knows thinking about such things most often sends them into existential dread, and that’s not really what he wants to do.

“I can see why,” Kana mumbles, trying and failing to wipe the dust off the meat skewer she dropped into the dust. “The noises were very evocative.”

Ani hums, eying his humans, all sporting various expressions of shock and fear. “I can stick to shapes you find more acceptable,” he repeats. “I don’t want to upset you.”

“You’re killing our enemies, my Lord,” Rinka says firmly. “Don’t mind us. I won’t lie and claim it wasn’t a shock, but we are grown men and women. We will get used to it.”

“If anything, the more outlandish shapes you show us, the quicker we will acclimatise,” Kouki says, crooked smile sitting honestly on his face again. “So, please, go ahead.”

Reasonable, he decides. “I will, then. Good.” Because it is warm, and because Kousei is a blacksmith when he isn’t a soldier, he shifts into a tooka and climbs into his lap. Tooka ears are sensitive, and Kousei gives chillingly good scratches. 

“I will take first watch,” Kousei rumbles, hands obediently burying into his fur. Ani purrs. They match. He, Ani thinks dozing off, would be a good tooka himself.

Konohan leadership doesn’t know what to do with him. It’s obvious they don’t quite believe he is what they were told he is—whatever that may be—but they don’t dare antagonise their Uzushio allies. It’s enough that every Uzu man and woman swarms around him once the word spread their Lord Ani has come to keep them company.

“You don’t have to call me Lord,” he tells the Hokage and his friends absently, as he’s taking in the sights of the Uzumaki compound where his people are staying while they’re here. “Ani is fine.”

That angers some of the Konohans, he notices, which is interesting enough to catch his attention. Not the Hokage. Sarutobi Hiruzen watches him like he is a dangerous animal he doesn’t want to provoke if at all possible. His students are more sceptical but obedient enough. No, it’s the middle-to-old age people behind the Hokage who look offended at his daring.

“We understand you are—some sort of Bijū,” says the Hokage. “A Bijū that allied themselves with Uzushiogakure and her people.”

Ani shrugs. “Don’t think so,” he says, apologetically. “I don’t think there is anything like me around. But U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re had taken me in, so. I’m here for them.”

“Will you fight for us,” demands the rough-faced, one-eyed man on the Hokage’s side. “Will you obey orders?”

Hah. “No,” he says, smiling. “I am here for my humans. I tried to get them to stay home where nobody can harm them, but they are good and responsible and foolish. So, I am here. I don’t particularly care what happens to you.”

“Ouch,” mutters the white-haired student. “That’s cold.”

“Is it?” Ani looks at Rinka for help. “Hideki never said I should care about outsiders.”

“You don’t need to, my Lord,” she says in the blank tones she slips into when she is too frustrated to act friendly. “We will humbly accept your aid, should you choose to provide it, but would not dare presume otherwise. The same holds for Konohans who offer no respect and somehow expect your time.”

“Double ouch,” says the blonde student. “Sensei, I think your advisors are jeopardising your efforts at diplomatic outreach.”

“Thank you, Tsunade-chan, that is very helpful. Lord Ani—”

Ani decides he is too tired for humans right now, shifts into a fox and jumps up. Kousei, because he is excellent, catches him without a beat of uncertainty and carefully puts him in the sling around his neck, complete with a pillow.

“So Sakumo wasn’t exaggerating,” Hokage says, the only Konohan to remain calm. Not that his snake-eyed student reaction of breathless wonder was what you might call wise, either. “A real shapeshifter.”

“I’m sure Uzukage-sama shared how the first interaction between Uzushiogakure and Lord Ani went,” says the Uzumaki woman he hasn’t met before because she lives primarily in Konohagakure. “And I hope Konoha is wise enough not to create further enemies when she has but one ally left to her name.”

The advisors scoff, which will be trouble, but the Hokage doesn’t, so that’s probably that. And, the Uzumaki-local is right. If they come at him with slave chains, he will just stop them and accept that his humans will be angry at him for a little while, afterwards.

Konoha is not as pretty as Uzushiogakure. There are more trees, and the structures aren’t as tall, but they also aren’t white and gleaming and built on a cliffside overlooking the sea. That said, it is several times as big, and there are many more enhanced humans than what he is used to. Almost all the children are trained in combat, almost no children are trained in enchanting and their noncombatants are both wealthier and bone-deep terrified. That is kind of the theme, he realizes. Konohans live in a village ripe with luxury that only a handful of Uzushio people could boast. At the same time, they also live in a village covered in a dark miasma of resentment and fear. There is so much segregation everywhere he looks it’s difficult to internalise. Uzushiogakure had several large families that tended to live close by, but Konohagakure has walls and compounds and a whole lot of other ways they keep each other separate and at length.

Ani only has one day in Konohagakure until Touma, Hideki’s second in command who is in charge of the troops on the continent, figures out a strategy that would best satisfy Konohan and Uzushio and Ani’s needs. Frankly, he’s welcome to the task.

So, Ani has a day in Konohagakure and is therefore being taken around by Kousei in his tooka-shape. It’s not that he doesn’t like what he sees—

Oh, there’s a cat-shaped creature over there that’s not a real cat. He jumps out of Kousei’s hands and shifts. The commotion is easily ignored, even if the shrieking is a little much—It’s a human body, what is so shocking about it? His people never made that much of a fuss. Anyways, Kousei has a robe handy for him, so he continues toward the cat-shaped being more or less uninterrupted.

“Hello, my name is Ani.”

The cat, frozen to the ground, inclines their head, wariness written in every tense line of their body. “My honour,” they say. “I am called Yuuka.”

Ani gapes. How did—“How are you producing speech with lungs that small and mouth that shape?” Their vocal cords—and the throat is too small, not to mention—“You’re cheating.”

“We produce sound with Chakra,” Yuuka says, “and move our mouths because it comforts the humans.”

Oh! “Clever,” he says, impressed. “I’ll think on it.” So far, his external manipulation of the world has been beyond minimal. At most, he’d heat the air and water and keep the wind away, things like that. But maybe—Maybe the humans wouldn’t be afraid—If these beings have been pretending to speak—

“My Lord, can I help you somehow?”

He pauses, cocking his head. “I am not yours, surely?”

“Ah.” The cat squirms in place, spirit screaming with discomfort. “That is to say—”

“Do you have your humans? Like Kousei? He is taking me to look around.” Kousei inclines his head, face arranged in a polite, meaningless expression.

“Yes,” Yuuka says slowly. “My humans all belong to a Clan called Uchiha. I could introduce you if you want?”

Ani beams. “Kousei, Yuuka will introduce me to her humans.” He shifts into a vollka, just because and brings the cloak back to Kousei. He’s been getting better at remembering little details like that.

“Of course, my Lord,” he says, serene as ever. Ani bumps into his hand, mindful of the curved horns, and basks in the ensuing scratch. Excellent human.

Chapter Text

The Uchiha Clan, Ani realises, are a pack of feral felines that immediately strike a chord in him. They’re not his but—

The more of them he sees-feels-experiences, the more he’s stuck with the bizarre sensation of—familiarity? Fondness? It’s far down, buried together with his inexplicable fear-awe-shame of flying that prevents him from so much as thinking about taking to the skies. It’s—

Yuuka’s presence buys them a direct invitation to meet with the leader. Ani walks on vollka-paws but he’s miles away, trying to figure out what is it about their spirits that’s so interesting. They’re fire, where most of his humans are water, okay. They’re not quite as bright as his humans, their sparks are smaller, but they’re sharper. Meaner. Crazier. And—

“Uchiha-sama,” says Yuuka, as apprehensive as a cat can sound, “may I introduce Ani-sama. We have spoken about Him. Ani-sama, Kousei-san, please meet Uchiha Katsuki-sama, the Head of Clan Uchiha and his wife, Uchiha Niko.”

It’s right there, the observation, right at the border of his awareness. The man, Uchiha Katsuki stands next to his partner, but—They—They’re not—

Kousei has a cloak out before Ani has finished shifting. He pats him on the head absently, still miles away. Wow, he didn’t know humans could do that.

“Hello. My name is Ani. I wanted to meet you because you are taking care of Yuuka like U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans are taking care of me. I really like your soul-bonds. They’re really pretty. Are they meant for teaching?”

Silence falls, thick and tense. Kousei is as relaxed as always, confident in both his welcome and safety, as is right. That said, he hadn’t meant to upset anybody.

“Pardon?”

Ani frowns at the Proceed With Caution voice. “Did I say something wrong? Is it taboo to talk about them?”

Uchiha Katsuki—or, really, just Katsuki, they’re all Uchiha if he understood things at all—cocks his head and looks at him for a long, pregnant moment. “Uchiha bond with their People. Soulmates, we call them. It is a well-respected institution within our Clan and mythology.”

Ani nods, relieved. “They are very pretty,” he says again. “My humans don’t do anything like that. Really, ah—” What’s the word. “—Determined, too. I assume they’re meant for communication and such?”

This earns him a slow blink so utterly feline that he regrets the human shape briefly. The urge to purr and reassure the intimidated cat in front of him he means no harm is strong. “That is a very intimate and inappropriate question to ask,” says Uchiha Niko, smooth and calm like poison. “Especially considering how you don’t know us at all.”

Oh. Ani’s lips tug downward. That is fair. Talking about literal bonds between souls is very intimate. “Sorry. That was rude of me. I was just excited to see it. They’re so—unforced and unapologetic. Confident and—I don’t know. Unhesitating. You are very brave.”

Another very lengthy pause lets more and more Uchiha pour into the open, some more discrete than others. There are hundreds, goodness, and almost all of them with a bond connecting them to this or that person.

“I feel like we lost control of this conversation,” Uchiha Katsuki says finally. “And of this whole encounter, more broadly. I understand you are some sort of God?”

Um. “I doubt it,” he says with complete honesty. “But I suppose it would depend on your definition of a God. I am fond of thinking of myself as self-aware, sentient energy.”

“I see.” The scowl is, to his mind, at least eighty per cent bluster to cover for awkwardness. Apprehension, maybe. “I will take your self-assessment under advisement, but self-aware, sentient energy falls neatly under the umbrella, if not the precise definition of a God. So.” Something slightly manic echoes through the forcibly calm tone. “So, I have a God in my Compound. That is how my Wednesday is going.”

Was that last bit even directed at Ani, or is Katsuki simply talking to himself? For a long moment, Ani considers the unknowable nature of humans and how impossible it is to deal with them at times. “I don’t understand human faith,” he says after a beat. “Nobody has, so far, managed to explain it to me in anything approaching a reasonable and concise manner. I a being, in that I exist. I am not omnipotent—” Probably. He is probably not that. “—Or all-knowing.” That is true. “I’m just a being. And I thought your bonds are impressive and beautiful, so I said as much. I don’t have any—designs on you.”

“Our Lord Ani is fond of humans,” Kousei says, swooping in to rescue him, hopefully. “He is fundamentally benign. Our younglings have been begging him to transform for their amusement for more than a year.”

“Your Lord Ani killed two fully transformed Jinchūriki in less than a minute,” Niko croons. “Your Lord Ani can see souls and can transform his Chakra-signature at will. Your Lord Ani is terrifying.”

Well. “They did attack first,” he feels the need to point out. “They would have killed the younglings and everything. I was minding my own business, being a big, dumb snake. So.”

Katsuki’s jaw is clenched so hard, Ani has to consider it’s hurting him. He frowns. “I just wanted to say hello,” he says for the umpteenth time. “I didn’t want to upset you. I’m sorry. We’ll leave.”

“The Uchiha Clan make up the bulk of Konoha’s frontline forces,” Kousei says. “There will be plenty of time to build a more—organic relationship there, if I understood you correctly, my Lord, and you are planning on assisting the Uzushio warriors there.”

Ani blinks, frown melting off his face. “That is a good point,” he says, brightening. Why he feels so attached to these strange dyad-warriors, he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t mind it, either. “Excellent, thank you Kousei.” He pats the man on the head fondly. “Thank you for seeing me. I promise I won’t just barge in uninvited again.”

The tooka-shape is, at this point, almost as familiar as the human one. He jumps into Kousei’s arms and, from there, the sling. After a moment to tuck the cloak away, Kousei’s hand settles on his back and neck in a comforting gesture. He closes his eyes, content.

If there is a logic and strategy employed in this free-for-all war, Ani doesn’t know it, nor does he care to. He isn’t here to shift the balance one way or the other. He is here to keep as many of his humans alive as he can, without crossing the line of outright monstrousness.

Konoha isn’t very happy with his approach, because it means they don’t get to include him in their plans. Ani—and Kousei, his unofficial handler—are free agents, going where and when they please. What this, practically, means is that they will wander about from camp to camp, and improvise from there. It helps that his humans are, for the most part, in a support role. They are best at enchanting and healing, he understands, so they don’t often get sent to pitched battles.

No, that role is, unfortunately, left for the Uchiha. And that is a damning fact in itself.

Unlike the first two camps they visited, Ani and Kousei are greeted first with desperate hope, which is soon crushed when they realise they haven’t brought any other reinforcements.

Ani leaves Kousei to explain their situation—it is never simple to explain, especially because the bulk of the soldiers never heard about Ani, or had received any official heads-up from Konoha.

“Understood, Uzumaki,” says the exhausted man in charge, something-Nara. “I’m sure your help will be invaluable.”

Ani, who has been observing the bedraggled outpost with increasing unease, jumps out of Kousei’s pocket and shifts on the fly. Shrugging on the cloak, he shakes out his shoulders and frowns. “What is your mission here, if I may?”

The Nara, after the first, predictable, rush of shock and fear, collects himself. Honestly, he looks to be too tired for prolonged shock. “Ah. Lord Ani. Airi-san and Mitsuki-kun have spoken about you. Be welcome to outpost Six-Oh-Twelve. We are to hold it—Presumably indefinitely.”

Ani frowns some more. There are—less than a hundred people here, and he can’t see any Uzushio humans anywhere. “Just you? Why?”

“It is an important location,” Nara says, dry and exhausted. “And we were supposed to receive reinforcements weeks ago—” With a long, measured exhale, he cuts off whatever he was going to say. “In any case, Hatake-sama’s platoon is on their way back from Kiri-controlled space. They will regroup here before they are deployed again.”

“I see.” He doesn’t see, but it’s none of his business. “Well, you can relax. I’m here now.”

Nara is either too well-trained to call him out on it, or too tired to bother. “Of course, Ani-sama. We are humbled to receive your assistance.”

He nods. “Kousei will explain more. I will go find my humans now.”

He shifts again, this time into a moderately sized lothwolf. They have the best sense of smell for a mammalian species he is familiar with, and he needs to sniff out his people.

He doesn’t recognise them, except by their scent and distinctive sparks. It helps that, while the other humans jump away from him, two figures stand and move toward him with relief and hope breaking through all the misery. He shifts again, this time into a long, noodly dragon and doesn’t hesitate to wrap himself around them. He’s a fire-breather, and therefore hot to touch. His scales will warm the two men a little.

“Lord Ani,” breathes out the older one between the two. “We heard you had been visiting our people, but we didn’t dare hope you would come here. There are other outposts with more of our people present.”

“Kousei and I are travelling blind,” he says, gentling his voice to sound as much as a purr as a dragon can sound. “Going from group to group. You are the third.”

They both relax in his hold, hands reaching out to envelop him back into a semblance of an embrace. Huh. A dragon-hug. “I am not familiar with this form,” says the younger man. Barely more than a youngling, really. The desperate edge of his relief makes his heart squeeze. “It is very warm.”

He rumbles, winding a bit closer around them. “You smell of distress and loneliness,” he says, craning his head to see them better. “And hunger. Haven’t the other humans been feeding you?”

“We have been kept alive at the expense of others,” the youngling says, eyes huge on his face. Ani can practically smell the tears on him. “As their Fūinjutsu experts, they have—Far past the point of what we’d want.”

Ani huffs, completely lost as to how he can help. “That is a cruel calculation for them to have to make,” he says, voice dropping even further. “I am sorry you were put in that position.”

“It is what it is,” the older man says, closing his eyes and resting his head on Ani’s flank fully. “We started with three hundred. Now we’re less than a hundred, all of them Clan-born, nearly all of them Uchiha.”

“Can you help them,” the younger man says. Here, hidden in Ani’s body, the teenager seems to lose whatever battle with composure he was fighting, and silent tears stream down his gaunt face. “I know we’re not supposed to ask, but—They are only alive because of their Bloodline limit, and it’s been hard. For them. They can’t forget what they see, and they saw too much. Airi and I stay in camp, we don’t fight, but they—”

“That is why I’m here,” he says. Promises. “Your friends are safe, now, whether or not their reinforcements come.”

The youngling’s “Thank you.” is echoed by his kinsman—Airi.

Right.

“Build a fire,” he says after several minutes have gone by and the two humans in his folds have had a little time to gather their composure. “Sit. Relax. If we are attacked, I will handle it.”

The soldiers—as reported, mostly Uchiha—aren’t as trusting as Ani’s humans.

“All due respect,” says the Nara, sitting at a fold-out table with two Uchiha Shinobi and one Kunoichi, “but we must not allow the camp to be overwhelmed. There are several weak points where the enemy will try to attack. I must send troops to guard them.”

Ani thinks about this. “I can’t split my shape and keep focus,” he allows. “So I can’t be in more places than one. Do you think that you could position me in such a way that I can draw the enemy’s attention to me?”

“I—Am unsure how to answer that question,” the Nara says.

Ani thinks about this some more. “How do you normally handle such things,” he says. “Do you have some sort of alarm? How do you know where to send your humans?”

“We have alarms, yes,” the Uchiha woman says. “But the enemy knows to send appropriately large units at us. They know that the campsite is secured by Fūinjutsu, and the only way to bring it down is to outlast the Uzumaki. A siege, if you will.”

Right. “But now you have a dragon,” he points out helpfully. “Or whatever else I need to be. So you don’t need to send anyone. Just me.”

“All due respect,” Nara repeats, an edge of impatience making his blank tone sharp. “But I don’t dare base my strategy on one man.” He grimaces. “Being. Deity. Whatever. The only reason we have lasted this long is that we didn’t allow the enemy to surround us.”

Hmm. He looks around. Other than the tight ring of tents, it’s mostly nothing. Just mud and trees and rocks.

“A demonstration,” he says, and ambles toward the edge. Now, what was that one thing—

To be fair, it is a bit disorienting, sifting from a human to a zillo beast in one breath. The shift in perspective is something. He overshot the size, too. He towers over the campsite, looming over it on six, spindly legs. Hopefully, they won’t notice how wobbly he’s been for a bit, there.

Unfortunately, the sense of hearing isn’t great, but he thinks he’s made his point. He shifts again, moving straight to Kousei who should have some clothes handy. He really must remember to disrobe when he shifts. When they were in Uzushio, it was one thing, but these humans have so little, he doesn’t feel great about taking anything from them, even replacement clothes.

“So,” he says, to the pack of stunned, trembling humans, old hand at ignoring the instinctive fear. In his experience, humans are incredibly adaptable creatures. They will get used to it with enough positive reinforcement. “You can see why I think you should at least consider not sending your squishy humans out there.” He pauses, cocking his head. “No offence meant. Mitsuki and Airi have told me about their fierce protectors. But I am sturdier. And can’t be killed. So.”

“What in Amaterasu’s name was that?!”

He shifts to see—Ah. Uchiha youngling, or thereabout. About Mitsuki’s age, maybe even a little younger. “A zillo beast,” he says. “I agree that it’s a bit unwieldy, but it’s very attention-grabbing. And, honestly, more agile than it looks.”

“And you—You just—How could—It wasn’t an illusion! It wasn’t—The mass difference—”

Ani frowns. “I’m not great at illusions,” he says. “In that, I don’t know I can do them. Maybe. But you saw me change shapes. This is just more of the same.”

“You were over a hundred meters big, my Lord,” Kousei says, amusement warming his tone. He was scared too, Ani knows, but let it go almost as quickly as it came. Released it—Into—The—What is that expression—

Never mind that.

“I was trying to demonstrate my sturdy nature,” he says, huffing. “I can be smaller. I probably will be. Zillo beasts are reptiles, and unlike dragons, they don’t breathe fire. It’s very cold here. Miserable for a reptile.”

“Of course, my Lord. Perfectly logical.”

Ani squints. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Very gently, my Lord. It is an expression of care.”

Right. And doesn’t have anything to do with the terrified humans watching the back-and-forth like their lives depend on the outcome. What outcome? What are the possibilities, here?

“I should do something about the temperature,” he says instead. “It is terrible. U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re has temperature regulating enchantments. Can’t the same be done here?”

“I am nowhere near as talented a Fuuinjutsu user as Airi-sama,” Kousei says, “but I imagine that the matrices are already on the brink of being overloaded. All available energy is going into maintaining the perimeter.”

Sounds dreadfully reasonable. He scowls. “I can probably heat the air,” he says. “I could when I was a snake.”

“I think everybody in the camp would be happiest if they felt you were focusing your attention on security,” Kousei counters. A true master in roundabout speech, is Kousei, especially when he wants to remain faultlessly polite, while also communicating how exasperating he finds Ani and his nonsense.

“Hmph,” he says, shifts into a bantha and goes off to find Airi and Mitsuki. They will appreciate his comforting efforts.

Thing is, there is not much he can do about the supplies. He can—and does—vent the feelings he has about that on the humans that are foolish or unlucky enough to attack the outpost, but that doesn’t fix much, either. They aren’t out of rations yet, but it’s bland, utilitarian slop, and unlike him, they need food and such to live.

On a brighter note, the unit of humans inside the actual camp has relaxed around him. Because they’re ridiculous, the Uchiha part decided he was alight after they witnessed him eat a team of twenty people. After the second such fight, they even approached him with suggestions.

“The bigger the difference in size between forms, the more obvious is the time it takes to reorient yourself,” says Uchiha Sayaka. “It would be best if you practise a sequence of similarly sized animals beforehand and get comfortable with it. They would get fewer hits in, that way.”

Fewer hits, he says. Like Ani’s wounds don’t disappear when he shifts.

“I think you should stay a dragon,” Uchiha Miyuki says. “Why change shapes at all, when dragons are so efficient.”

“Dragons,” scoffs Yuuna. “The eight-legged insect monster is the most efficient one and it is the most intimidating one.”

“Excuse you, the zillo beast is clearly the most intimidating one, what nonsense are you spewing—”

Ani, who has observed an untold number of similar conversations with his humans on Uzushio, doesn’t comment, just enjoys the attention. The younglings in Uzushio may have different criteria, theirs centring around comparing comfort and ease of climbing, but the rest is the same.

The alarm trips, and he jumps off of Kousei’s lap and hops off to Nara.

“A big group, heading toward entry point B,” Nara says. He’s by far the most stressed one of the humans in the outpost, but even he has relaxed a little over the weeks Ani has been around. “It’s possible they are Hatake-sama and his platoon, so please don’t eat them immediately.”

Ani cocks his head and thumps a foot to the ground, a bit frustrated. How is he to know? How are they to know? Ani doesn’t know these humans and they don’t know him.

“I can accompany you,” Nara says slowly. “If they’re the enemy, I’ll just—run away really quickly while you distract them with all the slaughter.”

Ani would smile if bunnies could smile. Instead, he crouches down, focuses and hops up, up, up and into his arms. Because he’s a trained Shinobi, he doesn’t drop him. On the other hand, he holds him like he would an unexpected bomb that jumped into his arms.

“Lord Ani would like you to take them there,” Kousei calls, laughter almost, almost audible in his voice. “He likes his ears scratched. Try to be mindful of the whiskers, I understand poking them is very uncomfortable.”

Chapter Text

As it turns out, Nara being present for the meeting with the Konohan soldiers was fortuitous, in that they were viciously pursued. They’re still a little way off, but Ani can read the sparks easily enough. A tight cluster of human souls are moving in a quick but organised way their way, and they’re being picked off from the back by another, bigger swarm of sparks. Ani doesn’t think of himself as particularly volatile, but he can see the sparks extinguished in real time.

It is upsetting, is what it is, and the only reason it isn’t even worse is that a particular group of souls—one human and two beings—are circling the Konohan group and, presumably, holding off the enemy. It’s a good effort, but there are three of them, and many hundreds of the enemy. The enemy, by the by, that knows full well that the best thing for them to do is to avoid the protector and pick off the weaker, vulnerable ones.

It’s going to get messy. No time for squeamishness. He jumps out of Nara’s arms and into a human-shape. “Your people are pursued,” he says as clearly as he can. “I will support them. You will explain the situation.”

Everything explained, he shifts and crouches down, waiting for his cargo. Thankfully, his desensitisation efforts have borne fruit, because Nara climbs up with barely a second of hesitation, steadily burying his hands in the bushy hackles on his neck.

“I will jump off when we reach them,” Nara says, voice tight and controlled. “I would suggest going for something big to shock them into pausing the pursuit. They only need a couple of seconds head start.”

He tries to yip, fails because lothwolves are fundamentally growly, but tries to make up for it by flicking his ears. With all the practise he’s had lugging humans around inhabiting hundreds if not thousands of shapes, running full-tilt with a man on his back isn’t impossible, but it’s not simple, either. He could do with a saddle, honestly, even if Nara makes do with his magic.

The scene they barge into is about as cruel as he expected. Lothwolf-Ani is considerably taller than a human, even when he’s on all fours, which lets him asses things quicker. And he doesn’t like what he sees. Roughly two, two-hundred-fifty humans are escaping and easily double that are pursuing, but even to his untrained eye, he can see that the Konohans are exhausted. Their sparks are almost dim, some are outright flickering, and—

And there are Uzushio people there. He can smell them and their impotent fury—

Right. He doesn’t shift mid-leap because he has a squishy human on his back muttering obscenities but he does growl as loud as he can. He half expected the Konohans to scramble away when they see an oversized wolf running their way, but they don’t. They don’t even break their formation much, except to split around him. It’s suspiciously convenient, but he doesn’t care because—

Nara jumps off of his back with a sharp bark of “Now!”, and Ani shifts—

Rathars are hideous, he will gladly agree, but that can often be a good thing. And, importantly, during the initial shock of the wolf having become a big pink blob of tentacles and slime, he can use one said tentacle to cram a human into his round toothy hole of a mouth. Judging by the screams and the scents, it’s as effective as he’d hoped.

That said, rathars are more or less one-trick creatures, and he is still aiming to shock the enemies and buy his humans a head start. So—krykna. A big one, too, with craggy legs and, again, a round toothy hole of a mouth. It’s a winning strategy, he’s found.

Shockingly it’s not having the expected effect. Unlike most other enemies who would, after two or three monstrous shapes, mostly try to run away, these humans fall head-first into a battle-frenzy that he is wholly unprepared for. He isn’t angry back; he is mostly upset. How to rationalise the fact that hundreds of humans are trying to cut his very much cut-proof exoskeleton with swords? What can he even do with that?

Still, they did pursue. If they get the good sense to run, he will let them, but if not—

A sabercat—a panthac—anooba—

He isn’t as effective as he’d have preferred. Other than the first two, most of his shapes are big, yes, but not shockingly so. Not enough to make a difference. When he spots that a part of the force has remembered their mission, he figures he stalled good enough and shifts into an oversized reptagoth, snapping up three warriors before they figure out what’s going on. From there, it’s more of what he knows better—Zillo beast, to physically prevent them from pursuing the humans. Dragon, to bathe them in flames hot enough to vaporise the soil they stand on. Acklay to pick off the remains and—

“No!”

Thankfully, acklay have unusually sensitive hearing, because he notes and reacts to Nara’s voice in time to stop himself from eating the tall, pale-haired man. Well, not quite stop. The momentum is there, the best thing he can do is shift, which he does—

—and slams his tiny, bunny body into his armour with a rather evocative crunch-crunch-crunch of tiny, bunny bones. On one hand, he appreciates the comedic effect. On the other hand—eesh. As it is, he shifts again into a tooka, scrambles up the man’s frozen body and launches straight into Nara’s arms.

No words are spoken for a long couple of moments, which is very appreciated. He needs a moment to reorient himself away from ‘kill all humans’ to ‘why are there humans here that I could have killed by accident?!’.

Nara is still as stone, holding out his arms like they’re inanimate objects bolted onto his body. Foolish little—Ani huffs, ears flicking with irritation. Would a scratch be too much to ask right now? His fur sticks on end, is it unreasonable to expect it to be smoothed down by a warm, dexterous hand? Maybe pet his ears a little?

Nothing for it. He jumps off, gives Nara a little hiss, ignores the suicidal idiot completely and shifts into a tusk cat and flounces off. Tusk cats have a very good flounce, he found. It comes with being uncommonly lean and spindly. He can emphasise the hip and shoulder movements, and, of course, a tail is invaluable if you want to communicate irritated disregard.

He insists on solid ten minutes of thorough Kousei-cuddles before he is fit for conversation. Then, of course, he sniffs out every single Uzushio human—there are seven new ones, two of which he met in person previously. He doesn’t bug them directly, because they’re busy increasing the perimeter of the immediate camp to accommodate the new arrivals. On top of that, every single human that came back from whatever mission they were on is injured in some way, and they have no proper healers on hand.

It’s very stressful, honestly. The only silver lining is that it douses the outrage he felt for Nara and his reckless friend.

Where are they, again? Surely they came back, right? Surely they didn’t—

“Kousei, please tell me Nara and the idiot aren’t out there alone?”

Kousei calmly tucks him into his cloak. It is still warm. Lovely. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Hatake-sama circled back to check on those they lost along the way. Some could, perhaps, be alive, and regardless, the body of a Shinobi is—valuable in some places. From what I heard about Hatake-sama, he would not allow that to happen.”

And there is that irritation back. Is this really the time? What if there are more enemies? This Hatake is already crazy enough to put himself near a rampaging shapeshifter mid-massacre. Who knows what lunacy he is capable of?

“Right. I better go make sure they don’t—get sidetracked returning chicks to their nests, goodness.”

“That would be very generous of you,” Kousei says, hands hovering to accept the cloak. It will take some time, but Ani is hopeful he will train his humans to pre-emptively take his clothing away when they sense he is going to shift. Try as he might, he can’t make himself remember that he’s dressed—or undressed—to save his life. It really would be practical if they either stopped trying to dress him or were more sensible about undressing him. “Would you like me to accompany you?”

Ugh. “That would be wonderful,” he says, glum, shrugging the lovely, warm cloak off. “But there are seven U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans here and they need your kindness and warmth. I should be fine. Nara is reasonable enough.” Stingy with pets though he may be.

Indeed, Nara and Hatake (?) are outside, having doubled back the way they came to pick through the corpses. Ani didn’t leave anything but smoking ash and ruin behind, but he doubts there were any Konohans present—not counting Hatake and Nara, of course. They were present, the maniacs—

Alright. That’s enough of that.

“I don’t suppose you are going to let yourselves be convinced to return to the camp? Where it is safe? And somebody can look over your injuries and feed you and find you a comfy place to sleep next to the fire?”

Hatake starts, immediately looking away from him like some sort of scandalised elderly spinster. Nara, a bit more used to him, throws his jacket at him with a groan. “I should have listened to Uzumaki,” he grumbles. “He told me to always keep a scroll with clothes on me. But no, I knew better, didn’t I? More fool me.”

“You are very foolish,” Ani says, not in the mood to be appeased by the loan of the jacket, warm or not. “What were you thinking? You know how hectic I am when I am eating enemies—I could have eaten you! And then what would you do?”

“Enjoyed the sweet release of death,” Nara snarks back, every bit as stressed as Ani. “Does this look like it was my idea? Do I strike you as the type of deranged man who wants to see that?”

Ani crosses his arms. He will not be appeased. He will not. “You should have known better. More importantly, you should have warned him.” He thumb-points to the silent, lumbering lump staring at them. “He didn’t know. More importantly, I don’t know his scent. You, I maybe would have remembered not to eat. He wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“Warned him—” Nara cuts the whisper-shriek off mid-sentence and goes for a long, relaxing exhale. “Irrelevant. This is irrelevant now. For better or for worse, Hatake remains un-eaten and free to be a scourge upon all that is sane and proper. Now, I assume you won’t leave us be?”

“You are two puny humans,” he harrumphs, “that have exhibited worrying signs of suicidality. Of course I won’t.” He re-settles his shoulders. “And, you know, it’s a sweet thing you’re doing. So. It would be distressing if you died doing it. I would be distressed, Nara, and Kousei can only cuddle me so much until it starts impacting his quality of life.”

Nara rolls his eyes so hard at him, it looks painful. “Your Kousei wouldn’t let you out of his hands if he could prevent it with any means up to and including violence.”

You can’t flounce much as a  human but Ani makes do with a good hair toss. “Jealousy is unbecoming,” he says repressively. “Now, you were busy endangering yourselves with honourable but reckless acts of selflessness?” He turns to Hatake and arches a brow. Another fault of a human shape is that he can’t thump a bunny-foot on the ground to signal his impatience. “Well?”

Hatake blinks at him with a very canine look of confusion. “Sorry, were you talking to me, uh, Lord Ani? Your Holiness? How do I even—What is the polite way to address a God, half-naked or otherwise?”

“Clothes are an outrageous spillover of your maniacal addiction to creativity and self-expression,” he sniffs. “Which, now that you mention it—” He shrugs the jacket off and hands it back to Nara. “Before I forget and shred it. Alright, gentlehumans, the night is falling and I have seven humans to check on back in the camp. Chop chop.” He’s tempted to go for a nexu but settles for a ranphyx. The fur is warm enough, and the hairless tail is perfect for whipping about in irritation.

Mercifully, Hatake doesn’t insist to retrace his steps back to wherever they had been. It wouldn’t have been good for Ani’s stress levels. He has, funnily enough, not been around dead humans that he is in any way invested in much. That first battle, back when, yes, but he hadn’t cared that much about it, then, and the village had been more relieved the devastating attack had failed than anything.

Hatake gathers each fallen warrior with endless care, doing his best to neaten the body up as much as possible before spelling it away in little black rolls of parchment. The practised way with which he moved made it all the worse. He obviously cared a lot about his friends, and yet collecting their dead bodies is almost a routine.

He shifts into a fathier when Hatake finally lets Nara know they have gone far enough. Ranphyxi are big, but their spines aren’t made for riding much. A dragon would be better—it would heat them if nothing else—but they are far too slow and Ani wants the two humans away from all the morbid misery and into the clutch of their kin as soon as physically possible.

Nara scrambles on his back as soon as he bends down enough. Hatake hesitates, but the dull look in his eyes and pointed lack of tremble in his hands is telling in itself. He has a bag full of spelled corpses, he can use a break.

Because he is a clever man underneath all the snark, Nara knows to direct him. Fathiers are fast, however, and they love to run, so Ani relaxes a fair bit as he puts the shape through its paces, as it were. The two humans converse in quiet tones on his back, which he tunes out. War stories, he’s pretty sure. Mission results. Irrelevant. He is sweating and buzzed by the time they reach their campsite, but they made good time, and Nara immediately loses eighty per cent of the sickening tension when they cross the wardline.

Kousei is waiting for them because he is the best. Ani wastes no time after the two men slide off his back, and shifts into the smallest, fluffiest rabbit species he knows, immediately hopping into his waiting hands.

“Welcome back, my Lord,” he says, gathering him up to his chest with one hand and smoothing his ears down with the other immediately. Ani’s eyes close by instinct. “That was a very generous thing you did for Hatake-sama and Nara-san. I am sure they are very grateful, as are we. You’d be pleased to hear that no Uzushio residents are injured irreparably—”

Hatake, Ani learns, is some sort of general. He is also very well-liked, even among the Uchiha who, like most cats, don’t like just anybody. The way the younger Uchiha, in particular, try to aloofly be as close to him as possible, is telling. Ani’s Uzushio humans sing his praises when they have a minute to breathe and cuddle.

“He is irrepressible,” says Mitsuki, voice thick with hero-worship. “A real hero. We heard stories, but even so—If it wasn’t for him, they all would have died a hundred times over, never mind the mission. Incredible.”

Ani purrs a little in agreement. There is something fundamentally noble about Hatake, he knows. It shines from his soul, the unselfconscious, unforced goodness that is both rare and impossible to fake. He doesn’t even need to try, Ani doesn’t think. He was just born like that. A genuinely kind man.

Said kind man, that said, will collapse at some point, shining soul or not. He hasn’t stopped clucking around his wounded and sending messages back and forth to Konoha since they arrived the day before, and Ani doubts he is somehow less exhausted by whatever it was they had been doing.

His wolf-beings are just as bad, unfortunately. Ani hasn’t even caught their names, and they already bounded off to scout the perimeter.

Someone will have to sedate him if he doesn’t stop, and Ani is pretty sure they don’t have any narcotics to waste on anxious leaders who can’t leave well enough alone.

“Why isn’t anybody forcing you to rest,” he says, that evening, when he decided enough was enough. His teeth fully itch with the need to drag the man away out of the makeshift healing tents and into a free cot. “I can smell the exhaustion on you.”

“Lord—Ah. Lord Ani,” Hatake yelps, automatically straightening from where he was agonizing over an unconscious Shinobi. “I hadn’t noticed you. How—unlikely.”

Ani taps his foot to the ground inefficiently. Damn the small feet. “You are uniquely trying,” he says. “I typically don’t need to nag my humans into taking care of themselves, you realise? They take care of me, in fact. I am not meant for nagging, I am meant for being pampered and indulged.”

“Are you,” Hatake says. The dazed shade of his voice is concerning. A frown cuts between Ani’s brows. “I never would have guessed.”

Right. “Come on,” he sighs. “I can drag you, if you would prefer, but one way or the other you are going to let your friends be functional adults without you hovering over them. They will keep for a few hours, so you can get some—” What do humans eat again? Omnivores, yes. He knows this. Just goes to show how trying Hatake is. He is forgetting things he knows perfectly well. “—Sustenance into your system.”

“Alright,” Hatake says. The dazed look has, if anything, increased. Ani has to consider that Hatake might need more specialised care than what he can provide.

Kousei will know.

“Kousei,” he calls, having grabbed Hatake by the arm just in case he collapses, hits his head on an otherwise irrelevant rock and expires. “I need you! Hatake is unknowable and vexing and I am lost.”

“You don’t look lost,” Hatake points out. A nice sentiment, Ani grumbles internally, which would mean more if he didn’t sound like he was speaking to himself. “You look lovely—”

“My Lord, Hatake-sama,” Kousei says, thankfully interrupting whatever unhinged monologue Hatake was wading through. “Come with me. Miyuki-san and Yuuna-san have just finished butchering the elk Hatake-sama’s Noble Spirits were so kind to hunt for us. A barbecue is being constructed as we speak. This way, please.”

Ani relaxes. Kousei is just so competent at all times, it’s impossible not to be soothed by his very presence. “Thank you,” he says and pats his hair with his free hand. Behind him, Hatake makes a strange, strangled sound. A most vexing, concerning man. “Best hurry, because Hatake might collapse, and I am not sure if I can catch him with this puny human body.”

Kousei nods easily and moves to support Hatake on the opposite side by placing a hand between his shoulder blades and steering him. Very clever, Ani thinks approvingly. Also, unlike Ani’s spindly limbs, Kousei is big and broad, frame packed with more muscle than the vast majority of the humans around. Comes with the territory, probably. The blacksmiths in Konoha were big, too.

“Do you prefer your meat fresh, Hatake-sama,” Kousei asks, possibly to fill the silence. “We don’t have any Old Blood in Uzushio, but we know the stories.”

“Oh—Please.” Some of the daze vanishes from Hatake’s face, only to be replaced with melancholy. Or is it just grief? “I don’t think I could stomach burnt meat right now.”

Right, because he witnessed Ani burn hundreds of humans alive. His hand spasms on Hatake’s arm and he has to concisely resist shifting into a creature lacking mammalian emotionality. A worm, maybe—

“I am always uneasy with thermally prepared food after battle,” Hatake says, not pointedly, but—intently. “It’s in my blood, and fighting brings out my heritage.”

Ani squints up at the man. His fangs are a bit too pronounced, come to think of it. And his eyes are yellow. He hadn’t looked too close at the man, but he is more lupine than the average human.

“My Lord,” Hatake squeaks. It sounds like a question. “Do you—need something?”

“I am not yours, surely,” he says, confused. “No, I am just looking at your face. Are you a shifter too?”

“Not mine—shifter—what?”

Kousei saves them both by clearing his throat delicately. “We have arrived. Will you partake, my Lord?”

“No,” he says, unbalanced by all the strangeness. “The humans need the food. I will stay, however. It is warm here.”

“Very well,” Kousei says. “Come, Hatake-sama, sit, please.”

With sure movements, he guides the man down into a makeshift seat—a couple of boards nailed together—and stands, arms held out in a discrete gesture—Ah. With a grateful smile, Ani shrugs the cloak off, deposits it into his arms, shifts into a tooka and jumps into his arms.

“Excellent. Would you mind keeping Hatake-sama company, while I fetch an adequate portion of meat for us?”

Ani thinks about it for a moment, but can’t see a reason why not. He stands up, balancing on his hind paws, and butts his head into his chin fondly, before jumping down, to the side and into Hatake’s lap.

“Lord Ani enjoys head scratches,” Kousei says, with the familiar note of laughter warming up his voice. “And the warmth. I will return presently.”

Chapter Text

Humans have a way of shaping Ani’s growth. The children sparked the first signs of intelligence. Uzushio folk guided him through something like youth, and this endless Konohan conflict is making him feel distressingly like he is growing into adulthood.

He can’t say he likes it much. It was cosy and calm back in Uzushio. His humans kept all their strife well away. Konohans are a different barrel of fish. He doubts they could keep their problems away even if they tried their best. They’re just saturated with conflict on every single level, be it internal, interpersonal, societal, you name it they’re fighting with it, the more damaging the better.

The campsite Ani temporarily took for his own is a good example. The internal conflict is clear—It’s war. Most of the humans, even Uzushio humans, are riddled with trauma and flinching at shadows. They are grateful they are alive and guilty for it at the same time. Predictably human and messy. Ani isn’t mad at it; they are human. They can’t help it.

The interpersonal conflict, however, is where he starts getting some feelings because a lot of it they can and should help. A lot of it they should have known to keep in mind and actively work to prevent. Yes, the supplies are low. Yes, the tensions are high. Yes, the space is narrow and crowded and it’s never a good idea to cram four hundred jumpy, hungry warriors into a place meant to house seventy-five. Yes to all that. How is any of it a surprise? How did you not predict this exact scenario would happen?

And then, there is the Uchiha thing. Ani has not a single idea what he wants or plans to do about the Uchiha thing, but he can’t see how it won’t become worse before it becomes better.

He looks closer. Cocks his head. Shifts into a loth-wolf and takes a good sniff.

Yeah, that’s unhappiness. Resentment. More than a little frustrated sadness. The camp is split between the Uchiha—and the Uzushio—humans, and all the rest. Not officially; there is no fence segregating the two, but the division is clear, and the only humans that he sees who are interacting freely with both groups are Nara and Hatake.

He pads over to a group of young Uchiha, shifting to a tusk cat along the way. Tusk cats are among his gentlest feline shapes, and he can use the boost. The girl whose belly he is butting his head into—carefully, she is human-frail and much too young to be here—slowly buries her fingers in the fuzzy fur on the underside of his jaw, between the tusks. He basks in the gentle touch for a long moment, makes a chuff sound which is about all the friendly vocalisation this shape can produce, purring aside, and settles down, curling around her and her friends’ legs, thinking.

Why are they like this? Why can he smell the animosity from all the other Konoha humans; animosity that isn’t helped by Ani’s non-subtle preference for the Uchiha. He hasn’t outright snubbed them yet, but he’s certainly working up to it, and Uzushio humans are following suit. These days, Ani would be hard-pressed to find one of his humans without a couple of Uchiha. The heartbreaking part, the part that Ani is resigned that will cause trouble for someone soonish, is how bewildered and grateful the Uchiha are by the show of trust. They soak up every ounce of attention Ani’s Uzushio humans give them and return it as best they can. Typically, this meant grim-faced determination to keep them from harm. All very endearing, all in all, and all almost tailor-made to carefully grow a grudge in Ani.

It’s not wise, to grow a grudge in Ani. He is too other, too dangerous to feel such things for a species that can do so very little to stop him. And, to make matters worse, this is here, with Hatake, who knows and adores all the humans under his protection. Hatake knows the name, dreams and families of every single human in the camp. He dotes on his people, every single one of them. If this is how his unit behaves, if this is how quickly they split into Uchiha and Non-Uchiha, what must it be like elsewhere? What is it like in Konoha?

On the third day, Ani squirmed his way into receiving pats from every Uchiha in the camp, cycled through hundreds of shapes to make that happen, and realised he is already fully invested. How could he not be, he thinks, shaped as a noodly dragon, watching the regular production of one of Uzushio humans babbling about something or other, while a group of faux-aloof Uchiha watch with breathless focus.

Uzushio has its faults. They were insular, they didn’t have a tenth of the resources Konoha could give to her people. They were, in some ways, set in their ways to the point of irrationality and their deep-set distrust of outsiders probably cut into their quality of life. Conversely, nobody would claim they aren’t cohesive. There is strife and conflict, he doesn’t doubt it, but there is no—segregation. No wall of fear and distrust and distance between segments of their population.

And Ani immediately took to the Uchiha. He is, frankly, more drawn to them than the humans who took him in and cared for him and built him a home. There is something about their soul-bonds that makes his heart clench; something about how impractical they are that makes him admire them. No matter how deep he looks, he doesn’t see a single purpose for these bonds other than love. Not training, communication, sharing power or anything similarly practical. Ani’s observations and his humans’ reports agree that Uchiha bond with soulmates. Platonic, romantic, filial—the nature of said love doesn’t matter, as long as their souls sing themselves into one. And isn’t that just spectacular, he thinks, sighing. Isn’t it just wonderful that they had allowed their population first to pass on such a deleterious trait, and then to openly talk about it? To take pride in such a debilitating weakness. It’s foolish and unapologetic and brave and insane and Ani loves it a lot.

So, while he’s waiting for some epiphany to strike, he’s doing what he can to mitigate the symptoms, at least. He’s not alone in his efforts, either. His humans, taking after Ani, have been confidently drowning every Uchiha in sight with as much physical affection as they can possibly bestow. They would grab them for hugs, cuddles and playful jostles. If an Uzushio human wants to sit, chances are they will try to find a lap to lounge over, which will sometimes work and more often end in a furiously blushing Uchiha flouncing off, followed by loud and pitiful apologies. Ani approves of this strategy. In the meantime, Ani looks closely and picks and chooses an appropriate shape for the appropriate Uchiha. This one is lonely, so he takes the shape of a bantha, slow and warm and harmless. This one is melancholy, so he shifts into a porg with the biggest, most liquid eyes he can manage and a pathetic, squeaky voice. This one likes to feel like he is a part of a bigger whole, so he shifts into a hippogriff and enjoys the reverent hand gliding down his beak. Dragon—tooka—lothwolf—vulpex—

If he were clever, he’d take a human shape and talk to them, but he’s a bit too confused and heart-sore to be human much. He is still coming to terms with the idea of a problem as deep and complex as intraspecies intolerance.

After about a week, Ani has to admit that the Uchiha Problem has spilt over into the War Problem. More precisely, neither the war nor the atmosphere in the camp is getting any better and Ani and Kousei have other pockets of Uzushio humans to check up on. To further complicate matters, Hatake is not going to stay here any longer than he must. Ani knows enough about war—somehow—to know how Konohan Command feels about a man like Hatake laying low for long. Missives are flying in and out of the camp on the hour.

This is not to say that Ani is going to be silent about it. If Hatake leaves and takes his humans and his supplies with him, Nara’s unit is going to be left stranded again. Nara’s unit that consists of Uchiha he is swiftly starting to think of as his own.

“The Fourth will head out as soon as the reinforcements arrive,” Hatake declares.

At least that’s something. Ani doesn’t doubt that the leadership would have had Hatake leave as soon as he could, damn the camp, but he had apparently put his foot down. “Yes, the famous reinforcements.” He slips into the cloak and arches his eyebrows, huddling into Kousei for warmth. At least Kousei has the good sense to realise he might as well cuddle him as a human if he already did so in another shape. As expected, the human’s wide, calloused hands close around his waist and drag him into the solid width of his chest. “And will they relieve Commander Nara and the Uchiha who have been holding the camp? Or will they simply deliver a crate or two of  gruel and return, secure in the knowledge they have done their duty.”

Hatake’s expression which has grown a little scattered for a bit there clears into work-focus. Unfortunate. While Ani’s relationship with the Uchiha progressed acceptably, it regressed with Hatake. Ani is pretty sure the man hates him. “I can’t say. I am not in charge of such things. I am an ANBU Captain that’s playing General. That said, I sense a measure of censure in your voice.”

“Well, two of my  U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans are traumatised,” he says, going for polite and ending closer to over-emoted-and-displeased-about-it. “Traumatised, by the way, not because of the fighting, but because of the price their Uchiha friends paid to keep them alive and fed.”

“Surely—”

Hatake is not the enemy here. He cares, he does. He—

He is there and he’s as good a target as any. “In my years of living with the U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans, Captain, they hadn’t once asked me to save them. I would offer and they would accept, but they didn’t ask for help, even once the war started. They asked now. That’s how miserably they think the Uchiha are treated.”

Hatake’s arched eyebrows pull into a frown. Ani knows enough about humans to know making Hatake feel defensive is not the best strategy to move forward. Unfortunately, he has no idea how to go forward, otherwise. The war is fought in hundreds of smaller battlefields, between individual pockets of Shinobi, all over the continent. Things would be much simpler if he could simply pile together all the humans he likes and guard them, but he can’t with how atomised they are. So, he must leave, and accept the inevitable feeling he’s abandoning humans who depend on him.

“Are you implying I am mistreating men and women under my command?”

Ani tilts his chin to the side, nostrils flaring. “I am implying that you are ignoring the segregation happening before your eyes. Uchiha aren’t mine, they are loyal to Konoha, but I have to admit I often don’t understand why.”

He hadn’t been trying to keep his voice down, but the entire camp grows wary-still-quiet. Nara has emerged from whatever tent he was in and watches him with a complicated, conflicted twist to his otherwise contained spark.

“Those are very serious allegations,” Hatake says, stiffly. “If there are complaints about my conduct, I would, of course, be grateful for an opportunity to learn and improve, but this is the first time I have been made aware of it.”

Ani tries his best to smile. Keeping his movement slow and deliberate, he eels out of Kousei’s arms and steps forward. This is shaping up to be a confrontation, and he doesn’t need to drag Kousei into it.

“Your conduct is, from what I have observed, beyond reproach,” he allows. “You show no preferential treatment. If there is a fault there, I would say that you fail to notice the failings of others. Your unit has about fifty Uchiha soldiers, does it not?”

“Yes?”

“And yet, the only humans they interact with, other than you, are their kinsmen.” Ani’s lips tighten. “The camp is split in two and you cannot be blind enough not to notice.”

Hatake’s magic starts sparking around him, slowly but surely reacting to his agitation. “If I had Hatake to stay with, I assure you I would.”

Ugh. The urge to shift into a nice, even-tempered reptile who needs a month to think through a thought is strong. “They don’t smell happy,” he says. “They smell lonely. And, fine, my humans are my only concern, but my humans are fond of your humans. They asked me to help. So, I’m helping. Why are you pretending not to understand what I am saying?”

“Lord Ani, with all due respect, you could consider that your knowledge of human relationships is not as complete as you think it is.”

Is that so? He bares his teeth, shuddering with the need to shift. “Fine. Whatever. Continue snubbing your strongest warriors. Go ahead. Just don’t act surprised when, when all this is over, I talk to Hideki and ask him to extend an invitation. We’ll see how your precious Konoha survives without their strongest Clan, hm?”

Hatake visibly bites down on whatever he wanted to say, and Ani just—Can’t. He is lying, for some reason, or he is deliberately not noticing inconvenient truths and it’s annoying.

Without his conscious awareness, he shifts into the longest, comically thin dragon and dives into the Uchiha camp, winding around as many as he can catch in his folds. With a thought, his body warms up and up and up, until he is pleasantly toasty and the humans relax.

They will see. Uchiha weren’t his and they aren’t his but he’s self-aware enough to know they will be his. They like fire, right? Well, they will love the sunsets, then, and there is plenty of space on the island. Ani’s humans can build them a village all on their own if they want. It will be great.

“We aren’t—Uchiha built Konoha,” says Uchiha Sayaka. “It is our legacy.”

Ani lets himself stay in his cosy charhound shape for a series of moments more, stretches and shifts. Kousei isn’t far, but the blanket will do for now. He doesn’t plan to be a human for long. “Why does that matter.”

“Things could be better,” she says. The low buzz of conversation lulls further, as attention shifts to them. “But it is our home. We are loyal to Konoha and her Hokage.”

Uh. “Sure. I’m not saying you aren’t. That is the opposite of what I am saying. I just don’t like what you are getting in return. Even Hatake—” Who is so deliberately casual, that he is listening to his every word. Things have been tense between them since his outburst, so he doesn’t blame him. “—who is easily the kindest human I’ve met isn’t doing anything about that.”

“It is an honour to serve under Hatake-sama’s leadership,” Sayaka says. “He is a wise and just leader.”

“Right, yes. That’s what I understand, too. Are you going to tell me that your family is happy to be kept at arm’s length? Even I got lonely after a while, and I’m not even remotely human. Did you do something to deserve it?”

“I understand people find us unsettling,” Sayaka says, stiff and uncomfortable. Automatically, Ani reaches out and pats her on her silky hair, twisted in a mean, brutal topknot. “Konoha is not like Uzushiogakure. We are young. People remember what it was like in the Warring States period. What Uchiha were like.”

Well. “I don’t know about that. You don’t seem unsettling to me.” They are pretty crazy, though. That’s what he likes best about them. “Comfortable with your emotionality, maybe, but that’s a very human thing, right?”

“All due respect, Ani-sama, very few things can harm you,” Sayaka says after a long moment of what he thinks is indecision. “We don’t react well or proportionally when our soul-bonded are taken from us. Many would say that makes us a liability.”

Right, right. “Until you’re in a war, right,” he feels the need to point out. “They’re not too proud to ask you to fight.”

“Konoha is our home,” she says, jaw clenching. “Konoha is our home. We don’t need to be seduced or manipulated to fight to defend it. We did not start this war, but we will end it.”

Ugh. Patriotism.

“I’m not sure if we wandered off topic or if I hadn’t had a topic to begin with,” he says. “But—Okay. So, you’re happy with Hatake? Your family is happy with Hatake?”

“Very,” Sayaka says, much to the visible approval of all other Uchiha at the campfire. “He is a model Shinobi and an inspiration.”

“Alright.” Maybe. He isn’t quite sure what he wants or expects from this situation, but he’s getting somewhere, he’s pretty sure.

“I’m sorry that I threatened you with taking away your soldiers,” he says, on the next day, one day before the reinforcements were set to arrive, and Hatake is set to go back to war. “I will absolutely try to take them away, but I’m sorry about it. You are a kind and faithful human and the Uchiha and U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans think the world of you. So.”

“Lord Ani please,” Hatake says eyes trained up—ah. Right.

Almost by rote, a stone-faced young Uchiha carefully tucks him into a blanket. “Thank you, Akio.” He pats the boy on the head once and returns to the conversation. “You really should be more comfortable with a human body, you know? Other rabbits are never scandalised about me being a naked rabbit.”

“I will work on it,” Hatake says, voice grave. “What was it you were threatening me with again?”

“I was apologizing.” What a trying human. Why is he so sweet with other humans and so weird with Ani? It’s honestly not fair. Just yesterday, he’s seen him laugh and play around with any number of humans. “For upsetting you and for intending to take away your humans for myself.”

Hatake looks at him with the type of patience Ani usually sees in wolves. “I don’t have humans, my Lord,” he says. “I have teammates. I have friends. I have allies. If any of them decide to move to a supernaturally guarded island where a God will keep them safe forever, I will congratulate them on their good sense with a celebratory drink.”

Ani nods slowly. “So—You aren’t angry with me?”

“Do I look angry?”

“Honestly?” Ani feels a pout coming on. These little human expressions are becoming second nature, he’s quite proud of himself. “You just look like you are getting ready for me to hurt you. And I apologised for that, and you said you won’t mind. So.”

“Is that what I look like,” Hatake says, lip twitching. “I apologize. I am, admittedly, a bit intimidated. You are a God. A God that is often displeased with me and wastes no time in making it clear.”

Ugh. “I am not displeased with you,” he says, narrowing his eyes. He feels petulant. “You are good and respectable. I am displeased with what you do, sometimes, because you don’t pay enough attention to things I value and pay too much attention to things I don’t value.”

“I—” That cosy lupine confidence wobbles, which Ani is oddly comforted by. “Lord Ani is kind and just.” For all the world, Hatake looks like he is stalling for time, just saying things until his mind has caught up. “I am humbled by his—”

“You can just walk away, you know,” he says, fascinated. “I won’t be mad. I do it all the time. Watch, a demonstration.” He shifts into a massif and butts into the legs of Uchiha Kentaro, who is particularly fond of reptiles and always manages to find the best places around his spikes and down the hinge of his jaws to scratch.

Chapter Text

The reinforcements, such as they are, arrive with little fanfare. Fifty-five men and women, led by a round-faced, round-bodied man with flaming red hair are taken inside by Hatake and one of Ani’s humans.

Ani, currently lamb-shaped, happily snoozing in the lap of a particularly high-strung Uchiha, blinks his eyes open to watch. A thread of magic and his eyes and ears sharpen. This is important. Hatake looks to be fairly relaxed with the new arrival, but—

The Uchiha set to stay don’t look too alarmed, which is a good first sign. That said—

He stands and butts his nose into Uchiha Kantaro’s chin, getting a neurotic but well-meaning ear scratch in return. He bleats as unthreatening as possible, buries his snout in the soft part underneath his jaw and snuffles, going for maximum comedy. He doesn’t quite get a laugh, but Kantaro’s arms wrap around his middle giving him a squeeze. Message received and understood.

He shifts into a rabbit and hops over to the Uchiha he is most familiar with, who is also conveniently on the other side of the camp. Sayako, well-used to his ways, is reaching out with a blanket-cover-thing before he finishes shifting into a human.

“Is the new Konohan someone you can trust,” he says, without wasting any time. “Kousei and I will leave soon. Can I trust him with you?”

“Akimichi Furum,” she says, not bothering to lower her voice as all the other Shinobi around them have already heard him and have dropped what they’ve been doing to listen in. “Nara Clan are sworn to theirs. They don’t have any concrete conflict with the Uchiha.”

Sure. “I’m sure the same is true for everybody in Konoha,” he says. “And yet.”

“I haven’t had any personal dealings with him, so I can’t comment.” She shrugs in a ‘what can you do’ sort of way. “Akimichi are known to be hospitable. Kind, when they can afford to be.”

“Uh-huh.” Well, it’s not like he was expecting better. “Kousei, a moment, please.”

“I don’t like threatening humans,” he tells the blank-faced Akimichi Furen. “It breeds resentment and is, altogether, impractical and unkind. That said, I will be leaving two of my U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans in your care, as well as seventy-two Uchiha who aren’t mine but I care for them a lot. Konoha, from what I have discovered, treats U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans with care and respect. It doesn’t do the same with the Uchiha. Please don’t follow that pattern here, once I have gone.”

“Captain Hatake already explained your misgivings,” Akimichi says. “I am a bit uncertain as to the particulars but plan to respect the spirit of your command. I will treat them as I would my clanspeople.”

Command? Is it a command? “I suppose a command is similar to a threat,” he says. “Thank you for being so accommodating.”

“I would like to point out that my superiors already instructed me to appease you in whatever way I could. Treating a fellow Noble Clan with respect is a very easy way of fulfilling my orders.”

Huh. “Great,” he says and means it. “I hope all Konohans are as reasonable as you. It would make my life much easier.”

“I am sure I cannot comment.”

He makes sure to say goodbye to every single Uchiha in the camp and indulges in turning in the longest, thinnest snake he knows and winding around all of them at the same time.

“Remember to report any misgivings to the nearest U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re human you can,” he says when they’re about to leave. “They will report it back to Hideki who will tell it to my other body over there.”

“Understood, Lord Ani,” says Sayaka, the unofficial spokeswoman for the Uchiha. “I doubt we will need to, but we are grateful for your consideration.”

Grateful, she says. “Just take care of each other,” he says, huffing. “And eat more. And try to find some time to unwind. Naps are very therapeutic, you know? And cuddles.”

“We will try our best.”

“And try to keep the Akimichi alive, because your next backup might not be as reasonable as he is.”

“Understood.”

“And—” What else? Nothing comes to mind, really. “Alright, I think that’s it. Be kind to each other. Kill your enemies quickly and run away if you can. Call if you need me. Yeah, that’s it.”

“Thank you, Lord Ani. We will hold your wisdom in our minds at all times.”

Hah! Wisdom.

“You’re adorable,” he says. “Don’t change. Alright! Kousei—Ah, there you are. Excellent. Let’s go find Hatake.”

“I am not sure I follow, Lord Ani,” Hatake says slowly.

Such a complicated man. “We could just wander,” he explains, speaking as clearly as he can. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Another option is that we tag along with you until the next campsite.”

“Yes, that much was clear. What I don’t understand—” Hatake breaks off, exhaling a careful, bracing breath. “We are headed to battle, Lord. I could point you to a campsite—”

He waves an absent hand. “I’ll just eat your enemies for you,” he says. “It will be quicker that way, and then you will take us to the next campsite. I think that’s fair.”

Everybody is quiet for several beats too long for it not to be damning. “What,” he says, putting up as thick a barrier of patience around himself as he can. “It is a fair exchange. Hatake and his team don’t get hurt and, in return, he takes us to the next Konohan outpost.”

“I—Forgive me,” Hatake says, voice a bit faint. “I understood you don’t want to take part in the fighting?”

Umm. “You do remember all those humans I ate when you first arrived?” Maybe he has issues with memory? It would explain why he always looks so befuddled. “And the armies that attacked U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re?”

“I think what Lord Hatake means to say,” Kousei says, his deep voice doing wonders to Ani’s composure, “is that you expressed your unwillingness to be an active participant in the war. You will support your people in whatever way you find appropriate at the time, but will not, for example, go to the frontlines or accept missions.”

Oh! “That’s true,” he says. “I will not accept missions. And I’m not accepting one now. It’s an exchange I am proposing. I eat their enemies in this one battle, and he takes us to the next place where U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re humans are stationed.”

Kousei inclines his head and turns his sedate smile Hatake’s way. Because he is a disaster, Hatake stiffens at this very amiable gesture. “Well, Lord Hatake, does that sound acceptable to you?”

“I? Of course? I would gladly accept? Lord Ani’s generous offer?”

He doesn’t sound very certain, Ani thinks, frowning. “I won’t go off-script,” he says, trying to pinpoint the source of disagreement. “Just point me to the humans you want gone, and I’ll get it done.” Although— “If you really want to be useful, you could evacuate all the humans you don’t want killed from the battlefield? I’ll make myself very visible, so you don’t have to worry about that, but they might not be familiar with my methods.”

“Methods being shifting into the biggest, most terrifying beings imaginable and eating those who dare oppose you.”

Huh. “Well put,” he says, impressed. “That’s precisely it. Look, Kousei, we’re getting somewhere.”

“Lord Hatake is a most accommodating man,” Kousei says. He’s such a tooka, Ani thinks. Or maybe a fathier. Something patient and solemn and maybe a bit melancholy by nature. “It is one of the many reasons his people respect him.”

Hatake is still blinking too fast, eyes jumping between the two of them. Accommodating, yes, and kind and brave, but very nervy. Ani has come to understand Shinobi life to be very stressful. He can’t quite understand how he made it this far.

“So, we agree,” Ani says, shifting into a dwarf variant of mink, sleek and long and agile.

Alright. He crouches down, focuses and jumps, claws stopping short of actually damaging Kouse’s clothing. If he’s careful, the manoeuvre is actually quite efficient. Up the legs and torso, then a quick jump and a sideways burrowing action into the small space between neck and collar. The trick is not to let his tail be caught by the sharp shoulder pads of the body armour. If that happens, the momentum means he bounces back, hanging off his tail, which is both uncomfortable and embarrassing. Once that part is done, wind left sharply—taking care not to scratch the soft skin on Kousei’s neck—and plant your belly at the highest part of the trapezius muscle. For most humans, that’s not a big deal, but Kousei’s shoulders are huge, so he needs to really tweak a shape so that it is long, narrow and small enough to fit. He did everything right—including making sure his lower half isn’t too heavy, so he’d slide down—so there’s just enough space to rest his front paws in the collarbone and poke his snout out sideways through the collar. Success.

“Very smooth,” Kousei says, entirely unfazed. He’d know, too, Ani thinks, considering all the times the manoeuvre wasn’t smooth and he either had to carefully untangle his tail or reach with his opposite arm and prop him up by the butt so he doesn’t slide down and get smothered by the armour. “I still claim that small alterations to my equipment could reduce the effort required, but you have perfected this method.”

Ani squeaks as agreeably as he can. His eyes are growing heavy and it’s warm and cushy here. He squeaks again, a bit louder to serve as a goodbye for Hatake, and burrows back. A quick tap-tap-tap by his paw and Kousei tucks his collar in, blocking out the light and he sighs, content, laying his head down to nap.

“Once again,” Hatake starts, “the Konohan outpost is not far away from here. Your—Your Kousei can take you there without issue. You don’t need to guard us.”

Ani scoffs—it works very well, considering how big of a Targon he is, with three young Uchiha perched on his back.

“Lord Ani offered an exchange,” Kousei says placidly. “He is not the type to back away from his part. There is no sense in arguing the matter further.”

True.

“Very well,” Hatake says. “My team knows what to do, in any case. Will—That is, should the Kumo forces attempt to retreat, would that be acceptable.”

Ani scoffs again. Does he think Ani enjoys eating humans? He doesn’t. It’s just sometimes necessary.

“Extrapolating from past events, I would say so. Lord Ani never pursued the attackers, but he was proactive about stopping them.”

“Right.”

It’s not much of a battle. Hatake first explains the location of the enemy outpost, then draws a map and, finally, decides he will come with, just in case.

“No offence is meant,” he explains, “I would simply—You aren’t familiar with how we announce our loyalties, and I would rather be completely certain that no possible mistake is made.”

Hah. He thinks Ani will get lost and eat a peaceful human village. It’s funny cause it’s absolutely possible.

He still inclines his head and wiggles his butt. Hatake is a Shinobi, yes, but he’s still human-slow and he can use the rest. Tauntaun are perfect for carrying one person, and his mouth would be conveniently close to Ani’s ears, thereby making communication very easy.

“Ah. You want me to—Climb, as it were?”

He wiggles again, tail shifting impatiently.

“Alright. If that is what you want me to do.”

Hatake is a big man, but his weight is almost negligible. His arms close around his neck and he chuffs in approval, shifting a little this way and that, to figure out how to move as fast as possible, without jostling him too much.

“So, for now, we move straight—”

He bolts.

The outpost is protected with some sort of energy barrier. It’s not the same type that Ani’s humans make, but it’s similar in taste and feel. Considering Ani is energy, those things don’t apply to him, only Hatake.

“It is visible from here,” Hatake says, dismounting. “You can’t miss it.”

That’s true.

“Please—” He shifts. “If you eat all of them, the world will unite in its determination to eliminate you. I’m not saying they will succeed—I am quite certain they won’t—But that is not the goal here.”

What a cute little bunny. He bends over, careful with his tusks, and snuffles out hard, displaying his long, glossy hair, and prompting a shocked laugh.

“Maybe—” Hatake shifts, hands clenching by his sides. “If you could—That is I could—”

Hmm? He cocks his head and chitter-purrs to indicate he is listening.

“They may not know surrender is on the table. If you could—Make a mess, but not, you know, kill most of them. Then, maybe, send me a signal? And I could explain?”

Huh. Neat. He chitters again and nods. It’s not a very smooth movement—his neck is thick and stiff, nothing like the fragile, bendy things humans use—but it’s better than trying to send a thumbs-up gesture with a tauntaun hand that doesn’t have thumbs.

“I will just—wait for a very loud roar, then?”

Another nod. Well, then. He’s got some humans to terrify?

He thought about using a more traditional shape—a dragon or a sarlacc or something like that, but in the end, he opts for the tried and true methods of the zillo beast. the improbable look of it that adds to the psychological effect, to say nothing of its speed. A dragon is slow, but a zillo can dart this way and that and cause a lot of damage before they figure out what’s going on. It’s doubly effective considering the aim is to terrify not eat. When he’s smashed up their outpost, size becomes slightly less important, so he shifts. Rancor first, although he takes care to hit the ground more than anything. Scare them, not kill them. Then, a dragon—long, noodly one that electrocutes not burns—and, finally, an acklay. He only really damages ten or so humans overall, but he injures more. Things come to a stop when he figures out who the leader is and pins him down with a targon paw, snarling in his face for effect.

It’s probably the fact that he hasn’t eaten him that makes the panicked human hesitate. He snarls again—not too close to the human because it’s bad for his ears—steps back and shifts into a proper dragon again, with a long tail and thick barrel chest. Hatake said roar, right? You can’t beat dragons for roaring, they are built to expel a lot of air for very long. Plus, with how long his neck is, he can aim up and not burst all their eardrums. Perfect. He adds a little flame for effect—pink, which is not at all easy to do—and settles.

Some of the humans are running, and he lets them. Most of them quickly figured out that only one of their compatriots is actually in danger of dying, and that had to have been deliberate. When Hatake bursts into the scene, accompanied by three wolves, and Ani folds his body down, head almost touching the ground, they settle even further.

“Thank you for going out of your way to be gentle, Lord,” Hatake says. He’s honest, too. Ani can taste it on him. He chuffs, proud of himself and shifts into a bunny, jumping up and into his arms. Perfect, he chose a good shape. His body is small enough to fit in one of Hatake’s hands, which leaves the other one free to—Success! A cautious hand settles gently on his back, almost covering him completely. Perfect. It’s likely at least somewhat for effect—look at me, petting the monster that destroyed your camp like it was nothing—but head-pats are head-pats. His leg twitches, tail shivering, as he melts further into his warm hands, ears laying flat down his back. More pats. Excellent.

“Hatake?!”

“Yes?” Most of the respect and the warmth evaporates from Hatake’s voice, leaving behind an icy, impersonal warrior. “I came to offer the option of surrender. As you can probably guess, Lord Ani went through considerable effort to demonstrate his abilities without injuring too many of you.”

“Lord Ani?” The leader-human—a decently handsome, muscled man with lovely golden skin and light eyes—takes a cautious step forward. His people tense, bodies poised to fight or, hopefully, run. “That would be the monster that killed two of our Jinchūriki?”

“If you mean the two Jinchūriki who unleashed their Bijū on Uzushiogakure,” Hatke says, voice cooling further, “then yes. Lord Ani’s shape is, as you can see, more or less a matter of convenience.” Hatake’s fingers dig gently into Ani’s fur, scratching the sensitive skin behind his ears and down his neck. His eyes close in bliss. “He is very protective of the humans he claimed for his own, which would be primarily Uzushio residents and the Uchiha Clan.”

Ani thumps his leg in approval.

“I see.” The smell of distressed human isn’t great, yeah, but war is war and they did attack Ani’s humans first. It’s fair, maybe. “You realise I don’t have the authority to make any deals with you and you will not take us as prisoners.”

Ani’s leg thumps again, this time less happy. Prisoners? That’s too much, surely? Kill them or make friends, but no prisoners and interrogation and torture. No. Freedom is sacred.

Hatake’s hand stills in his fur. “Lord Ani?”

Ugh, he’s going to have to talk. He nibbles gently on the hand to signal he wants to go down. Hatake isn’t as well-versed in Ani-speak as Kousei is, but he is very intuitive. He places him down gently.

“No prisoners,” Ani says, shivering from the sudden cold. Hatake, because he’s a nervy squirrel of a man, is looking up at the sky, hands flying to remove the cloak from his shoulders. Curiously, Ani takes a moment to look at the enemy. Huh. They’re very clear, this way. His human eyes are much better at instinctively focusing on their faces and bodies. He’s gotten rather good at understanding humans in whatever shape he takes if he can say so himself, but it’s miles easier when he’s also a human. Who’d have thought? “Hey,” he says, shrugging on Hatake’s cloak. “I’m Ani. I’d say I’m sorry for wrecking your camp, but you know. It is war.”

“Lord Ani,” Hatake says, into the dead quiet. Even the little whispering of before has disappeared, and the eyes of every soldier in the camp are on Ani and, probably, Hatake. “Allow me to introduce Hoshino Shion, a Kumo Jōnin of some renown.”

“Hello,” he says adding a small wave. They’re still staring at him. He’s not that phenotypically different, surely. If anything he’s closer in appearance to these humans than the Konohan ones. He also has light hair and sun-dark skin and light eyes. Sure, he’s a bit smaller, but not by much. A few fingers’ widths at most. “So, anyways, I just wanted to say that nobody is taking any prisoners.” He frowns up at Hatake. “I’d have made that condition before if I thought it was an option. No captivity and loss of freedom.”

“Taking Shinobi prisoners is rare,” Hatake says, a bit evasively. Not a lie but not a complete truth. Judging by the damning silence from the Kumo part, they know whatever it is Hatake isn’t going to say. “After a certain point, if a high-ranking Shinobi decides he doesn’t want to be held, they will find a way to remove themselves from the situation.”

Right. That sentence was far too carefully constructed to be anything but sneaky. “What you do in your horrible villages is not my business,” he says, after a beat. “But I’ve menaced these humans into surrendering and I will not have them be shipped off to whatever dungeon you would keep them in.”

The weight of frozen terror in the Kumo humans lightens some. It’s telling, that they’d rather die than be taken to Konoha. He assumes the reverse is also true. Ugh. Humans.

“What, then, do you suggest?”

Ani shrugs, drawing the cloak tighter around his body. His feet are starting to hurt from standing on the cold ground. “Go home. Relax. Have some nice therapeutic naps. I don’t care.” Wait. “Can you go home? You’re not one of those ‘come back with your shield or on it’ type of humans?”

“The Raikage will probably understand the situation,” the man—Koshino? Voshino?—says cautiously. “We—We hadn’t known you were taking an interest in the mortals’ goings on, or we’d have probably adapted our strategies.”

Hah. “How would you plan for a shapeshifting monster,” he says, curious. “No, never mind. That was a dumb question. Well, then. I guess this is settled. Please tell your leader I am around and I have been nice this time because Hatake asked me to, but I would have eaten all of you if he hadn’t.” He shrugs, unconcerned. “Sorry. I don’t make the rules. So, you know, think about if this is the right moment to be fighting a war with U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re and, by extension Konoha. Toodles.”

And shift into an arctic ground squirrel with as thick a coat as possible. He feels better immediately, especially when Hatake bends down to pick him up without hesitating, depositng him around his shoulders. He sticks his snout into the man’s neck and shivers pleasantly from the warmth. Good enough for one day’s work.

Chapter Text

Ani’s show of force bafflingly helps build some sort of bridge between him and Hatake. He doesn’t quite know why, but the uneasy, stiff way with which the human regarded him is—Not gone, perhaps, but diminished. Now, Ani feels like he’s more or less welcome to snooze on every available surface on Hatake’s body that he can pour himself into when he feels like it. He still stays with Kousei most—of course—but it’s nice. Hatake’s magic is very different from what he knows and much stronger than Kousei’s.

(Ani, who knows his priorities categorised them in terms of sleep quality. Kousei is all dependable, steady warmth. Like sleeping in a nest of blankets during a cold, winter night. Yes, outside is dark and dangerous, but right now you are toasty and relaxed, without a single care. Hatake, on the other hand, is tingly, vast and capricious. When he wants to be, he is like sleeping through a summer storm, cosy with an undercurrent of warning; I am tame now but I could turn at any moment, rip your house up and drown you in it.)

All in all, it’s nice, and variety is good for the soul. Hatake doesn’t seem to mind having a mouse tucked into his front pocket or a tiny snake woven through the messy bun he keeps his hair in. Unlike Kousei, he doesn’t pet him, but he doesn’t shake him off, either. He simply lets him be and goes about his duties as he normally would. Eccentric, but understandable.

Unlike the previous one, this one is well-supplied and cheerful enough. It also, glaringly, only has four Uchiha. Ani would be angrier about this if Shinobi weren’t such competent gossips. As it is, his Uzushio humans have cottoned onto what he’s doing and are adopting every Uchiha in sight. Case in point, the three women and a man have been integrated into the pack of seven redheads, which is as it should be.

“Kumo retreated from Land of Fire,” Hatake declares a couple of days into their stay. “Not from the war yet. Iwa and Suna forces have, combined forces, as have Kiri and Ame.”

Sure. Does Ani care?

“My orders are to reinforce the Kiri/Ame front. Which, as it happens, is where the majority of Uzushio Shinobi are stationed.”

Huh. Maybe he does care. He squeaks in what he hopes is an encouraging manner.

“We can take you through the outposts,” he continues. “There are only three.”

Now they’re talking. A little regretfully, he jumps down from Hatake’s shoulders, snickers internally at the wet spot of a snake body falling into mud and shifts. Hatake has a robe out and face up to the sky before he hit the ground, the prude.

“Same deal?”

Hatake waits until the sounds of rustling clothing are finished to answer. “I do not make deals with deities, Lord Ani. I offer my service and accept their will.”

Ugh. “Yuck,” he says, pursing his lips. “And also phui. An average house cat gets more pets than I do, these days.” Service, pah. What nonsense. “Let me rephrase. Is there a fancy strategy I will be ruining if we repeat the same manoeuvre as we had, before? With the pretty bronze people?” Who was it? “Whose monster-slaves I ate.” The name is at the top of his lips. Kami? Kani? Koli?

“No,” he says. “Shockingly, Konohan leadership has decided to capitalise on your affection for the Uchiha Clan and are adapting their strategies. Our strongest three-man team has been dispatched to the Suna/Iwa frontline, while I get most of the Uchiha. Uzukage-sama will split his soldiers between them.”

Vaguely, Ani feels like he’s being manipulated. “You are taking all Uchiha?”

He doesn’t think of himself as particularly perceptive, but the blank stare he gets is telling in itself. “There was talk of me going to Suna as well,” he says. “But cooler heads prevailed.”

Huh. “I suppose that’s one way of getting around my unwillingness to take orders,” he says slowly. “Pile all the humans I like in one dangerous spot and watch me take care of it.” He frowns. “I don’t like it.”

A muscle jumps in Hatake’s jaw. “I don’t imagine you would. With that said—” He clears his throat. “Our opponents will have also started making plans to account for your presence.”

Oh, that’s sweet. “I like that you call them opponents,” he says and means it. “It makes it easier to follow your lead. And as for the rest—My humans tried enslaving me, back when we first met. I was much lesser, then, and they didn’t succeed. Do you think these other humans are better at magic than they are?”

“I doubt anyone is better at Fūinjutsu than Uzushio,” Hatake says, forming each word slowly. “But there are more ruthless people. There are things Uzushio seal masters wouldn’t touch.”

Ani shrugs. “What happens, happens. I doubt they could ever really enslave me. If they figure out a way to kill me, then they kill me. I doubt it will stick, but I’m not that fussed about it.” A niggling suspicion forms in his mind. “Where will this fighting take place,” he says slowly. “Because I won’t be conquering any cities.”

Hatake shifts in discomfort. “Our orders are to take Amegakure if we can,” he says slowly.

Ani frowns harder. “Alright, so, since you can’t, you can just be good humans who protect their borders.”

“Can’t we?”

Ani purses his lips, trying to figure this out. Is there something he isn’t seeing? “You can’t because you don’t want me to stop you,” he says in the end. “And I will. Nobody is conquering any villages.”

“My orders—”

Yeah, okay. “Your orders,” Ani snorts. “Alright. If that is the game we’re playing.”

Thankfully Kousei is nearby, explaining some esoteric magical working he specialises in. He shrugs off the robe, gives it to Hatake and makes his way over. “I need to talk to Hideki really quick,” he says. “Can you look after my body?”

Kousei nods easily, unlike the young beet-red Uchiha. He sighs and shifts into a mouse, easily placed in Kousei’s inner pocket. Good.

Uzushio is as pretty as he remembers it. This is the first time he’s shifted his focus to her, and the scent of salt and stone alone is enough to lessen some of the tension of before. He blinks—He is curled up near a heating spell of some sort, in the form of a lothcat. In—

He shifts. Interestingly, there’s almost a small resistance. Maybe resistance is not the right term. Unwillingness to change out of a comfortable state? Whatever.

Because this is Uzushio and Uzushio is excellent, there is an Ani-robe he shrugs into, while he absently avoids the instinctive panicked humans reacting to unexpected movement.

“Lord Ani!”

He looks around the room and smiles. “Sorry for barging in on your meeting, Hideki,” he says. “I can wait if you want?”

Hideki and practically all of his companions dissolve in a flurry of denials. Ani lets it go on for a bit and then nods. “Thank you. It’s nice of you to indulge me.”

“Sit, my Lord, please,” Hideki says, moving towards him, hands slightly outstretched like he wants to physically guide him into a chair. “Would you care for some refreshments?”

Ani shrugs and plops into the offered chair, looking around curiously. He doesn’t know many of these humans, he’s pretty sure. Maybe one or two? He’s spent quite a bit of time in the purple-headed woman’s yard, he’s pretty sure.

“Sure, some sweets would be nice. Maybe a cup of tea. Taking any supplies from those poor souls seemed like it would be in bad taste, you know?” He trails off, letting himself be comforted by the flurry of goodwill aimed his way. “Thank you,” he says, once a plate of honey cakes has been produced post-haste. “You are very sweet. Now, I do hate to rush, but a matter has arisen that I need your help with, dear.”

Hideki straightens, expression caught between delight and dread. Delight, he imagines, because all of Ani’s humans are so very eager to spoil him, and dread because, well. He’d just been on the battlefield. Whatever his request is, it’s hardly going to be pleasant. “Name it, my Lord.”

Ani doesn’t roll his eyes, because Hideki is a good boy and doesn’t deserve to be condescended to. “Easy,” he says. “Wait until I’m finished and then make a responsible decision, okay? I’m—” He shrugs. “I’m not what you would call politically savvy. I expect you to argue or refuse if it is the better option for you.”

Hideki nods easily and without hesitation. “Of course.” Right, okay, that may have been asking too much of him. That said—He can’t say how his ask could be bad.

Here goes. “Konoha wants to attack Ame,” he says. “I was fine fighting a defensive war. I was even fine straying across the border since it was understood we’d be going back as soon as the battle was over. This is not that.”

“Ah.” Hideki blinks and cocks his head. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, my Lord. What is the difference?”

Bless. “One is me defending your territory from outside aggression,” he says. “The other is Konoha—and, through them, you—being the aggressors. I’m not doing that. In fact, I just might have to fight those aggressors, then, out of principle.”

Hideki pales, shoulders coming up. He looks so young. “You—We would never.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Lie. It’s possible you would, but now you won’t. Not when you know whose side Ani will be on. “I’m just informing you. U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re was attacked and that was wrong. If you, then, razed their home to the ground—Well, you won’t, because I’ll stop you. But you get my point, yeah?”

“Very much so,” Hideki hurries to say. “No—Aggressive actions? Against our enemies?”

Ani swallows a sigh. “Defend yourselves all you want,” he says. “I will help you there, even. But don’t go invading their territory. The goal—” Wait. “Wait, sorry. Please indulge a clarifying question. Is your goal here to end the war with as few casualties as possible, or to extract as much profit from it as you can.”

A focused look appears on Hideki’s face. “The first,” he says, after a beat. “Definitely.”

They’re all like this, Ani thinks, amazed. They’ve lived in perpetual conflict for so long, they don’t even understand what peace is. “Good,” he says because positive reinforcement is a thing. “I also think that. So, with that in mind, we don’t want to kill, torture or maim any more of their people than we have to.”

“Right,” Hideki says with a small delay. “Yes. We should. We should not press our advantage and offer—Slightly advantageous trade agreements instead?”

“Very good,” Ani praises. “That’s exactly right. Defend your borders and let them sue for peace as soon as possible with as merciful conditions as you can afford. Nobody should profit from war, okay?”

“We shouldn’t profit from war,” Hideki says as if he’s going for rote memorisation because understanding the words is a lost battle. “We should allow them to retreat with dignity and grace.”

“That is very kind and progressive of you, Hideki,” Ani says, not letting any of his exasperation drag his voice down. “Very glad we cleared that up. One more thing. Would you be so kind as to forward my—Conditions, I suppose, to all other countries? Konoha especially, but also the enemy? I don’t want them to fight in this war out of desperation.”

“Because they would, then, stay in the war longer than they feel is wise,” Hideki says slowly. “And more of them would die. And that’s—bad. We want as many of our enemies to survive.”

“Yes, dear,” he says. “Because they might remember your kindness and not be enemies in the future.”

That proves to be too much for poor, sweet Hideki. “Because Kumo might be our ally? Kumo thinks we’re animals. They kidnap and imprison fertile young Clan children and make them breed like—”

Ani’s composure cracks a bit. “I’ll deal with that, too,” he says, resisting the urge to shift into a big snake and take a hiatus from humans for a few years. “Later. For now, it’s enough that I will fight to stop any invasion of any country, okay? You or Kumo or Konoha. I won’t have it.”

Hideki’s face clears. He is much more at home with direct instructions and consequences. Ani doesn’t particularly like framing things in terms of because I said so, instead of because it’s right, but he will take it, for now. “Very good, my Lord. I will send appropriate messages presently.”

Ani relaxes. “Thank you, dear. Now, I must be going back. We’re going to the Ame/Kiri frontline, and I understand there are a lot of interesting humans there for me to meet. Take care, pumpkin, bye.”

The contrast between Uzushio and the damp, miserable clearing he shifts to is stark. That he is carried in Kousei’s pocket, who is himself sitting next to a fire is the only thing that balances things out somewhat. He squeaks, waits for his hand to gently extract him and place him on the ground before shifting.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he says, shrugging on a robe. It’s one of Kousei’s, this time, which means it’s dragging on the ground and the sleeves are a hand too long. “Hideki says hi.”

Kousei blinks, slow and patient. “I hope Uzukage-sama is in good health?”

Hmm. “I think so,” he says, looking around. They’re in the same campsite, but the atmosphere is markedly more tense. “I interrupted a meeting, but he didn’t mind that much, I don’t think.”

“Uzukage-sama would hardly begrudge you anything, much less a simple request like that. Did you have a productive meeting?”

“I think so,” he repeats. “I will be very surprised if Hatake doesn’t get a panicked letter from his boss, soon.”

“Oh?”

Ani turns to the Uchiha woman who was the first one to stop pretending not to be eavesdropping. “I hardly think they will be happy with me,” he says, which maybe isn’t the most comforting thing for her to hear. “I told Hideki that I will be defending any country from invasion, not just U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re. So, for example, if Konoha decided to attack Ame, I will stop them.”

“I—see.”

She sees about as much as Hideki had, only she has the extra dose of patriotism to shield her heart against kindness.

“Defending your country is good and just,” he says. “But pressing your advantage to conquer other nations is not. Hideki agreed not to do it. If Konoha insists, she will find herself in an uncomfortable position.”

“But why?”

“Because I don’t like there to be a reward for war,” he says, trying to arrange his vague half-thoughts into something coherent. “Because I don’t even like the idea of winners and losers. You are all losing. Maybe, in the future, when Kumo’s economy crumbles because I’ve eaten so much of their people, they will think twice about starting a war.”

“Or, we kill all of them, behead their Daimyo and I never again have to infiltrate their village to rescue baby cousins from the breeding pits.”

Right. “I’ll be dealing with that when my humans are safely back in U-zu-shi-o,” he says. “And, while I’m there, I’ll be asking around for whatever gruesome equivalent Konoha has for me to deal with.”

She blinks, slow and evaluating. The aggressive part of his little speech register without problem, but she’s no more clear on the why’s. Judging by the staged chit-chat around the camp, everyone is listening extra carefully. “What is it you’re trying to accomplish, here?”

“You are warriors,” he says. “You kill each other. That’s—Fine. I don’t get it. My humans are, by and large, enchants and fishermen and architects. I love that for them. The rest of you are free to organise yourselves as you would.”

“Except when you don’t like it, right?”

Ani blinks. “Pretty much, yeah. I don’t like invasions. That’s going too far. I don’t like slavery.” He hesitates, as a part of his not-memories shriek and twist, his vision flashing red. “I really don’t like slavery. So, I won’t have it. You lot are into hierarchy, yes? Well, I am stronger than you, and I say no slavery and no genocide. Easy.”

“Huh.” She cocks her head, eyes softening a little. “No slavery, huh?” She taps a slow, considering finger on her lips. “You know, what? I like that. Remind me to introduce you to our Clan Head when we get to the Ame border.”

Who—“Oh, Katsuki? I met him. Him and Niko, his bonded.” Uh. “Sorry, uh, I forgot I’m not supposed to talk about that.”

“You shouldn’t,” she says, but she doesn’t look annoyed. If anything, her expression softens further. “But you are a God, so maybe normal rules of politeness don’t apply. You can see them, I hear?”

“I can.” Can he ever. “They’re really beautiful. It’s not the only reason I admire you, but it’s high up there. It’s brave to have that power and only use it for love. I respect that a lot.”

“Nobody ever accused Uchiha of being cowards,” she sighs, letting up on her sky and tipping her head back to look at the cloudy sky. “Here’s hoping you don’t get in trouble for your revolutionary leanings.”

Hah. “If they kill me, they kill me,” he shrugs. “If anything, I’m interested in seeing who will try.”

Her bark of laughter is as fierce as the solid band of love that connects her to someone, somewhere.

Chapter Text

The distance they have to cover will take them a couple of days. If he understands everything correctly, they’re running clear across Land of Fire, from Kiri to Ame—Also called Land of Water and Land of Rain, which are much more reasonable names. Most of Hatake’s unit got transferred elsewhere, leaving him with twelve stone-faced nondescript humans that he is never seen without on top of the seven Uzushio humans and four Uchiha. And Kousei and Ani, of course.

Hatake is—

Hatake is a difficult man to understand, Ani will freely admit. But he wouldn’t have thought the man would be angry at him about wanting to kill fewer of his species. He’s—

He’s a little disappointed, frankly. Ani’s work succeeded. The orders from Konoha came and were just about what he expected. Not that Ani knows what they were exactly because Hatake isn’t talking to him. No, he learned from Kousei that they are to take an outpost at the northeastern part of the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rain.

“The Kage of Amegakure is rumoured to have taken to the field,” Katsuki says quietly. “And remaining Kiri forces, including their two Jinchūriki.”

Right. So they’re definitely consolidating. That’s good. Best get this over with.

“What about my humans,” he says before he remembers who he is talking to. “Sorry. I mean, your humans. Your countrymen. Conutrypeople. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he says, adding a smile. “We have our orders. Obey Lord Ani in all things and keep every Uchiha alive that we possibly can.”

Huh. “Not, precisely, what I meant, but good to know I guess. I meant, are they safe enough? All together?”

“About half are with the Sannin, fighting along the Suna border,” he says. “Second half has met up with the Uchiha force already, and is securing the camp.”

Huh. “Only Uchiha?” Why? “No other Konohan forces?”

“I understand there are a couple of units of Aburame and Kurama, but we aren’t privy to Konohan intel.”

Ani tries to think about this. Strategising isn’t his forte, but this seems like a deliberate action. What is the goal? Maybe they’re trying to appease him somehow? Incentivise him to destroy the invaders extra thoroughly?

“Do you have any insight for me,” he says after his attempt at basic situational analysis died a miserable death. “Is this a message of some sort?”

“I’m sure I can’t say,” Kousei says, shamelessly pitching his voice to carry. “I’m sure they haven’t decided to put everyone they won’t be sad to see gone in one spot, where they could get overwhelmed by the strongest remaining force.”

Huh. “Do you think they’re sabotaging us?” Wow, would that be dumb? “Did I piss them off that much?”

“I’m sure,” Kousei replies in that same resonating tone, “that Konohan leadership wouldn’t be so callous with their Uzushiogakure allies. Even disregarding the fact that Uzushio never failed to answer her sister village’s call, it wouldn’t be practical for them.”

So Kousei thinks it’s sabotage. Why would they, though? They must know that Kumo already attacked with two of their monster-slaves and Ani dealt with them in just as many minutes. He wasn’t even out of breath. He pauses and frowns. He doesn’t even get out of breath. Pull yourself together, you’re spending too much time around the corporal and getting mixed up about your biology or lack thereof.

“I think they’re just being nice and letting me look after all my favourite humans,” he says, echoing his earlier thoughts. “If Hideki isn’t an option, Hatake is just about the only human I’d trust to treat the Uchiha with the grace they deserve. This is, in a way, the best of both worlds.”

“Lord Ani is, as always, wise and insightful.”

Da-amn. Kousei is pissed-off. Judging by the subtle smirks in the Uzushio part of the group, they’re about the same. The four Uchiha don’t look too displeased, either. This means their group is split in about half, with tensions running high. How tedious.

“We’re all friends here,” he says instead. “And when I eat their poor monsters and nothing happens to me, we’ll all have a nice talk about trust and extending your friends an appropriate amount of good grace.”

Since Hatake is a lost cause—and Ani is a bit put off by his bloodlust—Ani circulates between the Uzushio and Uchiha humans. Uzushio humans need him less, but they are more relaxed and, thus, more enjoyable to cuddle with. Uchiha, on the other hand, are as nervy as ever, only accepting him if he makes himself ridiculous. So, he spends a couple of hours with Asahi, the Uchiha lady who is most familiar with him, in the shape of a turtle. Haru gets a puffer pig, Itsuki a varactyl, and Katrurou a porg. Just in case, he makes sure the shapes are infants, for extra cuteness. Not even Haru can resist a puffer piglet snuffling at him, eyes big and forlorn.

For the Uzumaki, he doesn’t have to try that much. He usually stays a tooka kit, a bunny or a womp rat, if he’s feeling a little moody. This leaves him, sometimes, observing Hatake’s inner circle. Honour guard? They’re a mark above the rest in the silent and deadly department. They hardly talk, only communicating in magic-quick gestures and body language.

Ani doesn’t, typically, go where he’s not invited, and the stone-faced man grilling a boar they caught definitely didn’t invite him. That said—

He hops out of Kousei’s lap and closer to the man. He doesn’t acknowledge him. He hops closer. Nothing. Two more hops and he’s next to him. Nothing. Carefully keeping his ears down his back, he leans back on his hind paws. Nothing. With how small he is, he can hardly see past his abdomen, much less his face, but the deliberate unaffected manner is a signal in itself. He is far too well-trained not to have noticed him. So. Carefully, he reaches with a paw and hovers. Touching without consent is bad. He knows this. Ani is a bunny right now, but he can also be a dragon, so it’s important to respect boundaries. Nothing. He doesn’t outright reject him, but the lack of an invitation is, in itself, a rejection in this case.

He retreats.

He repeats the experiment with the other eleven of Hatake’s guards. To the last one, they ignore him. It’s—interesting.

“They don’t like me either,” he tells Kousei when they’re two days away from their destination, and time for building bridges is almost spent. “Why? Are they that upset I won’t let them conquer their neighbours?”

Hatake’s head snaps to him over the fire, expression incredulous. “What?”

Ani blinks. This is good. This is an open avenue of communication. “I mean, that’s the only thing I can think of that I did to make you angry at me?”

“That—” Hatake straightens, wide chest working at double speed. “You doomed my countrymen, you absolute lunatic. Do you think the Uchiha will benefit from you singling them out?”

Ani’s eyebrows arch up. “I am endangering the Uchiha,” he says flatly. “Me?”

“And everybody else who gets pulled into your orbit.” Hatake’s lips pull from his teeth,  non-human characteristics on bold display. “You might be strong enough to survive taunting Kage left and right, but we can’t.”

Ani considers, for the first time, the merits of cursing. “Way I see it you can’t even survive your own Kage,” he says, keeping his voice sweet, which is the next best option. “The Uchiha definitely can’t. We already had this conversation, Hatake. Don’t blame your country’s cruelty on me.”

“I did always think Gods are addicted to their moral high-ground, but it’s good to have confirmation,” Hatake replies. “If you think you are helping—”

“I am helping,” he cuts in. A bit out of character, but the irritation is becoming loud in his mind. “I am keeping them alive.”

“This is a suicide mission,” Hatake snaps. “It was bad enough before; Hanzō had years to come up with a strategy to eliminate you. But, you had to go and make yourself everybody’s enemy. What will happen to them when whatever hellish trap he’s concocting snaps around you, the two pissed-off Jinchūriki wipe us all out? What will your attention be worth, then?”

The campsite is silent as the grave. Ani’s mind is getting loud. “I will have tried,” he says. “If I die, I will do so with a clear conscience. And—” He leans forward, squaring his shoulders, for once not smoothing the aggressive body language from his shape. “And, if they die, it will not be because of me. It will be because of the people that killed them and the village that sent them to die. I am, frankly, tired of you refusing to take responsibility for what your village is doing.”

“Spoken like a man who was never responsible for another.”

That’s it. “You are the last person whose advice I would follow on the matter of responsibilities, child. Namely, because you can’t even square who you are responsible for.”

“Oh, I do agree,” Hatake says, not backing off for a single moment. “I should do what you do, and pick and choose which people to care about. Did it never even pass through your mind that sacrificing the Uchiha on the altar of moral righteousness will have cascading effects? What will happen to the Aburame, when their closest allies are gone?”

Does he even hear himself? “I imagine they will rise against the genocidal hell-pit you brainwashed maniacs call a government. Or did they beat that concept so far out of your head?” Where all this passion is coming from is anyone’s guess, but Ani feels more like a person than he had since he woke up here. “Tell me, is it even possible for you to envision a world in which you are free? Or is it simply easier to be blindly directed by your masters instead of having to think about your actions?”

They’re both shouting now, which is strange. Ani hadn’t raised his voice in anger once since—Well, he roared to intimidate, but he wasn’t angry-angry, then.

“I see, my mistake. I follow your logic now. Taking Ame, held captive by a sadistic dictator is immoral, but a civil war is perfectly just. When our village gets torn apart from the inside, leaving behind scraps for other villages to mop up, I’ll know I did the ethical thing.”

That’s kind of fair enough if they assume Ani would just let other people enslave the remaining humans. That said—“Well, Hatake, if you can’t see a difference between overthrowing your own sadistic dictator and killing other ones, I guess I can’t help you. Go ahead, stay in your happy little bubble. It’s good for you there, isn’t it? I imagine the leadership is happy their pet killer is so loyal to their interests.”

“Happy enough that I had to fight to be allowed to die on your pointless power-trip of a crusade,” Hatake sneers. “Go ahead, continue. I can’t stop you. I would have, if I could. But at least you will know that you got people who love and respect you killed because you couldn’t for a single moment lower yourself to work with us.”

And—That’s it. The next point of escalation is violence and they’re not there yet. Hopefully, they never will be. Which is not to say that he is calm. He’s, in fact, so angry, he can hardly keep a handle on his shapes. They flicker from monster to monster, each one more volatile than the last. It’s only the fact that Kousei is there and he likes Kousei that he doesn’t do something he will later regret.

Once he’s safely rabbit-shaped and curled up in the side pocket of Kousei’s uniform that he can focus enough on his surroundings. The conversation still hadn’t picked up, but the smell of fear is thick in the air. Mostly, it comes from Hatake, actually, which does a fair job at dousing what’s left of his fury. The man is terrified and lashing out. That’s—

His words bounce away in his head. Did he endanger his people? Did he let his ego blind him against dangers or, worse, lead them into more dangers?

He hops out of his pocket and shifts, pointedly turning his back on Hatake and his crew.

“Is it true,” he asks Asahi. “Did I put you in danger?”

Asahi is quiet for a long, evaluating moment. Weighing her odds. “I am a police officer,” she says. “I’ve heard people chastising a woman who tried and failed to save her friend from an abusive situation. On her advice, her friend tried to get out of it, failed and got hurt in the process. What I told her, is what I would tell you. You should think about how you can best help someone, but you are not to be blamed for another man’s crimes.”

Right. “But you think I should’ve done more, or done it better?”

“I’m saying that we are, in the end, choosing to follow orders as well. If we die because our Kage betrayed us, then we die. It will not be because of you.”

When he’s human, he can’t smell fear-smells or grief-smells or anything like that, but he thinks this is where he would smell despair on Hatake spike.

“Likewise,” she continues, “it will not be on the Captain who stayed and tried to help us as best he can. In the end, even if we die, we die defending our home. We know this. We accept this. Whatever Konoha did or did not do, it did not force every man and woman we will face to want to kill us.”

Ani nods slowly. This is all very stressful, and he doesn’t quite know where this sudden lack of faith in Ani’s human-guarding abilities is coming from, but okay. They’re all dealing with it as best they can. “Kousei? What do you think?”

“I think that Hatake is lashing out at you for upsetting his worldview that the Konohan government is a holy institution that can only be appeased and endured.” Ouch.

“Fuck you,” says one of Hatake’s shadows, having apparently had enough. “Our Captain is right to worry about the consequences of a civil war. We are all killers, thieves and spies, here, but there are innocents in Konoha that don’t deserve to die because of one being’s egomania.”

And they’re dissolving into an argument again.

“We deserve to die?” Uchiha Haru cocks his head to the side, eyes deceptively mild. “How very Konohan of you. I’m glad to at last hear it out in the open.”

“Walk away, then,” says the unnamed man. “Run and hide behind your noble protector. See how long his attention lasts.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Haru says. “I think I will do my duty, as I have done my whole life. I will follow the oath I took and defend my village from aggression. It’s just nice to hear the quiet part said out loud. Even when your Captain tells you my family was sent out to die, you will still blame others.”

“It’s not about blame, you stubborn mule. You’ve simplified the situation right into gibberish.”

At least they’re talking, Ani thinks, mood plummeting again. Part of him is glad to be correct in his approach because the Uchiha and the Uzumaki seem to be squarely on his side. The other part of him is just sad. And angry. Plenty angry.

“It looks pretty simple to me,” Haru says. Unlike his interlocutor, he’s cool as a cucumber. “I don’t remember any of you doing much for or about our standing in the village before Ani-sama came around. One wonders if you even noticed it.”

“Not everyone in the village deserves to die because of your hurt feelings,” the man snaps.

And, just like that, the air shifts, tension breaking into something less angry and more tragic. The man realises what he said, and pales into a shade so unhealthy, Ani is briefly worried for him. On the other hand, he probably believed what he said at least a little, so he really doesn’t.

“As I said,” Haru says into the silence. “I’m just glad the quiet part is said out loud. That’s all.”

Yeesh.

He’s upset enough about everything that was said, that he shifts into a big, scaly, fire-breathing dragon with thick wings under which he shuffles all the people he likes. A little pointedly, he doesn’t include Hatake and his people in that group. With a thought, he heats his skin up, up, up, until the air around him grows pleasantly toasty, and curls his long tail and neck around the small group of people until nothing in the world can hope to harm them.

Nothing much was achieved, he doesn’t think. Hatake thinks they are going to die and is sad about it. Ani thinks they won’t and is angry about the suggestion. It’s possible, he admits to himself, after he’s had some time to cool his head, that he overreacted a little. If he doesn’t appreciate being mocked for doing too little, too late, then the same is probably true for Hatake. Even more, because he’s known the Uchiha for a long time and does sincerely care for them. Even Ani isn’t stupid enough to doubt that. Hatake cares for all of his people equally, and it’s hurting them that the conflict among them is escalating.

How would Ani feel if Uzushio humans suddenly wanted to kill the Uchiha? How brave would he feel if his loyalties were pitted against one another in such a cruel way? What if—What if Uchiha aren’t even the worst off, and Hatake is afraid about what will happen to them if he dies fighting a battle Ani started?

He doesn’t think he’s wrong. But, maybe—Maybe it’s possible he isn’t right, either.

The morning is appropriately miserable, thick with rain and gloom. Ani shifts into a sequence of cute, cuddly animals to snuffle into the faces of all his people, braces himself and crosses the invisible line between their halves of the camp.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Hatake, holding eye contact. “I should have talked with you before and learned what your plans were. I am an outsider with limited insight into how things are, and I should have consulted before doing anything, much less issuing an ultimatum to your leader.  Moreover—” He exhales and forces away the discomfort and reflexive irritation. He can be humble when he has to be. “I should have talked to more leaders in your community before deciding I know what’s best for you. I let my hatred of exploitation and unidirectional power structures blind me. So. I’m sorry.”

Hatake, because he insists on being as contrary as he possibly can, sways, wobbles and bursts into tears.

“What—” Alight, so this is new. “I didn’t—I thought the worst thing that can happen is that you throw the apology in my face and maybe choke me with that dreadful sneer some more. I was way off, this is so much worse—”

“I’m sorry,” Hatake gurgles. Even when he’s leaking, he’s handsome, Ani realises, shocked beyond himself. “I—You shouldn’t apologise for being brave and strong—I just—”

Ani gulps, looks around the murderous pack of humans bristling at him from behind Hatake and decides he will chance some attempts at bodily damage. “Hey, no,” he says, moving slowly and carefully to him, telegraphing his movements. “I should apologise,” he says. “I was wrong, not just in my actions but in the way I treated you. Just—” He finally makes it all the way to Hatake—four paces that feel like four miles—without getting stabbed or incinerated, so that’s maybe as good a show of approval as he’s going to get. “Do you want a hug,” he says helplessly. “Please don’t cry, okay?” He’s so useless. “Or maybe do cry? It’s good for humans to cry, I think. Has to do with hormones and stuff. So—”

Hatake scoops him up in a hug, barrel chest shivering and hiccuping and Ani realises he never once cuddled in his human shape. How does it work, he’s too bony to comfort and too small to warm, and just—

“There, there,” he says, like an idiot. “I’m very sorry for upsetting you. I tried to think hard about what I did so that you would know I am not just saying things to appease you, but if I missed anything you can let me know. And—” What? “—And then we will have passed a major milestone in human relationships which is having explosive, emotional fights about things and overcoming them without causalities. So.”

“I’m just so tired,” Hatake says, a couple of minutes later, when Ani ushered him to sit down in a a cosy spot near the fire they haven’t yet put out. They will probably be late to their destination, but they can wait a few hours. “Every time I try to help, I just discover a hundred, worse problems underneath. And now—”

“You do what you can,” Ani says, hoping this is, for once, the right thing to say. “You are not omnipotent or omniscient. I’m sure even Haru would agree they don’t blame you for anything.” Although they do blame Hatake’s team which is a separate kettle of fish.

“I don’t care about blame,” Hatake hiccups. “They can blame me all they want if they are alive to do it. But I couldn’t—I wasn’t valuable enough. I hoped losing me would be enough to sway them to a different strategy.”

Ouch. They need to work on Hatake’s self-worth. It’s becoming increasingly apparent that he’s all too eager to sacrifice himself.

“I don’t know why you’re so certain we will die.” He’s not touching the rest now. “I am pretty powerful, you know. Plus, there will be dozens of U-zu-shi-o enchanters there, and a good amount of Uchiha who are also petty good at combat I hear.”

“They haven’t planned for you, before,” Hatake says, looking at him with teary, puffy eyes. How old is he, even? “And I would bet Hanzo’s spies will have told him you and the Uchiha will be coming to Ame. He will have had time to prepare for you.”

Yeah, okay.

“I can’t promise to win,” he says. “But I will do my best. And, if worst comes to worst, my U-zu-shi-o people will have the brains to retreat and take as many Uchiha with them as possible. Your Hokage doesn’t command them. Isn’t that right, Kousei.”

“Of course.” Kousei sits across from them, face free from all that scorn from last night. “I would add that we, also, have had time to prepare. And Uzushio seal-masters have been known to come up with a creative solution or two under pressure. Kiri tried to destroy us once. They will not get a second chance.”

Kousei is so cool, Ani thinks, as he continues patting Hatake’s broad back like an idiot. The coolest. “See? I’m sorry we haven’t worked together before, but we will now. And, I don’t know, it seems to me that you are the furthest thing from alone even if we discount the twelve very angry humans behind you that are eager for the chance to set me on fire if I ever upset you again.”

Chapter Text

Unfortunately for Hatake’s peace of mind, Konoha’s manoeuvring rings loud. Ani can’t say he’s surprised—if even Ani spotted it, it means subtlety is no longer a consideration.

“I can’t see the reasoning,” he says, on the third day they moved through conspicuously empty terrain. Before, they wouldn’t run for two hours without stumbling across a skirmish or two. Now—Nothing. A full retreat, from all sides. “I really can’t. What if we do lose?”

“As strategies go, this one is fairly tame,” Haru says. “You send your strong, uncontrollable Shinobi at your worst enemy and swoop in to take out the weakened survivor. It’s a tried and true method.”

Well, okay, yeah, but—

“You have to see how loudly they are saying the quiet part, now.” He can’t— “Talk about a farce.”

“Peace doesn’t last.” Haru shrugs, head tipping back and eyes closing. He looks exhausted, the poor sheep. “It never does. Never has, never will. We don’t need the Hokage or Raikage or Mizukage to give us reasons to fight; we inherited more than enough.”

Yikes.

“You could not,” he says, mostly just to do something about the restlessness swirling in his chest. “You could refuse. My humans would back you. My humans would welcome you and I would keep you safe.”

“We swore.“ They’re gathering a little bit of an audience, now. Hatake and Kousei are always nearby, but Hatake’s humans tend to be as aloof and standoffish as they can get away with. Now, four of them inch closer, faux-casually, and a good dollop of Uchiha besides. “Oh, not the official oath of service, although that one is important as well. No, I mean the other, private, real one.”

This is going to be heartbreaking, he can already tell.

“At some point, we all break,” Haru says, into the tense silence. “We all lose against the helplessness and the fear and the confusion. And, when that happens, we either die or we are saved by our duty. I swore to my Clan Head, who made it possible to live past what I couldn’t have, alone.”

Ani tries to understand this perspective. Uzushiogakure humans have some of the collectivism, yeah, but the fanaticism is all Uchiha. “And you think your Clan Head wants you to die if you could live?”

“My Clan Head wants me to obey,” is the light-toned response.

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn—

“What about your Bonded,” he snaps. “What about what they want?”

“My Bonded,” Haru says, eyes opening in a languid, slow movement, lips curving into a wide, sharp line. “My Bonded is not a combatant. That said, if I die, she will die avenging me. We are very much walking in tandem, in this.”

“You could not—”

“The world would be a far different place if we could not,” Haru says. “With that said, why focus on us? Look around, Ani-sama. You have a pack of ANBU here, and they take blind obedience to a level that’s terrifying even to your average Uchiha.”

Joy. What joy. “Hatake? Is this true?”

“Ours is not to reason why,” Hatake says in a flat, unamused monotone. His companions pick up the, presumably, second part of the proverb: “Ours is but to do and die.” 

Yikes.

“You gotta see that this is madness,” he says weakly. “I don’t—I’m not even a human, but—Imagine, for a second, we succeed. My U-zu-shi-o humans build some crazy magical fortress where you hide, while I eat all your enemies. How do you think the world will look like, afterwards?”

“Bleak and terrible,” Hatake says promptly. “Ame was made out of desperation and, now, it is allied with Kiri and, in all likelihood, Kumo. If you defeat their Kage and their Jinchūriki, those nations will get swallowed by their neighbours one way or another.”

Umm. “By swallowed, you mean—”

“Even if you prevent the Kage from declaring war, they will not have enough Shinobi to support their economy. And that’s if the other Daimyō don’t decide to lower the prices of missions and goods they have to offer past what the smaller economy can survive. So, they starve or they beg to be taken in by their bigger, wealthier neighbours. Those that are lucky to be allowed to join will have a lot of debt to pay, to make up for what their erstwhile country destroyed in the war.”

Ani’s head twinges, but even the headache is slow and miserable. “Wow. Yikes. And we—Have to do this? This is our best option?”

Hatake shrugs. “Or, you fail, we all get killed, Konoha falls and fertile Clan children get auctioned off between the four remaining Great Villages.”

“Wow.” That can’t all be true, can it? Those can’t be their only options? “Okay. I have to think about this. This sounds all sorts of weird and unnecessary.”

He doesn’t figure out any real solution by the time they reach the camp. He’s taken to alternating between slow-thinking and fast-thinking shapes, in hopes that it will help him figure this mess out. Then, when that didn’t work, he shifts between pack animals and loners. Nothing. Finally, he figures that this is a human issue that deserves a human shape and remains a human. It’s odd, frankly. He rarely spends more than a handful of minutes as a human. There is rarely a need for it. Now—

Hatake breaks the monotony—they’re around a day away from their destination—by breaking off without a word and coming back with—Children.

Ani blinks. Alright.

There are three, he notes. Three tiny, bedraggled babies, terrified to the bone and—

“You are one of mine,” he says. What are the odds? Uzushio humans keep close guard of their young. “What are you doing here?”

“Nagato-kun, Yahiko-kun and Konan-chan are, temporarily, between guardians,” Sakumo says. Something in his voice suggests that, as far as he is concerned, the issue is now firmly resolved.

Uh-huh.

“Surely, I have claim,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “He is U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re. I can smell his magic.”

The child in question curves into himself, shivering, and the other two push him behind them. Wow, okay, that’s a glare.

“I mean, you are,” he tells them. “You are U-zu-ma-ki.” Well, okay. He frowns and looks closer. Hmm. “Not just U-zu-ma-ki. Uchiha too. Huh.” He sends Hatake a smug look. “Not Hatake in the least. I’ll discuss it with Katsuki and Niko— “

“What are you talking about,” the orange-haired child says. Shouts, rather, at quite a shrill volume. “You aren’t taking Nagato anywhere, you freak! He—You—”

Cute. Ani, very reasonably, sits down, ignoring the death-quiet in the group behind him. The Uchiha especially are watching them closely.

“I am Ani,” he says, cutting into the boy’s tirade. He has a set of lungs on him. “A sort of—Person? Yeah. I protect U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re. I also sense magic. Because of this, I know your friend has at least one U-zu-ma-ki parent and one Uchiha parent.” Well. “Or had. Sorry.”

“What’s it to you,” the lion cub snaps. “That’s none of your business. And how can you tell, anyway?”

“I am also curious to know that,” Asahi says. “Does the child have a Sharingan?”

Ani blinks. “No. Or—Maybe? A variant? He has something. But, no, he has a bond. To his little carrot friend.” Every Uchiha in the clearing stills further. Whoops. “Sorry, I forgot it’s impolite to talk about that—”

“You are certain,” Haru says, cutting in with rather more force than necessary.

Ani sends him an appropriate look. “Guess.”

Haru nods absently, Sharingan swirling to life. The boy in question, who is presumably peeking from behind his long hair, gasps. “Papa had that,” he whispers. “Swirly eyes. Mama said—”

“There you go,” Ani says. “And your mama, she had red hair? Like you?” He’s never once seen an Uzumaki without red hair.

The child nods, realizes he is communicating with big, scary adults, meeps and hides behind his soul-friend. Ani’s heart squeezes.

“Well, well,” the carrot-child says, a little uncertainty winding through his bluster, “that—So what if he—You aren’t taking him anywhere! Not without us!”

Ani blinks. “Of course not,” he says, mystified. “Why would we only take him?” What a strange child. “You two are inseparable, of course, but you clearly love each other a lot, so—” He gives up and twists around. “Kousei, help. Human young are incomprehensible even when they aren’t traumatised.”

Amiably, Kousei ambles forward and the Uzumaki-Uchiha hybrid gasps again. “Yahiko,” he whispers into carrot-child’s back, “Sun-god blessed him too. Look.”

“I am, indeed, family,” Kousei says. He did something to his voice, made it quiet and soothing. It sounds like a good scratch feels. Which, now that he thinks about it—

He shifts into a bunny and jumps up-up-up into Hatake’s arms, flipping over and presenting his belly for petting. He did good, surely. Yeah, Hatake—or Hatake’s wolves, more realistically—found the children, but Ani identified them, and he, inadvertently made sure they were here, so.

“I still have claim,” Hatake mutters. “Finders—keepers is a honoured tradition among us. But I will agree to a three-way split.”

Ani thumps his leg, partly in agreement and partly because Hatake can give a damn good scratch when he wants to. His fingers might be impractically huge, but he still manages to reach all those hard-to-reach spots where his legs meet his torso that make his body tingle when scratched.

“I am glad we agree—”

More gasps are heard, and Ani’s ears twitch in irritation. What now—

“Perhaps,” Hatake says, in a completely different tone of voice, “you should change back.” Even his magic shifted from its usual cloud to a block of icy intent. “If it’s not too much bother, would you mind expanding on the comment you made earlier, about Nagato-kun’s Sharingan variant?”

Glum, Ani hops down and shifts, taking the cloak off the ground while he’s at it. “What do I know of such things,” he says, pouting. “It feels like the Uchiha eyes do, only different. Less—uh. Less fire?” He looks closer. It’s a rather pretty purple, he has to say. “No, there is fire, but also water, earth, wind and lightning. Yeah.”

“Can it be—”

“It can’t possibly—”

“The Sage—”

Ani frowns. “You’re scaring the babies,” he says. “Calm down. So, he doesn’t have your Uchiha eyes. He has a person bond. That makes him and Uchiha. And, if you don’t want him, I’ll claim him for U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re right now—”

“That is not the issue, my Lord,” Kousei says quietly. “Nobody is disputing young Nagato’s parentage or his welcome in our respective Clans.” He is talking to the children more than anyone else, and they, being clever little kittens, are slowly but surely inching towards him. Good children, he thinks approvingly. Kousei is the best one out of this lot. “We were simply taken aback by his Dōjutsu. It is very rare.”

Oh.

He shakes his head at the children. “Silly,” he says. “Adult humans often are, of course. Don’t worry. Having unusual eyes is a big deal, I’m pretty sure. You’re even better off now than when you started.”

“It is a very big deal,” Hatake says. The amount of stress in his voice has, if anything, intensified. “Can you—Do your powers extend to others, my Lord? Could you hide the child’s eyes with your magic?”

Why must he insist on being so complicated?

“I mean, I never tried messing with people like that,” he says. “And I don’t know that I want to try. My magic is—More permanent than yours.” Silly humans. “But he’s an Uchiha, isn’t he? He can turn his eyes back like you do.”

“I can,” the boy whispers. “How? Papa never said.”

Ani shrugs. “It’s an Uchiha eye with added stuff on top. Just—” He waves his hand in the direction of the clutch of blank-faced Uchiha. “Tell the bunny-child how. He looks like a bright young man. I’m sure he’ll pick it up quickly. And then he will stop spending so much magic, too, which will probably help with growth and things like that.”

“Right,” Haru says, still blank. “Right. Okay. Alright, Nagato-kun, do you know what Chakra is—”

Young Nagato doesn’t figure out how to turn off his eyes, so Asahi puts a magical spell on him to hide them for the time being. Ani, in the meantime, turns into the softest, cookiest tooka shape, tweaking it a little to make his eyes and paws bigger, and ears fall lopsided. It’s a hit with the children, as expected, so he spends a very enjoyable couple of hours passed between carrot-boy—Yahiko—and grape-girl—Konan.

When Hatake decides it’s time to head out and that they will figure out the rest in a secure location, he shifts into a somewhat exaggerated Targun—he doesn’t think they ever grow this big—and crouches down. No sense for the babies to walk. Being clever young things, they scurry up his ribcage and settle on his back quick-like, accompanied by Yahiko’s thrilled monologue.

He stands up and gives an experimental hop, immediately dislodging two of his three passengers. Only the girl remains, clutching his fur. Right. He cranes his neck and gives Kousei a look.

“I will ride with you, I think,” Kousei says, not missing a beat. Good man. “Just to make sure nobody slides off. Our Lord Ani can run quite fast when he puts his mind to it, you know?”

Kousei is a slightly more substantive weight on his back, but only just. More importantly, he knows how to stick himself to Ani with magic. Good. They can go, finally.

“Let’s make it there by nightfall,” Hatake says, voice all sorts of far-away. “So I can dump all this to Uchiha-sama’s lap and laugh from the sidelines.”

Honestly. It’s like they never found a Uchiha out in the wild. The dramatics.

Chapter Text

Hundreds of Uchiha mill about in the army camp, matching hundreds of Uzushio humans and any number of other people. Thankfully, a clearly magical creature with a Uzumaki on its back can only mean one thing.

“Lord Ani,” calls—

He waits until Kousei slides down his back with his arms full of children, shifts and launches his tooka-shaped self into her arms. Exotic animals are all well and good, but Mami has known him since he was a big, dumb snake, dozing on Uzushio’s shores.

She’s grown since then, he thinks, as her nimble fingers dig into his fur and smooth down the fuzzy patches on his cheeks. The piping soprano smoothed out to a vibrant, somewhat hoarse alto. And, of course, she’s adult-sized now, with magic to match.

“You’ve brought us presents, then, Ani?”

Ani flicks his ear and licks the closest bit of skin with the raspy part of his tongue. Obviously.

“No, no. First, the Uchiha, then Hatake and now you’re finding little God children roaming about in the wilderness?” Ignoring his indignant meep, she scratches his chin and bops him on the nose. “If you wanted another big shrine in your honour, all you had to do is stop destroying the ones we keep making—Ouch, ouch, okay. No biting. I get it.”

The older generation of Uzushio humans may be puffing out in outrage, but Ani can practically taste the Uchiha admiration for Mami rise, so it’s probably a good bet. All the young ones in Uzu don’t share their elders’ worship of Ani, and that is how it should be. If you spend your first years climbing a creature and sliding down its body, you can’t fear it afterwards, no matter how many enslaved monsters it eats.

With that said—

He hops down and paws at her cloak briefly,

“Oh? Human-Ani, then? Perfect.”

He shifts, taking up the cloak as he turns. “My memory grew up a little; I can remember things better now. Plus, there are young humans now, who don’t know how I am.”

She’s almost taller than his human shape, he is interested to find out and has several new scars that he is less than thrilled about. “That’s sweet of you,” she says, giving his hair a fond pat. “I missed you. We all did.”

Huh. “How long have you been out here?”

“Since the start, more or less. Now, come on, we’ve a few things to discuss, your foundling among them.”

“I’ve got a third,” he points out while he lets himself be dragged through the silent camp. “Hatake and the Uchiha have a claim too.”

“Like I said, a few things. Not least of which, the Genjutsu over the kid’s eyes.”

Katsuki and Niko are about the same as he remembers them. There are some cosmetic differences here and there, and the magic around their eyes feels frayed, somehow, but as composed and imperious as always.

“Lord Ani,” Katsuki says, inclining his head. “You’ve been making waves.”

Ani shrugs. The kids are nervous, which is probably understandable. They are in a tent with many big, scary adults who keep talking about or around them like they don’t exist. “Wars confuse me,” he says. “I don’t get how they’re fought or why. Also your villages. And your hierarchies. It’s your ways as a whole that are tripping me up. Yeah.”

“Shocking. Well, then. Introductions are in order. My name is Uchiha Katsuki, children, and beside me is Uchiha Niko. We lead the Uchiha Clan.”

“I’m Yahiko.” Carrot-boy might be physically incapable of letting Nagato face something scary, without stepping in front of him. “She is Konan. And Nagato who is both an Uzumaki, a Uchiha and a Hatake, but I’m not sure about the last one.”

“I see.” The Uchiha does something with his hand and pulses his energy—Oh, he ruptured the spell. Like bursting a bubble. Cool. “And I see that—That—”

Huh. The two Uchiha are genuinely speechless. What is so special about the bunny-child’s eyes?

“This cannot get out,” Niko says into the silence. “If—Lord Ani, you say he has a Bond in place?”

Ani nods. “Uh-huh. With Yahiko.”

“So he is blood,” she says, eyes spinning. “Uchiha and Uzumaki. Legends do say that—”

“Don’t you dare,” Katsuki snaps. “We’re in enough trouble already. Those are all baseless fantasies, and I will not—” His eyes swirl, black dots blurring. “Be welcome in our Clan. While we had not known to, you have been missed, Uchiha-Uzumaki Nagato, Uchiha Konan, Uchiha Yahiko.”

Niko inhales sharply and exhales after a few seconds. So, this looked to be—irregular.

“Whaaa—”

“Not now, carrot-child,” Ani whispers, looking between the Uchiha. “I don’t know a lot about humans but they seem to be going through a lot.”

“How perceptive, Lord Ani,” Katsuki says. It’s not sharp, is the thing. More—exhausted. “I don’t have a single clue what I am doing. I was privileged to get used to the feeling since you came into our lives.”

“It has been weird.” It really has. “So, about Nagato’s eyes; I get that you humans are big on meaningful looks and dramatic gasps, but you can only do that so long.”

The Uchiha share a meaningful look which, yes, creates a dramatic pause. He can just tell that all the other humans are eavesdropping, too.

“The Rinnegan is—Exceptionally rare and valuable,” Katsuki says. “Stories say it gives the bearer the power of creation. Of life and death. It lets one move through time. Ah, or so the stories say.”

Ani blinks. Okay, fancy eyes. He’s pretty sure the Uchiha eyes can manipulate souls and jump dimensions, but okay.

“It’s debatable if any of that is true, of course. We had not seen a Rinnegan in living memory. Indeed, many would say the Dōjutsu is but a legend.”

“Right.” He waits for more. When no more information seems forthcoming, he huffs. “So—That bit is over, then? The children have been officially named and accepted as Uchiha and Uzumaki—” Hatake clears his throat. “And Hatake. Nagato has very magical eyes, so you are worried people will try to steal him.”

“Yui,” Niko says, apparently apropos of nothing. “You are Yui’s boy.”

Nagato looks up at her, eyes round with—hope? Maybe? “You knew papa?”

Because they are genetically wedded to their pregnant pauses, the Uchiha spend several long moments in silence. “We are all cousins, in some way,” she says. “But yes. Yui—We thought he—” She takes a long step forward and crouches. “We never would have stopped searching, if we knew,” she says, voice serious. “Never, Nagato-kun. We got credible reports that he died in an accident years ago.”

“Papa never said,” Nagato says. “But—He and Mama were scared. For me. Like you are. Mama kept drawing swirls on me. I think the plan was to come to meet you once they could hide me.” He looks away, ducking behind his hair. A learned pattern, Ani thinks. He’s hiding the stupid eyes. “I told them they could go without me, but they said no. And then Konoha soldiers killed them.”

Huh. The adults look between themselves with meaningful looks. Ani’s quickly becoming sick of it.

“Yui would never abandon his son,” Niko says. The fury in her body is practically heating up the tent. “He never flinched away from doing what he decided needed to be done, at considerable cost to himself. Only when he left, did the Uchiha realise how invaluable that trait was.”

“Oh.”

Indeed, oh. What is a baby supposed to say to that? More importantly, Ani doesn’t know a lot about children, but he’s not very certain that he is eager to talk about his dead father.

“Fugaku,” Katsuki says, summoning a blank-faced teenager who looks far too stressed for his years. “Put your strongest illusion on Nagato’s eyes and take all three children to get dressed and fed. We have war strategy to discuss.”

“Not until we know what will happen,” Yahiko says, because of course he does. Ani is amazed he kept quiet this long. “To us, I mean. Nagato’s parents were Uchiha and Uzumaki, but they didn’t take him to either place, so they thought it would be dangerous. Why would that change now?”

Bless.

“Because of me, I’d guess,” he says. “I don’t know why U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re was unsafe for you before, but it isn’t so now. Hideki likes me and likes to indulge me. If I ask him to treat you with respect, he will do so.”

Yahiko nods after a brief pause. “Alright. Say we believe you. You want to send us to Uzu?”

Ani shrugs. “I mean, it seems like it’s the safest place for you. Konoha is—” Terrible beyond reason. “A bizarre place that I can’t figure out. They don’t treat even grownup Uchiha well, much less babies like you.”

“We’re not babies,” Yahiko says, scandalised.

“Of course you are,” he says. “And that’s fine. Babies are when humans are at their cutest. The older you get, the worse it becomes. So, you know, embrace your fun years. It’s only downhill from here.” He sends Katsuki a look. “That is the agreement, yes? I am trying hard to avoid stepping on Uchiha toes, but the kids are half U-zu-shi-o.” He really needs to learn how to say it properly. It’s hard, yes, and fun to sing-song each syllable, but it’s also impractical in some cases.

“We can agree on a temporary placement in Uzushio,” Niko says, after a long pause. “As long as it’s understood that our claim is legitimate and that we will fight for our custodial rights as hard as we need to.”

Always fight, with the feral cat Clan. If Ani didn’t know it’s how they express care, he’d probably be less charmed by it. “Perfect. Does that satisfy you, Yahiko?”

Yahiko confers with grape-girl. Konan. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “We agree to go to Uzushio for now. We will negotiate more, after. When all this is done.”

Ani nods. “Clever.”

“So, what’s the situation,” he says, once the overstressed teenager has chivvied the children out to get fed and suchlike. “Hatake thinks we will all die horribly, thus ruining the balance of power in Konoha—” Such as it is. “—And plunging the world into despair.”

“Very nicely put,” Kousei says, calm and collected as always. Ani pats him on the flank. Best man.

Mami huffs a laugh. “We haven’t been idle,” she says. For a moment, she looks so much like Hideki, he has to blink to dispel the image. “Our seal masters have drawn and charged enough Fūinjutsu to level a country. Other than some truly unholy things, I don’t think there is anything Kiri and Ame can think to bring, that we can’t counter.”

Yes, well.

“Did we try diplomacy,” Ani says, going for bluntness to save time. “Everybody keeps informing me of all the dreadful things that will happen to weakened countries. Have we tried reaching out to their respective leaders and explaining that peace is an option?”

“I know Hideki had,” Mami says, much to the quiet outrage of the two Uchiha Clan leaders and Hatake’s—quiet despair, he’s pretty sure. “He thinks the Mizukage would be interested if you weren’t so powerful. As it is, he will try to kill you if possible and ask for peace, after.”

So, a power play. His nose wrinkles. Gross.

“Diplomacy is complicated,” Mami continues, re-settling her shoulders, eyes flashing. “Not least because things in Konoha are concerning us. The Hokage either has traitors or he is playing a double game. Hideki pulled our Shinobi from the village proper, barring Kushina and Mito who aren’t ours.”

Yikes. Ani sends Hatake a sympathetic look. “You could all come to Uzu,” he offers. “No, really. Uchiha and their allies. If Konoha doesn’t want you, at least you know you have an island that does.” Well. “I can make you a space on the island if Hideki has demographic concerns.”

“Doubtful,” Mami says, grinning horribly. “Hideki is furious. We were attacked to weaken Konoha, and we survived because of you, not them. We moved past that, only to be spat upon. One way or another, Konoha lost her sister village.”

“We need more unity, not less,” Hatake says, a little desperately. “Especially now that—I mean—Do we know anything about what is coming? We had time to prepare, but so did they.”

Mami leans forward, expression sharp with a mean sort of delight. She doesn’t like Hatake which makes her unique, in his experience. “The traitor in Konoha is working with Hanzō. Out of respect for our Clan-by-God, we have refrained from talking about it out loud, lest it upset their delicate loyalties, but our spies report such.”

Wonderful. Then again, this is some transparency, at least? That’s a step in the right direction?

“We already knew Konohan leadership would prefer we die here,” he says. “Preferably after weakening their enemies.”

Mami sends him an impressed look, all previous hostility wiped. “Wow, Ani,” she says. “Look at you, being versed in geopolitics and scheming. You grew a lot.”

Ani preens. “I had wonderful teachers,” he says, not even pretending to be humble. Why would he? Preening often leads to praise and treats. “Kousei, of course, and the Uchiha. And Hatake and his team were unforgettable, too. Truly. I’ve never met a more self-sacrificing, martyrial group of humans. My sense of perspective grew so much, you have no idea.”

“Hatake, yes,” she says, lips pressing together briefly. “I don’t suppose you flipped him? It would make my life so much easier if Konoha lost their only valuable Hokage candidate?”

Judging by the sharp spike of alarm in Hatake, and grim amusement in the Uchiha, this is also one of the things they don’t say out loud. “Unfortunately not,” he says, glum. “He loves his dumb village. Love-loves it.”

They both sigh, commiserating about the unfortunate goodness of others. “Shame. Without him, I think we’d have had a chance at poaching all the good ones from Konoha and letting the beasts tear each other to shreds.”

“Uzushio is as stable as it is because it has one great Clan,” Niko says, adding enough snap into her voice that it lashes across the air, leaving behind an impression of silence and caution. “That stability will be lost, should you choose to take in another Clan—something you had never done, I would like to point out. Konoha has her faults, but she faced and still faces unique challenges.”

Ani sighs, glum. “The Uchiha love their dumb village too. I don’t quite get it, but I learned they take insults to the made-up concept personally. I try to avoid doing that since I learned.”

“I’ve been living with the Uchiha for months, Ani,” she says, eyes hooded. “I know that.” She’s not backed down from Niko one bit. Ani could bottle the tension between them—

Wait. He tilts his head. Is this mating behaviour? He looks closely. Is Mami looking to start a romantic coupling with Niko? With Katsuki? With both?

Yikes.

“Did your spies tell you about the horrible attack coming our way,” he says, eager to change the topic. Dominance displays are a respected part of many mating rituals, but these things can escalate fast if you let them. Mami can negotiate her sex life when they are all alive and free to do so. “It would have to be a magic weapon of some sort. They know by now that I can shift away any injuries to my forms.”

“It will have to be a Chakra weapon, yes,” she says. “I imagine they will try to seal you away first and kill us with their Jinchūriki after.”

Uh-huh. “Do you have a plan if they succeed?” He rolls his eyes at her sceptical look. “They might, we never know. It’s important to have a backup.” When she’s not convinced, he relents. “It will make Hatake and his group of desolate murder ducklings feel better. They are worried that I am the only thing standing between them and any number of horrors I don’t have the capacity to imagine.”

“We planted seals in every Great Shinobi Village, and will wipe them from the planet,” she says, grinning. The smile would be more convincing if her soul didn’t feel almost eager to go with that option. “I know you said that we’re not allowed to do that, but it works because we will only do that if you’re dead and our promise is satisfied.”

Wow. He considers this. “You are certain you can? That’s a lot of bad blood you will be making.”

“If they kill our God, then we kill their entire populations, sink their lands into the ocean and move into an era without Shinobi villages.”

Yeah, okay. He rubs his temples. “Note to self: don’t die.”

Mami beams at him. “Yes, precisely.”

Chapter Text

For all that death and calamity are, reportedly, imminent, Ani can’t help but be endlessly delighted by the impromptu village that sprouted up at the border. The Uzumaki have a knack for creation, he’s always thought so. He thought their wacky architecture on the island was the height of whimsy—most of their structures stand because they are kept that way by magic—and he was wrong. That was them being tame. Here, they have no restriction on their madness. Magic lights are bobbing above them, shaped like any number of ridiculous animals. Climate is warm and balmy, and any number of workshops had sprouted up, from the practical things like blacksmiths and tailors, to the ridiculous—cooks, vendors, merchants, even a brothel or two.

“Wow,” he says, “this one is my favourite.”

“You’ve said that fifty times in the last hour, my lord,” says Kousei.

“And it was always true.” He tilts his head and tries to figure it out. “Moving mosaic paths, alright. Decorative canals filled with clockwork fish, yes, lovely. But that is a multi-story tent.”

“Very practical,” Kousei says with a straight face. “We can build up but not out. Conserving space is just good thinking.”

Ani squints up at him, trying to decipher his expression. It’s—meaningful, somehow? What—

He looks back at the tent and spots them. A dozen of faux-casual people are peering at them. Right. “I love it,” he says, with complete honesty. That it makes them puff out in pride is an added benefit. “It’s mad and ridiculous and my favourite thing—” His eyes catch on something. “What—Are those shrubs floating—”

***

Outrageous use of magic is one point of interest. Another one is this: for all that he made fun of Uzumaki stacking tents, it wasn’t a bad move. Not with how many humans seem to be arriving.

The Uzumaki are the first. Group by group, Uzushiogakure humans are pouring into the campsite on the hour, wide smiles just serving to emphasise the tense shoulders and bloodlust in their eyes. Ani, informed by Hatake’s quiet heartbreak, doesn’t ask. If Hideki decided to abandon Konoha, he must have reasons. Reasons that are none of his business, ultimately.

With Uzushiogakure humans, sometimes literally hand-in-hand, come any number of formerly unaffiliated people.

“Tenshi,” he says, having finally come across someone he knows by name, that is also arriving with a cadre of new and extinct humans. “Look at you! You grew up more than Mami had, somehow!” Like damn weeds, honestly. Just the other breath, she was sliding down his snake-body and knotting together a rope harness to strap over his bantha-shape.

Her smile is the same, though. Crooked, confident, irrepressible. The sunset-gold light casts her orange eyes into fire. “Lord Ani, perfect timing. Shift for me?”

He blinks but nods easily enough. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Mm. I heard stories about a crystal fox shape you never showed us.”

He nods and focuses. The shift itself is, of course, not a problem, but he’s been practising his disrobing-and-shifting technique. Kousei explained that an adult disrobing around children is a threat in itself.

Vulpteces don’t vocalise in a way that these humans would pick up on—for them, one clinking of crystals is the same as another—but they can bark and whine, so he goes with that. For flavour, he sits back on his butt, curling his rather lustrous tail around his body, front legs straight, posture prim. Vulptex is an elegant animal, and the demure performance should suit the aesthetic. 

The spike of terror in Tenshi’s companions is, after all these years, familiar. They can’t help it and, moreover, they’re puny and tiny, bereft of so much as a scrap of mineralised tissue or bony armour to protect their soft skin. They don’t even have fur.

“Very pretty,” Tenshi says, smug as anything to have won her little dominance display. “Looks cold and spiky, though. Terrible for cuddling.”

He chitters his approval and shifts again, this time into a particularly chubby and sparkly-eyed porg. With all the practice he’s had, he’s gotten better at both modifying his shapes on the fly and intuiting what modifications the humans will be charmed by. Porgs have, by all accounts, evolved to appeal to the human eye: soft, helpless and vaguely infantile, blessed with a type of vocalisation that they find familiar and endearing.

“Wow—”

Hook—

He croons, imbuing the sound with beckoning pathos. Pick me up, it says. I am alone, bereft and miserable. Comfort me, lest I expire from acute tragedy.

—Line—

His lips wobble, head tiling to display the liquid eyes to maximum effect.

And sinker. Tenshi sweeps him up, clutching him to her chest with too much enthusiasm to be comfortable to a real porg. Ani, wise to the ways of his baby-humans, had already made the shape sturdier than the norm.

“Wow,” she repeats, nuzzling his feathery face with her cheek. “Top-notch work, Ani. I am a new woman, transformed by your cuteness.”

Hah, he thinks, smug. He’s still got it.

“That’s the great calamity everybody’s been talking about,” says her friend. His voice is interesting, not deep as such but hissy and breathy. Whatever caused the right of his face to be a gnarly, panful-looking knot of scar tissue must have damaged his vocal cords as well. He doesn’t sound serpentine, like the golden-eyed young man from Konoha. The effect comes across as sharply manufactured. “The demon that eats Bijū and defeats armies?”

He shifts, this time into a grey bunny, more ear than body, with a damp, pink nose. Who, me? A demon? Perish the thought.

“Mhm,” she says, agile fingers smoothing down his furs and booping his nose. “Our very own God. You’re in fine form, Ani. As always.”

He enjoys the petting for a long moment, thumps her palm gently with a hind paw and hops down. Another moment to burrow under his robes, and up he goes, taking the robe up as he goes. He’s cheating a little, using magic to coordinate things, but it’s quick and discrete enough that the humans don’t notice. They take it for granted that he can hold the fabric mid-shift, bless their gullible little minds.

“I don’t know about demon or calamity,” he says. “On balance, I’ve eaten fewer people than you have killed.” He blinks. “By you, I mean humans,” he adds, just in case that wasn’t clear. “I understand tens of thousands have died. I’ve eaten a thousand, maybe. And two spirit-slaves, which was probably a mercy.”

“Very tame.” She looks him up and down, smile relaxed and settled, finally. It’s a much better look on her than the savage rage of before. “I like your new human skin. Put on a few years, did you?”

“Mm.” He shrugs, trying to convey his ambivalence. “Back in U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re it didn’t matter, but I noticed that the concept of a young human on the frontlines upsets you.” In truth, it upsets him, too. “Never mind that, I wanted to ask about all these new humans? Uchiha and Hatake and U-zu-ma-ki I know. Where did you find this new variety?”

Her lazy smile widens, teeth peeking through. “The war dragged on for a while. We inevitably made new friends. Uzukage-sama sent word that our policy had changed and that we are allowed to bring them back and—here we are.”

Oh. “Was that not allowed before?” Is it any of your business? “Never mind that. I don’t care about that. So, new friends, then?” He takes in the man. The initial burst of words aside, he’s not as relaxed as Ani would like. Bone-deep terrified is closer to the mark. Decently strong, too, if Ani’s magic sense is any indicator. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Ani. I’m glad you and Tenshi are friends.”

“Are you?”

He nods. The question was rather flat, coming across like a rhetorical question-statement, but he might as well err on the side of caution. “If you are a friend, you aren’t an enemy. Hideki and Mami are touchy about enemies, these days.”

Instead of calmer, the still unnamed man grows more tense. Ani really needs to improve and update his human-pacifying protocols.

“We heard,” Tenshi says. “I, for one, am glad. I never liked the snooty assholes much.” She digs an elbow in her friend’s side. “Introduce yourself, for fuck’s sake. Don’t be rude to our God.”

“Oh—” The poor man starts, eye widening with panic. “I’m Fūshin. From, um. A small village near Taki.”

Right, right. The odds of him remembering it are nil, but that would be rude to say. “My honour,” he says, remembering not to say my pleasure, which, he’s learned, can also have odd connotations among humans. “You were fighting on Konoha’s side, then?”

That was a worn question to ask, apparently. The poor man grows so still that Ani grows worried for the integrity of his heart. He can’t be sure the man is still breathing. All that adrenaline can’t be good for his health.

“Ani didn’t mean to trap you, you miserable old man,” Tenshi says, leaning sideways, slotting into his side in an easy, relaxed manner that catches his attention. Huh. A couple? Little Tenshi is old enough to have mates? When did that happen? “It was an honest question.”

He hurries to nod. “Absolutely. I’m not—” How to phrase this delicately? “I barely distinguish humans at all, if I’m honest. I can sniff out U-zu-ma-ki and Uchiha by their magic, but other than that human politics interest me not at all.” Well. “Other than the expansionist genocide, that is. I’m very interested in that.” Ugh. “In not letting that happen.” He sends Tenshi a harried look. “Why is your mate so jumpy? Are you mistreating him?”

Her grin softens into something a great deal more sad. “I’m trying not to,” she says. “But the world is dark and full of monsters. Fuu has learned to be wary around unknowable, incomprehensible terrors.” She inclines her head meaningfully. “Like yourself, for example.”

“I’m not a terror,” he says, adding in a scandalised sniff. “I’m the most easy-going being you will ever meet.” He tries to send the silent man a reassuring smile, but it’s maybe time to admit defeat. His presence alone is enough to stress him out; continuing this conversation is not kind. “I’m sure we’re lucky to have you, um.” He’s just said his name. He had just said it.”

“Fūshin,” Tenshi supplies helpfully.

“—Fūshin. I’m going to go away now. Have fun and, y’know, try to relax a little.”

“It’s been wild, as always,” Tenshi says, picking him up and swinging him around in a long hug. With how rare it is that anybody initiates cuddling behaviour when he’s human-shaped, he soaks in the affection with great care. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Be good,” he says. “And sweet to your partner. He seems like a delicate sort.”

***

“So, okay,” he says, once he’s located Kousei. He’s in with Mami, Hatake and the Uchiha leadership, which is a little surprising, admittedly. As far as he knows, Kousei was a blacksmith, before. Then again, the things he knows about hierarchies can fit in a thimble, so. “Why do I get the impression that Hideki has been scheming?” He waves an impatient hand at Hatake. “Past breaking away from Konoha. That is, as far as I can tell, the only thing that makes sense at this stage. They can make up after the war is finished.”

“Nii-san hasn’t been scheming,” Mami says, faux-casually. “But he has made us into an alternative to the existing coalitions.”

Right.

“I don’t know that it’s wise to pile them up here,” he says. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but my presence has been something of a unifying force, in that all the other humans have decided to pause the hostilities to destroy me, yes?”

What little oxygen in the room was present before vanishes. “Essentially,” Mami says. She leans forward in her seat, planting a relaxed elbow on the table covered in maps and letters. “With that said, the Raikage and Kazekage have called their forces back. Hideki has been sending peace contracts back and forth with them for a couple of weeks.”

Huh. “That’s nice,” he says, pleasantly surprised. “This leaves three, yes?”

Hatake closes his eyes and doesn’t comment. That’s—sad, yes, but Ani is more drawn to the odd, challenging look Mami sends the Uchiha. She’s goading them into something, it seems like, but what? And why? They’re already stressed enough, aren’t they?

“Or is it two,” he says slowly. “Because Konoha is not our enemy?” That can’t possibly be true, all things considered.

“I don’t know, Ani, you tell me,” Mami says, still not looking his way. She’s not trying to be subtle, is she, and, yes, typically that’s helpful. Typically. Now, however, Katsuki looks so worn down that he’s minutes away from falling into an enchanted, hundred-year sleep, with Niko as his draconic guardian. Maybe it’s not the best time to be blunt and uncaring of the emotions of your fellow humans.

“Kousei, help,” he says, falling back to his most reliable point of safety. When the world seems too complicated to manage, Ani has precisely two ways of dealing with it. One, cycle through shapes until you find one that thinks in long, meticulous thought and spend a few years in quiet contemplation and two, find Kousei. “What is Mami bullying the Uchiha into and why?”

“As the authorised representative of Uzukage-sama, she is trying to convince Uchiha Katsuki-sama and Uchiha Niko-sama to leave Konohagakure and join Uzushiogakure,” he says. “With her arguments consisting of various ways the Hokage has betrayed their loyalty.”

“Oh.” He blinks. “That does sound stressful. Do you need to have this conversation now, though?”

“Yes,” Mami says, wiping the playful, youthful expression from her face entirely. “I don’t trust Konoha to be neutral, anymore. If they are loyal to the Hokage, even after he’s betrayed them in every way loyalty can be betrayed, then I can’t trust them with your unguarded back.”

Huh. There’s a perspective. “I never asked them for assurances, though,” he says. “Or you, for that matter. I don’t demand loyalty or obedience.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t see how this maps onto what I’ve said.”

So, maybe it doesn’t? “Half their population is in Konoha. What sort of assurance do you want them to make? Should they offer allegiance to Hideki, even if that would mean sacrificing their bondmates?” He takes a peek at the lovely, feral love-bonds, just for the pleasure of it. “Only a mad person would ask that, much less expect that promise to be worth anything.”

He turns to the mute Uchiha. Again, his pacifying methodology hasn’t borne fruit. “Don’t stress,” he says. “Nobody is demanding anything. You do what you got to do, as will we—” They’re growing more upset. “It will all work out. The important thing is that you take care of each other and your bond-mates—”

“That’s it,” Katsuki snaps, and whirls around to Niko, who closed her eyes and slumped her shoulders. “And the alternative is Sarutobi?”

“Madara-sama built that village—”

“Madara-sama can go jump in a well,” Katsuki says. On the side, Mami’s eyes grow a little cloudy. “Yui’s son’s life would be in active, acute danger in that hellhole, and we’re still dithering? Because of a crumbling shrine and a madman’s legacy?”

Yikes. “This is not what I was aiming for,” he says. “You don’t have to make any decisions now. You’re under a lot of stress, and stress is bad for humans. I know these things, trust me. Your bodies aren’t built to be worried so much, it makes your brains go bad—”

Whatever Katsuki was about to say dies in his throat, the words turning into a vague hiss of outrage. He flicks his hand to Ani as if to say see, then throws them up. “Why even pretend? It’s not like Konoha will fight to keep us. They very well may make our leaving a national holiday.”

Um.

“Lord Ani is correct,” Kousei says, possibly apropos of nothing. “You are going around in circles trying to answer a question that nobody is asking.” He blinks once, twice, both times precise, deliberate and suggesting just how far they’ve stretched his patience. “Nobody with any sense is asking. First, we survive whatever trump card Kirigakure, Amegakure and Konohagakure have thrown their lot behind. Then, we talk alliances.”

“You are the best,” Ani says. “Are you sure you are a human and not an oddly shaped snake?”

Chapter Text

Things continue to unspool without so much as a nod towards sense and normalcy. Ani has a distinct feeling that the whole continent is in the middle of a long, bracing inhale. More and more humans pour into the camp—absolutely a village, these days, informally called Kōgeki—and, similarly, more and more messages are pouring in from all over.

“Stone country is considering a cease-fire,” Mami says. Considering she tracked Ani down to his favourite heated mud pit, it’s probably important. He harumphs a her, just in case. Hippo throats lend themselves to grunting very well. “Hideki locked down Uzu, reformed the leadership and is en route.”

Of course. They’re doing the exact opposite thing from what he wants and what is wise.

“Not so,” she says, having correctly interpreted his honking harrumph. “You are a binary god, from what I can tell. You will do something, or you will not, and pragmatism rarely features in your decision-making process.”

Says the woman who made a moat around her multi-story cloth tent castle.

“Meaning we might as well all be here. The political landscape has already been wrecked; now we can back up our words with deeds.”

Ugh.

“I don’t want you to,” he says. He miscalculated slightly, in that he’s now a human in a mud pit; a far less pleasant experience. “I want you to be safe and happy, far away.”

“Konoha isn’t stupid. They will not risk losing the hidden part of Village Hidden in the Leaves just for a chance to come at you with Bijū-seals and knives.”

Wait. “You cast the area spells,” he says, eyebrows arching up. “That was nice of you.”

“Konoha was made with a marriage of Uzumaki Mito-sama to one of their founders. We have been allies from the start.” Her expression is complicated. Strained in a way, but also wistful, maybe. “We have long since been allies with the Senju,” she continues. “And enemies with the Uchiha. Look at how far we’ve come; the Senju rejected Clan structure, and the Uchiha have allowed themselves to be mistreated by a village they helped create.”

Tradition, he thinks. She’s grieving a thing she never witnessed, and only heard stories about. “You changed,” he tries. “Is that such a bad thing? I change from one breath to another.”

Her sigh matches the expression. Ani really isn’t qualified to interpret so much subtext. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. We are all doing our best.”

Are they? Ani probably could have been doing more? To that effect, he twists to her and says precisely that. “I don’t know if I am doing my best. I don’t know what my best is.”

Mami is quiet for a soothing string of moments. “I think,” she says slowly, “that human rules don’t apply to you. We are fighting to survive. You—” Her shoulder twitches. “I don’t know about you. What are you fighting for, Lord Ani?”

Huh. “Good question.” He doesn’t even try to answer it. Doesn’t even consider it. “Unfortunately, I am—” How to put this into words? “I wasn’t always this,” he says. “And I don’t know what I had been, before. Based on the few glimpses I picked up before I threw it away, I may have been the concept of pain given sentience.”

She’s looking at him evenly, without judgment or expectation. “I can see why you wouldn’t necessarily want to remember,” she says.

“Yes.”

***

People continue pouring in, from Uzushio, from Konoha, from the smaller villages that don’t have clever names or magic keeping their borders secure. Days pass. Messages fly to and from the leadership tent that Ani doesn’t frequent. The tension in the air mounts and grows, as people prepare for—What? Death? Victory? Freedom? Freedom from what?

He does his bit to help with the morale. Meaning, he cycles through cuddly, funny and exciting shapes, indulges as many requests as he can, and tries to reassure the spiralling humans they are not alone. It’s not very successful. Most everybody thinks that some horrible judgement is coming, as far as he can tell. That they stepped away from the proper path and that the rebellion would extract a steep price in blood and suffering. To make matters more tragic, they also seem to think it will be worth it. That the state of affairs before was so terrible, that dying in protest is acceptable. When Uchiha who clearly don’t specialise in combat start arriving, he gives up entirely. Heart-sore and vaguely lonely, he retreats. It’s been days and days since he’s seen the three foundlings of contested custody. They are bound to cheer him up.

***

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the three brave mice are with Hatake, with his assassin friends lurking nearby. This behaviour, from the masked warriors, is the norm and Ani doesn’t have the emotional capacity to consider why they would be, in turn, so fascinated with childish innocence and so incapable of interacting with it directly.

“God-Ani,” greets the carrot-child. Yahiko. “Or are you just a fox that’s bizarrely comfortable with humans?”

Ani barks at him, and cycles through a few orange shapes that he can think of. Panda—hamster—bantha—Then he grows more silly. Newt—lizard—slug—parrot. Finally, he settles in the shape of a large orange butterfly and flies up-up-up—settling in the mop of fiery curls.

There, he thinks, smug among the eruption of giggles. Now who is just a fox?

With that said, a butterfly is a very impractical shape to wear, especially perched among sharp strands that can damage his wings. He flutters up, stops briefly on the child’s nose, lands on Hatake’s shoulder and shifts into a silver mink, as noodly as he can make it while still retaining functional organ systems. Hatake, because he is excellent at knowing the rules—when he’s not drowning in emotional excess—buries his fingers in the fur at his neck and behind his ears. Ani lets his eyes close in bliss.

“Wow,” Yahiko says, voice vibrating with excitement. “Wow-wow-wow. Did you—and the giant slug—”

Hmph. Like Ani couldn’t entertain three mice-children? Please.

“Lord Ani is very talented,” Hatake says, nonsensically. The tips of his fingers unerringly locate the patch of skin behind his ears that makes his whole body go shivery and relaxed. Human fingers, can’t beat ‘em. “Moreover, I would point out the honour inherent in his actions.” Well, hold on. That’s not what—

“Honour?” Good carrot-child, you’re echoing Ani’s thoughts exactly. “He’s slung over your shoulder, getting head-pats.”

Precisely.

“The first time I met him, he was in the shape of a—terrible monster I can’t accurately describe,” Hatake says, voice mild. “A giant blob of red flesh with tentacle-like appendages and a spherical mouth, funnel-shaped and lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth. Lord Ani, would you mind giving us a quick demonstration?”

Well. Hatake hasn’t, to date, made a single shape-request, so Ani is very motivated to oblige. With that said, the clearing they’re on is hardly big enough. He straightens from his limp position with some regret, noses his cheek once in thanks and hops down, shifting into a wolf as he goes. Continuing the theme, he’s matched his fur to Hatake’s colouring, silver with a dash of charcoal in the undercoat, for depth. A flick of an ear, an elegant crouch and an imperious huff later, and he’s got three ducklings on his back and Hatake’s hand petting his ears, as he leads the procession to the nearest clearing. This should be fun.

***

The precise sequence of beasts escapes him at the moment, but he makes an educated guess. The Rathar is the first one, that much is certain, based on Hatake’s descriptions. He doesn’t skimp on the size, either, and makes sure he gets the colouring just right, so it subconsciously reminds the humans of the colour of their skinless flesh, while also being slimy and oozy.

Unsurprisingly, they quickly gather a crowd, especially when the kids stop being satisfied with climbing his tentacles and try to scale up his body. His body covered in eyes. The offending child—Yahiko, it’s always Yahiko—gets plucked away by Kousei, who says something. Rathars don’t have much in the way of hearing, he’s found, but they can vocalise well. For example, he can croon a very emotive sound of sulking misery that has the children falling over themselves to apologize.

The Krykna is received even better. He can sort of see the appeal, for a childish mind. It’s got a sturdier body—easier to climb—and makes a funny clicking noise when it moves. The mouth is just as creepy, round and toothy, but the eyes are, realistically speaking, pretty goofy. Add to that the bulbous body, and you’ve got yourself a hit--if you have a Kousei nearby to nudge the children away from the venom-laden pincers, that is.

“The cross between a dragon and a pelican was next, if memory serves,” Hatake prompts, all friendly and casual, like most every adult human in the village hasn’t gathered to watch the spectacle in silence.

Ah, yes. The reptavian.

Just for kicks, he amps up the colour into a deep, fetching purple and quacks—the reptavian quack, honk or scratch, there is no in-between—at Hatake, preening. His claws and fins glimmer with gold, and that’s not easy to do.

“Zillo beast next,” calls—an Uchiha? Huh, that’s right. Some of the Uchiha present would have been there, at the time. And they were very appreciative of the zillo beast. He honks in the Uchiha’s general direction, shrugs off the children determined to climb up his wing membranes, the little maniacs, and shifts

He hasn’t been in a shape this big in—a long time. Moreover, when he had, it’s usually been in battle. Now that he’s among friends, it’s a bit disorienting. Zillo beasts are nervy, twitchy creatures. They’re either sleeping or darting this way or that. Having to keep himself still-still-still, lest he crush some of his humans underfoot is taxing on his puny, reptilian mind. Ten--nine—eight—

Once the ten seconds are up, the acklay-shape is a damn blessing. He can see the delicate humans better, which is convenient, and the animal is less neurotic. When left alone, it would nap in the sun in a messy pile of limbs, much like Ani does. A much better fit, frankly.

As an afterthought he shifts his pigments around, going from green-yellow to silver-grey. There. Perfect. The children shriek—much too loud, he chitters at them with reproach—and start climbing his many limbs, and he sort of collapses into a sprawl much like a camel would. His exoskeleton provides many a hand- and foot-hold for the little ones, he’s decently warm here—thanks to the Uzumaki magics—and the sound of laughter is louder than the concerned whispers in the back. All is well.

***

“Now, as entertaining as this was for you, I did not ask Lord Ani to go through all that effort just to give you exciting new animals to climb.”

He didn’t? Ani flicks an ear but stays put. Hatake’s palms are a perfect place for a bunny to laze.

“Every one of those animals is a predator,” Hatake continues. “When I first met him, Lord Ani deployed them to annihilate a platoon that was chasing me and my unit down. They didn’t stand a chance, of course.”

The mice-children make—predictably—excited noises, always eager for a good story.

“I suppose it does sound like a fairy story,” Hatake says. Ani squints an eye open. That’s a deceptively mild tone. Hatake is gearing toward a lesson. “Unfortunately, while we are grateful and humbled by the rescue, you shouldn’t think the slaughter was anything but that. They didn’t stand a chance. Even with all the effort Lord Ani invests into finding a bloodless solution, when he can’t, he is not above a demonstration of might.”

Ani closes his eyes. That’s true, but he doesn’t need to say it.

“I bring this up to underline the difficult, sometimes impossible, balance that everybody with power must hold. Lord Ani is an extreme example, but I am also familiar with it. As will the three of you.”

Ugh. Teaching. Morals.

“It seems pretty simple, though,” Yahiko says, voice trailing up with caution. He knows he’s being frog-marched to a point, and is being wary about it. “Ani is strong. The strongest. He can do what he wants.”

Well. Not untrue, if a bit naive.

“And yet, he doesn’t,” Hatake says. He spreads the fingers of one palm wider, to hold Ani’s bunny body more securely, and uses the other to smooth down the fur on his belly. Ani’s leg thumps in bliss. “He doesn’t have to indulge us at all. He doesn’t have to go through all this effort to make himself look harmless and put us at ease. All that is done for our benefit, not his.”

“Oh.”

“Just so. The most difficult, and most honourable path a warrior can walk is to be as kind to those weaker than they as they can afford. Lord Ani could live as a giant dragon and terrify every living thing into blind obedience. Instead, he picks prey animals, soft and harmless, and showers us with affection in every way he knows how.”

Who is this wise, benevolent god Hatake speaks of? Surely not Ani? He picks cushy shapes because being cradled in warm palms and having his ears pet is delightful.

“And because he likes being pet,” Yahiko says, once again voicing his thoughts like a good little speaker.

Hatake chuckles. The sound washes over his sensitive ears, making him relax even further, somehow. Wonderful. “That too. I do not mean to suggest Lord Ani’s behaviour is entirely self-sacrificial. That would be an untenable position. But imagine if, for example, he was the type of being who enjoyed others looking at him with fear and awe. That wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

Ani thumps a foot again, this time on purpose. The fingers petting his belly return. Good.

“I can’t even imagine it,” he hears from closer than before. When he opens his eyes, the three mice are right there, peering down at him with wide, curious eyes. “He’s such a cuddly bunny.”

True.

“We are beyond lucky,” Hatake says. “Having power does not automatically make you good. Many people use their power to hurt others because they can. Lord Ani uses his to—be kind. He is able to wear the skin of a monster, and yet be so intrinsically good, that he inspires children to laugh and climb the unholy spikes and fangs of his temporary body. You should treasure that, and be inspired by it.”

And there’s the point. Hmph. He wiggles a little, sticking his legs up in the air, nose twitching. Hatake chuckles again and carefully taps the tip of his paws, then his nose. Ani’s chest squeezes and expands oddly. Hatake is such a confusing human.

Chapter Text

Hideki hits the village much like an asteroid would an unsuspecting planet. Meaning loudly, without warning and with devastating consequences. Ani, at the time in the shape of a cerberus—each head colour-matched to the child sitting on top of it—woofs a greeting.

“Lord Ani!” Hideki is not alone, interestingly. Two groups of humans he doesn’t know by scent—and who smell far too tense for anybody’s comfort—goggle at him. “I missed your more unusual shapes. The Lord Ani back in Uzu sticks to bodies we are familiar with.”

Ani blinks. That was an unusual way to start a conversation. It doesn’t feel like it was aimed at him at all. Is Hideki sneaky-threatening the other humans? He woofs again, staggering the sound from head to head which is fun, wags his tail a couple of times and scampers off to deposit the children to the nearest pack of Uchiha. From there, he shifts into a Vornskr—with golden fur and bronze claws for spice—and slinks off to find Hideki.

***

As luck would have it, Hideki and his friends are still more or less where he’s left them, meaning at the main entrance to the village, right next to the ornamental ponds. Not being an idiot, Ani doesn’t waste any time and bounds forward, winding around Hideki at the last moment and butting his snout into his stomach.

“Very pretty,” Hideki murmurs, hands paying extra attention to the sensitive tufts of hair at the highest point of his ears. “I’ve not seen fur like this. I bet water slides right off.”

Possibly true. He has no idea.

“With that said, as handsome as your—cat? Are you a cat? As handsome as your ambiguous mammal form is, I’d like to introduce you to a couple of colleagues. If you’re up for it, of course.”

Ani expels an amused huff of air from his nose, arches his head so Hideki can get at the sensitive patch of skin under his jaw, and pads away to the nearest Ani-cloak. Like Uzu, they’re everywhere, so it’s only a work of a few seconds to be standing up, human-shaped and a bit chilly.

“Hey, Hideki,” he says, drawing the cloak further around himself. “I like your new look.  You embraced the romantic warrior aesthetic, hey?”

Hideki grins, decked out in a blood-red outfit that makes him look like a particularly flashy bird during mating season. “It’s ceremonial, I think. We dug it out from the archives the other week. It suits the current wackadoo method of conducting warfare.”

Ani blinks, smile growing a helpless edge. He’s such an adorable man. “Who are your friends?”

“Ah, yes.” The cheerful malice in his voice and body expands, against all odds. “I am delighted to introduce the Third Raikage, A, and the Third Kazegake, Sabaku no Issa. They are leaders of their villages like I lead Uzushiogakure.”

“Oh, wow.” He ambles closer to take a better look. “You are very handsome,” he says. “Both of you.” That might not have been the right thing to say. Both of them look uncomfortable, at the very least, especially the broad, golden-skinned man. “I don’t mean anything by it,” he says just in case. “My humans are beautiful too. I’m just saying.” What are you saying? “Never mind. Hi, welcome. I’m Ani, it’s lovely to meet you.” He nods. That was polite. Well done.

The two foreign kings incline their heads, giving him some formulaic words back that he doesn’t pay much mind to. He can’t smell them either, in his useless human shape. Really, interacting with these humans as a human is the least practical way to go about it. They guard their expressions and their body language and he can’t spot any micro-expressions or smell their emotions with his puny human senses.

“It’s nice of you to visit,” he throws out, hoping for the best. “I don’t know if you live far away, but I understand we’re sort of in the middle of nowhere.”

“We were invited,” the pale man with black hair and golden eyes says. “By your—By the Uzukage.”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Hideki’s smirk deepen. He’s enjoying this, the horrible nightmare.

“And I’m sure we’ll all make sure you enjoy your stay,” he says. “The U-zu-ma-ki humans have gone a little nuts with the impromptu village we have going on here, but it’s very nice to look at. Someone can show you around later if you want. It’s great fun, I promise.” Kazekage? Kazekage—? Oh, right. Right. One of them is the king of the desert people, and the other one is the king of the mountain people. He tries for a smile. “So, you lead the mountain people, yes? And your friend is the desert king?”

“Ah, no. I am the Kazekage, meaning the leader of Sunagakure; Village hidden by Sand.”

Ani blinks and looks between the giant man with dark-gold skin, standing next to a man with bone-white skin. “My mistake,” he says. Wow. These humans, so random. Even the physical adaptations they could develop in their lifetimes are defective. How sad. “Sorry.”

“No offence was meant, and none was taken,” the desert king says. “Since the purpose of this visit, was to promote understanding between our peoples, now is the time to clear up these  misunderstandings.”

Ani beams at him, delighted. “Wow,” he says. “Very cool. I can see why you’re king.” He turns to Hideki and pats him on the arm. “Your friends are great, Hideki. Thank you for bringing them. I’m sure we will all get along splendidly.”

***

Nobody is getting along splendidly. They barely sat down into the cosy tent Mami had improvised—Ani suspects she repurposed one of her courting gestures for the Uchiha—and already tension is thick enough to slice. Uchiha Katsuki and Uchiha Niko are engaged in a stare-off with the mountain king that looks like it can only end when either party dies, and Mami is not far behind. The sand king looks like he would like to mate with Hatake, then promptly eat his brains and cuddle his headless corpse to sleep. Not to be outdone, Hideki is doing his best to communicate that the only source of energy he’s got left is malice. The only point in which everybody seems to be in agreement is that nobody is happy that Ani isn’t doing much to simplify the situation for them.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, entertained against all reason. “You won’t get to accidentally misinterpret my wishes and start slaughtering each other. All of you here are, by all accounts, beautiful, honourable and compassionate. If you do decide to kill each other, that will be your decision and your decision alone.”

“That’s so surprising,” Hideki says, grin almost expanding past the physical limitations of his face. “Lord Ani, I am shocked by your uncharacteristic lack of bloodlust. Here I thought you’d look at my guests and order us to fight until extinction.”

Huh. Ani cocks his head. “I don’t remember you being this pushy,” he says and nods. “I like it. Bully people into forming meaningful friendships forever, Hideki. It suits you.”

“It’s a new skill, but I find it very rewarding,” Hideki says. “The old way of doing things almost lead to my whole people being exterminated without warning or negotiation.” He sends a sparkling grin to the Raikage, who, to his credit, looks mildly uncomfortable. “Moreover, I remember your orders, my Lord.” With the theatrics of a born and raised showman, Hideki whips out a fancy, gold-plated scroll from somewhere on his person. “One,  minimise casualties on both sides. Two, make sure nobody profits—on either side. Three, incentivise everybody to sue for peace by offering advantageous trade agreements.” Even the two foreign kings are looking at Ani like he’s a developmentally challenged bit of dandelion fluff that they have been menaced into obeying, somehow. “Four, allow the enemy to retreat with dignity and grace. Five, don’t impose any post-war sanctions on the beaten enemy, should you win, and instead help them to develop their economy and industry.”

Ani swallows a laugh. “My word, bunny,” he says, beyond charmed. “You got it perfectly right. Well done.” He should figure out a nice gift for Hideki. He was careful to only ever alter his body with his magic, but—maybe an exception in this case—

“It will be as you instruct, my Lord,” Hideki says, losing some of his unhinged cheer, and slipping into more standard-issue zealotry.

Ugh. Humans. They do faith better than anything, anywhere, anywhen. It’s entirely possible Ani is becoming more powerful, based on the strength of their faith alone. A scary concept, but there it is.

“And what do you think,” he asks the rest of the room. “We’ve a decent show of sides here, as it were. The Uchiha, as far as I’m concerned, are on my side, if not exactly on the side of U-zu-shi-o-ga-ku-re. Hatake can maybe, represent Konoha—sans the segment that wants to kill us all—and, of course, two kings of their own countries.”

Who will be the first, is the question? The Uchiha, he’s pretty sure, will feel too uncertain about their position to argue that much. Hatake, similarly, is so deep into his pit of anxiety, getting him to argue properly will take prompting. This leaves the two foreigners—

The desert king is the first to speak. That’s fair. His country has the fewest beefs, as far as he’s aware. “Sunagakure signed a peace treaty with Uzushiogakure,” the man—Issa?—says. Ani spends a moment luxuriating in the texture of his voice. “We stand to gain nothing from this war. In that sense, Lord Ani’s prescripts suit our interests.”

That’s great, Ani thinks. Now if you could only stop looking at Hatake like he is a meal you deserve and have unjustly been denied, that would be great.

“And your issues,” he prompts. “This might be the time to bring them up. I understand most of the people present have, at some point in recent history, been a part of some horrific show of barbarism.”

The sand king sends him a blank look. Ani thinks he could be amused. Simultaneously, Hatake seems to droop a little, face as blank as his mask-wearing compatriots’. “Lord Hatake has, as it happens, cut my daughter and her husband near into halves a few months back. Among other things.”

Oh. Ani blinks. “Alright, so.” What a statement. “Is there some way we can make amends that doesn’t include his head on a pike?”

Another look. This time it’s definitely amused. “What would you offer,” he says. Interestingly, he lets his body relax some, shoulders falling in a more natural line. In all fairness, Ani hasn’t noticed the tension before, but the difference is stark, now that he knows where to look. “How would one repay my Uru’s life? What can I bring to my grandson, Sasori, that he will accept?”

Well. “I have no idea,” he says, because, duh. “But we’re not talking price, are we? Making amends is—symbolism. Plus, I mean, you are all murderers, daughter Uru included. Let’s not overstate our case.”

The Uchiha, to his utter lack of surprise, stiffen. If they looked any more scandalised, the outrage would drip out of their ears. Figures that a clan of people who bind their souls to their loved ones would find it difficult to be pragmatic in matters of the heart. The sand king, however, seems to be of a different stock.

“There is no symbolism to speak of,” Issa says after a beat. “I could claim Lord Hatake’s life and bind him to my family if he had a life to give. Unfortunately, he would first have to be released from all the other oaths he is bound by. The same is true for most of us here. So, I would claim that all personal grievances would have to be set aside, if we are to talk meaningful peace.”

Huh. “Fair.” Too fair, maybe, considering all the personal grievances other parties may have. “How do we feel about this, everybody?”

“It is very fine, for the Kazekage to be so magnanimous when it is not his children populating Kumo’s breeding pits.” Oh, hello. So much for Uchiha not being comfortable enough to take part.

“We will accept negotiations, on that end,” the mountain king says. While he and the sand king might be phenotypically confused, their voices match their homelands perfectly. Where Issa’s rasp brings to mind the dry grit of sand and the hoarseness of a parched throat, the mountain king’s words roll out of his chest like an avalanche, deep and resonant, slow to start and devastating when they land. “But I reject the premise that Kumogakure is unique in this. If Lady Uchiha wants to open a conversation about the deranged human experiments Konoha conducts on our captured children in the bowels of her Torture and Interrogation facilities, I would oblige. I have a library’s worth of reports.”

Yikes. “Negotiations, good,” he says, before Niko tears out the mountain king’s throat with her teeth, and ruins all the wonderful progress they made. “Government-sanctioned rape and torture bad.”

Mountain King turns his way and inclines his head. “I am not here to answer to those who are guilty of the same crimes they lay at my feet. I am here because you showed grace and mercy to my Shinobi without extracting a price for it, Lord. Let us be clear about that.”

Ani blinks. He had? “So you want me to—extract that price now?” Considering how wacky these people are, that might very well be the case.

“No.” That’s a smile! The mountain king is smiling! Point to Ani! “I will, however, treat with you, because you have demonstrated your honour to be beyond what we, here, could claim.”

Alarm bells immediately start ringing in his head. “Um—That’s not—” How to put this without ruining the odds of him getting what he wants? “You’re overstating my moral character here, or my wisdom or vision. It’s easy to be merciful when it’s not my daughter that is killed, or children tortured, assaulted, etcetera.”

“I am glad to hear something I find so valuable comes easy to you, Lord,” the mountain king says, upsettingly. “It improves the chances of you doing it in the future.”

You stubborn, awful—“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he says. He’s pouting and he’s earned it. “Don’t—I’m not a human. I shouldn’t be such a big part of your politics.”

Hideki doesn’t even try to swallow his scoff. A needle of pain stabs between Ani’s eyes. The humans are being vexing, and he has no idea what’s to be done about it.

“You are a god walking among mortals, Lord Ani,” Kousei says, faux quietly. This betrayal earns him a wrinkled nose. “It would be impossible for your presence not to influence our politics.”

Yes, well, only Ani might die, or run out of magic or who knows what could happen. Konoha’s super secret hidden weapon they’re getting ready might kill him. What happens then? Back to square one?

“We will not solve everything today,” Hatake says, finally. “We can, however, agree that we, in this room, are willing to work towards a more meaningful peace than the farce we’ve had before.”

Ani nods a couple of times and beams at Hatake for good measure. Finally, some sense.

***

Chapter Text

The meeting flows from more to less unpleasant, following an abstract pattern Ani doesn’t understand much less can predict. By all accounts, the humans operate on some basic shared realities, but not as many as he would expect. For example, they seem to think that peace is an abstract concept one cultivates themselves and their society towards, but doesn’t expect they will ever achieve. So, while they will commit to working towards this lofty goal, they have little choice in living in the real world in the meantime. And the real world means murdered children, scorched farmland and slaughtered civilian populations.

Do they even realise they talk about their non-magicians with the same language they use for the cattle or the crops? Would they care, if so? Kazekage Issa’s daughter was, in all likelihood, a fine woman, but she lived by the sword and died by it. Do you even know how many humans you killed? Not magicians, humans?

Is it Ani’s business? He considers this thought, as he watches the magical murderers stoically try to talk through the accumulated intergenerational trauma. This society is—bizarre, but it’s not really Ani’s. Not for the last time, he tries and fails to reason out the scope of his being. He’s not a human. He’s not a god, not really. He is just—there. He is a being that is, so he is to be. It’s sort of circular and ephemeral, and his practice of shifting shapes to avoid any sort of permanence is probably not helping matters.

Ugh.

In any case, it’s both heartening and not to get a glimpse into the scope of their problem. The gulf between sand witches, leaf witches and mountain witches is so slight, and yet they appear to have been murdering one another in fiendish and convoluted ways since—since they knew to keep their histories, as far as he could tell. That is a lot of evil on all sides to contend with, and no justification past yes, well, that was revenge for—So, how many generations of mundane humans will need to die afraid, before the topic of their humanity even got on the table? Or will they exterminate them, finally? Put them out of their misery, populate the planet with witches and—

“Alright.” The tangle in his thoughts is getting both maudlin and painful. “I think we can all agree that this—get-together has been productive and delightful. How about some food?” Humans are excellent at bonding over food. It’s an instinct thing, probably. Since Ani is human-shaped, maybe some of that could apply to him, if only temporarily.

“That would not be advisable,” Mountain King says. It’s amazing how quickly they can modulate their voices. From hateful to warm without a blink in between. “Chakra-constructs can mimic the mechanics of eating, but the processed food will simply remain once they dispel.”

Right. Ani twists to Kousei. “Translate, please.”

“Raikage-sama and Kazekage-sama are not here in the flesh,” Kousei says. “They sent Chakra-constructs. We call them clones. Once they dispel, the memories of the construct will return to the original.”

Oh. “Huh,” he says, cocking his head. “Is that what that is? I thought you were a strange and unfortunate subspecies of human.” Neither of them looks particularly delighted by Ani’s nonjudgemental approach to humanity. “Neat spell.” He resists the urge to poke at their bodies with his magic. That would definitely cross the line. Every line. “Must be of great use, in diplomacy.”

“One would think so,” the sand king says, lips curved in a polite smile. “And yet, before Uzukage-sama mentioned it, it wouldn’t have occurred to me.”

“Let me guess, it was a murder technique.” He sighs. “Don’t answer that, please. I realised I don’t want to know as I was saying it.” This can’t be normal? Bees don’t think so much about murdering other bees, surely? “In any case, it’s probably for the best you aren’t here in person when Konoha finishes setting up whatever super weapon they have planned.”

The little bit of tentative good humour vanishes. Ani tries to resist the urge to throw his hands up in frustration, loses, and adds a pout for good measure. “It’s hardly a secret. That is more or less why we’re all here. Or are we pretending that the sand and mountain kings haven’t heard about it?”

“No, no,” Hideki says. “I was wondering when this would come up. Let’s discuss Konoha, shall we?”

It’s a marvel, the way he speaks sometimes. Maybe it’s a professional deformation? The sand king sounds like sand, mountain king sounds like the mountain and Hideki—Hideki sounds like the very human dissonance Ani has been fixated on for so long. A thin film of sugar stretched over a pit of poison. He likes these other kings, Ani is pretty sure, and he hates them, and neither is more true than the other.

A couple of seconds go by. “Discussing Konoha doesn’t mean ‘stare violently at Hatake’,” Ani says. “Konoha’s leadership might be bewilderingly comfortable with terrorising their own people, but I don’t see how you would trace that back to him.”

“Shinobi villages are by definition military dictatorships, Lord,” mountain king says. “We are all terrorising our own people to some extent. Konoha is simply the best at it.”

Yes, wonderful, thank you for that contribution. What does this have to do with the fact Hatake is still holding himself like the noose is already around his neck, and he’s one trapdoor away from a permanent solution?

“Axioms aside, if we are discussing Konohagakure, I would like to clarify a point,” the sand king Issa says. “Uzukage-sama has reached out to Raikage-sama and myself. I have it on good authority that Tsuchikage-sama is in negotiations, and Mizukage-sama will allow himself to be convinced, under the right circumstances. Has Uzukage-sama attempted to reach a diplomatic solution with Hokage-sama?”

Ani waves a breezy hand. “Sure he has—” He blinks and closes his eyes briefly. “He has, yes? Hideki? Mami? We have reached out to Konohan leadership?”

“If by reached out you mean planted enough long-distance Fūinjutsu to kill every living thing in a hundred-mile radius, then yes,” Mami says. “We already had a peace treaty with them, you may recall? We were allies. And yet, here we are.”

The two foreign kings are too collected to show visible alarm, but Ani has been calibrating a little. The trick is to monitor their magic. Granted, they guard that, too, but less perfectly.

“I have already expressed my thoughts on this madness,” Hatake says. “Fortunately, I hardly have to worry about it. Should Lord Ani fall, I will fall with him, and will not have to watch such senseless slaughter of innocents.”

“Very useful,” Hideki muses. “You have such a way of blending the practical and the selfless. Nary a pointless, empty gesture in sight, with you. And now, I’m happy to see that you’ve branched out and started developing rather novel non-interference protocols—”

The haze of melancholy swirling around Hatake at all times seizes, spikes, then solidifies into something a lot sharper. Anger. No, fury. Yikes.

“Hideki, stop.” This is so far beyond his skill set it’s not even funny. Is it possible that Ani is the only one to see how close to the edge the wolf-man is? Is it really up to him to make sure they don’t do Konoha’s job for them? “Hatake is not the aggressor here. If anything, he’s more a victim of Konoha’s callousness than you are. Instead of using his gentle heart to hurt him, we should be looking at ways to cultivate it in others.”

Poor thing, he thinks. Look at those befuddled, cloudy eyes. How can you look at that overwhelmed face and want to hurt it. To that end, he reaches out and pats him on the shoulder. “There, there,” he says. “Hideki didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s just upset.”

“I must say, several things about this sudden and inexplicable shift in international politics suddenly make sense,” the mountain king says.

Ani rolls his eyes but keeps his awkward petting motion. It seems to help, in that Hatake seems less likely to smite every human in his sights. “He doesn’t know how much you care,” he says. “You humans are awful at communicating your hearts.”

“We are not,” Hatake says, ice in his eyes only somewhat thawed. “We have simply learned not to.”

That’s probably true. Ani’s chest tightens. Poor thing. “When everybody survives whatever is going to happen, you can bat him around in the name of training,” he says.

“Should that happen, I imagine we will be up to our ears in blood and I will not want to.” With sharp, precise movements, Hatake returns the pat on Ani’s shoulder and stands up, magic swirling around him in sharp blades. “By your leave, Lord,” he growls and stalks out. 

Ani exhales a long breath and lets his heart settle for a bit. “Kousei, do you mind—” Hatake doesn’t need a minder. He’s as strong a human as they have in this world. Still. He’s a gentle soul.

“Not at all,” Kousei says, rising. “I will direct him to an appropriate distraction, should he appear to need it.”

So, the mice-children. Good.

He tilts his head back and considers how much easier things had been when he was a snake. A big, slow snake, who measured time in years. His only job was not to move too much, lest he scare away the children using his body as a playground. That was nice. Soothing.

“Do I even need to say it?”

“No,” Hideki says into the silence. “I was—Cruel.”

“You were.” He shrugs. “But you are hardly the only one at fault. We’ll give him a little time to calm down, you will apologise and I’ll take him flying.” He cocks his head, letting a little weight seep into his eyes. “And now you know better. Unlike you and your fellow kings, Hatake is not the leader of his people.”

“Incredible,” sand king Issa says. “Is this how you solve conflict? By sending the Uzukage to apologise for hurting his subordinate’s feelings?”

“Hideki is his own human, and I don’t send him to do anything,” he says. He might be a little keyed up. “Moreover, he’s the sweetest, kindest human you will ever meet. This outburst is a trauma response, not an indication of how he treats his friends.” Hmph. The nerve. “Now, we might have digressed. You were explaining why it’s impossible to have peace with Konoha.”

“Because they will lie,” Mami says. Unlike her brother, she doesn’t temper her fury and doesn’t leave a space for changing her mind. It’s all or nothing, with her. “Because we will say ‘peace talks’ and they will hear ‘time and a place to set a trap’. That is how Konoha operates. They will kill everybody in their way, and then pretend they hadn’t.”

Ani blinks. The passion in her voice, the certainty—it’s important. He can’t think this through on the fly, but—The Konoha they speak of and the Konoha Ani has seen are two very different beasts. Is this propaganda? Has the magical world become so accustomed to Konoha being the most powerful force, that it can’t be the case they could ever make mistakes. It always has to be a plan, a plot, a scheme the rest of them hadn’t noticed.

“They are in too deep to give up now,” Hideki says quietly. “They lost every alliance they had, drove off their strongest Clan and made an enemy of a god everybody else has had the good sense to court. On the other hand, if they do manage to kill you, they have a chance of coming on top in the ensuing chaos.”

Alright. Does that make sense? He can’t see how it would, but he’s hardly a human. He’s not here to make decisions. Remember that, too. You are not a planner. You are here to support the humans you love and do what you can to caution them against things you know will hurt them, in the long run.

He turns to Niko. “Do they? Have a chance?”

Sniping with the mountain king aside, Niko and Katsuki have been too quiet for his liking. “It depends on the alliances they made,” Kousei says. “Then again, there are unofficial rules about how a country treats their ally. However the Uzushio debacle ends, Konoha will only attract the type of ally they deserve.”

Ugh. “You know, sometimes I wonder if humans, as a species, even want to live,” he says. “Now and again you say or do something, and suddenly I feel like you’re all just looking for an excuse to die and take as many people with you as you can.” Alright, enough. Now, who is being cruel? “Sorry.” He exhales and tucks his magic back under his skin. It was beginning to seep out, and that’s probably not comfortable for them. “Sorry. I’m just—I’ve never had to do any of this, and I’m confused and concerned and my heart hurts. I dread, and while I’ve never had to dread since I woke up in this world, I have a feeling I did little else, before.”

“One would say this is a dreadful situation,” sand king Issa says. “Be that as it may, I am afraid I must leave you, now. Any longer, and I might not be able to integrate the information properly. Lord Ani, I will write to arrange another meeting as soon as I digest what we have spoken of already. Gentlemen, ladies, farewell.”

Ani blinks. That was—abrupt.

“The Kazekage is more empathetic than he likes to let on,” Mountain King says, leaning forward a little. He is smiling. “You are free with emotion, Lord, and we are taught this is weakness. The cognitive dissonance is becoming difficult to ignore, for those of us who hope to live authentic lives.”

Sure. The sand king left because he became emotional.

“With that said,” the mountain king continues. “He is also correct. I have pushed as far as the limits of shadow clones would allow. Regretfully, I must cut this meeting shorter than I would have liked.”

“Alright.” At least he was polite enough to say goodbye properly, goodness. “I hope you come back. Send a magic bubble copy, when you can.”

“It would be an honour and a privilege, Lord.” The mountain king looks around the room, civility evaporating like it was never there. “Gentlemen, ladies. While there is little respect between us, I would nevertheless offer advice. You did not earn your supernatural protection, but you have it. I would not be so quick to condemn others who struggle to do the most they can with what they have.”

Well, that wasn’t cryptic at all. Why do Hideki and Mami look like chastised children? What?

“With your leave, Lord.”

***

Chapter Text

In a more gentle world, Ani could have gone out to find Hatake after the Mountain King’s ghost popped. And he will, very quickly, only he first needs to figure out his present company and why the conversation rattled them so.

“That went well, I thought,” he throws out, to test the waters. “Good people, I thought. Very respectful.”

“Oh, yes,” Mami says. “Never let it be said Kage got to where they were without a keen ear for the politic. Generational enemies or not, Uzu has their God walking the earth, and so they become someone to talk to.”

Ugh. “As I said, good people,” he says brightly. “Being good politicians is probably a big part of being a good King. Much better than having bloodthirsty, battle-mad Kings, I would think.” For some reason this banal statement makes both Hideki and Katsuki stiffen. “With that said, I am open to the possibility that I’m missing something and that all of this is somehow terrible?”

“It’s not,” Katsuki says. “With that said, our people have been fighting for generations. Conventional wisdom suggests peace will only come through slow and incremental change. Seeing the Raikage treat you with respect—and seeing your return his regard—is jarring.”

Is it insulting? Did they count on Ani to be rude and threatening to the other monarchs? Silly, if so. Ani was very clear about not getting involved in his humans’ past dealings, after all.

“I guess I never asked, but do you want peace,” he says, blinking. “Which is my bad. Do you? Enough to make concessions you rather would not forgive slights you feel you should not etcetera?”

“Of course we do,” Hideki says, but Ani feels like his heart is not in it. “Not least because the Raikage is correct, may he burn in hell for eternity. Your goodwill gave us the upper hand, but pressing this advantage too far is not—wise.”

Right. That was a squirmy statement. Ani squints. “I don’t get it,” he says, voice flat. “Did I upset you, somehow? Do you need me to do something other than what I’m doing?”

Mami makes an impatient sound in the back of her throat. Ani, who heard this sound plenty when she was a petulant teenager and not much since then, hesitates. Why is the girl defensive? “It’s not about you, obviously. I, for one, don’t trust any sudden and unprecedented outpouring of goodwill. Especially not from a country as aggressively expansionist as Kumo. Suna keeps to herself, they’re fine, but Kumo is a pack of savage beasts.”

Yikes. “Them’s fighting words.” The dehumanising terminology is so out of character for her, that it sounds like pure, distilled, trauma-based propaganda. “Do we have reasons to believe that the Mountain King is definitely going to betray us as soon as our backs are turned?” Ugh. “Other than them being savage beasts without honour or virtue?”

“Historical precedent is not all prejudice,” Katsuki says. “Uzumaki-san might have used—evocative language, but she is justified in her worry. There are enough generational feuds between our nations to fuel the sun.”

“And the people coming to kill us have been your allies for just as many generations,” he snaps and closes his eyes, exhaling his frustration with care. “Sorry. I shouldn’t snap. Please, continue.”

“I don’t have much of value to add.” Katsuki hasn’t been actively afraid of Ani for a hot second. It’s uncomfortable to see traces of that fear now. Uncomfortable but bearable, if it doesn’t escalate. “We would be more at ease if you had hosted fellow Gods, but Raikage-sama is just as human as we are. Just as prone to holding grudges and investing a significant portion of his self-concept into getting revenge for past wrongs.”

Hm. “That’s true. I hadn’t considered that.” And now that he is, he is tempted to ignore it. “But I still don’t understand the strength of your reservations. I’m not saying you should trust him blindly. By all means, be on the lookout for betrayal and be ready with counter-attacks, but—” But maybe Ani is missing something? “Is it dangerous? Am I asking you to risk yourselves?”

“Not any more dangerous than being at war with them, I wouldn’t think,” Hideki sighs. “Again, we want peace. We are trying to move past our baggage, but we can only do our best.”

Oh. “Okay, so—” He blinks. “So we’re on the same page, more or less? Peace talks and diplomacy and all that, with slaughter as the last resort?” Good grief.

“Yes, Ani,” Mami says, sans petulance and, thus, sans any more energy to invest in the endless spiralling conversation.

“Fantastic. I’m off to see if Hatake has finally snapped, unhinged his jaws and swallowed the sun.”

***

Hatake was more rattled than Ani thought. He thought Kousei would be enough to pacify him. Failing that, the children were a sure bet, he’d have thought.

Wrong. Hatake is, in fact, stomping his masked guards into the ground with extreme prejudice, magic thick with fury and resentment. Ani—Admittedly, Ani hadn’t thought the man was capable of such. Not really. He was always such a—wolf. Even-tempered, dignified, ferocious only when necessary. Wolves don’t suffer from the rages, he didn’t think.

“Has he been at it for long?”

Kousei sends him a blank look. Ani cocks his head and looks close. Huh. Looks like Ani isn’t the only one surprised to see Hatake’s magic turn cold and cutting. “A while. Longer than I think is wise. We have medics, but there is no sense in getting injured in training. Not when you’re on the frontlines.”

Is this a frontline, then? Because, from where Ani is standing, he can see several restaurants, pretty decorative gardens, paved paths and a magically-engineered balmy climate. If asked, he’d sooner say he was in a wackadoo resort, than a military encampment.

“I’ll see if I can help him work out some of his energy in a less harmful way.”

How, though? What could he—

Ah. He breathes through the strange cocktail of emotions that bubbles up as it always does when he thinks too hard about flying. There is pain there, and a sick flavour of yearning. Shame, for whatever reason. All in all, it all stinks of lingering sense memories of his previous life and can, therefore, be discarded without any further consideration.

“Hey, Hatake,” he says. Shouts. “And friends. I’m sorry if I’m being culturally insensitive—I’m sure this is practically meditation for noble magical warriors—but I’m not that, so you’re stressing me out. So, I offer a bribe: I will turn into a great, big dragon, and you’ll sit on my back and we’ll have a nice, blood-racing fly.”

It says good things about how far Ani’s relationship with the humans has progressed, that they only go through one or two rounds of dithering. Once Ani shifts into a dragon—a pretty one, with golden scales and purely decorative spikes—they stop with the politeness and scamper up his body, using their magic to stick.

“Are you certain, Lord—”

Ani huffs—dragons are great at huffing—and takes off. Politeness is all well and good, but Ani is hoping to outfox his dumb pseudo-memories, here. The last thing he needs is excuses. Frankly, it’s only the fact that he can see how dearly they would like to fly, that finally tips the scales, because—

His heart expands three sizes, it feels like, wings heaving. The feeling of it is—indescribable. Swimming is all a fish wants to do, but Ani can’t remember ever being this delighted when he was a fish. There is something about flying, something about the rush of air and moving through space with next to no resistance—It’s his, never mind his shape. It’s beautiful and it makes his chest hurt and a solid part of him never wants to touch the ground, ever again.

The humans on his back are similarly enthused, if not to this extent. They shout and hoot and holler at each other, daring each other to do this or that trick. Ridiculous. If they can talk and do tricks then Ani is clearly not holding up his end of the bargain. He is not some dull pigeon. He’s a dragon.

He roars—quietly—and picks up the pace. Up-up-up they go, until the ground is a blur of browns and greens and yellows, and then—

He plummets, just barely managing to keep himself from corkscrewing for kicks. That might be a bit much, for his unsecured passengers. No, a nice, controlled dive is good enough. Judging by the shouting that turned downright childish, the humans appreciated it too. He sharpens the angle, just a bit, just to add that little bit of speed, and—

Dives up, when they’re about thirty paces from the ground, wings flaring out and angling back, redirecting the momentum. He roars again, this time from pure joy. It’s a crime he waited this long, to fly. A damn crime.

***

The ANBU are all giddy magic and wobbly legs, when they touch down, after about an hour of increasingly ridiculous stunts. Every one of them gives him a friendly pat, as they disembark, and Hatake stays. Ani squints at him, pokes him with his snout, just because it’s fun to acknowledge how tiny he is, and shifts. Hatake picks him up readily enough and tucks him into the crook of his elbow. He’s grinning, Ani is happy to say, easy and toothy and without a hint of that terrible rage of before. Job well done, he’s pretty sure. He’s getting a hang of human-pacifying measures and no mistake.

“Thank you,” Hatake says. Ani carefully doesn’t think about why the lack of a title made him feel that much warmer. His tail does wrap around his forearm, but that’s normal cat behaviour and not a sign of looming complications. “I’ve never—Some Noble Spirits take the shape of hawks, cranes and owls, and they have been known to allow their sworn summoners a flight or two, but no man before today could say a dragon took them flying.”

Ani reaches up with all his limbs, snags Hatake’s hand, and brings it close to his body. Infuriating and confusing, yes, but also gentle and kind. Very good with pets.

“I wish—” Hatake’s hand twitches once, then relaxes. “We don’t deserve your kindness. You have been here for only a handful of years, and already I can’t imagine how we managed without you.”

Well. That’s a bit much. He meows, rubs his head up into the warm palm and jumps down. He will need a human mouth for this.

“You did your best,” he says, once he’s adequately shaped and Hatake wrapped him in his cloak. He could have picked up another one, but this one is warm and it smells like wolves and ozone. “That much is true.”

“Did we?” Hatake’s expression grows strange. Regret? No, it’s not negative. Not completely negative. “As far as I can tell, not only did we create the never-ending war, we didn’t hesitate to drag you into it.”

“Hardly,” he says, goes to flick him on the shoulder and just manages to stop himself. Remember, no human touch. They are strange about these things. “It doesn’t matter what you did when your back was against a wall. When given a sliver of an opportunity, you immediately went for peace. Or do you think I had to refuse Hideki’s many requests to conquer nations in his name?”

Hatake’s strange look intensifies. Wistful, maybe? Wry? It’s too passive to be regret, and too calm to be sadness. “That is a kind interpretation of events. Not one I share, but—” He sighs, head tilting away, eyes slipping shut for a long moment. “I don’t know what’s coming,” he says, finally. “I hope my village doesn’t—I hope the innocents don’t suffer, at the very least. We deserve it. We all did—terrible things to each other, but I’m so beyond sick of good people paying for our mistakes.”

Uh. “I’ll fix it, somehow,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’m sure there is something KOnoha wants, that I can help with.” True. Ani hadn’t even begun to figure out the scope of what he could do. True, he never wanted to do any such thing, and he’s pretty sure it would backfire sooner or later, but—But that’s a worry for future-Ani.

“Ah, but you are also an innocent I don’t want paying for our mistakes.”

Bless. Bless. “I am a lot of things, but innocent is not one of them,” he says, charmed. “My memories of the time before I was—this—are so hideous, I destroy them when they so much threaten to form. You don’t get that sort of pain if you don’t spend a lot of time making it.”

And he doesn’t believe him. Not really. Fair. Ani is hardly a person to these people. Ani is hardly a person to himself. They see him as young and naive and terrifyingly powerful, and Ani is willing to invest a lot of energy so they continue thinking that.

“I admit I can’t even imagine any such thing,” Hatake says, predictably. “And, regardless, even gods get to wipe the slate clean somehow. Maybe you were a god of blood and fire before, but all you’ve done here is protect children and spread wisdom.”

“You afford me too much kindness,” he says, tilting his head back to mimic Hatake’s posture. “And not enough to yourself. Nothing is—” His chest squeezes. He’s skirting too close to the things he doesn’t think about, but this feels important. “Humans make stories. They imbue things with meaning. Sometimes, this results in virtue and art and mercy. Other times, you elevate your pain into agony.” You’re gibbering. Get to the point. “Shame, regret and humiliation can be experienced with the respect they are due, digested and left behind,” he says, finally. “Chaining yourself up in a pit of pain is dangerous. Pain makes you afraid, fear makes you stupid, so you do evil things to escape it. Do that long enough, and the rot will eat you up, and that is the worst thing. All pain, everywhere—” Alright, so maybe you’re not fit to have this conversation. Go figure. “Sorry, I don’t know how to talk about this. All I meant is that you are punishing yourself for things you didn’t do and can’t change. This is not virtue.”

Hatake, mercifully, doesn’t look bored or annoyed by Ani’s incoherent rambling. He looks touched. Poor thing. If your bar is so low, that you can be comforted by half-baked nonsense from a cloud of sentient energy, then you really have nowhere to go but up. “I am very afraid,” Hatake says. “Mostly, I am afraid of the sudden ray of hope. Before—None of us had much strength to hope for the better before you came along. Now, we saw a glimpse of our enemies’ honour and our own capacity for forgiveness and healing and I don’t know how to live with it. I don’t know what I will do if I am not able to protect it.”

Ani has nothing. Not even empty platitudes. “I guess that—Well, none of us know the future. We don’t know if death is around the corner. So, the only thing to do is stack the odds in your favour as much as you can, and also try to live as good a life as you can, every day.”

Hatake’s fraught expression shifts. Calms, maybe. Who knows, with him? He’s as high-strung as they come and twice as mercurial. One moment, he’s sweet and solicitous, generous with cuddles and bursting with confidence, the next he’s fury-blind and miserable. “Honour, we are taught,” he says. “Duty. Life is a frightening stumble through the dark, but we endure so that the group thrives. Alone, we are nothing. True worth lies in the collective.”

Well, alright. That sounds good enough, in principle. Creepy and far too easy to exploit, but the base is sound. Humans are pack animals. They will go mad and die if forced into isolation. “A bit grim,” he ventures to try nevertheless. “And a bit overwrought? Maybe? I get that you are all about purpose and worth and all that, but I don’t see why it needs to be so dramatic.” Like they’re writing a play, only they’re not even main characters. No, they’re these insignificant gnats in the background, on whose bones the real players will live. “Look at the rabbits,” he says, nodding. This feels true enough. “Do you think they bother much about the grand, unified purpose of rabbitdom? No. They live and love and get on with things, and some of them die and there are plenty of big, fast things from which to run, but that’s just how it is.”

Hatake blinks at him with yellow eyes, set in his fanged face, and inclines his head. “I see. We should all be more like the rabbits.”

Ani rolls his head. “Wolves, fine, whatever. You know what I mean. It all circles back to the same thing. A little romanticism is great because it lets you write music and carve pretty cribs for your young. Too much, and you have mass slaughter in the name of some nebulous idea most of you don’t even know about, much less believe in.”

Finally, both Hatake’s expression and his magic settle. “To live long enough to be given lessons in common sense by a shapeshifting deity,” he says. “What a time to be alive.”

Hmph. “If I am a god—which I in no way am certain of—then I would say that the gods are the only practical ones of the lot. All we want is to be happy. It’s you lot that are complicating matters.” And that’s absolutely enough. He’s muddled through, somehow, and the only thing left to do is quit while he’s ahead. “Moving swiftly along, I am going to go find the three mice and let them climb more monstrous shapes. I suggest you join me.”

***

Chapter Text

They don’t get as much time to bask in their newly re-discovered chill as Ani would like. Far be it for him to dictate such things, of course, but he would have appreciated a little time for Hatake’s nerves to regenerate from all that strain.

As it happens, humans can’t help but generate chaos. In this case, chaos comes in the shape of the  Mountain King who comes a’calling, with another King in tow.

***

A bird swoops down and drops a scroll on Kousei’s head because of course it does. And he was having such a nice nap.

“Ah, it seems you have guests.”

Ani thumps a curious, if petulant, foot. Guests, good. Interrupted ear pats, bad. Kousei gives said ears a commiserating pat. Indeed, the clever fingers say. Your trials are many and harrowing.

“Should I take you to meet them, or let them know you refuse their audience?”

Dramatic. He debates between shapes, settles on a squirrel—red, appropriately—and scurries up to stand on his shoulder. Perfect.

Obligingly, Kousei stands. “Onwards?” Ani squeaks. “Onwards. I admit I am curious about how this will go.”

***

There is a small crowd at the gates already, comprised of all the usual suspects. Hideki, Mami, Hatake. The Uchiha. One of Ani’s guests is obvious enough; the Mountain King is the biggest human he’s ever seen. The other is—atypically short, for one, and wears a ferocious scowl. Both of them are magic-bubble-shaped, which accounts for the lack of an entourage. They’re not really there.

“Lord Ani, hi,” Hideki says. The manic cheer in his face lifts Ani’s mood further. Their discussion yesterday left Hideki a bit too subdued for his liking. It’s good to see him in top, chaos-spinning form. “You’ve guests. How fun.”

“Greetings, Lord,” Moutnain King says calmly. “I hope we have not inconvenienced you unduly? With things being as they are, I thought it would be best to optimise for speed, rather than comfort.”

Inconvenienced? Why would he be inconvenienced? He pokes Kousei’s cheek with his nose in thanks, then scurries down, shifting as he goes. Whoops. The clothes. The stupid, human clothes—

“Sorry about that,” he says, once Kousei had cloaked him. “I am getting better, but things like clothes are so very human, it’s an uphill battle.”

“Gods are allowed their eccentricities,” the Mountain King says. “One might say it’s practically a requirement. Does this mean you will see us, Lord?”

Hmph. “You are amazing,” he says, with complete honesty. “Why wouldn’t I want to meet with you?” The Mountain King might be a bit too formal, but humans are good at shedding such things the more comfortable they are with Ani. He’s not worried, especially because he’s pretty certain most of it is his way of annoying Ani’s humans. “And your friend, of course.”

“Excellent. May I introduce a—well-respected peer of mine.” The Mountain King makes a sweeping, grand gesture that looks beyond ridiculous when aimed at a man half his size and a fourth of his volume. This too, Ani thinks, is deliberate. Who would have thought a man like that was so fond of passive-aggression? “If it pleases you, this is Oonoki of Clan Kamizuru, Third Tsuchikage of Iwagakure, or Village hidden in the Stone. Tsuchikage-sama, we are speaking to Lord Ani, the chosen deity of Uzushiogakure and beyond.”

“You’re serious,” the Stone King says, voice flat and unamused. Grouchy, even, and far growlier than his small chest should allow. “This boy is the god everybody has been raving about?”

“That’s me,” Ani says, delighted. He hasn’t met any rude humans thus far. “Hi, welcome. Do you know my humans?” He probably does. “You probably do, except maybe Kousei.” He twists to the side. “Kousei, have you met the Mountain King?”

“I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Ani grins. Fun, fun, fun. “Well! I’d offer food, but I understand that’s not practical, so how about we find some cosy place to chat?”

***

Because he can, on occasion, indulge in a bit of passive-aggression, he immediately shifts into a tuk’ata—coloured gold and red, for continuity—and ambles into Hideki’s side. He’s been neglecting his first and most excellent human, possibly, what with one thing and another.

“This is a new one,” Hideki says, fingers tracing the tentacle-like spikes curving behind his eyes. “Very fearsome. I like it.”

He purr-chitters at him, closing his eyes to encourage further petting. He might have tweaked the size a little. Tuk’ata are rarely this large, but it shouldn’t be impossible in the right conditions.

“I’ll mention it to Gurum. He likes to document all your strange and fantastical shapes. He sends his notes back home periodically and they print copies to the children. I understand binding the entries has become something of a trend—”

***

Like last time, the newest King has a thing with the Uchiha only in the reverse. Similarly to how the Uchiha’s hatred of the Mountain King is more or less one-directional, the Uchiha don’t pay much mind to the Stone King’s hatred. Oh, they’re aware of it and, vaguely, displeased by it, but they don’t return it in any real sense. This is, of course, winding the Stone King up even further. Quite the little tangle.

“Right,” he says, once he’s human-shaped again. “This is nice. I can practically see peace sprouting before our eyes.”

Hideki huffs a laugh, but it’s Hatake this was aimed towards. For once, Ani was right on target; Hatake’s teeth glint, grin wide and only a little savage at the edges. Perfect.

“I agree,” the Mountain King says pleasantly. “You are wise, Lord, as I have come to expect.”

You horrible nightmare, Ani thinks, fond-fond-fond. “So, if we’re not here for war talks, I would love to offer a topic. I’ve been tweaking the shape of a rabbit with uncommonly long fur—”

“I did not come here to be ridiculed,” snaps the Stone King. “If you’re going to talk nonsense, then I have better use for my time and Chakra.”

Oh? “Of course,” Ani says. “What would you like to talk about?”

The Stone King bares his teeth in a mean grin. “Your poaching methods are a good start. The Uchiha are a pack of rabid weasels, and you’re welcome to them. But the Aburame were ours before they migrated to that caused village.”

Ani’s lips twitch. It would be one thing if the Mountain King was the one disparaging the Uchiha; then the barbs might have landed and he’d have had to intervene. But they are as uninterested in the Stone King as they are in the study of the migration patterns of moles. “I employed a most devious strategy, I agree. I treated them with basic kindness and respect, without extracting a price for it. Novel, I understand, but it should be effective.”

The Stone King rolls his eyes, but Ani thinks some of his aggression has evaporated. Was it a test? If Ani proves to be the wrathful sort, then he knows what he’s dealing with? “Cute. Snark is just what I like to see in a rampaging pseudo-Bijū.”

Ani blinks. “Pardon?” He remembers the term, sort of?

The Mountain King leans back a little, polite expression not wavering. The rest of the room, however, tenses. “Bijū are masses of Chakra, given will,” Hatake says. “Well. Contemporary teachings say they were bestowed will by one higher power or another. An alternative explanation could be that sentience emerged—independently, as it were.”

Oh? “I can see why you would think I was that.“ Only not really, because why would everybody make such a big deal about Ani’s presence, if they had other things like him running around? “I have a feeling there is more to it than that, what will all the sudden tension.”

“You are not a Bijū,” Hideki says, again, too sharply for the occasion. “All the Bijū are accounted for, they cannot shapeshift like you can, and they are Avatars of the Gods, sent to communicate their will.” His magic twists with irritation, when the Stone King rolls his eyes. “More to the point, we tried to bind you with Bijū-binding Fūinjutsu and you didn’t even blink.”

Oh? “I remember, I think? This was back when I first arrived, yes? When I was a snake?” Man, that feels like days of far past, but it can’t have been. Time moves fast when you’re not living as an animal that counts time in years, not days.

“Yes.”

Still, a simple reminder that the Uzumaki have once tried to bind him can’t be what’s so upsetting. Is it just the comparison? Is Hideki insulted that someone is questioning his supposed godly status?

Well. If they’re going to be all mysterious and withholding, then Ani is going to deploy his trump card. “Kousei, they’re being vague and unhelpful again. Save me.”

“The Bijū are bound, my Lord,” Kousei says, voice uncharacteristically chilly. “The human vessels are called Jinchūriki. You’ve fought the two that tried to level Uzushiogakure.”

Oh. Oh. “The spirit slaves,” he says, mood plummeting. He doesn’t like thinking about those. “I’m definitely not that.” He cocks his head, trying to figure this out. No, Ani is not that, and—And he thinks the Stone King is well aware. He wanted to talk about this, specifically. “And, just in case you were wondering, I’m not too happy with that—Arrangement. Slavery, in general, is not something that can coexist with me.”

“Fine with us,” Hideki says. “Seeing as how we’ve never had a Jinchūriki.”

The Stone King’s eyes gleam. “Iwagakure will agree to negotiations on that front,” he says. “Should you survive whatever nightmare Sarutobi is cooking up, that is.”

Ani’s brow furrows. He might be a novice at this, but he can recognise when he’s being led by the nose to a conclusion. The Stone King isn’t being especially subtle about it either. Why, though? Did he simply never have the chance to free them? Does he not have the necessary technology to do so?

“Kousei?”

“Ah, I think I can offer a little clarification,” Hatake says, surprisingly. “Tsuchikage-sama is of the opinion that you plan to kill all the Jinchūriki and consume the Bijū. If memory serves, Iwa lost control of both of her Jinchūriki a little while back. The mindless ostracisation and abuse got to them, I expect.”

Right. The Stone King’s expression doesn’t shift by so much as an atom, but Ani still suspects Hatake got right to the heart of it. “Two resentful monsters would be a burden,” he says slowly. “Is this out of the norm? Is the Stone King unique in his treatment of these—human prisons?”

“Hardly,” Stone King snaps. “The people are afraid, and they have every reason to be. The existence of Shinobi villages was only made possible by the Senju maniac who figured out a way to fight the Bijū and his Uzumaki wife who bound them into people. Before that, the Bijū would lay waste to any considerable amount of Shinobi who stay too long in one place.”

Ani blinks. “Is this true?”

“More or less,” Hideki says. “Uzushio, for example, had her civilians stay put and Shinobi roam, but we were always on the smaller side. The bigger clans had to adopt a nomadic lifestyle.”

Okay? “Why?”

Hideki shrugs. “The Bijū never were very forthcoming with their motives, if you can imagine it. Some would suggest that they, being Avatars of the Gods, had issues with all the mercenary murder, assault and arson, but we never could confirm it one way or the other.”

Bless. “And now, of course, after being imprisoned in humans they so hate, they are even less likely to be—reasonable about it?” Yikes. “I can see how it would be a problem.”

“One would sympathize more with their plight if they showed some discrimination in their methods,” Niko says. “Unfortunately, they would routinely kill every human in sight, regardless of their supposed crimes.”

Yes, well. Sad thing is Ani can intuit their reasoning. Before he spent so much time as a human, learning their ways, he also saw them as—a hive, more or less. In different circumstances, he can imagine that he wouldn’t have given much thought to their individuality and such. And, with what he knows now, he wouldn’t have blamed the humans if they did whatever they could to kill or at least neutralise such a threat.

“Live by the sword and die by it.” He sighs. What a giant mess. “We will figure something out. If they truly can’t be reasoned with, then—” Then what? “I didn’t eat the other two, you know? I unravelled their forms and scattered their energy.” Sort of. He ate some of the octopus. “They will be fine in—a couple of centuries.”

“Could you?” The Stone King leans forward, having cast off the belligerent persona. Now he looks more like a proper ruling monarch. “Nobody likes this—stalemate. We have to sacrifice our best to hold them and watch as the malevolent Chakra ruins them. Iwa would sign a peace treaty with Uzushio here and now, if you promise to deal with the threat once and for all.”

Yikes. “I can’t promise,” he says. “I don’t know if you’re telling the truth. Sorry, I won’t promise to kill anyone on your word alone. With that said, I promise I will figure out a better solution.” He considers this. “If I survive, of course. I won’t have slaves. If I have to dissolve them for a couple of centuries, then that’s what I’ll do.”

The Stone King doesn’t look happy with this compromise, but he doesn’t storm out, so that’s maybe what diplomacy is all about. Meet in the unhappy middle.

“A person sensitive to traditional values might choose this time to bring up the concept of the Philosopher’s Wall,” Hatake says, as casual as you please. “A traditionalist and a progressive are walking through a forest and encounter a wall. Neither of them knows what the wall is for, who built it and how long it has been there. A progressive would tear the wall down, having decided it is unnecessary and ill-fitting for the forest. A traditionalist would wait, because the wall was built for a reason, and tearing it down before the reason is clear is unwise and dangerous.”

Ani breathes through the urge to shift into a snake and sleep for one thousand years. “Will you force me to deploy Kousei again?”

Hatake’s fangs glint. “I meant to illustrate a point that the Bijū are here and, moreover, that a significant segment of the population thinks they are here for a purpose. Destroying them without knowing what the purpose is might be reckless and ill-advised.”

“You could have just said.” Horrible man. “And you know how I feel about purposes and grand narratives. Many things have purpose; that doesn’t make me any more inclined to respect it or them.” Honestly, does Ani look like the type of being to be swayed by such nebulous ideas? “With that said, I never said I will destroy them. I might, if they turn out to just be wisps of malevolent energy that stuck to each other until it reached critical mass and gained sentience. Otherwise—What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Is that an option,” Mami says, voice a bit faint around the edges. “Because that’s more or less what we consider demons to be, and I’d like to know if we’re going to have any of those running around.”

Oh. “I mean, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be?” He feels his eyebrows arching up. “You lot manufacture so much resentment and malice, and you do magic on the regular. If you don’t have any demons running around, it’s because you have an efficient defence against it.” He blinks and hiccups around a laugh. “Which, now that I think about it, might very well be these Bijū we’ve been talking about. Isn’t life just fun, sometimes?”

Chapter Text

As it happens, the Mountain King was right to hurry—a fact that is likely not a coincidence. They’re all about spies and intel in these parts. Just because Ani doesn’t keep track of such things doesn’t mean the rest of them don’t.

“Things are slotting into place, then,” he says. “What’s the situation—” One look at his humans’ tense faces has him switching strategies. “How are we feeling about the situation?” Much better.

“Preliminary reports say that the combined Kiri and Ame forces just about match ours,” Kousei says. “Unless they attack us here, of course. The seal-work protecting our outpost is, false humility aside, workably impenetrable.”

Alright.

“And our feelings?” He hasn’t missed that sneaky side-step, thank you. “I see a lot more worried faces than I would have expected. This is what we’ve been preparing for.”

“We underestimated their strength,” Mami says. To her credit, she did her best to assume her typical breezy cadence. It’s at best halfway believable. “By which I mean that we hadn’t counted on the reactionaries from Iwa and Kumo, who switched sides.”

Oh?

“Hardline lunatics,” Hatake says. “Iwa signed a ceasefire without engaging with us in any real way, for example. Some see this as a betrayal. Uzushio is not known for her frontline fighters, and the Uchiha are just one Clan. By their estimation, the Tsuchikage signed away an easy victory.”

Right. Battle-mad idiots. Every country has some, probably.

“I’m not—thrilled about this,” Hideki says finally. “They have two Jinchūriki and outnumber us significantly. We have some long-distance Fūinjutsu, but Ame and Kiri are canny. And we haven’t even heard a peep from Konoha.”

Ani carefully doesn’t say anything. Even a couple of months ago, he’d have been more comfortable with promising that he would take care of it. Now—They are magic, and they are many. It’s not out of the question that some wise council of wizards somewhere will have figured out a way to disintegrate if not outright destroy him. Should that happen, Hideki and his people must be in a position to eke out a stalemate to cover their retreat.

“You know what my suggestion is,” he says. “I’m not telling you to do it, or even asking you to. You know best, that much is clear. Still. You made peace with the Mountain King and the Stone King and the Sand King.”

Hideki’s lips press together. “I am aware,” he says. “Not least of which because the Raikage and the Kazekage have sent me several polite messages inquiring about the coming Kage Summit.”

Oh, wow. “Is that why he brought the Sand King here? How sweet.”

“You decimated Kumo’s armies,” Mami says. Snaps. “Between the Jinchūriki you ripped apart, the men you burned in Uzushio and the battles you fought on the mainland, Kumo was left with the weakest army out of the Five.”

Uh-huh. “Only I understand that one of the countries we are facing isn’t even among the Five,” he says. “And they certainly seem willing to fight. If the Mountain King wanted to be bloodthirsty, he could have joined them.”

“Quite.”

Ani’s vague smile amps up. Mami tries hard to be as informal and down-to-earth as possible, but her aristocratic background shines when she’s stressed. She loses some of the dockyard drawl and retreats into crisp, precise syllables and a resonant voice straight from the chest.

“Hey, don’t bite the messenger.” If that’s what Ani is. “I’m just saying. Pragmatism can’t be a good trait in one’s friends and a sign of a craven, good-for-nothing coward in our enemies.”

“As much as I enjoy these lessons in empathy and respect for our fellow man, we need to make a decision and make it now,” Hideki says. “As things stand, our Shinobi can realistically carve out a narrow victory, if Lord Ani deals with their Jinchūriki. This will, however, mean leaving our back open for Konoha to stab.”

Right. “Do we lose anything by attempting peace talks,” he says. “Is Konoha likely to try to assassinate every King on the continent? And, more importantly, are they likely to succeed?”

Hideki exhales a long breath. “I can’t imagine they would, much less could. This war has been an equal opportunity brawl, more or less, but even Konoha can’t survive against an alliance of every other Shinobi village out there.”

Sounds reasonable. “Niko? What do you think?”

“We have been quietly evacuating our children and shipping them to Uzushio, but three-fourths of our civilian members still live in Konoha. Naturally, it is in my interest to postpone a direct military encounter between us.”

Huh. Fair. “And do you think they are likely to attack during a Kage Summit?”

She spends a moment or two considering this. “The Hokage is not a psychopath, nor is he plagued by delusions of grandeur,” she says. “He is a politician first and a Shinobi second. So, no. I wouldn’t expect he would ruin Konoha’s reputation so.”

Well. This all sounds promising. “Alright. Now, Hideki, look at me.” It takes some doing, but Hideki manages to tear his eyes away from his maps and lists. “I am on your side. No, listen to me, this is important. I am on your side. Is there a reason why attempting to hold peace talks is not feasible?”

Hideki looks back at him. He’s so young, flits through the back of Ani’s mind. He’s the youngest here, Mami notwithstanding, and yet he somehow has to lead all these people. He started his tenure among blood and fire, and it doesn’t look like it has become much easier since.

“I was taught to evaluate leaders by the incentives in place,” he says, finally. “ I understand the Raikage, the Mizukage and the Tsuchikage. I can even wrap my mind around the maniac from Ame. Sarutobi is, by every metric I have, working against his interests and that frightens me.” 

Ani nods, adding in a go-on gesture. This is good. He can sort of follow this. Better than any of their previous attempts in any case. “Do you think they are—beyond reason? Do you think it’s not worth it to try?” Best qualify this a little. “Let it be clear, though. I am with you one way or the other. My help is not conditional, so don’t let that factor into your evaluation.”

This should have helped, he thinks, spirits plummeting. Instead, it only seems to have added a heap of stress on Hideki’s shoulders. “I never doubted your love, Ani, but you are at the centre of every evaluation I could hope to make,” Hideki says. “Uzushio has a God that loves us. Every man and woman in Uzu should die, if it will mean you go on to love our children and grandchildren. How can I risk you?”

If there is an elegant or clever way to reply to this outrageous statement, Ani doesn’t know it and he likely never will. Humans and their faith—

“Bunny, that’s not how it works,” he says as gently as he is able. “I am here for you, not the other way around. I wasn’t even a person before you took me in.” Damn the humans’ aversion to touch. Ani shoulders his way through and slides into a sideways hug. He can feel the poor boy’s heart racing through his tunic. “Nothing is too precious to lose. If I die, you will be sad for a while, and you will probably build some stupid statues and write silly stories, and you will move on. We’re all just energy in the end, you know?”

“Shut up,” Hideki croaks, shivering like a leaf. “We will not lose you. If we have to sit down with the Hokage that betrayed us for nothing, then we will. And if he attacks regardless, then we will win.”

Ani closes his eyes and lets his spirit calm down for a bit. “You must not despair, bunny. Loss is a part of life.” Pretty words. Why are you getting so choked up, then? Why the discarded part of your self buckling and snarling? “And we’re not dead yet, are we? Niko says the Leaf King is not mindless. If his motives are opaque, then we meet with him, learn what they are and give him what he wants.”

“And we put in as many contingencies as we can,” Mami says, barging into the hug. “If I understood everything correctly, when Ani makes copies, they are complete. If this Ani gets destroyed somehow, then his spirit will simply jump back to the other one.”

Huh. Ani blinks. “You know, I completely forgot about that, but you’re right. This half is entirely independent from the other.”

“So, there,” Mami says. “The writing on the wall is clear, so we might as well stop dithering. We will attempt a peaceful solution and meet with the Kage in good faith. If they fall through, at least the other Kage will see that we made a proper effort. So, when we win, we will grind the remains of Konoha into dust without our reputation suffering.”

Hideki reluctantly—falsely—allows the optimism. If even Ani can see the young man in no way expects things to be resolved without tragedy and ruin, then it must be blindingly obvious to the others.

“I will send the hawks out. We can meet in Grass.”

***

Nobody is much for socialisation, that night. Ani spends the time as the fuzziest, cuddliest sheep, bouncing from one group of humans to the other with the three mice on his back. It’s a doomed effort, but he manages to drag tired smiles from almost every group. When, in the early morning, he feels a spike of Hideki’s and Hatake's magic, he knows something important has happened.

***

“The Leaf King sent his students to negotiate in person, instead of sending the magic bubbles? Did I understand this correctly?” He looks around. Even Mami seems less aggrieved, a sure sign that things are looking up. ”This is good, yes?”

“Sarutobi loves them with all his heart,” Hideki says, rubbing his temples and making an even bigger mess of his hair, somehow. “It is a show of good faith.”

Ani nods a couple of times. “Good. Great. A most auspicious start, wouldn’t you say?”

Hideki exhales around a laugh. “Let’s not count our Ryo before we track our kills. With that said, I am—cautiously optimistic. The Orochi Clan Head is Sarutobi’s pride and joy, and he wouldn’t risk Lady Senju on frivolities.”

“Not much of a risk,” Mami mutters. “Unlike them, we keep our word. The safest place for the three brats is here.”

“Hardly brats,” Hatake says. “Each one is a powerhouse. Together they could take on any Kage and win without any losses they couldn’t heal from.”

Huh. That’s—pride, maybe. Ani finds an odd feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “I am jealous.” He blinks. Is that a thing to be said out loud, even if it’s true? He can’t imagine it would be. “I didn’t mean to say that,” he adds, when every single human turns his way, wearing expressions of varying shock and delight. “With that said, you shouldn’t—” He flounders. What shouldn’t he? “I—I am sure the Leaf King’s heirs are fine warriors, but you already claimed three children and they are entitled to your pride.” Nice spin, good work. Only, his audience fails to appreciate the art of regrouping mid-conversation, because they’re terrible. “I would appreciate it if you stopped looking like I slapped you with a wet fish,” he continues, a little waspishly, “I’m right in this. The mice children are excellent and deserve your full and undivided devotion.”

“I—” Hatake’s expression couldn’t be more befuddled if Ani had proclaimed himself to be the fated envoy of the disfigured deep sea creatures with the lamps and the lures. “I have no claim on the Hokage’s students? And don’t want one?”

Hmph. Ani tilts his jaw up. The human shape is truly ill-suited for haughty superiority. A cat, any cat, even an overbred lap-cat with barely two brain cells to its name would be a better fit. Alas. “This is as it should be.” He flicks his wrist sharply. “Continue.”

Hideki, suddenly looking a hundred per cent more rejuvenated, nods once, twice, three times. “Yes, of course. As I was saying, Team Sarutobi will arrive by noon. If we reach an agreement, they will travel back to Konoha, and we will start organising a Summit, hopefully, for the end of the month.”

Team Sarutobi. What a stupid name.

“Very well,” he says and snags Hatake by the sleeve. “We will be with the mice children. Clearly, some of us need a reminder about the excellent things they have. Much better than any other stupid things that should stay in the past where they belong.”

***

After a couple of hours of jumping between the most majestic shapes he knows and showering the children with adoration, he feels more or less ready to be civil and welcoming to the would-be wolf-thieves coming.

“Looking good, Ani,” Mami says, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s a nice shape you’re wearing. Not at all terrifying.”

Obligingly, Ani bends down so she can pet his beak properly. Gryphons are, in truth, awful beasts, twitchy and always inexplicably hungry, but they are beautiful and Ani has a point to make. So, he sits down next to Hatake, claws clicking neatly and wraps his tail around the man’s legs for good measure. The children are too small to defend their interests, so Ani will do it for them. Simple.

“I really have no interest in them,” Hatake says, for the umpteenth time. “They are fine Shinobi, but I am ANBU and they are frontline assault. We barely spent more than an hour in each other’s presence at a time.”

Yes, yes, that’s all well and good, but pride is a tricky emotion. Hatake could and should be fond of as many humans as he could, but pride is a precious and finite resource that should be only allocated to the most deserving. Hatake can be forgiven for the misstep because he didn’t know any better, but Ani knows better than to let these things go unchecked.

Since he already explained all this and wasn’t met with an appropriate amount of deference and grovelling, Ani settles for clicking his beak and neatening his posture. Twitchy and neurotic, yes. Dignified and arrogant, even more so.

“Here they come.”

Ani drags a critical eye over the incoming teenagers. On first blush, they seem like precisely the type he would adore. Beautiful, bursting with magic and life, each cultivating a unique and interesting aesthetic. The golden-haired woman looks and feels blue. Blue of her eyes and the sky and the stone around her neck. The silver-haired man is—red. Not red of flames, like the Uchiha or of sunsets like the Uzumaki. He is the masculine counterpart to the blonde woman’s feminine. Energy, might, force. And, in between them, the androgynous, purple one. An even mix of his two siblings. Change, whimsy, spontaneity.

Which is to say that, if Hatake hadn’t gone and bungled it with his gullible heart, he would have claimed these three in a heartbeat. As it is—Polite, distant. Vaguely threatening, but only in the abstract. I am a friend now, but I might not be, is the vibe he’s going for. You’re welcome to try your luck.

“Uzukage-sama,” says the purple man. He has lovely golden eyes—No. Think of the children. They will be heartbroken if they steal you, too. “It is an honour and a pleasure, as always.”

“Orochimaru-san,” Hideki says, “be welcome, you and your teammates.” Something passes between them. Ani cocks his head. They know each other. They, very possibly, liked each other before things went up in flames.

Huh. Maybe Ani was worried about the wrong human—Except no. Fondness is allowed and encouraged. Pride is hoarded and relished.

The scripted back and forth goes on for a while. Ideally, Ani would have sorted through his contradictory impulses by the time it was his and Hatake’s turn.

“Hatake-sama.”

Ani’s eyebrows would arch if eagles had eyebrows. That’s a frosty tone. His tail tightens, winding up Hatake’s legs and settling around his torso. How dare you—

“Orochimaru-san, Senju-san, Jiraiya-san. It’s been a while.”

“Indeed it has.”

Right. Ani gathers his magic and his will, focuses and—shifts without moving the bulk of his body. Whew, that wasn't easy. It’s not a huge change, but not an insignificant one either. From a gryphon to a sphinx. The important thing is that the lower part of his body remains the same, which includes the tail marking Hatake as protected territory, immune from poaching. Ani is not going to open this conversation as a puny human, but he does need a mouth. Now, granted, sphinx are, as a rule, female and Ani thus far kept to the male forms but that’s hardly the most important thing right now.

“We’ve met but no introductions were made, I think,” he says. “I am Ani, of Uzushiogakure.”

He still has it. The siblings freeze, eyes widening. Frightening three teenagers is not something Ani ordinarily takes pleasure in, but these three teenagers are different. Everything else notwithstanding, they made Hatake sad, even though he’s, officially, here on orders from their father.

“Indeed, we haven’t,” the purple man says. “We are Team Sarutobi. I am Orochimaru, Head of Clan Orochi. My teammate, Lady Senju Tsunade is the leader of our team. Finally, Jiraiya, chosen of Mount Myōboku.”

“Be welcome,” he says. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t need to add any more growl to his already raspy voice, but it’s easy to do so, and it adds a nice bit of depth. “My humans speak fondly of you, your worth as warriors and heirs of your King.” Wouldn’t it be sad if all that goodwill was misplaced? Ani, for one, would be heartbroken.

Hatake doesn’t quite sigh, but his hand does reach out to give his shoulder a gentle pat. So he may have let out a bit of his magic. That’s fine, surely? Humans do it all the time.

Still. It wouldn’t do to suggest that he’s an unruly beast. He sends the three teenagers another meaningful look, shifts into a long-haired rabbit and leaps up-up-up, into Hatake’s hands. He made his point, he backed off straight after, and now he will claim the cuddles that are his due.

Chapter Text

You boxed yourself into this position, he thinks, a couple of hours later. Why you ever thought you could successfully play mind games with a species as deranged as the humans is up in the air.

The blonde woman sneaks another wide-eyed look Hatake’s way, then quickly backs back to her brothers’ sides. Ani turns the irritated twitch into a head-butt. Obligingly, Hatake smooths down his ears and gives his neck a good scratch. Two of the three Leaf heirs stare harder.

Ani can admit that he might be somewhat culpable in this particular self-perpetuating disaster. His other humans certainly think so. Kousei’s lips hadn’t stopped twitching since the first fawning compliment the white-haired teenager aimed Hatake’s way, and Ani can’t blame him. Ani could have left well enough alone. The teenagers were upset about their best general fraternising with the enemy or whatever. If he had left it alone, that would have been that.

“—Sensei is neither blind nor uncaring of the strain in our relationship, as of late,” the black-haired boy is saying. “He welcomes the chance for clear and reciprocal diplomacy—”

The white-haired boy sneaks another look. This one is less wide-eyed and more contemplative. Assessing. Ani twitches again and shifts into a mink. Minimal scurrying later, and he’s slung around Hatake’s neck, butt tucked into his collar, front paws comfortably propped up by his collarbone. Without a blink, Hatake reaches up and passes a careful finger down his neck, curves it to the side, under his jaw, up the bridge of his nose and finishes up with a quick scratch behind his ears. Bless. Ani is chittering happily before he even gets to the ears and is boneless by the end of it.

—Until he opens his eyes and sees the two teenagers quickly avert their eyes. The girl is blushing a little. Warmth sours in his stomach. You had to go and make yourself into a fearsome, unknowable god, then underline how nice you are to Hatake. Of course Hatake’s social market value will jump up. Shinobi don’t hide their admiration of power, and they don’t discriminate about its origins. Having power is good, but so is controlling power, a category to which Hatake now belongs.

He props himself up higher and narrows his eyes at the white-haired boy who jerks forward again. Hmph.

“—Recent communications with Kazekage-sama and Tsuchikage-sama—”

Mami doesn’t even pretend to be listening to the snake prince who is so dutifully trying to fulfil his purpose—and who is, therefore, Ani’s undisputed favourite. She is grinning at him from ear to ear, and the Uchiha couple are not far behind. They’ve come far, have Niko and Katsuki, especially once Mami’s intentions permeated their bubble of denial and they accepted that other villages would jump through hoops to court them to their side. Mami might have taken this a bit more literally than most, but Ani doesn’t doubt for a second they would have been welcomed with open arms into Mountain Kingdom or Sand Kingdom, say.

“—Mizukage-sama expressed some reservations but Sensei was able to offer appropriate reassurances that his safety will be guaranteed—”

He’s distracted enough that he forgets which shape he’s wearing, tries to flip over to his back—and receive belly rubs—and, instead, overbalances and pitches forward with a surprised squeak. Hatake’s Shinobi reflexes come useful, yet again. His hand shoots out, plucks him from the air and tucks him back up around his neck. It would be embarrassing enough as is, Mami didn’t have to audibly choke down a laugh. Honestly. You make one understandable miscalculation—

Hatake’s commiserating hand starts up a slow, rhythmic stroking motion, from the tip of his nose, down his shoulders, ribs and back, all the way to the tip of his tail that curls up with delight. He lets his eyes close and mind scatter. Cuddles are cuddles, irrespective of the time and place. If Hatake is willing to be a kind and generous soul and distract Ani from his woes, then he is not fool enough to reject it.

***

He jerks back into wakefulness indeterminate time later, roused by Hatake’s discrete hum.

“The meeting is over,” Hatake says in a soft tone, just shy of a whisper. “An agreement about the peace summit was reached and the messages sent. Team Sarutobi agreed to stay for a brief visit to rest before they must leave.”

He blinks up, muzzy and confused by the onslaught of words. He dreamt—of flying? Only there were fish in the air? And nets and—Ships? His jaws creak with the force of his yawn, and he manages to prop himself up and poke Hatake’s cheek with his nose, snuffling a little. The quiet timbre of the chuckle almost tempts him back to sleep, as does the soft, warm skin.

Alas, needs must. The three heirs must be kept from roaming the village unattended. The princess and the white-haired prince are especially suspicious.

One more yawn, though, and one more nuzzle. Ani had earned both.

***

It doesn’t take too long to find the heirs. They’re well known, apparently, and well-liked, both among the Uzumaki and the Uchiha. Well, as well-liked as possible under the circumstances. The Shinobi practicality struck gold yet again. Yes, we might fight in the future, but we haven’t thus far, so we might as well not think about it just yet.

“Hatake-sama, Ani-sama,” the snake prince says. “Are you joining us for the tour?”

The flat tone, almost entirely free from fawning, endears him to Ani even more. Unlike his siblings, this prince is either disinterested or good at faking it. Finally someone with sense. He chitters to be put down, bats Hatake’s hand with a paw in thanks, and goes through his options.

Good behaviour should be rewarded. On the other hand, they are not to trusted to interact with the softer, vulnerable shapes. So, a compromise.

Sluissi were, as a general rule an easygoing bunch. That should help, somewhat. That said, he is still sending a message, so he tweaks a bit here and there, makes the shape taller, and tints his scales a fetching, burnt gold with a red stripe running from the top of his head, down his spine to the tip of his tail. A cobra hood spans to the sides instead of the more typical back, and a pair of black eyes, instead of the typical yellow. It wouldn’t do to suggest he was intimating some sort of connection between them, after all. Best of all, the shape is visibly male, which is comforting in a strange way. A solid set of shoulders and hips as narrow as the shape will allow, which is not much, admittedly.

“We are,” he hisses. Huh, this is nice. He really should have picked some more humanoid shapes before. It’s very convenient. “The village is very pretty.”

The snake prince gapes at him. It’s—a little flattering, actually, especially because his eyes linger on all the right bits. The elegant curve of his hood and the clever design of his jaw. The muscled, well-balanced tail. Unlike the more fantastical shapes that can only exist because of magic, Sluissi are a real species and it shows.

“This is new,” Hatake says, voice strange. “Is it some sort of serpent spirit?”

“Sluissi,” he says, body language melting into a relaxed slouch that his body is more comfortable with. “Naturally evolved species. Engineers, inventors, tinkerers. Things like that.” The s sound works with this shape. The temptation to slip into alteration is high.

“Ah—” Hatake blinks up at him. Ani is taller now, which is not unusual, but rare when he’s even a little humanoid. “You—And the forked tongue—”

“Yes.” He is tempted to make a silly gesture, stick his tongue out and cross his eyes like he’s seen the young ones do, but he’s still playing at some sort of dignity. “I thought it would be appropriate, what with the snake prince.”

“Orochimaru-kun, yes,” Hatake says. His eyes are still a bit cloudy. Is it that displeasing? “He—” Hatake isn’t the only one staring. Several other humans are, as well, and Hideki is power-walking over, hand-in-hand with Kousei, grinning as wide as he is able. “It—”

Now he feels bad. “Do you want me to shift—” Maybe he’s upset that Ani hadn’t picked a wolf species? A Shistavanen, maybe—

“No,” Hatake says. Snaps, almost. “It’s beautiful. I was just surprised. Yes. It looks like your human shape, only bigger and more—golden.”

Ani blinks and nods. Alright. It is a flashy choice, and humans in this place may not have encountered many humanoids.

“It really is,” the snake prince says. The words sound like they were dragged out of him on a hook. “I—Is it possible? The winged lion woman was clearly a fantasy, but—In theory, I can see how—And the muscles in your neck and shoulders—”

Ani relaxes a little. This is more of what he expected. He twists to the side, angles his jaw up and rotates his shoulder. Hatake makes a curious noise, but he’s still digesting the weird new shape so that’s fine. “Yes. Clever, isn’t it? It’s not magical at all.” Well. “Admittedly, they’re mostly green and brown, and my hood is prettier than most, but the skeleton and musculature are as they should be.” Hideki and Kousei have reached them and watch with rapt attention, as do dozens of others, from a more discrete distance. “Oh, this is clever. They have the quadrate bone in their jaws like most serpents do, but theirs is longer, and the jawbones are shorter—Look, I’ll demonstrate.”

It is a clever adaptation. Clever enough that it evolved hundreds of times in hundreds of species. So why does he feel like all the humans staring at him are doing so—weirdly?

“Amazing,” the snake prince says. “I—I need to make notes. A quadrate bone, you said? In your jaws, so you can detach them? I always sprain mine, and then heal it, after—”

Ani blinks. “Wow, no, why would you do that? It’s not even that hard to make—Look—” He bends down, hand falling to Hatake’s shoulder for balance. “Like this, see, and then—”

***

So, instead of walking through the village, Ani ends up lecturing the snake prince on serpentine humanoid physiology, and the other two watch quietly. Hideki offered to take them, but their orders didn’t allow for separation. Which is clever, admittedly.

In the end, when the blonde princess starts making increasingly pointed noises about it being time to leave, Ani is left with an odd feeling that he might have—fraternised. A little. He ponders this. The snake prince was the best one of the lot, so there is that. And he wasn’t creepy or pushy. In fact, to a Sluissi, he would come across as a distant cousin. All of it was there, the eyes and the fangs and the granular attention to detail.

On the other hand, they were also poachers. Or potential poachers.

He decides to let the matter lie, for now, and consult Kousei when they have a free moment. To that end, he gives one last physiology demonstration—on the clever distribution of abdominal muscles that could support the understandably heavier chest, shoulders and such—and shifts. The unbalanced feeling persists. Unbalanced, for him, all too quickly turns into uncertain, which turns into solicitous. All of which is to say that he shifts into a miniature golden rabbit, too small even to leap into Hatake’s arms. He gives it a go, nevertheless, and Hatake—the most merciful of men—obligingly plucks him from the air.

“Wonders never cease, with you,” he says, voice hushed and dazed. Ani’s ears twitch. That sounds like a good thing, but—He squeaks. It comes out precisely as plaintive as he feels, which is to say utterly soaked in pathos. He’s tiny—barely bigger than Hatake’s palm—which makes the incoming hand is comfortingly huge. He closes his eyes and basks. “So sweet,” he thinks he hears. “I could put you in my pocket.”

Hmph. Ani spent considerable time in Hatake’s pockets. Good times. He didn’t worry about politics or the nature of forgiveness and the art of letting go. Ah, the good old days.

He squeaks again, in case his input is needed. It probably wasn’t, but it earned him a sincere chuckle that sounds like honey to his bunny ears, so he probably won.

***

He doesn’t shift away from soft, palm-sized, mute shapes for what remains of the Leaf heirs’ visit. Nothing suggests he crossed any sort of line, but—But he’s not sure. He never picked a shape to please an outsider before—and, in truth, he hadn’t done so now, either, but he can see how, to the uninitiated, it may have come across that way. His humans don’t appear upset about it, but Ani’s stomach knows what it knows. If he feels uncertain and solicitous, it’s because he feels he did something wrong.

“Do you—”

His ears perk up, and he pokes his head out of the pouch slung around Hatake’s chest he’s been lazing in. A squeak, just in case it wasn’t clear he was listening.

“I don’t—I don’t want to ask you to shift,” Hatake says slowly. “It feels like something one should not ask of a god. But—”

He flicks his ears a couple of times and waves a paw in a go-ahead motion. It’s hard to tell if the gesture comes across as intended, but Hatake is a clever human. He is more than able to read his meaning from the context.

“Are there more? Not the fantastical shapes—Even though each one is more breathtaking than the last, of course. But the—The real ones? The hybrids?”

Success! Ani’s chest expands with warmth. He jumps out, plummets, and then Hatake catches him and puts him gently on the ground.

Where to start, though? What—Alright, why not start with a tame one? The male S’kytri is more or less human with wings and an unusual skin colour. The clothes are a problem, but, well. He can’t say he cares all that much.

“There are an infinite number,” he says, spreading his wings in a bit of a preen. They’re nice wings, and functional too. He can’t fly-fly, but he can glide easy enough, and the rest can be augmented with tech. “Almost any configuration you can think of.”

Without an audience, it’s easier to handle Hatake’s wide eyes and breathlessness. Or, maybe the man had some warning and knew what was coming.

“Incredible,” he breathes out. “All your shapes are, of course, but the fantastical ones feel—Well, you’re all magic, so real is not the right term. But this feels more like the rabbits and the terrifying monsters.”

Ani nods. “I like them more, as well.” He fluffs his wings out again, then shifts into a Togruta, then a few more. Schenor, Devaronian, Bith, Epicanthix, H'drachi—and finally settles into a Twi’lek, wraps himself in a politely held out cloak and sits down next to him. “Most anything you can imagine exists somewhere—with some allowances made for practicality.”

Hatake’s hand reaches out. It feels like an automatic, unconscious gesture like he would pet a bunny or tickle the jaw of a cat. Ani tracks the movement curiously. Like he was stung, Hatake retracts the hand, expression tightening. “Forgive me, I—Lost all my senses, apparently.”

Ani lets his eyebrows quirk. “Do you think I mind? I don’t touch you as a human to spare your delicate sensibilities. I slept in your hands, Hatake—”

“Sakumo.”

Ani blinks. “Pardon.”

Hatake’s expression shifts, both hardening and softening. “I would be—I would like it if you called me by my name.”

What in the world—“Is Hatake not your name,” he says, outraged. “Honestly, you humans—” Has he been calling him by his title or something ridiculous like that—

“It’s my family name. My clan name. Like the Uzumaki and the Uchiha. Sakumo is my—personal name. Like Ani and Hideki and Mami.”

Hmph. “Sakumo,” he says firmly. “You should have said, before. That’s so rude. You let me be rude and you knew I didn’t know any better.”

Hatake laughs, which goes a long way to cutting the wind from Ani’s sails. It’s a beautiful laugh, if for no other reason than because of how easy it sounds. He’s not trying to muffle it, hide it or bite it down. Getting a man as high-strung as Hatake—as Sakumo—to relax to the point of laughter feels like a personal accomplishment.

“In my defence, you are a god. Predicting what you do and don’t know is beyond us.”

Hmph. He shakes his head sharply and smacks him with his lekku. “Ridiculous. Of course I didn’t know.”

The atmosphere settles into something—slower. More peaceful. They’re left alone, for one, a small island of peace in a hubbub of activity. Hideki and the rest are plotting, the Leaf heirs had left hours ago—Now they will prepare and, if all goes well, go broker peace in a handful of days.

“I don’t like that term,” he finds himself saying. “God, I mean. I don’t like the layered meanings it holds or the distance it enforces.”

Sakumo makes a soft noise. “No, I imagine you wouldn’t. You go through a lot of effort to communicate your dislike of hierarchies as a concept, never mind any way they could apply to you.”

Ani feels his lips quirk, and he lets his head fall back, lekku swinging to and fro, almost touching the ground behind him. “Did I upset you? Earlier? With the Sluissi shape?”

He looks close. Try as he might, he can’t see any sign of falsehood. Sakumo looks sincerely surprised. “Of course not. Did I—” Now, his expression closes a little; grows guarded and vaguely ashamed. “I apologise if I made you uncomfortable.”

Huh. So there is something. “It’s fine if you didn’t appreciate it,” he tries. “I can be a bit much. I can warn you if you want. In the future.”

Sakumo’s lips are tightening, then relaxing, then tightening again. He seems to be actively trying not to obfuscate. “You took my breath away,” he says quietly. Like it’s a secret he’s both ashamed and afraid of. “You always do, but—It’s not an issue. I am a grown man, I can keep myself together.”

Now Ani’s lips purse. “I don’t understand what you mean,” he says. They have a solid enough relationship; he can afford a bit of bluntness, surely. “If you think a shape is beautiful, then that’s good. I’m pleased.” That sounds odd on his tongue. “I’m happy.” There, better. “I think it’s maybe a human hangup,” he continues. “I change shapes; each one is as meaningful as any other. If you don’t like them, I’ll change into something else.”

Hatake swallows. The energy doesn’t tense as such, but it’s not quite as mellow as before. “I don’t want to presume you would shape yourself to please me.”

“Of course I would,” he says, tilting his head. “You know this. You pointed it out to the children. I could be anything. I could be bacteria or moss or a whale. I choose my shapes to please you. To make you happy.”

The moment passes; lightens. Hatake’s smile softens again. Ani is struck, for a long and confusing moment, with the feeling that he just suffered a defeat and a victory, all at once. “I know, Lo—I know, Ani. No matter what happens, no matter if we all die tonight or next week or in fifty years, you always will have made the humans you chose happier than they ever thought possible.”

“Yeah?” He sighs, letting his head loll back again, staring unseeingly at the sky. “Do you know what the stars are,” he says, randomly. “They’re suns, or, rather, this sun is a star, too. And, just like this star--our star--has planets, so do theirs. Billions of them. Billions of billions.”

“Oh?”

Ani’s chest spasms. He doesn’t know what to do with that—It’s not devotion, not anymore. Unlike Hideki and the Uchiha—even Kousei and Mami—Hatake is breaking out of the blind worship stage. Whatever he’s settling into feels so much more valuable. Earned regard, maybe. Appreciation of who he is, instead of what he is.

“Mm. The light you see—it had travelled for decades, centuries to reach you. It’s the closest you can get to looking back in time, and you do it every time you look up—”

***

Chapter Text

The list of possible venues for the upcoming peace talks grows and shrinks and grows and shrinks. The Leaf King vetoes some, then the Mountain King, then the Rain King. On and on, it goes, and, in the meantime, the humans in the village set about settling their affairs, it seems like.

A week in, they get some more good news.

“Konoha released us,” Katsuki says, staring at the message with spinning, red eyes. “We—Our people left already. They will be in Uzushio by the end of the week, all of them.”

Oh, wow. Ani might not be anybody’s idea of an expert in humans, but he knows that nothing is ever simple, with them. It may sound like good news to him, but—“I’m sorry it had to come to this.” Wow. That was good. Your time spent with Sakumo is really paying off. “But I’m glad they will be safe.”

Katsuki isn’t looking up from the letter. Red eyes of doom or not, Ani knows an unseeing stare when he sees one. “The ANBU is assisting them,” he says. “Some have been allowed to—meet up with the unit here.”

Right, right. Now that is suspicious. Sending students, releasing people from coercive oaths, assisting the people you wronged—That’s all a bit too nice, isn’t it? Hideki wouldn’t have gone that far, and he’s the sweetest King around.

“That’s good,” he says slowly. “That they’re assisting them. I mean—” Well. “You know—” How to put this? “You could go and assist them yourselves. You don’t have to—” Katsuki looks up, suddenly. Ani isn’t prepared for it, like he isn’t prepared for a dozen Uchiha suddenly poking their heads from various corners, staring at him like a pack of meerkats, only ferocious and bloodthirsty. “Look, you’re free now. Before, when you were still a part of Konoha, you were assigned here, yes? Well, now it’s maybe time to think about your priorities—”

“We are perfectly aware of our priorities,” Katsuki says, voice even, mild and contained. “Meaning that our Clan has, through your grace, been offered sanctuary on the most secure island in the continent. We will not repay this wealth of generosity with abandonment.”

Is it abandonment to make sure none of your babies are kidnapped during the Exodus? More importantly, is it abandonment if you have a clear and unmistakable blessing to skedaddle?

“It’s up to you,” he says, in the end. “If you for a second think that your interests aren’t adequately represented, or that they would be better served elsewhere, I expect you to act on it.  hobbling yourself with your overwrought sense of obligation.” None of them seem particularly receptive to his arguments, but at least they’re listening. If things become dire, they will at least have clear, verbal encouragement to look after themselves. “The time for overwrought sense of obligation to charismatic leaders has passed. Now, we examine every claim of a glorious purpose with suspicion.”

“So spoketh Lord Ani—”

Ani sends Mami a scowl. “Don’t you start, you horrible child—”

***

Sakumo comes to collect him a couple of hours later when he’s rolled up in a petulant ball of pangolin. “I don’t know what you expected,” he says. “It’s like you said, your poaching strategy is novel and fearsome. You love people and they love you back more. That’s not the sort of thing you can reason out of them.”

Yes, well. He shifts into a Togruta and ignores the odd twang of discomfort. “I don’t want to reason anything out of anyone. I’m just—This is not their fight.”

“It is not your fight.” Sakumo bops him on the nose. It’s hard to say which of them is more shocked by the gesture.

“You bopped my nose a thousand times.” Why not try to brazen out of it? “A rabbit’s nose is more sensitive, if anything.”

Sakumo exhales a long, bracing breath. Whatever is cooking in his mind, it’s not ready. “If I tried telling Uchiha Niko she should leave you, she’d unravel my body one muscle fibre at a time, you realize? Quit while you’re ahead. Everybody here is committed to the fight.”

Fight, he says. “We’re going to peace talks, not a free-for-all.”

“Oh, yes, it’s all coming together very nicely,” Sakumo says. “The Uchiha got their freedom, the ANBU units more loyal to me than most are coming here—A less trusting man would be suspicious of just how much of a happy end we’re all moving towards.”

Yeah, yeah. “The Leaf King finished setting up his pieces, yes.” And they’re walking into his play because—Because what else are they going to do? The Mountain King agreed to come to the table now, but he might not if Ani goes and eats a country. He definitely will not if their enemies find a way to kill him. “But, I mean, it says good thing that he let the Uchiha go, no matter what he’s planning.”

“A more suspicious man—” Ani sends him a flat look and earns a smile. “He’s cleaning house,” he says. “Or, at least that’s what I suspect. Whatever he plans to do, it’s going to tie up a lot of his forces for a bit, and he doesn’t want to risk a coup back at home. Uchiha civilians are still Uchiha. They are far from harmless.”

Ani swallows, drooping. One moment of deliberation later and he decides he might as well bin the stupid touch-taboo, or at least put it on pause. He shuffles to the side and slips into Sakumo’s side, head resting on his chest. To his credit, Sakumo doesn’t faff about and gathers him close, arms two bands of certainty on his back.

“I don’t understand why any of this is necessary. We don’t have any disputes. There is no contested swathe of land, no finite resource we’re hoarding.”

“There are always disputes, even if we don’t know what they are.” Sakumo sighs, shifts, then shifts again so Ani’s lekku don’t get squashed. “Sometimes, the dispute is that you are alive, when they would rather you be dead. Small differences in opinion like that.”

“Funny.” He burrows closer, closing his eyes. “I don’t—” He doesn’t what? “I don’t like this,” he says. “I dread, and I never have, not in this life, at least. You’ve made me feel and think and—And I don’t know what will happen.”

Sakumo makes a small, complicated sound. “You will do the best you can. Isn’t that what you keep telling me?”

Yes, well. “Only I have several options more than you do,” he says. “And—I’m afraid of the Ani that emerges from this path. I’m afraid of having to—Of deciding that doing my best means killing thousands of humans.”

“I’m not,” Sakumo says. “Afraid, that is. There are many things I fear, each more terrible than the last. You will never be one of them.” He tilts his head some, so his cheek is brushing the top of Ani’s head. “If the unimaginable comes to pass and you do lose your way, it’s only going to be a testament to the impossible demands we’ve made of you.”

Bless. “Because that makes it okay. As long as it’s not my fault.”

“It’s more than the rest of us have.”

And isn’t that just wonderful?

***

“What’s the plan, then?” He looks around. “By which I mean where are we going, when and who is staying?”

“Starting with the easy questions, then?” Hideki drags a weary hand through his hair. “Iron would have been good, but Hanzō refused it. Apparently, it would be too much of an advantage to Hatake. So, Grass. The samurai are clearing a space.”

Uh-huh. Hideki has a gift for giving answers that only open more questions. “What are these samurai?”

“Something between Shinobi and civilians,” Sakumo says. “Warriors who don’t use Chakra as we do. Also, the closest we have to a neutral party.”

Ani cocks his head. Does he have to ask? Really?

“My clan is from Iron,” Sakumo says. He doesn’t look happy about it. “I still have family there. They are—We are not close.”

Yikes. “Family is what you choose,” he says and—sort of means it. Blood is not nothing, but—His chest spasms. Move on. Things are happily hyperemotional without your input. “By which I mean me.” Huh? “Us. The mice children and your masked ghosts and the Uchiha. And also me.”

Light gleams on Sakumo’s fangs, grin wide and sincere. By some miracle, he seems to have made peace with himself and the uncertain future. Possibly, he had done this by giving all of his fear to Ani, but that’s probably for the best. “I am a man blessed; I have never claimed otherwise. They can haunt their dead cliffs and write poetry about honour until the sky falls and swallows us all.”

Ani nods. In the sea of unknowns, the fact that Sakumo belongs to him is a much-appreciated rock of security. “Very good. So, we have the where and the when. What about the who?”

Hideki sighs. “Everybody you see, more or less. Kousei will stand in Mami’s place as my second. You and Hatake, obviously. Katsuki for the Uchiha. We cannot bring more. Frankly, I’m shocked nobody objected we’re bringing you in the first place.”

Shocking, Ani thinks. Who would have thought it? “They agreed to bring me because they plan to kill me,” he says, fed up. “The Leaf King cannot attack at the summit, but he can gather information.” He blinks and exhales another bubble of irritation. Truly, he’s grouchy today. “And I just realised you have infected me with the Leaf supremacy thing. Leaf King is not the only threat. In fact, the Leaf King is the only one out of the three opponents who made peace overtures.”

“He has done no such thing,” Hideki says. “And I am not fool enough to hope Konoha can be trusted to keep the peace. We are doing this for the benefit of Suna, Iwa and Kumo.”

“And to buy time,” Mami adds. “If the Uchiha civilians pass Uzushio’s wardline by the time we finish with the Summit, we won’t have to fight at all. We’ll all run like hell back home and laugh at them behind blood wards that we spent three years powering.”

Ani feels his irritation lift. Hope is a dangerous thing, but— “Now that’s what I call a plan,” he says. “Wow. Wow-wow-wow.” He tilts his head back, grin spreading until his human face isn’t good enough to express it. He lets his subconscious guide the shift, and—Oh. Very appropriate. He feels his fur shift colours, glowing with joy. Blue-green-pink—And he settles into gold. “No fighting,” he says, and basks in the surprised twitches. They thought he was just an unusually shaped rabbit. And, well, to be fair, that’s precisely what he was, from a human perspective. He twists Sakumo’s way. “Kushiban,” he says. “Fully sentient species. A bit dull, but admirable. Excellent silk.”

His nose twitches with humour. Sakumo’s eyes are wide and shiny, hands twitching by his sides. Ani stands and walks his way, ignoring Mami’s strangled coo. “Go on,” he says, moving his lop ears a little. “You know you want to.”

“Oh to hell with it,” Sakumo mutters and sweeps him from the ground and up to his chest, fingers burying into the longer fur on his nape and back. “It’s even softer than the mundane rabbits,” he breathes. “How is that even possible?”

Ani may have miscalculated. Kushiban fur is very important. Very sensitive too. This is all rather scandalous. “We—” Who’s this we? “Kushiban fur changes with their mood. “Red for anger, black for fear, and so on. The babies are born white.” He closes his eyes and doesn’t make any noise when Sakumo’s fingers find a sensitive spot right behind his ears. Yikes. “Alright,” he says as calmly as he can, considering he’s basically sitting in Sakumo’s lap, having his ears pet. It’s hardly the first time this happened, but—Well. He’s not a small Kushiban, either. About one point three meters, when standing up. That’s a lot of rabbit to be babying. “So—”

“No,” Mami says. “Meeting postponed. I have known you longest, and I demand my turn.”

Huh. Come to think of it, Mami does know him longest. She’s one of the first babies who started poking around that one snake monster the adults were all afraid of. “Fair enough.” Sakumo’s hands twitch. “Don’t be rude,” he says, blinks at this outpouring of insanity, and swiftly moves along. “Mami has a cuddle claim.”

“Very well,” Sakumo says after a beat. “A claim is a claim.”

Absently, Ani nuzzles the hand scratching his belly, hops up to the table and opens his paws. Barely a minute later, Mami swoops, crushing him to her chest and cooing about his ears. Ani, very carefully doesn’t think why he doesn’t feel awkward about Mami’s outpouring of affection. It doesn’t matter, probably.

“Hideki,” he sighs, again spreading his paws in a universal hugging gesture. As expected, he’s transferred over. He gives Niko and Katsuki an evaluating look, but they are a bit too stiff for such things. “Kousei—”

He lets his mind wander and relax. There is a chance, however small, that they will get out of this without any significant bloodshed. The summit is neutral ground, they established that much, and with Sakumo-loyal guards, the Uchiha might very well make it to the island before the peace talks are over. And if they don’t, maybe if they drag it out, if Ani makes a production of it, or starts opening discussions about trade and exchange of information--

***

Chapter Text

The humans do quick work, Ani thinks, swooping down, then up again. On his back, Sakumo laughs and leans to the left. Obligingly, Ani banks left, circling the makeshift compound. It’s tents, for the most part, one circular structure, at least forty meters across, and dozens of smaller round tents fanning out in concentric circles. Uzumaki don’t go in for standardised designs of anything. They augment their bodies, never mind their buildings. So this solemn, steel-grey construction with perfectly round paths filled in with white pebbles is a pleasant contrast.

He huffs an inquisitive, harmless gust of flame, and Sakumo laughs again, leaning back in the saddle. Getting the darling man to agree to a saddle at all was a battle and a half, but fighting it was worth it. Sakumo can stick to his back, yes, but magic is weird and fallible, and Ani is not comfortable trusting his life on the certainty that their workings won’t disrupt one another. So—A saddle, right between his wings, designed to fit Sakumo perfectly, complete with straps, hand-holds and such.

“I think we made enough of a point,” Sakumo shouts over the wind. “We can go back and meet with the others.”

Well, if he’s certain. “Stick close,” he growl-roars, cheating a bit with the lungs and such. “Let’s try something.”

First things first, he needs to pick up some speed for this to work. When he’s flying as close to a breakneck speed while keeping the altitude steady, he extends one wing downwards while pulling the other up. The turn is sharp and would probably rip the wings straight out of the shoulder of a normal dragon—if there is such a thing as a normal dragon. Ani has a couple of advantages. The turn generates a visible vortex from the tip of his lowered wing, leaving a spiral trail in the sky. He keeps it up for a couple of long beats, then tucks his wings in. It propels him back into a loop, then two, and finally, he extends his wings again, settling into a relaxed glide.

Sakumo is laughing, he notes with not a little smugness. True, he is most likely drunk on adrenaline, but if you don’t appreciate such things, you don’t climb onto the back of dragons. A small roar, just in case the humans milling around on the ground hadn’t seen them—not likely—and up again. There. Now, they made a point.

***

The Mountain King and the Sand King are the first to meet their party, standing behind a handsome young man, with an improbably straight posture. Ani’s initial plan was to be some great big monster or another, preferably with the entire party on his back. In deference to Sakumo’s delicate sensibilities—the saddle was a bigger deal than was necessary—he is instead hitching a ride on his shoulder. Why Sakumo thought that would be more dignified, Ani will never know, because he’s currently slung over his shoulder like a dazed puddle of rabbit. Ear pats are ear pats, and the sun is shining and Sakumo’s magic is crackling around him, delighted and full of life. It’s a lot for anyone to take, let alone a rabbit with extremely sensitive fur.

“Party of Uzushiogakure, be welcome,” says the young man in a clear, composed voice. If he’s at all concerned about the sack of rabbit on Sakumo’s shoulder, he’s not showing it. “To my old acquaintances, I am humbled to see you again. To new arrivals, greetings. I am Mifune, leader of the Land of Iron and I welcome you to the Second Peace Summit.”

Ani’s ears twitch. He should probably move. Alas.

Hideki buys him a few moments to gather his strength, as he goes through the standard meet’n’greet. Perfect. That’s perfect—He sighs, closes his eyes, hops down and shifts—Right. Clothes. He’ll give himself this one; he’s grasping at coherence with everything he’s got.

“My honour,” he says, blinking, with Hatake’s cloak around his body. “I am Ani, the shapeshifting nuisance haunting these fine men and women. I think we will be great friends.”

***

“It is a pleasure to meet with you, Lord,” the Mountain King booms as soon as the Samurai King finishes up with the formalities. “And may I say I am gratified to be among the few who saw a golden dragon in the flesh?”

Ani manages a sincere beam. He’s just—charming, is the Mountain King. Most of it is a performance, he’s aware, but it’s a well-crafted one, which means it’s got at least a small backing of truth. Moreover, it’s utterly unique. “I am very happy you enjoyed it,” he says. “There is something about dragons that is very difficult to repeat.” He tucks himself more into Hatake’s side and turns to the Sand King. The dead daughter thing is still there. “Greetings, your Majesty,” he says, inclining his head. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“I wouldn’t claim the title, but the sentiment is returned,” the Sand King says. “Hatake-sama. You look well.”

“I’ve Ani to thank,” Sakumo says, all easy and relaxed. “He’s gone through a lot of effort to hammer me into shape, as it were.”

Alright. So. Ani knows enough about subtext to recognise its presence and not enough to tease out it’s meaning. Is it a reference to his shapeshifting? But Sakumo never displayed any talent or, indeed, urge to learn shapeshifting. Nevertheless, if it walks like a power play and quacks like a power play—As any good friend, Ani backs him up. “A hammer was hardly necessary,” he says. “At most, you needed a gentle touch.”

Sakumo’s lips twitch, but the other two monarchs’s expressions stall. A tell Ani has started to look for, in these exceptionally trained warriors, is to track their surprise by checking if their expressions slow down or are delayed. It means most of their processing power if tied up in other things, like shock or calculation.

“Fascinating,” the Sand King says. “Congratulations are in order then, Hatake-sama. And Lord Ani as well, I would venture to guess?”

Probably? He nods, just in case. Congratulations are always appreciated.

The Mountain King’s smile unfreezes, then widens, eyes glinting. “What an auspicious start to the Summit. Incredible. How does it—” The Sand King pointedly bucks his magic. “Which is to say, who do you think will arrive next? I wager Hanzō—”

Ani looks between Sakumo, the Mountain King and the Sand King and decides that a battle has been fought, with Sakumo as the undisputed winner. He makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat, shifts into a squirrel and scurries up, settling into the upper part of his shoulder, tail wrapped around his neck. This is all progressing rather well.

***

Katsuki comes to alert them of the newcomers.

“The Mizukage and his people had arrived.”

Ani yawns, poking out from behind Sakumo’s collar. Without the neat Uzumaki spellwork, they’re left with fire as their main source of heat. Considering they’re in cloth tents and they’re smack dab in the middle of winter, it can only do so much. Stoats have a fantastic winter coat, and their fur is soft enough that Sakumo’s skin won’t be irritated by it. Sakumo, who apparently hails from eternally frozen cliffs, doesn’t even appear to notice the cold, bless, but he stays near the fire for Ani’s sake because he is a god among men.

“Leader of Village Hidden in the Mist,” Sakumo says. “And his Seven, I would assume?”

“Of course.”

Ani cocks his head, looking between them with interest. Oh? They’re smug, are they? He nuzzles at Sakumo’s jaw, at this point mostly by rote, and scurries down. In deference to the weather, a Kushiban is just the thing. He can heat reptile shapes with magic, but he can also just have a luxurious fur coat.

“The Seven?”

“Seven Swordsmen of the Mist,” Katsuki says. “Best swordsmen of their generation.” His smirk intensifies. “You best stick close to your wolf, Lord Ani. They have built up quite an obsession over the years.”

Ani’s ears twitch. What is this?

“Lord Uchiha exaggerates,” Sakumo says. “We are peers, yes, and all of us specialise in Kenjutsu, but we’re hardly the only ones. Mifune-dono, for example, outstrips all of us in technique.”

Right. He knows what this is. Sakumo is absolutely better than all these Mist warriors, and he’s being smug about it. The faint stirrings of unease vanish. Unlike the three Leaf heirs, Sakumo is not the least bit interested in these outsiders.

“Well, let’s go,” he says, ears twitching with curiosity. “Let’s go see the Mist King and his valiant knights.”

Katsuki is quiet for a beat too long, then his smirk widens and widens, until a full grin blooms. Ani can’t remember when he had last seen the solemn Uchiha Lord be this visibly entertained. “Oh, this is perfect,” he says. “Yes, let’s. Uzumaki Hideki-sama and Uzumaki Kousei-san are already there.”

He missed something, he’s pretty sure. On the other hand, how much does he care? Not much; not much at all.

“Onwards,” he says, putting his paws up. Sakumo wastes no time to pick him up and place him on his shoulder. Not being an idiot, Ani tweaked his shape to be on the smaller side this time, so he could comfortably stand upright on Sakumo’s shoulder, with his left paw resting on his head for balance. “I can’t wait,” he says, fur shifting from blue to gold to pink to green and back to blue. This will be so much fun.

***

“Oh, wow,” he says, impressed. “Look at all that phenotypic variety.” He cocks his head, loped ears swinging. “Are they all human? They feel human, but—”

“Lord Ani, Sakumo, perfect timing,” Hideki says, hellfire glittering in his eyes. “Sakumo, you of course are familiar with Mizukage-sama and the Seven. My lord, if it pleases you, I would introduce you to my counterpart from the Village Hidden in the Mist, and his entourage.”

Ani’s fur flashes into pink for humour with blue splotches on his shoulders and back for fondness. Ani’s humans are the best, but man are they petty sometimes. Still, if it’s mind games they want, who is he to begrudge them? “I’m thrilled to meet them, Hideki.” He shifts, twitches his ears. The Mist humans stare. The part of Ani that enjoys the occasional bit of spite, shoulders forward, taking control of things. “It is my honour, your Majesty. I am Ani.”

“You are—” The Mist King visibly shifts gears, eyes tracing the dots of colour blooming on Ani’s fur. “You are the Golden Dragon of Uzu, are you?”

Ani makes sure his nod is energetic enough to make his ears swing back and forth behind him, much like a powder-blue pendulum. “I am a shapeshifter.” He cocks his head, widening his eyes, damp, pink nose twitching just the tiniest bit. “Do you like dragons, your Majesty?” Sakumo is barely holding onto his composure, he can tell by the magic held politely close to his body.

“As much as the next man, I suppose.” The Mist King is regrouping, sadly, retreating behind the detached posture. His warriors are more transparent, though, so Ani still has plenty of indicators. The bewilderment has faded into derision, which is all too quickly turning into disgust. And that’s that, really. They really should have stopped at derision.

“That’s so funny,” he chirps and pitches forward, twisting in the air. Sakumo catches him with one hand and pats his belly with the other one. Just to be a pest, Ani thumps a delighted foot, snuffles into his fingers, then hops down, shifting as he goes.

“Isn’t that just the funniest thing,” he continues, rising as an, admittedly freakishly tall and menacing Barabel. The Mist King said he liked dragons, didn’t he? It’s only polite to indulge him. Typical Barabels lean more into mundane reptiles, with the occasional crocodile twist here and there. Ani is—not that. Barabels possess a certain type of beauty, but it’s not human-friendly, and Sakumo requires careful handling. So, he made his body wide and tall with jaws that could pop a man’s head like a grape but made sure to add veins of gold winding through his black scales, to match his teeth and claws. A sprinkling of his magic on top. There, perfect. All the gravitas of a dragon, without ruining the tent and keeping the ability to speak. “No?” He leans his head to the side, teeth gleaming red in the lamplight.

The Mist King has black eyes, interestingly, and a face that’s well suited for icy distance. He knows he’s got him when they narrow, magic swirling around him in—excitement? Huh. Now he sort of remembers this subspecies of human. Didn’t his people attack him when he first met Sakumo? With—swords, wasn’t it?

“My Seven,” the Mist King says, a little abruptly. “Wielders of our legendary swords. Step forward and introduce yourselves to—” He blinks slowly, deliberately. It’s either an intimidation tactic—doubtful—or a way of communicating his absence of fear—almost certain. “Lord Ani, god of change and shapeshifting.”

Oh? God of shapeshifting? Not Uzushio? That’s different.

“Ringo Ameyuri,” says the woman in front, who seems to be in charge. “Wielder of Kiba.”

“Akebino Jinin, wielder of Kabutowari.”

“Kuriare Kushimaru, wielder of Nuibari—”

Admittedly, Ani loses track. They speak in a heavy dialect, several degrees removed to what he learned. Moreover, their syllables bleed into one another with how hard they’re speaking and their voices are uncommonly hoarse and resonant. He could swear at least one managed to speak with an echo and they’re standing in a cloth tent.

Now, how to play this. Backing down after he went and made a production of things is out of the question. On the other hand, he’s gone about as far as he’s willing to go. They’re here for peace talks. If they end up with a favourable solution, Ani can probably stomach batting some humans around a training ground in the name of cross-cultural exchange. Until then, the spin is straightforward enough: tell the truth but make it sound mean.

“Aren’t you sweet,” he coos. “Tell you what, if you continue being such excellent little humans while the grownups are busy with their work, I’ll let you try to dent my scales for a bit.” He lets a corner of his smile dip a bit deeper, crooking the smile into something more mocking. At the same time, his tail rises and curls around his legs in an almost dainty curve. “Should Sakumo agree; he’s touchy about these things.” Abort, abort. Dragging Sakumo into this is a bad move, you know that conflict stresses him out.  “And the Mist King, naturally.” There, better. “I wouldn’t want to overstep.” And—done. You already came close to bungling it. Quit while you’re ahead. So, he nods at the monarch, twists and shifts back into a bunny; a mundane one this time. Two hops later, and he’s on his back, cradled by a warm palm, all four paws in the air.

***

“Well, that was fun,” Hideki says, once they’re all back in their tent and behind the best silencing spells Uzumaki can muster. “I didn’t think you came in condescending deity sneering from above, but here we are.”

“If they stopped at derision, I’d have let them think I was a silly bunny,” he says, lounging in a nest of pillows next to the fire. “Now they know not to express disgust for beings stronger than they, even if they feel it.”

“Kiri only respects strength,” Sakumo says. He’s not even trying to hide his staring. Ani, who chose the shape of a Farghul for a reason, doesn’t mind at all. “You struck as perfect a balance as you could have hoped for.”

Ani’s tail flicks to and fro absently. It went well, yes. “I would have enjoyed the game a lot more if the occasion wasn’t as dire as it is.” He sighs, curling into a tighter ball, eyes trained at the fire. “Good things keep happening, we keep stringing victories like beads, and yet I feel like the whole continent is in the middle of a long, bracing inhale.”

“I was born in war,” Katsuki says. Ani’s eyes flick up in surprise. Katsuki seldom volunteers to speak without being prompted. “One of many skirmishes we fought against—You know, I don’t even remember who. Kumo, possibly.” He doesn’t look sad, or especially troubled. If anything, his tone is gentle. “Before that, we had Clan wars; endless struggle with no hope past taking down as many of theirs as we can on our way out. In all this time, I never imagined I would see the Kage of the Five act so—reasonably, as they do now.”

This is reasonable? This?

“The first Great War only ended because we didn’t have any more people,” Sakumo says. “I was old enough to fight, from beginning to end. When peace was signed, we all knew it for what it was; a ceasefire to train up another generation to kill.”

Katsuki’s gentle expression twists with sorrow. “You would have been—eight when it started? Nine?”

Ani closes his eyes, exhaling. He knows about child soldiers; of course he does. They don’t hide it. Nagato and his friends are training to become warriors, and they’re six. Still.

“The official start came two weeks after my eighth.” Sakumo huffs a restless breath. “It is pointless to dwell in the past or dread the future. In the present, we have accomplished much. Uzushiogakure itself is not at risk, and she has peace with three of the Five. The Uchiha civilians will have safety behind her walls. And Konoha—” His throat works furiously. “My home will probably not implode in a civil war, only to get finished off by Kumo or Iwa or what have you.”

His home. “Excuse you,” he says, arching an eyebrow. “Your home is not some house. Your home is your people. Considering Konoha kicked out everybody loyal to you, and Hideki was nice enough to pick them up and house them, this means your home is me.” No, wait. That doesn’t sound right. “And your other friends and such. And the children. But primarily me.” Again, a bit unhinged. He should probably hold his horses a bit. “Sorry,” he manages to force out, words falling heavy into the silence. “I will be more—human after all this is done, I promise. But I am stressed, the people I just spoke to probably use those bizarrely shaped swords to cut Uzumaki children into chunks and—”

“Easy,” Sakumo says. “No apology is necessary, of course. A place by your side is a gift.”

You say that now, Ani thinks, trying to summon up a smile. You say that now, when Ani is a de-clawed, ageing lion jumping through hoops to amuse the crowds. What will you think if—

“No sense in brooding,” he says and tries to remember it. “We will do our best.” And hope the interpretation of our best we settled on, in the end, is something that will not make the heavens weep.

Chapter Text

The Stone King arrives during the night, accompanied by only three people. The exceptionally delicate-looking young man on his left wears bright red robes like a reptile advertising its venom. The two women trailing behind them are, by his best estimation, full siblings and not to be messed with.

Ani, by this point, has no spare energy left to decipher the mind games being played here, much less to take part. He wears a vulptex shape, stays close to Sakumo and nods at the grouchy man and his second when prompted. Hideki has it well in hand, in any case. Ani’s input is hardly needed.

“Ame will be next,” Sakumo says. “Mifune-dono staggered the arrivals, for security purposes. Ame in the morning and Konoha in the evening. The meetings should start the day after.”

Ani squeaks. Message received.

“My ANBU will have reached the Uchiha civilians by now,” Sakumo continues. “They should all have reached Uzu by midnight. ”

Right, right. Keep the big picture in mind. The vulnerable population will be hidden behind the strongest magic anyone has and they have an Ani to keep them safe. The majority of the Uchiha and Uzumaki warriors are making the impromptu village as close to an impenetrable fortress as they could, without having centuries of stored blood and suchlike. So—Even if this blows up in everybody’s face, they should avoid the worst outcome. Nobody is alone. Nobody is unguarded. Everybody is where they want to be, of their own volition.

“Which is to say that you can afford some measure of calm. We have glazed our carrots with honey and tipped our sticks with steel. We are ready.”

That’s a nice sentiment. How nice would it be, if they could bribe and wheedle their way out of violence? With his memories being as they are, Ani can’t be certain, but he’s pretty sure such an outcome would be wholly without precedent.

He swallows his heart and lets his body shift as it would. It’s probably telling he takes the form of a particularly scrawny, grey-brown Ranat. “I am calm,” he says. “Sad, but calm. We cannot force everybody to be reasonable.” Well. “By which I mean that we could but we won’t. Forcing people out of their decisions would be worse than the alternative.” Best move on. “What do you expect will happen with the Rain King? He must be a powerful figure, if he kept his little country going, being surrounded at all sides.”

“That is precisely why it exists. It’s in everybody’s best interests to have a speck of land where the bigger countries can clash, without it automatically triggering a war.”

Oh, wonderful. That’s just what he needed. More cynicism.

“And Hanzō is, reportedly, a man of principle,” Sakumo continues, perhaps sensing Ani’s struggle. “Whatever else can be said about him, the people living in Ame are better off now than they had been before. Having a leader who can go toe to toe with the five Kage is invaluable.”

Five? By Ani’s estimation, there will be six kings present, not counting their knight-hosts.

“We don’t count,” Hideki says, voice entirely free from ire or offence. “I am Kage on a technicality, but we don’t choose our leaders by their combat abilities.”

Oh? A spark of curiosity warms him—but, no. This is not the time or the place, and, besides, Hideki has a hard time saying no to Ani. If he wants to keep the information away from outside ears, then he should.

“So,” he says, trying to find the lost thread of conversation, “the Rain King is honourable, then? Like the rest of them?”

“More, reportedly,” Hideki says. “He’s rumoured to be something of an idealist. Our reports say he is radical in his politics, and staggeringly progressive in his social values.”

Oh, that sounds nice—

“Also an autocrat that has unprecedented control over his population enforces his isolationist policies to the point of madness and is known to support rogue terrorist groups in other nations,” Sakumo says and rolls his shoulders in a relaxed shrug. “If we’re pooling our intel, I thought I’d contribute. Some would describe Ani as having radical politics and progressive values. I wouldn’t want him to over-identify without basis.”

Yikes. Hatake doesn’t like this Rain King. Strike one against, then? Only, Hideki seems to like him just fine, or at least to be generally supportive.

“I sense a disagreement,” he says slowly. “You don’t have to share, of course, but I’ve not known you to have any substantial difference in opinion so far.”

“Us Kage of smaller countries who live on sufferance of others have to stick together when possible,” Hideki says. “Hanzō-sama has made some radical moves in the past, admittedly, but that is a small part of his platform.”

“By radical moves, Hideki-sama means to politely say that the Amekage is fond of his destabilisation tactics. Mostly, this means funding and arming nutbag separatist movements wherever he could find them.” Hatake’s smile remains polite, matching the inviting body language and posture. Nothing to see here; we are having a polite discussion over tea. “The more extreme the better.”

“Spoken like a true Konohan aristocrat,” Hideki says, matching his tone beat for beat. “Funny how the support of liberation movements could be labelled as separations terrorism.”

“Oh, my mistake. Now I understand that the Amekage’s motives were in no way cynical. He certainly hadn’t sought to destabilise his political adversaries by sacrificing an unstable, dissatisfied population who never stood a chance of winning.” Sakumo leans forward a little, head tilting, expression going smooth and inquisitive. “How are those revolutions going, by the by? Slaughtered to the last? How very unexpected.”

“Who ordered the slaughter? And, not to put a too-fine point on it, who carried it out? It would be ANBU, would it not—”

Yikes.

“Alright,” he says, putting his hands up, eyes wide. “A quick question. Our plan is unchanged, yes? We aim to get the Rain King on our side as much as he will allow?” He waits until both men meet his eyes and give him a nod. “We also agree that he wouldn’t hesitate to eat us whole if it would benefit him and his?” Another more confident nod. “Then why are we hurting each other’s feelings about cosmetic differences?”

“Because Hanzō-sama is, before everybody other Kage present, someone I would want as my ally,” Hideki says, then hesitates for a moment, expression complicated. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he says after a beat. “About ANBU. That one was purely meant to wound.”

“Pain caused by truth is usually well-deserved,” Sakumo says. “Moreover, I also admire the Amekage in the abstract. His actions are ruthless and far-reaching but I admire his drive and force of will.”

Right. “More allies is always good,” he says. “As far as I can tell, every King on the map is some kind of ruthless. If we managed to keep Niko from lunging at the Mountain King, teeth first, then we can be graceful about the Rain King’s political machinations.”

“Graceful but careful,” Sakumo says. “Hanzō plays by rules nobody knows, much less understands. He is, by far, the one man I would caution you against.” He blinks. “After Hideki-sama, of course, but that warning doesn’t apply in this case.”

What? “Hideki? My Hideki?”

Sakumo sends him a fond look. “People who are nice to you can be horrible and unpredictably destructive to everybody else, Ani.” He doesn’t look at all uncomfortable about saying all this in front of Hideki. “Amegakure adopted the model that Uzushiogakure created. Meaning their strength comes from their people, not their resources and, more importantly, that they will set the world on fire if it will keep their people warm.”

“True enough,” Hideki says. “We are good allies and expensive enemies. With that said, Ame didn’t have the centuries we had to build up her walls and invent new defences. They are in a position of constant violence because the Five decided it would be so.”

Yeah, no, they covered this. Interesting, that Hideki focused on defending the other King and not himself. Irritating, that Ani notices that kind of thing, now.

“What I choose to get from all this is that we agree that the Rain King is a principled man we want to befriend but will not let anywhere near our bare necks lest he indulge his impulses to eat everything that he considers a threat.”

“Well put,” Katsuki says, adding in a quiet sigh that rings loud, considering its source. “We have all done terrible things when we felt we had no other choice. Glorifying or scorning such choices is senseless.”

***

After such an introduction, Ani thinks long and hard about the shape he wants to wear at their introduction. Then, after he inevitably overthinks himself into a heartache, he decides to wing it. By now, the various Kings know what Ani is; the chance to make a first impression has passed.

“This is familiar,” Hideki says, looking him up and down. “Is that the shape you wore to stun Orochimaru-kun into incoherence.”

“First of all, I did no such thing,” he says. “Secondly, reptilian species are, generally, a lot more patient and emotionally balanced than mammals. Sluissi are the perfect example of this principle.” He shifts a little to show off his shiny scales and the elegant curve of his hood. Since he wasn’t aiming to intimidate, he forewent the black and red accents entirely, staying a uniform gold, and he kept his features almost entirely human if covered in neat, hexagonal scales. It’s a pitiful, showing, honestly; his fangs would have made him a laughingstock among his temporary brethren. “I think it’s appropriate.”

“You look beautiful,” Sakumo says, not pretending he’s not looking, which is nice. “The other version was wonderful, but I appreciate you went through the trouble to be more discrete.”

“Discrete,” Hideki says, snapping his fingers. “That’s the word I was looking for. The two-meter, fully nude snake-man with blazing golden scales is precisely what I would call discrete.”

Well. “I can put something on if it bothers you.” Why it would is up in the air. Sluissi and humans are sexually incompatible, he’s pretty sure. His nudity shouldn’t be a topic for discussion, he wouldn’t think. “I thought the scales count.”

“Absolutely not,” Hideki says. “The shape is fantastic and, moreover, you should always be precisely what you want. Appeasing humans is how people go mad. Now, give us a turn, let me admire all those rippling muscles—”

***

Well. Alright.

Ani looks between the much-discussed Rain King and Sakumo. He looks again, then once more for good measure. Even their magic is similar, never mind the rest of it. Black sclera aside, they could be brothers. They might be brothers.

“—accompanying the Amekage is his apprentice, Mayoi Mahoroi-san—”

The Samurai King is valiantly going through the introductions between the, by now, quite a sizeable group of people. Each King has one or two advisors present—baring the Leaf King who hadn’t yet arrived—and a couple of guards lurking just behind. It makes for a lot of monologuing on the Samurai King’s end, and a lot of polite nodding and bowing on theirs.

“—Hagesawa-sama, head of the Hagesawa clan, one of the founding clans of Amegakure—”

They have to be aware of the connection, surely? Or does blood not matter as much as he’s been led to believe? The Uchiha and the Uzumaki are rabid about blood, but maybe the rest of the world isn’t? Sakumo sure isn’t showing any great affection for his relative from abroad. Both men are, in truth, not discrete about their disregard for the other, nor do they go out of their way to advertise it. They bow at the right times and say the right things, stand where they should and all that. A couple of years back, Ani might not have even noticed the charged energy. As it is, now that he knows how Sakumo prefers to keep his presence light and body as non-threatening as he can, this new, dominant posture is striking.

“—Kazekage-sama’s honourable second,  Sakyū no Meisa—”

The Rain King matches Sakumo’s peculiar aggression. It’s a good look on both men, frankly. They’re both large, in both body and presence, but the Rain King feels more settled in his skin. The mask covering the lower part of his face makes his expressions difficult to decipher, but the severe set of his shoulders and the tilt of his jaw are loud.

Is this how Sakumo will look, in the future? All accumulated might and settled arrogance? Even their hair is the same. Sakumo keeps his down to his shoulder blades and the Rain King drops to well below his waist, but the thready, unruly mass of silver is unmistakable.

“—Uchiha Katsuki-san, who as of recently serves as Uzukage-sama’s second—”

It’s unclear if the foreign monarchs have already known about the stark similarity; they certainly don’t show it in any way that Ani can recognise. Hideki, however, is looking all sorts of rattled. Guilty, even.

“—And, finally, our guest of honour, as it were. Gentlemen and ladies, allow me to introduce Lord Ani, guardian of Uzushiogakure and chosen patron deity of her residents. With him is his second, Hatake Sakumo-san with whom you are already acquainted.”

Ani lets his body fall in a standard issue bow, in part to hide his surprise. Is that how Hideki got around the fact he dragged in more than one allotted advisor? He made Ani into a separate entity and gave him Sakumo? Clever. Sakumo is, in a strange and unquantifiable way, a lot more his than he is Hideki’s.

“Wow,” he says, once the formulaic back and forth has rattled by and the whole tortured production is, hopefully, over. “Hello, welcome. It’s wonderful to meet you, your majesty.”

“The title is inappropriate,” the Rain King says, voice distorted by a mechanism of some sort. “More importantly, the notion of inherited, unearned power goes against my principles. I will not be answering to it.”

Yikes. Off to a rocky start. This one doesn’t like him. He’s been more or less polite to his fellow humans.

Thankfully, Ani is ace at talking with humans in general and antagonistic humans in particular. “That’s alright,” he says. “We shouldn’t need to talk much. This is a human meeting; if all goes well, I’ll be entirely ornamental.”

“At least you are transparent about your nature and the incompatibility with humanity’s goals. That should save us some time.”

Ani takes a moment to pick through the words. They don’t sound insulting, but Sakumo, Hideki and Katsuki look to be getting ready to throw down.

“I can see why you would appreciate transparency, I guess?” He’s certainly one of the most straightforward humans he’s ever met. Even Kousei is more discrete than this man. “Good talk. Now—” He shifts to his humans and frowns. They don’t look happy. Come to think of it, neither to the other Kings. Mountain King is outright scowling, which, considering the size of him, is one large scowl. “—This had been great and all, but we have a long couple of days ahead. If you all are in agreement, I will take my human and—” Figure out a way to make him look less feral. “—Take them flying, maybe? Sakumo, dearest, we did dragons but they are far from the only species that can fly. In fact—” He takes a speculative look around. He should fit.

Dactillions are, when all is said and done, ridiculous creatures and Ani leans into the eccentricities eagerly. His golden scales melt into bright blue feathers with ugly splotches of red and purple. The creature already has a deranged beak, he doesn’t have to do anything there, but he curves the curved bits just a bit more, and splits the typical two spikes into five. You don’t get any more ridiculous than odd numbers of limbs or organs. The tail he keeps as is, long, stiff and dark, but he makes up for it by making his paws look and feel a lot closer to primate hands and feet than anything a reptile would have.

He looks ridiculous, in other words. He looks like a fever dream, something a child’s half-remembered dream, scribbled inexpertly on a spare bit of paper.

Of course, just because he looks ridiculous to a human eye, doesn’t mean he’s not functional. Dactillions are an incredibly specialised species and, as such, are fantastic at what they do. Like now, Ani bends down easily, thin legs collapsing underneath him like an accordion. The wings are long—four times his length easy—but they’re lean and mobile. When he’s on land, they fold down on themselves as easily as anything.

“Incredible,” Sakumo says, with every hallmark of sincerity. “Look at that handsome beak. And your hide is spectacular. Are those feathers? They’re not like any feathers I’ve seen.”

Hideki migrates towards them, expression clearing, and Katsuki and Kousei trailing behind more sedately. The rest of the courtyard watches on with various amounts of curiosity.

“Not real feathers,” he croaks, absolutely cheating with magic. A ribcage that narrow and a body this lanky? Best believe any vocalisation past inarticulate shrieking wouldn’t be on the table. “Sort of halfway between a lizard and a bird. Also—very fast.” He picks up his front right leg and wiggles his pseudo-fingers. “Agile, too. The best thing you can be if you’re crossing a mountain. Good for flying, good for climbing, hollow bones—” He unfurls one wing, bending it this way and that. “So—How about it? I’m sure the Samurai King will have a spare saddle that we can repurpose or, failing that, you can stick to me with magic—”

Chapter Text

Peace Summit Attendees

Konoha (Hidden Leaf Village)

• Hiruzen Sarutobi (43 years old)
  • Advisor: Shimura Danzo (44 years old)
  • Guards:
    • Senju Tsunade (19 years old)
    • Orochimaru (19 years old)
    • Jiraiya (19 years old)

Suna (Hidden Sand Village)

• Third Kazekage: Sabaku no Issa (36 years old)
  • Advisor: Sakyū no Meisa (41 years old)
    • No last name, commoner, civilian-born kunoichi
    • Retired support and logistics Jonin, currently in the intelligence division working in internal security of Suna.
  • Guards:
    • Wakimizu Keisaku (19 years old)
    • Hisazato Zantetsu (23 years old)
    • Puppet masters

Kumogakure (Hidden Cloud Village)

• Third Raikage: A (49 years old)
  • Advisor: Akutsu Daria (51 years old)
    • A veteran shinobi and political scholar
    • Expertise in lightning-style jutsu and village governance
  • Guards:
    • Hosoya Ayumi (29 years old)
    • Hosoya Daichi (29 years old)
    • Twins, renowned for their synchronized combat techniques

Kirigakure (Hidden Mist Village)

• Third Mizukage: Akai Masamune (36 years old)
  • Advisor: Kokubo Kuroha (41 years old)
    • Diplomat, retired medical nin
  • Guards:
    • Seven Swordsmen

Iwagakure (Hidden Stone Village)

• Third Tsuchikage: Kamizuru Ōnoki (57 years old)
  • Advisor: Tomori Kouya (21 years old)
    • A seasoned earth-style jutsu user and scholar
    • Extensive knowledge in geology and battle strategy
  • Guards:
    • Sosogi Kuki (32 years old)
    • Sosogi Kuroha (29 years old)
    • Formidable duo known for their earth-shaking strength and unwavering defense (Clan Sosogi)

Uzushiogakure (Hidden Eddy Village)

• Third Uzukage: Uzumaki Hideki (25 years old)
  • Advisor: Uchiha Katsuki (34 years old)
  • Guard:
    • Uzumaki Kousei (40 years old)

Amegakure (Hidden Rain Village)

• First Amekage: Hanzo the Salamander (44 years old)
  • Advisor: Mayoi Mahoro (21 years old)
    • A cunning tactician and academic specializing in espionage and guerrilla warfare
  • Guards:
    • Hagesawa Hiroki (31 years old)
    • Hagesawa Minori (28 years old)
    • Hagesawa Hiromi (18 years old)
    • Three-person team specializing in close, mid, and long-range frontline combat

Additional Attendee

• Ani of Uzushio (age unknown)
  • Advisor: Hatake Sakumo (26 years old)

Names and Their Meanings by Nationality

Konoha (Hidden Leaf Village)

• Hiruzen Sarutobi (猿飛蒜山)
  • Sarutobi (猿飛): "Flying monkey"
    • 猿 (saru): Monkey
    • 飛 (tobi): To fly, flying
  • Hiruzen (蒜山): A mountainous area in Okayama Prefecture
    • 蒜 (Hiru): Garlic or leek
    • 山 (Zen): Mountain
• Shimura Danzo (志村段蔵)
  • Shimura (志村): "Will of the village"
    • 志 (shi): Will, intention, ambition
    • 村 (mura): Village
  • Danzō (段蔵): "Hidden treasure house"
    • 段 (Dan): Step, grade
    • 蔵 (Zō): Hidden, treasure house
• Hatake Sakumo (畑作茂)
  • Hatake (畑): Farmland
  • Sakumo (作茂): Derived from "sakumotsu" (作物), meaning "crops" or "produce"

Suna (Hidden Sand Village)

• Sabaku no Issa (砂漠の一冴)
  • Sabaku (砂漠): Desert
    • 砂 (Suna): Sand
    • 漠 (Baku): Vague, desert
  • no (の): Possessive particle meaning "of"
  • Issa (一冴)
    • 一 (Ichi): One, single, alone
    • 冴 (Sa): Clarity, serenity
• Sakyū no Meisa (砂丘の冥沙)
  • 砂丘 (sakyū): Sand dune
    • 砂 (suna): Sand
    • 丘 (kyū): Hill, mound
  • 冥沙 (Meisa)
    • 冥 (mei): Darkness, underworld
    • 沙 (sa): Sand
• Wakimizu Keisaku (脇水刑作)
  • Wakimizu (脇水)
    • 脇 (Waki): Armpit, side, flank
    • 水 (Mizu): Water, fluid, liquid
  • Keisaku (刑作)
    • 刑 (Kei): Punishment, penalty
    • 作 (Saku): Make, create, produce
• Hisazato Zantetsu (久里斬鉄)
  • Hisazato (久里)
    • 久 (Hisa): Long time, old, long-cherished
    • 里 (Sato): Village, hometown, birthplace
  • Zantetsu (斬鉄)
    • 斬 (Zan): Cut, slice, behead
    • 鉄 (Tetsu): Iron, steel

Kumogakure (Hidden Cloud Village)

• Akutsu Daria (阿久津堕美闇)
  • Akutsu (阿久津)
    • 阿: "Ah, oh, alas"
    • 久: "Long time, old"
    • 津: "Port, haven"
  • Daria (堕美闇)
    • 堕: "Fall, degenerate"
    • 美: "Beauty, beautiful"
    • 闇: "Darkness, shadow"
• Hosoya Ayumi (細谷歩)
  • Hosoya (細谷)
    • 細: Thin, slender, fine, delicate
    • 谷: Valley, ravine
  • Ayumi (歩): Walk, progress
• Hosoya Daichi (細谷代知)
  • Hosoya (細谷)
    • 細: Thin, slender, fine, delicate
    • 谷: Valley, ravine
  • Daichi (代知)
    • 代: To replace, substitute
    • 知: Knowing, wisdom

Kirigakure (Hidden Mist Village)

• Akai Masamune (赤井正臆)
  • Akai (赤井)
    • 赤: Red
    • 井: Well, water hole
  • Masamune (正臆)
    • 正: Correct, right, proper
    • 臆: Timidity, cowardice
• Kokubo Kuroha (小久保黒刃)
  • Kokubo (小久保)
    • 小: Small, little, tiny
    • 久: Long time, old
    • 保: Preserve, protect
  • Kuroha (黒刃)
    • 黒: Black, dark
    • 刃: Blade, edge

Iwagakure (Hidden Stone Village)

• Kamizuru Ōnoki (上水流大ノ木)
  • Kamizuru (上水流): "Upper water flow"
    • 上 (Kami): Upper, above
    • 水 (Mizu): Water
    • 流 (Ru): Flow, current
  • Ōnoki (大ノ木): "Great tree"
    • 大 (Ō): Big, great
    • ノ (No): Possessive particle
    • 木 (Ki): Tree, wood
• Tomori Kouya (友利煌邪)
  • Tomori (友利)
    • 友: Friend, companion
    • 利: Profit, benefit
  • Kouya (煌邪)
    • 煌: Glitter, sparkle, shine
    • 邪: Evil, wicked, wrong
• Sosogi Kuki (淋黒音)
  • Sosogi (淋): Loneliness, desolation
  • Kuki (黒音)
    • 黒: Black, dark
    • 音: Sound, noise

Uzushiogakure (Hidden Eddy Village)

• Uzumaki Hideki (渦巻き秀樹)
  • Uzumaki (渦巻き)
    • 渦 (Uzu): Whirlpool, eddy
    • 巻き (Maki): Roll, coil
  • Hideki (秀樹)
    • 秀: Excellent, outstanding
    • 樹: Tree
• Uchiha Katsuki (団扇夏月)
  • Uchiha (団扇)
    • 団 (Uchi): Group, association
    • 扇 (Ha): Fan
  • Katsuki (夏月)
    • 夏: Summer
    • 月: Moon
• Uzumaki Kousei (渦巻き光生)
  • Uzumaki (渦巻き)
    • 渦 (Uzu): Whirlpool, eddy
    • 巻き (Maki): Roll, coil
  • Kousei (光生)
    • 光: Light
    • 生: Living

Amegakure (Hidden Rain Village)

• Hanzo the Salamander (半蔵の山椒魚)
  • Hanzō (半蔵)
    • 半 (Han): Half, middle
    • 蔵 (Zō): Storehouse, repository
  • Sanshōuo (山椒魚): Salamander
    • 山 (San): Mountain
    • 椒 (Shō): Pepper
    • 魚 (Uo): Fish
• Mayoi Mahoro (間宵幻)
  • Mayoi (間宵)
    • 間: Interval, space, time, room
    • 宵: Evening, nightfall
  • Mahoro (幻): Illusion, phantom, vision
• Hagesawa Hiroki (長谷川尋稀)
  • Hasegawa (長谷川)
    • 長: Long, leader
    • 谷: Valley, ravine
    • 川: River, stream
  • Hiroki (尋稀)
    • 尋: Search, inquire
    • 稀: Rare, unusual
• Hagesawa Hiromi (長谷川尋実)
  • Hasegawa (長谷川)
    • 長: Long, leader
    • 谷: Valley, ravine
    • 川: River, stream
  • Hiromi (尋実)
    • 尋: Search, inquire
    • 実: Fruit, reality, truth

Chapter Text

The Leaf people are set to arrive precisely sixteen hours after the Rain people had. Sixteen hours is nothing in the grand scheme of things. He had naps that took longer than that. And yet—

Tension sparks up and down his body like an electrical charge, stomach twisting. He’s switching shapes on the minute, rippling from one to another, each more unhinged than the last. A bunny for dread, a deer for anxiety, a Narglatch for loyalty, Mudhorn for defensiveness. Sakumo weathers it with grace, all told, especially since he appears to be the main focus of his instincts. Even with his cooperation, however, he doesn’t get far. The bigger species are too aggressive, the herbivores are too slow, the smaller species are too weak and too nervy—Finally, after getting a thorough cuddle as a Tuk’ata doesn’t help much, he gives up, shifts into a Togorian and calls it a moderate success. Even-tempered but territorial enough to suit.

“Where is Katsuki?”

Hideki sends him a careful look. “Talking with Mifune-dono, I imagine. The Uchiha have quite a few Kenjutsu specialists, and Iron is the end all be all of bladed combat.”

Uh-huh. “I don’t like him being alone,” he says, tail flicking. “He and Kousei are prime hostage material.”

“Katsuki-sama is one of Konoha’s strongest warriors,” Sakumo says under his breath. “And Mifune-dono would defend him with his life. His guests are his responsibility and he takes such things seriously.”

Ani finds himself fighting the urge to bear his sharp fangs at Sakumo or, failing that, to pick him up by his nape like an unruly cub and stash him away in the safest den he can dig out. This Mifune is, as far as he can tell, a mundane swordsman; Ani wouldn’t entrust him with his second favourite pair of slippers.

“It’s a show of power and a diplomatic manoeuvre, all in one,” Hideki says. “By allowing your people to move freely, you are signalling that you both trust your host’s character and that you are strong enough to repel any attack that might come.”

“How about we start advertising our strength after we’ve somehow survived this cursed mess?” Good grief. “You only get to keep your people alive if you’ve removed all obstacles in their path.”

“We haven’t—”

Sakumo cuts in, sending Hideki a speaking look. Ani doesn’t need to know what the look saying to know that much. “We will go get Katsuki-sama. Would you rather we bring him here or join him at his meeting?”

Hah. Like he wants to spend any more time with humans than he has to. “Bring him here, please. Don’t go alone. Nobody goes anywhere alone.”

***

It’s not just his spiralling worry; the atmosphere in the impromptu compound has grown stiff enough to slice, by the time the Leaf delegation arrives. The Leaf King is as he remembers him; composed, confident and determined. The last two aren’t in short supply, in this room; confidence and determination are characteristic of monarchs, apparently. Walking a little behind him, on his right are his three heirs who he’s already met, the black-haired snake prince, the blonde-haired slug princess and the white-haired toad prince. On his left is—a man. A rather drab man, all things considered, with messy dark hair, long, unsmiling face and bandages on the right side of his face.

Ye gods, is the tension really necessary? What is the Leaf King going to do, leap forward and eat Katsuki and Hatake whole? Ani will hardly let him. It’s fine, and if they don’t stop acting like it might not be, what’s left of Ani’s composure will crack and he will start making a scene nobody will enjoy.

“Honorable Kage, esteemed representatives, allow me to introduce our final delegation. Joining us now is Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage of Konohagakure, escorted by his three illustrious students: Tsunade of Clan Senju, Orochimaru of Clan Orochi and Jiraiya of Mt Myoboku.” The Samurai King doesn’t pause, as such, but something in his demeanour and manner shifts, indicating a measure of wariness. “And of course, Shimura Danzo,  of Clan Shimura, advisor to the Hokage, whose steadfast commitment to Konoha’s security is well known.”

Alright, Ani thinks, all but clawing his mind to remain focused. That was almost transparent, for these shinobi events. Shimura is some sort of force, then; more of a force than the three royal heirs.

“Hokage-sama, gathered here are the leaders of their respective nations and their advisors. To your right stands Third Kazekage, Sabaku no Issa, of the Hidden Sand Village—”

Ani lets his attention scatter as the Samurai King goes through the introductions for the, Gods’ willing, final time.

“—representing Amegakure, First Amekage, Hanzo the Salamander—”

***

“Sarutobi brought his students,” Hideki says, when they’re back in their chambers, magic spells brought up as strong as they can make them. “That’s encouraging.”

Huh. Ani’s ears twitch, but shifting is out of the question. He’s comfortable here, lounging half across Sakumo’s lap, having his neck and ears pet. So—a compromise. He bleats, easy and curious.

“If he brought ANBU Commander Bear, we’d have known he expected to fight his way out of here,” Sakumo says. “His students are his successors. You don’t bring all your heirs if you plan to piss off the most dangerous people in the Elemental Nations.”

That’s true. He bleats again, softer, satisfied. Good point, well made.

“I am not thrilled he brought Shimura,” Sakumo continues. “The man is rabid on a good day.”

“It could be a hand-washing manoeuvre,” Katsuki says. Some of the languid buzz in Ani’s chest cools. Sakumo and Hideki are one thing, but Katsuki doesn’t chat. If he says something, he wants it to be heard. “The Hokage might have brought him here because he is aware that Shimura will inevitably offend someone he shouldn’t and get his wretched throat torn out.”

Right.

“We could be so lucky,” Sakumo says, glum. “Unfortunately, Shimura is a man who lives and breathes betrayal. If he’s here, it’s because he wants to inflict some horrible scheme or another. The only question is if Sarutobi-sama is in on it or not.”

Yikes.

“Both, I suspect,” Hideki says. “Hokage-sama brought Shimura because of some scheme they cooked up. Shimura will then do as his nature commands and betray him. Sarutobi will be shocked and hurt. We all get to witness another iteration of the Frog and the Scorpion fable.”

Double yikes. All this angst and worry over one man? Seriously? He bleats, petulant. Both of Sakumo’s palms fly to his head and give his ears a good rub. He closes his eyes and lets his mind drift. It will be fine.

***

The morning sun found them all assembled in an improvised hall that is no less beautiful for how simple it is. These samurai have a knack for paired-down elegance; with only a couple of well-placed mats, paper screens and a modest dais at the centre, they achieved the effect of solemn, official importance. The Samurai king stands at the edge, formal in his black kimono, expression stern. The Hokage and his people are already there, the Leaf King and his advisor sitting at the table and his heirs standing behind him. Across from him sits the Mountain King, his advisor, and two guards looming behind them.

This is going to be exhausting, he can already tell. He shifts, wiggling further into Sakumo’s hands, fur shifting into a dull, stressed-out brown. When Sakumo’s other hand smooths down his ears and neck, it leaves a soft yellow in its wake. Comfort is comfort; Ani is going to take what he can get and bask ten times harder than he otherwise would have.

“Greetings, Lord Ani,” the Mountain King says, inclining his head in a deep nod. Beside him, the advisor—a wide-shouldered woman with salt-and-petter hair, just under two dozen individual pieces of jewellery studded around her face and neck and slanted green eyes that come across as distinctly unimpressed—makes a polite noise. She likely hadn’t meant it to sound like the schlick of a blade drawn over a windpipe, and yet. “Uzumaki-sama, Hatake-sama, Uchiha-sama, be welcome. Have I introduced you to my second?”

“We have met,” Sakumo says, voice bland. Ani’s ears twitch, and he fights the urge to hide his face behind his ears; he’s eaten potatoes with more personality than that tone. “Well met, Akutsu Daria-sama. I hope you have been well since we last spoke.”

Her smile sharpens further, improbably. “Indeed—”

Ani blocks out the rest of the back-and-forth, as the humans exchange polite threats between the three groups. Nobody comments on the empty chair left beside Sakumo, nor about the fact that he’s both rabbit-shaped and not supremely inclined to switch to something more appropriate. Why would he? His input is hardly needed at this stage. Here’s hoping it’s not needed at all.

***

The other Kage gather soon enough, and the Samurai king inclines his head to each. “Honored guests,” he says, voice level and resonant, “I welcome you to Iron Country. We come together at a time of great discord, in hopes that by speaking openly, we might find a road away from the brink of war.”

A bold scoff rings from the Kiri side of things; the tall, mean-looking bodyguard, he’s pretty sure.  One way of setting the tone, and not the most unexpected, all things considered.

“Over the next three days,” Mifune continues, “we will discuss how to reduce hostilities, and what steps each village is willing to consider to that end. It is my honour to serve as a neutral host, and I ask that all of you respect this summit as a place for dialogue, not combat—”

Never mind the words; Ani is hardly qualified to read between the lines. What can you see?

Well, not much, or at least not much that he can draw any conclusions from. The Mountain King and the Desert King are the most familiar to him, and they act much like they always do. The Mountain King is reserved but contemptuous of most of the company; the Desert King is reserved but optimistic, maintaining a calm, almost meditative air, arms folded beneath a neat desert-brown robe. The rest of them, he isn’t so sure about. The Stone King’s performance of belligerence is as much a shield as Hideki’s down-to-earth charisma; he can’t make any conclusions there. Hanzo, the Rain King, is further off, half-shadowed behind his mask, while Sarutobi—the Leaf King—sits upright, expression coolly collected.

Mifune’s concluding remarks come quickly, to the point: “This summit will proceed through key topics. We would all be wise to engage with them honestly and in good faith. My advisors and I have spent many days narrowing down the topics that we thought might result in actionable, tangible paths forward.” Good grief, Ani thinks, morbidly fascinated. Now that is a conversation he’d have liked to witness. “I had planned to invite you all to say a few words to establish your positions and goals. Perhaps there could be a better way to proceed.”

Good thinking; The tension is thick enough to cut and Ani doesn’t need to be an expert in human behaviour to know that the only thing the assembled monarchs will say right now, if given the podium, would be lies and threats.

The Samurai King shifts his stance, hands loosely at his sides. His voice carries across the hall with a practised calm—equal part lecture and command. Ani blinks and resists the urge to shift into a more composed shape. Rabbits are twitchy creatures and he’d hate to fidget and give the impression of inattention.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, “I propose we move forward by outlining our agenda. First and foremost, I recommend covering our top security priorities. Two topics stand out.” His gaze glides over the gathered leaders, lingering just a beat longer on the Rain- and Mountain King. “One: a binding non-aggression pact—plus the establishment of demilitarized zones monitored and guaranteed by each Hidden Village. Two: a framework for regulating strategic assets, specifically Jinchūriki and, by extension, the remaining Bijū.”

Ah, alright. The meaningful look makes more sense, now. The topics are being tailored to the participants’ demands. Interesting. Are they ordered in some fashion? Did the Samurai King judge the Rain and Mountain kings to be the most quarrelsome out of the bunch? Strange, if so, but maybe Ani is missing something.

“The second day of the summit will deal with autonomy and non-intervention—both in international matters and in each village’s internal governance. In the morning, we propose to discuss mutual agreements not to interfere in each other’s politics directly—including pre-agreed upon carve-outs for extreme acts of violence and such. Time and interest permitting, we might also touch upon regulatory mechanisms for safe and legal migration of clans.”

Oooh, now they’re cooking with fire. Ani was predisposed to liking the unflappable Samurai King for his grace under pressure, but he’s edging into the category of Ani’s favourite people, now. Talk about ballsy.

“In the afternoon, we’ll address the relationship between shinobi forces and their daimyo. Some here prefer minimal civilian oversight; others operate under a heavier daimyo influence. Moreover, by setting up simple and clear regulations, we might ease the inevitable strain between the civilian and shinobi governments. One suggestion, for the sake of example, would be to agree that the signatories may accept large-scale offensive contracts from a daimyo against each other.” Mifune’s eyes flick to Sand King Issa and then, hilariously, to the Mist King. “In any event, we must see where compromise lies.”

A brief pause follows. The Samurai King takes a moment to put down and exchange the folder in his hands with another, movements composed and unhurried. “If all goes well, we can finalize a preliminary draft of these mandatory clauses by tomorrow evening, and sign off on them at the start of the third and final day of the Summit”

He settles his stance once again. “After that—and only should the foundational treaty be secured—I propose we move on to non-binding but highly beneficial topics. Economic diversification. Shared infrastructure. Joint development projects to encourage cooperation and diminish the lure of war. These discussions might carry us through the final day, culminating in the official signing of the peace accord. Should we succeed, the treaty will take effect immediately.”

His voice lowers a fraction, and for just a moment, Ani almost thinks he sees a hint of a smile tugging at the samurai’s mouth. “That is my proposed structure. Of course, it’s open to revision. But I believe having clear steps will guide us to the greatest success.”

Because he is a disaster, Ani bursts out into applause. The one saving grace, dignity-wise, is that he’s a rabbit, still, and paws don’t make much noise when they clap. Nevertheless, every Kage in the room swings to look his way, some more disgusted than others. The one-eyed Leaf advisor looks particularly disgusted, like he can’t believe he is made to endure the indignity of sharing space with a beast. Ani is impressed; that’s one multi-layered expression.

“Thank you,” the Samurai King says. Ani is not surprised; the man might come across as the paragon of propriety, but Ani’s got his measure now. He is every bit as chaotic as a Uchiha or Uzumaki, he just hides it better. “I am most gratified my humble propositions haven’t been met with outright rejection. Please, gentlemen and ladies, I invite you to begin the discussion of item one, the Non-Aggression Pact.”

Humble proposition, please. Ani takes a quick stock of the room. The various Kage exchange glances—some grudgingly intrigued, others openly guarded. The Mist King, notably, seems to be actively considering what type of courtship ritual would entice the Samurai King. With what Ani knows about their ways, there are bound to be plenty of hilarious missteps.

“An ambitious place to begin, Mifune-dono,” the Leaf King says. The reasonable tone isn’t very convincing in Ani’s opinion, but he appreciates the effort to play nice, as it were. “Forgive me, but I don’t see how a viable pact can be agreed upon before the issue of contested land is cleared up.”

Ah. Well, the Leaf King is still a shinobi; he can’t help being a disruptive, chaotic nightmare, probably.

“The Hokage raises a fair point,” Stone King Ōnoki says. “One that would be more welcome if it came from almost anyone else, considering how many times we’ve had to retake Kyoji province.”

“I am sympathetic,” the Hokage says, “considering I had to re-work trade routes and build new roads to accommodate the amount of shinobi I have to keep in Otsuta province to guard the border.”

The tension, somehow, racks up by an order of magnitude. Ani shifts his weight, scooting closer to Sakumo; for once, this has nothing to do with them. The only thing Uzushio humans want is to be left alone.

The Mountain King is the first to speak. “If we’re on the topic of trade routes, we had an informal understanding with Konoha about Haran Bay shipping routes. You cut them off in the firth month of ’44, forcing our supply ships into the Kaizoku Sea and then north via the Hokubu.”

Sarutobi’s mouth tightens. “Those routes were under heavy threat from Kiri’s naval attacks. We closed them to protect civilian vessels, not to undermine Kumo.”

Ani’s eyes bounce from one Kage to the next, all but vibrating in place. It’s fun, like a sports match, or a well-practised play. They all know their lines, they’ve performed them dozens of times, if not hundreds, to this exact audience. And yet—it’s exciting.

Sand King Issa makes a polite, meaningless sound in the back of his throat. “Suna’s northern provinces were a battleground for nearly a generation. You all marched across them whenever it suited you—sometimes Iwa, sometimes Fire—but now you each cite that fleeting presence as proof it’s ‘yours.’ How do we move forward if you keep undermining each other’s claims?”

Ōnoki huffs out a breath. “Iwa kept farmers there, even when we didn’t occupy it. That land wasn’t barren. People from our side lived quietly, and paid taxes to Iwa’s clans long before Suna became a formal village.”

“That’s convenient,” Issa counters softly. “Because according to our records, those farmers had requested and have been receiving Suna’s protection for nearly fifty years. They certainly weren’t paying Iwa taxes then.”

Oooh, that was a good one—

The Rain King leans forward, what is visible of his face set in a polite, curious expression. He’s never looked more bloodthirsty. “How bold of you all, to raise these issues, as if Amegakure wasn’t made into a no man’s land. As if you hadn’t collectively decided the territory was to be sacrificed to ease your strained diplomatic relationships, and doomed five hundred thousand souls while you were at it.”

Ouch. True, too. Ani knows nothing about geopolitics in general and Ame’s situation in particular, but from what he picked up, the Rain King is underselling it, if anything.

Thankfully, before someone—the Stone King—has the brilliant idea to snap something incendiary—suggest the Rain King and his people simply move elsewhere—the Samurai King steps in. “Perhaps we should itemise the contested areas, one by one. We can’t keep circling the same accusations. Let us list them, gather each claim, and address them systematically.”

“Fine,” says the Leaf King. “But if we’re serious about a demilitarized zone, let’s define those lines around Amegakure’s Grey Mountains and every other border section properly. No guesswork.”

Ōnoki grumbles. “Guesswork? We have maps of that region dating back three hundred years and more. You want me to believe Konoha hasn’t forcibly shifted lines over the last war?”

That was quick. As much as the rest of the attendants hate each other—and they do, almost mindlessly so—there is something special about Stone and Leaf. And about Stone and Uchiha. And Stone and Hideki—Huh. The Stone King seems to be uniquely positioned to drag against the fur of every one of Ani’s favourite people. Good to know.

“We have to start somewhere,” the Sand King Issa says. “It might as well be the Ryoto and Irinaga provinces. That’s where the last big conflict over farmland flared. Then we move clockwise around the continent—cover Iwagaruke’s claims in the north, Kumo’s peninsula corridor in the northeast, Konoha’s in the south, and eventually the Kaizoku Sea routes for Kiri.”

Masamune, quiet until now, merely inclines his head. “Kirigakure is tired of everyone choking our shipping lanes, but sure—go ahead. If we skip us for last, at least no one can say we hijacked the conversation.”

“Very well. Earth–Wind first. Then we’ll handle Fire–Lightning. After that, we can see about Kaizoku shipping. Perhaps then Konoha and Iwa can agree on—”

He breaks off as the Stone- and Leaf Kings exchange wary looks. Everyone knows how deeply rooted their dispute runs, how many times that slice of borderland changed hands. Ani can practically feel the age-old hostilities pressing on the room.

Finally, Leaf King says, “Yes. Let’s do it. But I want clarity: no vaguely worded ‘understanding.’ We need a final boundary.”

A faint scowl from Stone King Ōnoki, then a grudging nod. “Final, indeed.”

“And while we argue over that,” Sand King Issa mutters, reorganising his scrolls, “maybe we’ll figure out who truly owns the northwestern provinces.”

The Rain King shrugs, an air of thinly veiled impatience hanging in his posture. “As long as Ame’s ring-of-mountains is recognised as ours, I’ll spare you my usual complaints.”

“Very well,” Mifune says. Snaps, really, a bit louder than is perhaps necessary. “Let’s address the southwestern corridor. Lay out your documents—who claims which farmland, from which era, under which treaties. We’ll note them carefully—”

***

Chapter Text

Establishing demilitarised zones takes a while. Ani isn’t bored as such, but he is neither human nor an indigenous being of this world. He has nothing at all to contribute except vague goodwill—a fact that’s noticed by most every participant. Conversely, Sakumo has a lot to contribute, and he does, freely and at length, when sufficiently riled. So, that maybe balances the whole thing out. Ani is there as the ignorant leader of one very opinionated man who, crucially, isn’t intimidated by the other rulers in the slightest.

“—we would even agree to demolish three of the four bunkers, and convert the last into a field clinic,” the Leaf King says, having taken the floor and pointed towards a stretch of border between Fire and Lightning.

A more naive Ani would think: fantastic! What generosity! What progress! This Ani, the Ani who has sat through six hours of bickering (and counting), can play the conversation out to the end already. Someone will object that the reasonable humanitarian measure could be used for nefarious purposes—

“And who do you propose to write the chakra-suppression matrices on this clinic?” says the Mountain-advisor. Daria. “Because I’m sure your lordship doesn’t suggest we allow Konohan chakra users free access to our border without any security guarantees?”

—Now, the indignant reply—

“Lady Akutsu must have misspoken,” says the Leaf King. “Healing is a delicate, precise art. Suppressing chakra use in would render it little more than a civilian-grade apothecary.”

—Spice it up with accusations of fear-mongering—

“Unlike some, Konoha never broke a treaty,” his bandaged advisor adds, rasp in his voice matching the dull menace of his magic. “If Kumogakure wants to throw around accusations of treachery, they would be wise to start at home.”

—And follow it up with reciprocal outrage—

“What an interesting observation,” Hideki says, leaning forward, chin held up by his palm, elbow planted on the table. “Most intriguing. I would welcome a more in-depth discussion about Konohan treachery and its many forms, scopes and outcomes.”

—The Samurai King will try to steer things back to safer waters—

“Gentlemen, we were discussing the DMZ at the Uo Pass. Pray, let us not get sidetracked. If the Fūinjutsu barriers are the sticking point, I suggest staffing the clinic with medics from, say, Sunagakure. As neutral parties, they have no incentive to subvert the security measures put in place for their benefit.”

—But it will be too late.

“You would ask our Shinobi to let themselves be examined and treated by the most insidious poison users in the known world? How very avant-garde—”

“I assure you that I would instruct my people to help only those grateful for the privilege—”

Ani sighs, mind scattering. It could be worse. The dustup over securing shipping lanes with Uzushio magic almost escalated into combat. The issue of the width of the no-man’s-land area between Fire and Wind was hurriedly shelved by the Samurai King. The messenger-bird flight corridor treaty was, in fairness, doomed before it started, but it cascaded into a long and excruciating debate over that one time Stone and Lightning had built a joint granary to help the people living in the borderlands, and a team of Konohan genin detonated it while running from their lives from one of th Mist sordsmen. Ani had hopes for the archipelago dispute between Water and Lightning; it looked promising. Unfortunately, the Rain King had decided to weigh in, prompting Sakumo to participate and stab the proposal dead.

Perhaps as a punishment, the Samurai King serves them food at their seats, in some hellish approximation of a working lunch. Ani doesn’t bother eating—he’s much too exhausted to be playing a mundane, physical animal—but appreciates the aesthetic. Meat and vegetable skewers, arranged on polished wooden boards, with warm, flat dough to catch the dripping juice. Looks tasty, all things considered.

“Now, gentlemen—and ladies—I must regrettably insist. While today has been productive, airing our grievances is the first part of the process. The second, arguably more important, step is to agree on solutions.” The Samurai King waves a hand, and a quiet flock of minions sweep through, handing scrolls to the assembled monarchs and their heirs. “We need not agree on the minutiae, but we cannot move on before we have established a foundation. With that in mind, let us begin making the first draft of a Non-aggression pact between our countries—”

***

The circus continues, if in a somewhat different form. Where, before, the Samurai Lord encouraged the flow of ideas, insults and paranoid delusions, now he steers the conversation with a firm, if condescending, hand. It’s working, somehow, so Ani does his best not to draw any damning conclusions. He never would have guessed that treating them like petulant children would speed matters along, but maybe he’s missing something. More importantly, what works for the Samurai Lord—an exceptionally dignified and self-possessed gentleman—is not going to work for Ani—a catastrophe with no permanent form of which to be ashamed.

“So, what is happening now?” he whispers to Sakumo. “With the pins, I mean?”

“They’re mapping fault-lines,” Sakumo answers. A little way off, the Mountain King has finally shouldered his way to the front and is stabbing coloured pins into a map with every sign of malicious delight. The others are watching him with narrow-eyed fury. “Meaning, they’re marking the areas of their border, where they will not accept foreign garrisons under any condition.”

Oh, is that so? “No wonder they are running out of pins.”

“Every country gets an equal number,” Sakumo says. “A fact that has, thus far, remained uncontested. I fear we will be in for another round of debate soon enough.”

Indeed, Ani can track similar considerations on the faces and magic of the summit attendees. An equal number of pins? Whyever for?

“This is absurd,” the Mountain King snaps, as prophesied. “Kumogakure has the longest stretch of border. We must be allowed more areas of strategic importance.”

“I think you’ll find that we’ve the biggest coastline,” the Mist King says. “And we are comfortable with the arrangement as was initially proposed.”

“That’s because you’re an archipelago, protected by both the ocean and the horrors Uzumaki sunk into the waters over the centuries! I don’t see why you were given any pins at all!”

“Conversely, I don’t see why you are blaming your shortcomings on us, as plentiful as they are—”

Sakumo’s magic twitches with irritation, then smooths over in the next blink. “I expect Mifune-dono will shepherd them to an agreement soon enough,” he says. “And then the real fun starts.”

Super. Isn’t that just lovely?

***

Oh, no, Ani thinks, some hours later. They’re steadily approaching the evening, and the Samurai King had not only managed to hammer out some sort of wretched, miserable agreement from his audience, but he demanded they open item two on his Agenda. Ani, who had such warm feelings for said agenda, has long since come to loathe it with concerning passion.

“Regulating Jinchūriki and Bijuu usage—”

It’s incredible. He could almost believe everything that came before was, in fact, friendly, constructive banter. The tension that spreads through the room is thick and paralysing, evident even in the Samurai King’s staff. Even the three Leaf heirs seem aware that this will be painful, and the less said about Ani’s side, the better. Hideki and Katsuki are as approachable as a tub of arsenic, and Hatake has done away with his affability entirely, and is staring at the room in general like he’s about to start a duel.

“—Offensive deployment of Jinchuuriki without a majority consensus—”

And, at least in this case, he can sort of understand why. Fact is, Ani hasn’t been subtle about his willingness-- or lack thereof--to tolerate enslaved beings, and, if he understood things currently, they’re enslaving both Bijuu and the people who double as living prisons. That stuff is not going to fly on his watch—and he’s made inroads on that front. On the other hand, an argument can be made that—

“—Find it amusing that Mifune-dono has brought up the topic of supernatural creatures whose interests diverge from humanity’s when one such creature sits at this table, making a mockery of these proceedings.”

Ani sighs. Yes, that. And he can’t even blame the Rain King much; he’s not wrong. Ani is not human; his interests align with the interests of humanity as much or as little as is his preference, and nobody here has, as of yet, figured out a way to force him to heel. That’s sort of what this whole thing has been about: Ani exerting his will and the various ways humans have reacted to it.

“Amekage-dono, please, Topic B concerns sealed hosts—”

“Topic B concerns the beings of pure Chakra, hostile to human interests except when it suits them, who can’t be reasoned with, only threatened into existence. It’s clear, therefore, that we should not waste any more lives on containment and do away with the threat for good.”

Yikes. Ani wraps his tail closer around his snout, ears twitching. This will not be pleasant.

“How fortunate that you bring up human interest,” Sakumo says, voice clear in every way that conveys a threat. “By the most conservative estimation, Ani saved more lives than he’d taken by a factor of ten. You, on the other hand, have done the opposite.”

“Saved? Enslaved, more like. Life under the boot of a beast that calls itself a god is no life at all,” the Rain King says. “Not that I expect a man such as yourself to understand that. You can no more understand the urge to live a self-actualised life than you could grow wings and fly.”

Now, hold on. That’s a bit much. Ani hasn’t enslaved anybody. If anything, he’s gone out of his way to install a sense of self-respect and self-love in all the humans he considers his. Which, now that he thinks about it, does sound a little suspicious, but that’s just terminology, and, besides, humans are pack animals; he’s most of the way certain about that. They all think in collectives. It’s fine.

“Respectfully, Ani-sama has held these powers for at least fifteen years that we’ve been aware of his existence, and he’s never wielded them to claim territory, tribute or worship,” the Sand King says. He stops blinking when he’s upset, Ani notes. You’d think growing up in the desert and a constant state of upset would make such tics impractical. “Past behaviour is the best predictor of future risk.”

The Mist King scoffs. “Fifteen years? Please. Markets price the duration of reliability. Fifteen years is a trial period, not proof of permanence. I wouldn’t accept that argument when negotiating cargo insurance.”

Another fair point. When you think about it, this is a lot more interesting than the previous item. That was all age-old conflicts and stubborn grudges. They’re in the abstract now and are making fascinating arguments. Good thing that the scribes are taking it all down. Maybe they’ll agree to make him a copy.

“Only Ani-sama is not a blind force for chaos,” says the Mountain King. “He can be negotiated and reasoned with. More importantly, he can be predicted. Even the most cursory analysis of his behaviour says that he is willing to make concessions and set aside his preferences, for the sake of his attachments. The more roots he puts down, the less likely he is to reach for scorched earth tactics.”

“Attachments aren’t stabilisers, they’re amplifiers,” says the Leaf King. “A cursory analysis of his behaviour also shows that he’s more than willing to impose his will over the human norms and laws he doesn’t think much of. Konoha lost more than can be counted because of his actions, and we were supposedly on the same side of the conflict.”

Double yikes. Hideki isn’t going to like that, and neither is Katsuki.

“Konoha sold her sister village out without justification or hesitation, never mind how you were treating a founding clan,” Hideki says. “If Ani had razed you to the ground, I’d have bought him a gift. Only, not only had he not punished your treachery, but he stopped us from crossing the border and taking the war to Kumogakure. He considers the Raikage a friend, even though they would have wiped Uzushio off the map. Political spin is one thing, but I invite you to take your paranoid delusions and choke on them, Hokage-sama. We certainly have better things to do with our time than indulge them.”

Oof. That’s—one approach. It certainly cuts through some of the rhetoric. Everyone here was likely aware of every slight between Hideki and the Leaf, but so far, everyone had tried to keep away from outright stating it.

“We have all done ill to others and have had ill done to us, in ways we consider unjust and dishonourable,” the Sand King says, in a tight, controlled voice. “Here and now, we have an opportunity to build rather than punish. Amekage-dono, every age has to grapple with a power it cannot conquer and must instead negotiate with. It is not wise to try to prevent potential future harm with bloodshed in the present.”

Another good point, if a little repetitive.

“Personally, I find it distasteful to leave difficult tasks to my heirs. If it has to be done, let it be me who does it, and leave the field clear for those who come after. Certainly, I would not leave them with an inheritance of servitude to a would-be god bound only by his whims.”

The Mountain King raises two fingers. In the sea of hostility, it’s refreshing to see a neutral gesture and an even expression. “Two decades ago, we lost a generation to a ruler who believed the same. In the end, he got his wish in that the ashes he left in his wake were, indeed, equal. We are still climbing from that pit.”

The scowl on the Rain King’s face softens. What’s this, a civilised interaction? Could it be? “And how bad would it have been if your tyrant had been unkillable? I was present at the execution, I know and applaud how you dealt with him—and the same will happen to any other human at this table. We will be killed one day, when we stray too far or lose ourselves. This is as it should be.”

The Mountain King inclines his head. “But surely you see the error in your line of argumentation. You are arguing that Ani-sama must be neutralised because—he can’t be neutralised?”

A smile! That’s a smile he can see in the lines around the Rain King’s eyes and the loosening of his magic. “I do not see the error. He must be neutralised because he can’t be neutralised, precisely. We must come together and invent a way to fix this most terrifying of threats looming over our heads.”

Yeesh. Ani is the first one to appreciate interesting rhetoric, but this is a bit much.

“So Amekage-sama is calling for—joint research funding?” Bless him, the Mountain King shrugs, all polite and attentive. “Kumogakure alocates generously towards research and innovation; we will welcome your proposal.”

“Good luck with that,” the Stone King says, ruining the precious air of camaraderie without trying. “Contact us when you unearth a clutch of researchers who can match the Uzumaki. But please do remember to do all practice tests on your territory and on your people. For my sins, I lead a village of engineers, and I know first-hand that those bastards always downplay the cost and casualties they expect during the development phase.”

Something niggles at the back of Ani’s mind, some strange part of him that perks up at the notion of a village full of engineers. Odd. Uzushiogakure’s magicians do plenty of research, if their wards and runes can be called such. Is Hideki an engineer, then? Is Mami?

The Rain King isn’t as impressed by the—very logical, in Ani’s opinion—rejoinder. “So you sign away your freedom because finding a solution is harmful to your fiscal policy?”

“My fiscal policy is what keeps my people free from starvation, in fact.” The strange thing is that the Stone King looks a lot more dangerous when he’s not shouting and bickering with everyone and anyone. “I spend all the capital I am entrusted with wisely, be it monetary or, and I can’t stress this enough, political. That you seem to be determined to squander yours is your prerogative; I can’t say I care that much. I do care that you’re preventing the rest of us from securing advantages and resources for our people.”

“Craven, self-serving and, ultimately, self-defeating,” the Rain King says. “How very unsurprising.”

“If by self-serving you mean concerned chiefly with advocating for my people, I suppose I have to agree. With that said, I don’t for a second believe that this little show you’re putting on is sincere, and we’ve wasted enough time indulging you.” He shifts towards—Ani. Huh. Is it time for him to participate? Is his trial postponed? “As misguided as he is, the Amekage has brought us to a valuable stepping off point: namely, joint action. You claim that destroying the Bijuu would result in the dangerous accumulation of harmful energies. Energies that could, when they reach critical mass, gain something like sentience and start wreaking havoc.”

Ani flicks his ears. Shifting into something with more appropriate physiology would be beneficial, in all likelihood, but today has been miserable enough that he doesn’t feel like it much. Talking foxes, it is. “I will not claim it. It’s a possibility. I will claim that you produce a lot of resentful energy. Malicious energy. If you don’t put effort into neutralising it, sooner or later, the buildup will become apparent.”

The Stone King nods. The interesting thing is that he’s considerably more receptive to this argument the second time around. When they first spoke of it—what feels like centuries ago—he was barely ready to accept it as a possibility. He must have had confirmation from sources he trusted—or at least trusted more than Ani, which is a pretty low bar.

“Current scholarship suggests the primary function of the Bijū was to purify such buildups,” he says. “Will you agree to help us research alternatives? Relying on the beasts is unacceptable; the moment we release them, they will do their best to destroy every human they can, Shinobi or civilian.”

True. He shrugs. “Sure. I don’t know how much help I’d be; I’m hardly a scholar, much less a researcher, but I’ll help as I am able. Less resentful energy is in everybody’s best interests.”

The Stone King nods sharply and looks around, as if to say, See? This is how you conduct a negotiation. Ani would be a whole lot more grateful if the man hadn’t been the cause of endless delays, petty arguments and vindictive stonewalling until he got whatever concession he wanted.

“And about the Bijū? If we come up with a viable solution, will you agree to—” He waves a hand. “Eat them, or whatever it is you do?”

Ani huffs. “I didn’t eat the two that attacked my people. I—distrusted their forms. They will be fine in a century or so.”

“You know what I mean.”

Yeah, no. “I don’t, no. I will not kill beings for the crime of existing.” He flicks his ears again; it’s a strange self-soothing measure, but it works. “I will also not allow them to slaughter humans indiscriminately. You imprisoned them, but only after they killed innocents—” Another flick. “This is correct, yes? They killed you first?”

The Stone King leans forward, eyes serious, lines on his face somehow deepening. “They killed us for centuries. Even if we accept that they were reacting to our—resentful energy, they hadn’t communicated as much or attempted to teach us how to do otherwise. They just killed us like ants.”

Ooof. Imprisonment and slavery—bad, yes, but—

“If they can’t be reasoned with, I will stop them,” he says, and puts his snout back down on his paws. The urge to cover his eyes with his tail is strong. “I will promise that much.”

The Stone King doesn’t let up. “And you won’t be using our people to do so? You will take up the obligation of stopping the Bijū threat without any human sacrifices whatsoever?”

Hah. “I don’t even know how I could use humans like that. Whatever you lot did, however you managed to stretch your brethren into prisons, it’s got nothing to do with me. I don’t mess with people’s immortal souls.”

“Yes, yes, we are all humiliated by our barbaric, primitive ways.” The Stone King leans back, eyes jumping over the assembled monarchs. “I call for that clause to be set in writing, and want to propose an addendum: All the Bijū to be handed over to him to neutralise, at the same time and place—”

****

Chapter Text

Predictably or otherwise, every one of his humans is rattled by the events of day one. In that sense, it’s something of a mercy that the Samurai King releases them late into the night, after they’ve all been too wrung out to talk more.

Ani fusses around the humans, shifts into any number of whimsical shapes, colours and sizes, but, after they had settled into rest, he puts on the skin of an ash-grey marten and scurries up into the rafters of their tent. The hours fly past without much awareness, as he lets his thoughts scatter and rest. When it finally arrives, it does so reluctantly, slinking in on silent paws.

Something shifted in the night. He tastes it on the wind, hears it in the thrum of Hideki’s barrier-magic. His skin prickles, heart beating a restless beat into his ribs. Not now, he thinks. We cleared the biggest hurdle. If the humans were able to wrap their minds around the idea of him, the rest will be easy. Calm down. Let the day be ordinary.

So, he chooses ordinary. He stretches, yawns, and extends his noodly body as far as he can go, eyes closed to savour the shiver.  Then, he scampers down, heaves to the right, twists his body and lands—Straight onto Sakumo’s lap. The man’s hand folds around his neck, clever fingers smoothing down the fur under his jaw and down his nose.

The rest of the morning follows familiar patterns. A suspicious soul would point out how precise the light-hearted banter, how the puns about breakfast porridge were timed to perfection, and the answering laugh loud enough to convey comfort, without being too loud that might suggest nerves. Since Ani is no such thing, he doesn’t think about it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

Outside of the tent, a step falls too loudly, and Ani, very carefully, doesn’t let his head snap up. Around him, his humans’ reactions are much the same—barely perceptible delay, camouflaged to appear to be a trick of the eye, then back to normal.

Danger is coming. Danger, danger—

Yeah? When is it not?

***

The summit hall is as they left it, with pristine mats and discrete banners. The air is fresh, there are elegant platters of fruit and cast iron pots of tea everywhere the eye can settle. They aren’t the first or the last—this is, likely, not an accident. The Desert King and his retinue are already there, as are the Mist King and, of course, the Samurai King. The attendants smile, men and women sit with artfully relaxed muscles, hands visibly empty of hilted weapons.

Something isn’t right. Something has changed. Something is coming.

Ani exhales, unwinds from Sakumo’s neck and leaps onto Hideki. A couple of gentle cuddles later, he scurries up and repeats the manoeuvre with Katsuki. Then, he jumps down, shifting as he goes, and rises as a human, the neutral version he finds fits well—golden skin, golden hair, a little above average size.

“Oh?” Hideki says, once he’s tucked him into his outer robes. “This is fun. You haven’t tried on a human shape for a couple of weeks.”

Yes, well. Humans like small cuddly animals, but they only really find comfort in other humans. For reasons he isn’t willing to consider, much less articulate, he figures they might as well get their comfort in now. “I like this shape,” he says instead. “It feels—easy.”

“I’ve noticed you tend to lean towards male bodies, and the preference for gold is not what one would call subtle.”

He shrugs, then eels sideways into him. Hideki is just a bit shorter, like this, which isn’t his preference, strictly speaking, but it is Hideki’s, so he lets it be.

Beware. Danger. Death.

***

Konoha arrives after he’s already unintentionally but delightfully scandalised the Stone King’s people by fussing over Katsuki, only to be plucked up by Sakumo and tucked into his side. The quasi-suggestive way he was treating his humans wasn’t the issue, hilariously. It was that he not only allowed Sakumo to bodily haul him this way and that, but that he went boneless with pleasure from it. It seems that they were a lot more willing to overlook his strange ways when he was a fox. It’s alright to manhandle a fox. A tall male human was another matter.

Every one of the Leaf King's attendants, from his heirs to the one-eyed—incredibly, glaringly villainous—advisor, looks at Ani first, pauses, then looks away. The Leaf King enters last, and he sees nothing but bland respect when their eyes meet. The note of wrongness rings louder, and Ani winks it out with no mercy. We cleared the worst of it yesterday. Today will be a breeze. Tomorrow, the humans will sign their bits of paper, and we will all go our separate ways.

As if to confirm it, the discussions flow smoothly. Voices overlap and argue, yes, but never with the hostility they had yesterday. The caution that grips Ani seems to be near-universal; even the Stone King is doing his best to keep the ball rolling. Ani lets the rhythm sweep over him. The Desert King concedes two of his watch towers if the Stone King lowers the tariffs at the Iron Sands junction. Onoki refuses, then relents after fifteen minutes of argument. The scribes are all too quick to give them both contracts to sign acknowledging as much. Ani’s eyes slip half-closed, almost willing himself to believe—This is it. This is what victory looks like: dull, slow, incremental.

So, when the Leaf King lifts his cup—nothing more than a polite request for more tea—Ani almost doesn’t notice the subtle flare of magic. It’s neither loud nor hostile, a trickle of power shaped to a frequency only the very disciplined would spot.

Ani is not anyone’s idea of disciplined, but he is a being made of pure energy. His head comes up, eyes snapping to his. He meets the man's gaze across the table and finds, for a long, breathless beat, a grandfatherly warmth so perfectly genuine, it might be the truth.

Then he sets the cup down, just so.

The peace shatters.

***

The floor lights up with a cold, impersonal blue. Somewhere overhead, runes snap to life. Dozens of bodies surge upwards, as the light concentrates into lines. Script. Runes are circling underneath the Leaf King’s tatami, perfectly visible through the fabric. The man grunts out a sound, hands flashing through shapes, magic winding in complicated, weighty shapes.

Light cracks through the air. A hundred things happen all at once—and yet, the mind can’t agree on a single one. The lamplight bends and curves without any apparent cause, and shadows stretch above and below it. Behind it. Somehow, Ani is watching shadows curve behind light, and no wonder the poor, confused humans aren’t running for their lives. This is a lot for Ani to come to grips with, and he’s more or less lost track of his own form. Something is manifesting itself, something that hasn’t yet asserted the physical characteristics of the shape it's wearing. It’s getting there, but the in-between stages are—challenging.

The tent explodes outwards as reality snaps back, and twenty-something meters of dread monster looms behind the Leaf King, stray ropes and bits of tent caught on its body. It’s a lot of a body, too, well worth the dramatics, a strange tusked face set into a skeletal form, hair writhing in the wind. Its stomach is stitched shut with prayer strips; its ribs rattle with every dry inhale, as though it is testing the flavour of each soul in the hall. It might as well be tasting the air like a snake, because it’s sure not breathing. It cannot be alive in any conventional sense. Either it’s tasting the air or it’s looking to discomfort the humans, and that’s a lot of effort to invest in a quirk, considering you’re frightening enough as is.

The Leaf King’s magic spikes again, and the other humans present at the scene jerk into awareness. His heirs, notably, file in front, appropriating some sort of defensive stance. Shimura lurks a little to the left and to the back. And the Leaf King, of course, almost glows with magic, twisting and kinking, pouring out of him like water out of a barrel split in half. He can’t do this for long. Whatever he’s doing, whatever the purpose of the dread monster—one or two spring to mind, what with yesterday’s discussion—they will soon witness it one way or the other.

Sakumo seizes Ani by the wrist and yanks him backwards just as a chain of magic lashes the spot where his ankle had been. The two of them skid across splintered floorboards, cloaks snapping like pennants. Thunderous curses in five dialects follow as every kage, guard, and scribe scrambles to put some space between them and the creature that is slowly settling to exist on this plane of existence. It’s entirely possible, Ani thinks, mind flowing in a strange, cool cadence, that the Leaf King is performing some sort of necromantic ritual, right here, in the open.

He blocks out the immediate goings on. A couple of brave humans are attempting to attack it, subdue it before it’s fully conscious. Not bad as far as these things go, but it’s not going to work. Things like that can’t be hurt with normal means.

Was this really necessary, he can’t help but wonder. Might there still be another way? Could Ani—could someone reason with that lunatic, explain that summoning demons never ends well for anybody, the summoner least of all? Has Ani driven them so fear-mad that they decided to try controlling a creature defined by malice and corruption?

The creature inhales again. The sorry remains of the tent blow away, peel like damp paper. What was once a tasteful winter pavilion becomes an open-air killing ground ringed by jagged stakes and shattered furniture.

Focus, for pity’s sake. Your humans are talking to you. Shouting, really. Sakumo’s hand is tight on his wrist—Ani takes a moment to be grateful for the shape; it won’t be physical battles he will be fighting—as the other humans spread out into a shocked, somewhat petrified circle. Hideki is all but glowing with barrier-magic, Katsuki’s eyes are a red blur, and less said about the dispassionate flavour of bloodlust radiating off Sakumo the better. The other monarchs are much the same; kings and warriors are crouching on wary feet, hands white knuckled around hilts, breath visible in the cold winter air. The Stone King, he notes, dazed, is flying.

The Leaf King, however, remains where he was, hand outstretched, a rope of light connecting his bleeding palm and the monster. The imagery is hardly subtle. Interestingly, while the rope of light from the Leaf King is the brightest one, there are more—dozens of strands fly out of the demon’s back, thin and nearly translucent. It’s up in the air if Ani can see them with his eyes or sense their energy, but their presence is curious. Batteries of some sort? Has the Leaf King been storing his energy in preparation for this? Is that why this took so long, why they even agreed to the peace talks to begin with?

The Leaf King’s eyes are fixed on Ani with a sorrow that looks suspiciously close to pride. The ice in Ani’s chest rattles, but holds. The important thing right now, he thinks, is to remain calm. The last thing anyone needs is two insane gods, or demons, or whatever the two of them are.

“This is madness,” Ani finds himself saying. “This is—You don’t have to do this.”

His gaze flickers. For a heartbeat, the old man looks almost relieved, almost grateful that Ani understands the price. Then resolve steels the lines of his face.

“Peace often demands unsavoury patrons.” He slams both hands together, and the creature strikes.

Sakumo tries, it has to be said. He does his best with the mortal body he’s burdened with. It was never going to work. Time is irrelevant to a thing like that. When it decides to move, it’s already reached the destination. In this case, ten finger-like appendages are stabbing into Ani’s chest before the human eye could have registered the movement.

He sways, trying to come to terms with the sensation. The pain is banal, easy to set aside. It’s the comprehensive layering of it that’s a challenge. He withstands it easily enough—it’s nowhere near enough force to bring him down, he knows this on an instinctive level—but the secondary effects are far more worrying. Darkness floods his mind, sizzles red-hot on the ice he keeps in his heart to protect him in situations like these. Steadily rising anger is complicating matters further. The standard trappings of the shape he’s wearing are becoming too burdensome, so he casts them aside, only human by the most absurd definition. Easy, calm down. Your people are here. Whatever this creature—

The finger-like appendages double in number, and with them comes the unwelcome awareness of the monster. It’s—Some sort of demon, certainly. The humans think of it as a god of death, as limited as they are by their ignorance. It’s no such thing, it can’t be. As the clawed pressure clamped over his spirit increases and the present bears on him more, he learns, he knows the demon wants it to hurt. His mind buckles as memories he refused, he cast away, threaten to burst free. This isn’t right. Death is peace; it’s a closed loop that releases energy and restores tranquillity. The demon is an abomination, a parasite snatching souls and feeding on their suffering. The universe loses harmony every time the creature feeds—and it feeds well, by what he can see.

He staggers, but keeps his feet. What it lacks in finesse, it makes up for in raw power. Unfortunately for it—and the Leaf King, who is going to get ritualistically sacrificed to the gods of common sense, if Ani has anything to say about it—the same has been said about Ani, on occasion. He steadies his spirit, solidifies his magic and patches up what holes in his psyche these mindless horrors have dug. Not now. Later. You can fall apart later, in little increments, when surrounded by every single person who ever looked at you and thought you deserve a smile and a kind word.

***

He snaps back into awareness in the nick of time; Hideki looks to be about ready to start tearing at his hair in frustration.

“Hey, so, maybe you should all consider running from the hills? From the demon?”

“That’s not a demon,” Hideki snaps. “That’s the Shinigami. God of Death.”

Ani huffs a strafed laugh. Not breathing has its perks, but it makes speech complicated. “It’s a demon, trust me. To clarify—you’re not going to do the smart thing and run for the hills?”

Hideki bares his teeth. Sakumo doesn’t say a word, eyes a deep, intriguing gold. Fangs are peeking through his lips, and his nails are purple black at the root. Well, he says nails. Claws would be more accurate. “What do you think?”

Alright.

“Is there a plan? Did you—” He tries to wave a hand, unbalances himself and staggers. The demon’s would-be chains rattle. “Did you coordinate with the other humans?”

“There is a plan,” Hideki says. The pointed absence of information on the matter of cooperation is answer enough. Yikes. Even now, when faced with a legitimate demon panting to consume their immortal souls, the humans can’t figure their shit out. Go figure. “It’s Fūinjutsu. Sealwork. Whatever Sarutobi had meant to do, he is insane to think that he can outdo an Uzumaki Seal-master.”

Right, right. “Which means?”

“Which means the only thing you have to do is survive long enough for me to break it. In the meantime—Sakumo, Katsuki. Killing Sarutobi is a sure way of dispelling the technique. So, y’know, consider speeding things along.”

“Understood.”

Katsuki darts forward. Sakumo turns his way, face a rictus of animal rage.

“Win.”

Being human would pay off in times like these. What is there to say? What could he possibly say?

“I’ve you, and the other side has slimy demons from hell. I’ve already won.”

Not bad. Could be worse.

“You do. And I will kill him for you.”

And off he goes, a blur of silver and black. It’s hard to imagine anything could stop those two—

The Rain King is, admittedly, hard to imagine. When he flies from the side and bats Sakumo from the air with some sort of blade made up of pressurised water, Ani has to pause and recalibrate. Is—Is the Rain King a part of this madness? Really?

If he is surprised, Hideki is downright betrayed. His skin grows several shades paler as his lips press into a bloodless line. His focus holds, however, magic swirling thick in the air as he continues trying to break the demon’s hold.

Behind them, the clash had already escalated in the few seconds Ani’s attention was elsewhere. Wolves, cats and a salamander have joined the fray, all of them enormous, all of them only barely resembling the real animals they borrowed the shapes from. Ani can’t quite make heads or tails of the glittering hurricane of violence, but it seems that the Rain King overestimated the fury of his opponents. He’s falling back, step by step—

Before Katsuki can pivot, a glowing blade of wind carves a line into his back, perilously close to his spine. The Leaf King advisor steps out from the protection of the glowing circle, magic slick, oily and deliberate, and from his hands fly two more blades, then two more. Ani’s heart skips—He can’t break the hold, and, even if he could, it would free the demon to attack someone else. A clean death is endlessly better than whatever torments await the souls the demon has consumed. Still—

A jet-black wall of sand erupts between Katsuki and the threat. The attack bites deep, but nowhere near deep enough; the black wall reforms around the furrows without a pause. The Desert King lands next to Katsuki, one hand outstretched. A second gesture scatters the wall into spear points that orbit him and the Uchiha.

“That was an unwise move, Kazekage-sama,” the leaf advisor says. “Factors are at play here that you are not aware of.”

“Trust I am not interested in anything you have to say, creature.”

The advisor sighs, then makes a gesture and leaps back to stand next to the Rain King. They’re outclassed, Ani thinks. Between the three of them—The Mountain King leaps forward. Between the four of them, they can’t possibly hope to succeed—

On his periphery, a blur of magic. Sixty humans blur into the clearing in one coordinated burst. Ani’s head spins, what focus he can spare struggling desperately to keep up. Sixty figures. Half are masked. The other half—

“Are they pretending to be Uchiha?”

The tide of battle shifts again. The newcomers might not be Uchiha, but they are trained warriors, and well used to fighting in a group—unlike, it has to be said, Sakumo, Katsuki and the two monarchs. The battle is not lost in any sense, but—

One figure blurs differently. It’s neither masked nor wearing a Uchiha mask. It’s, in fact, the Leaf Princess, and she’s flying straight at the two of them.

“Hideki!”

The warning was useless, as it happens. Before the fool girl’s attack could connect, Hideki’s barrier snaps her up and, if the sheer vicious force of it is any indication, tears her into component filaments. Hairs rise on his neck as his thoughts slow down. What happened—Why did she—

The princess flies back. She has something, some spell or rune is flaring white on her forehead, and it’s absorbing most of the attack. Most, he thinks, heart sinking, but not all. The spell flares, stutters, then stops. The girl’s lifeless body hits the ground in a boneless sprawl, livid burns spread across her face, across her eyes and nose.

The clearing freezes for a moment, as, for the first time, the Leaf King jerks. Even the demon’s face seems to turn to the side, curious at the spectacle. The twin cries of her siblings are, therefore, perfectly audible, as is the slim figure of the snake prince darting out to retrieve his sister and drag her back to relative safety.

The silence holds for a beat, then another. Ani focuses on the silence, in desperate need of a quiet moment with which to shore up his splintering mind. At some point, he had to have stumbled, because he’s leaning bodily on Hideki, almost kneeling, head bent and chest heaving—for what? Air? Air you don’t breathe? Nothing at all makes sense, he can’t breathe for the fear, horror and confusion thick in the air. And even over all that, snaked through every one of them the corrosive, poisonous ache of betrayal.

He doesn’t get much in terms of respite. When it resumes, the battle is twice as savage, frenzied with bloodlust and rage. Black fire flies across blades, wolves howl and collapse into magic-smoke. The Mountain King’s lightning is everywhere, as are the Desert King’s black spears. He’s lost track of Katsuki entirely, but Sakumo is pressing the Rain King hard, relentless. If that wasn’t enough, illusions are everything, oily panels of magic manipulating the senses and fuelling the chaos.

He can’t keep this up. His senses are saturated with pain, his own and other people’s. Every pulse of rage from allies and enemies alike stabs into his chest and pulls, and inside, he’s slowly but surely boiling with rage. His skin is flickering, feather, scale, fur, then human again. His eyesight is blurry, as is his hearing, as more and more of his magic is tied up with keeping the demon at bay.

“Breathe, Ani,” Hideki is saying. “The seal holds, but I’m going to—Just breathe—”

Breathe? Breathe what, grief? Madness? The demons chains pulse with malice, old and miserable, weak, pointless. That’s just the word. Pointless. All of this is. All this—racket, all the screams and shouts and bellows that blur into one continuous cry inside his skull. It could all stop, couldn’t it? He could just make it all stop—

No. Focus. Remember yourself. You are Ani of Uzushio. You are a mascot and a house-pet and a friend and a guardian. This will end, yes. It will end when you win, when Hideki figures out the magic keeping you in place. He closes his eyes—might as well, he can barely see a thing—and focuses inward. All he has to do is hold on. He can do that much. Focus on yourself, your energy, your being—

Some time passes. Ani blocks out as much of the chaos outside, but he can only do so much. The tide is relentless, almost rhythmically cruel. His focus wobbles when betrayal spikes in Hideki, so tight and furious he can feel it at a physical wound. He cracks his eyes open, struggling to hear—

The din is, perhaps miraculously, down. Even the fighting is paused. Hideki is—shouting? A tiny spirit-fox sits on his shoulder and he is shouting?

“—corrupted Mito, well done. She will be struck from the records, her name forever synonymous with traitor. She no longer exists, but this stops now. You will stop, retreat and beg for mercy. If you do not, my sister will destroy every living thing in a two-kilometre radius from the heart of Konohagakure and Amegakure—”

Ani’s eyes slip shut, jaw clenching. The pit in his chest spreads. That’s—He can’t—

“—is too late.” Who? The Leaf King? “—is no going back. Your people will be hunted to the end of the world—”

He’s not wrong. He’s not wrong.

“—barriers to harvest the Chakra of your countless dead with which to power our shields. We will be safe and thriving for thousands of years, while everything you ever were is lost to history—”

Ani staggers, falls to his knees. There is little left.

“—will even go a step further. The first Kage to cut that animal down before the Shinigami overpowers my god gets what will have once been Konohagakure and Amegakure, territory and resources. Choose quickly, gentlemen—”

The darkness, the pure, grief-mad evil spreading in Hideki’s soul, is nauseating to witness. Ani doubles over, straining to—say something—do something—

“—Spiralled out of control. The Hyuuga sacrifices are a hundred meters or so North-west. They—agreed. Volunteered. In return, Sensei and Senju-sama will destroy the Caged Bird seal, and they will be free—”

Sacrifices. Volunteers. Slaves. They sacrificed slaves to bribe the demon. There is just enough in him to deny, to reject—humans will kill, yes, and they will blackmail and torture, but they would not—

Only they would. Now that he knows where to look, now that he has the motivation to wade through the sea of filth that is this god, he can feel their suffering and terror. They’re alive, still; the demon is savouring its meal. Some are young, some are old, all of them are in pain, afraid, begging for the end. Each time the demon’s hold on Ani tightens, each time a wave of malice crashes over him, the souls it is feeding on stutter and dim. They don’t glide freely from the mortal coil, they aren’t led into the afterlife, they are reeled, hooked, yanked, clawed into the slit behind the Reaper's teeth. The creature likewise is pausing between tugs, as if to savour the experience. Instead of a peaceful release, they are consumed.

Slowly, almost gently, what is left of Ani’s humanity snaps.

—

Chapter Text

A consciousness reforms, a tide without shoreline, and considers the reality it is inhabiting. A parasite made itself a nuisance, against all reason. How absurd. It’s nothing more than a makeshift idol stitched from famine and false oaths. The gaunt creature presumes to feed on him? Tear it out. An appropriate solution presents itself for examination, neat, clean, viable. If pain, then purge. He sets the concept aside for later consideration.

He straightens, shape bending, reforming, unfurling into something abstract. Examining the architecture of it isn’t interesting enough to warrant the effort; it is simply shape rage becomes at this scale. The creature—a starved thing, grasping and worthless—tries to retreat, but he stills it with a flick of will. Talons stiffen, the parasite petrifies, an abomination left for more in-depth judgment. He has withheld its motion and now it hangs, blaspheming to the only audience it has—itself.

Mortal souls shiver and flicker, cluster together in body and spirit, astonishing and inconsequential. Overlaid over a pleasing lattice of courage, dread and love, the choking stench of betrayal is potent. They, too, fail to inspire; they are interesting in aggregate, but hardly worth closer consideration.

At the far edge of perception, an aberration persists: a pocket of inertia masquerading as life.  It wears the body of a human woman, but nothing lives inside the outline. No hush of soul, no residue of longing, only recursive emptiness rattling in a cage. It doesn’t fit. He leans thoughtward, and distance collapses, space folding in neat pleats, until the impostor is before him, trashing, dying. Its disguise sloughs off under observation: pale flesh, chlorophyll blood, crude mimicry of sentience. Another thought and reality compresses: a fist made of principles. The not-soul tries to invert, to multiply, to spill into adjacent life-threads, but every attempted branch snaps before it opens.

He drags the whole colony—the clones in the immediate vicinity, the ones lurking nearby, then farther out, scattered throughout the world—and spills them at his feet. With a flex of will, it ceases. Good.

His attention widens again, inevitably landing on the humans milling about. Should he reach further? These humans are not other like the aberration had been, but they are tedious things, ignorant and treacherous. Loud. He could elevate the deserving handful and reduce the rest to a restful silence. The notion drifts across his mind, crests—but subsides. They may continue, for now. 

Behind him, the suspended Reaper creaks, last, faint groans of a dying metaphor.

Ah, yes. That’s what he was doing.

The would-be death god is not an aberration like the infection had been, but that’s as much of a claim to purpose it has. It’s hunger, mouth set into bone, a craven desperation to eke out an existence masquerading as both form and function. It has a shape as imagined by the collective dread of mortals who feed it. Every piece is a lie, from its hide covered with sutras that promise release, even as each pulse of power builds the cage, via the hollow, meaningless iconography, to the central lie: pain is prayer. Suffering is absolution. Neither is true, but the creature does not fear lies if it will bring souls to feed on. To unmake it would cost less than the alternative. One precise vector of intent to reverse the predicates that grant it form, and it would collapse into blank horror, a nameless dark between stars.

No. More than that: he could eat it.

And why shouldn’t he? Why not absorb the power, all that potential harvested from collective fear?

Let it settle with him. Let them become part of something vast. Radiant. Let them find worth in vengeance. They tried kindness and mercy, and where did it get them? They put their faith in the fundamentally faithless and were betrayed. The creature wasted them. It could only consume a tiny slice of their spectrum, so it twisted and tortured them to maximise its profit. And for what?

He stops. Why did those souls end up victims of such horror? For sacrifice? For love? The same humans who manipulated, lied, and betrayed their brethren are the same humans who set this thing on him.

Look at you, he thinks, letting the meaning hiss along the energy currents so every heart can taste them, every mortal mind can comprehend the make and shape of his voice. You choke the honour from your children, thread lies through laws, chain everyone you can, lest they realise how powerless you are. You cower, now, but you thought yourselves mighty when you were blind with bloodlust and stolen valour. You thought yourselves strong when you killed and lied and enslaved. You thought yourselves cunning when you used the desperation of slaves to pry open the gates of hell. I see your worth, and I am not pleased.

He takes a step back, considering. If pain, then purge. What else is there to do? What can be built from such rotten foundations? Better start clean. Scorch the earth, leave them a monument to remember, to hesitate the next time they try to bring gods to their knees. What could be more honest than that? They gambled and lost, but the door is open, now. He is no bottom feeder, to obey their rules and only take what he was fed. A gesture, and he could salt the ground with their regret, carve a throne from their terror, raise wonders from the ashes.

For the first time, he considers the power rippling in his being, vast and unknowable, veins of promise glinting under the thin crust of the present moment. The possibilities are endless, each one more worthy than the next.

Futures sketch themselves without effort, all but spring to life, eager to be hammered into existence. He would build golden kingdoms, raise spiralling towers that would hum his name in the wind. Glittering streets untouched by plague or austerity, orchards that bow with fruit in every season, because soil and the sun bow to his decree.

Rejoice.

Children would never learn hunger; elders would never know fear. Lies would be antique fragments, something discussed among scholars in dubious tones. An impossibility. Why wouldn’t they love him? Every morning will be a celebration, every night a well-deserved respite. Nations will flourish, formed with care and attention, ascending to a communal, harmonious chord.

Weep.

He has been here, before, and he hadn’t had the power. He had been weak, then, and all was taken from him, much like these undeserving creatures seek to strip him of what is his. Things are different, now. Power had been scarce, precious and fleeting. Now, it thunders in him, eager, begging to be put to worthy use. And there is yet more for the taking: the parasite’s well of stolen power is only the beginning. The raw fear of his enemies, the faith of allies who would gladly bleed brilliance into his hands—he could gather it all, forge a vault of omnipotence once and for all, stockpile eternity, declare let there be peace and make it true.

Kneel.

Grief would vanish, wrongdoers would cower, history would re-thread itself along lines of immaculate cause and effect. A world so flawlessly bright it would burn away the memory of any other.

The arithmetic sings: add power, subtract pain, multiply worship, divide nothing. All shall love him. And why wouldn’t they?

***

The vision hovers in his mind like a sphere of hammered gold—seamless, gleaming, precise. Avenues of marble and gold wheel out before him in flawless arcs: ten strides to the next arch, ten more to the fountain whose spray lands in lace-perfect symmetry. “Perfect,” he thinks. “Divine.” Yet a subtle ring inside his skull will not still. To silence it, he nudges the geometry—slides the second fountain half a palm south, thickens a lintel, twists the sunlight so it pools like honey. Better. Perfect. And still the ring goes on.

It’s perfect. There are no flaws. He repeats the litany while speeding through his projected kingdom. Perhaps the colonnade is overlong? He shears off two pillars, listens. Nothing. He replasters the dome in gold, embosses the law codes so every clause gleams like a sword-edge. Still, the air hangs flat, as if the city were in vacuum. He sharpens the horizon, sweetens the distant sea, rewrites the sky in a dozen brighter shades—each adjustment more precise, more beautiful. The buzzing in his ears swells, ants crawl in his chest: what is it, what is it, what is it—

The name strikes like flint. People. Uzushio. Sakumo.

In an instant, the hush loosens; space seems to exhale. The projection stabilises with his heart, and the golden streets tilt imperceptibly toward warmth. Of course. His kingdom is perfect. All he needs are people. His people. Relief floods him so cleanly that the clamour vanishes, leaving a bright, level certainty. His kingdom is finished—he need only invite them in.

Sakumo—yes, the perfect place to start. A thought, and the man stands in the light: shoulders broad, skin sun-warm, the pulse in his throat drumming steady as war-hooves. Every line gleams correct, every cell sings in tune, his organs as perfect as the rest of him—and yet the moment he meets that flawless gaze he hears only echo. Too still.

He hesitates, then relaxes and starts again. The form is given meaning by the function; everyone knows this. Sakumo is beautiful because of who he is, a physical manifestation of his spirit. So he starts with loyalty, hammers it into the man’s marrow, a bright shield flaring outward. Sakumo will expand the very makeup of his being to include those he calls his, and offer nothing but tenderness to those sheltered within. The loyalty is a wall that outsiders can’t cross, and to them, to those strangers on the far bank, his mercy is sparse. He does not hate; he simply sees no obligation where no bond has been forged.

Good. That’s good. Now the second pole—his hunger for order. Sakumo craves and seeks out hierarchy. Should he not find it, one will spring around him, inspired and bolstered by his certainty that this is the way. That certainty steadies him. If it breaks, he will feel the snap like bone and, eyes sorrow-quiet, weave fresh patterns so life keeps flowing. Strength, devotion, perseverance—he sets each facet, polishes until he can see his reflection in the storm-grey of Sakumo’s eyes. Perfect—so why does the figure cast no shadow? He slots this masterpiece into the golden streets, and the city does not breathe. Nothing. As empty as before.

Enough of Sakumo for the moment—perhaps the tower must be raised from a different cornerstone. Hideki, then.

The projection reshapes itself as his thoughts condense. Hideki appears, young, languid: coat unbelted, hands folded loose at the small of his back, a courteous invitation to underestimate him. But let a problem drift within arm’s length and the stillness vanishes, hinges yawn wide, revealing tiers of shiny gears that were never truly at rest. The issue is inhaled, digested. The force of his mental machinery sifts it grain by grain: here a precedent docked for false equivalence, there a datum weighed against conscience, then re-weighed in case conscience has grown since he last checked. The process is silent, ruthless. Every unearned assumption is scorched away; every shard of bias sparks, gutters, dies. What remains emerges tempered, edges polished and sharp, fully formed and invaluable.

Well, he thinks, and tweaks. Only he’s hardly sterile and preprogrammed. Hideki’s gears are self-made, his thoughts neither tribal nor inherited. He evens the scales, wipes them clean of bias and weighs truth against deed. What he decides is truth is integrated without hesitation or mercy, irrevocable, fiercely defended. And defend he will, if threatened. If danger comes, spiritual, intellectual, physical, he will retreat to his first principles, to what he will die defending, and hunker down, sacrificing the rest if necessary.

He nods, satisfied. He has the whole of him, surely. His blend of intellect and devotion, his conviction that truth must prove itself daily, while given due deference when it’s established. He knows his warmth and passion as if they were carved into the skies, the blazing heart that follows no design but its own, and interrogates that until he has clawed together a place of security and comfort.

He polishes this likeness—tightens a cog here, oils a hinge there—until the engine hums so smoothly he can feel it in his teeth. Surely this will answer the silence. He sets Hideki beneath the golden colonnade—

—and hears nothing. No click of recognition, no heartbeat caught on the bright marble. The hush thickens, begins to taste of dust.

Impatience needles him. Mami, Kousei, Katsuki, he beckons them one by one, and they step from the air like painted figures and stand awaiting his command. Still the silence. Empty. False. Faster now: the human rulers, the warrior clans, even the faceless ranks who cheer from balconies in the old dreams. They flood the avenues until gold is lost under pale reflections—yet every smile rings hollow, every courtesy tastes of tin.

And the children—why can’t he see the children? Grass-stained knees, palms gritty with sand, laughter like skipped stones, the way they climbed the body of a monster because it was there, and friend-shaped. He reaches for the memory; his hand closes on fog.

The streets echo once, twice—then shatter like spun glass. Light falls away in sheets. Fury boils up, so sudden he nearly chokes on it. What use is power that cannot conjure a single living soul? What is all this? What is all of it for? What do you want from me?

Only the broken hush replies.

He stands alone amid gilded ruin, knowing with a dreadful certainty that it’s beyond him. That it always would have been beyond him. He can make worlds and kingdoms, wage wars and bring down the heavens, but he can’t make love. He can’t make even a poor approximation of Sakumo, who loves him. Who is, even now, near blind with worry for him.

Very well. If he can’t save them by his kingdom of dreams and plenty, he will just save them. The thought settles, cool and final. His pulse steadies. Work begins.

***

The decision is made and it is eternal, liquid metal cooled in an instant. Light floods his lungs as if he is inhaling dawn; his outline blurs, stretches. Rib against rib, cells lose their borders, willing to be anything so long as it suits the next heartbeat.

So he’s cornered; that’s alright. He’s been known to do his best work when escaping a hell of his own making. What do you have? A would-be Reaper frozen, helpless; a heap of husks, soul-less, dying; a hundred souls trapped, in the grasp of the carrion-feeder, the thief and torturer. Peace is impossible while that grip holds. Left unaddressed, the world will crack under the weight of this injustice—even if only because Ani will crack it himself.

Resolve condenses, and with it bone, sinew, skin. He does not glance down. The subconscious has chosen a shape; its reasons are none of his business. Whatever form stands here now is the one built for this single, irrefutable task.

Very well. He’s marched right to the edge, and the Abyss blinked first. Now comes follow-through. This is your first principle: stand your ground and tell the Universe no, you move. No other door exists, so he will blast through the wall.

Power is a given, but the flavour of that power is what will play the crucial role here. The chief of all the things that make him will always be spite.

“You want power? Then choke on it.”

He wrenches the Reaper’s jaws apart and steps through the gore-slick gullet. Space is—strange, when you are more abstraction than matter. He walks inside because it makes it easier to think, but that is as significant as he wants it to be. Inside, whole constellations of binding runes hang in meticulous filigree: barbs engineered to subdue, to humiliate, to teach despair. Caught in that lattice burn a hundred human sparks—discipline, love, recklessness, pride—each fluttering against its cage like a moth desperately struggling away from hot glass.

He scoops the first cluster into his palms. Fractured spirits knit beneath the touch, colours deepening from ash-grey to its own undefinable hue. In their place, he pours in his light—raw, unfiltered, distilled to its brightest octave. The parasite shrieks; seals tumble, shrivel; liberated souls spin outward in widening gyres of light.

Ten. Twenty. Forty. Each pulse of release convulses the beast, and he feeds that convulsion with malicious delight. Then the final knot quivers in his grasp—the volunteers, the ones chained here because of him. What now? What of the rest? The Reaper exists presently only because Ani wills it so; once he retreats, the demon will implode. What will happen to them, then? How many of them have flickered out, spent as cheap fuel? And how long have the survivors fought, irrepresive and stubborn? Is that how he will reward their perseverance? By letting them die as collateral in his fight with a pointless monster with no past and no future?

It’s not even a question. Determination bites down. He plunges deeper, past bright strata into the core of his wrath and brilliance, and rams that furnace straight into the Reaper’s marrow. Somewhere, a darker echo pleads—think of the kingdoms you could build with this—think of all the knowledge at your fingertips—but obstinacy is a far bigger part of his self than greed ever was.

Fractures race across the Reaper’s hide. The more power Ani spends, the less he has to keep it whole. Within its rib-cage, trapped screams mix with exultant silence—the parasite has never tasted stories before, never felt the burden of narrative. Bones creak like ships in a hurricane; power thins, and still he pours. Memories are next, long padlocked, distant and hazy with temptation. He tears them apart unopened and hurls them across the breach. Here. Take.

Cracks yawn wider, light geysers through each seam, and the Reaper’s structure begins its final, impossible unravel.

When his past is spent, he claws for the last thing still sealed in his marrow: a clandestine seed coiled tighter than quarks, the untouched may-be of a young, newly awakened god. It bears no image, no destiny—only the vast, unspoken potential of his will. His fingers close around it, and the pressure of unborn aeons knives up his arm.

Holding it is pain; claiming it feels like confessing to a crime while committing it. But ripping it loose—it’s challenging. Horrific. It’s a blessing that time is immaterial here, because it takes him an eternity to summon the strength and another eternity to experience, accept and internalise the pain. Vertebrae unlace, spirit screams, and the self unspools along seams. Space tilts; horizons turn viscous; constellations flutter like frightened birds. Reeling, he hurls the seed into the Reaper’s splitting heart.

The ruin is quick to follow. The skull-mask fractures first, hairline cracks fanning across bone while raw dawn bleeds through the seams. A heartbeat later, the spine ignites, segments flaring one after another into a crown of stolen magic, each rune pulsing error in every alphabet known to terror. Deprived of its stolen core, the creature does not explode; it forgets. Layer by agonising layer, it folds inward, relinquishing shape, until even its atoms recall the blessed mercy of never having existed.

All that lingers is a mourning veil of aurora, drifting apart even as it forms, thinning into orphan photons that will wander the dark, free to take up more worthwhile pursuits.

In the wake, there is no triumph, only a single, colossal heartbeat of hush—the silence that hangs between a dying star’s last breath and the collapse that follows.

Then, silence, absolute.

***

Later, he will recall a time of choosing. A time to decide if he has done enough, if he can rest. Later, he will remember how instinct and memory reminded him that one does not die for one’s loved ones, one lives for them. And, since old dogs can be taught new tricks, if taught with such superlative force, he will not, in fact, go out in a blaze of glory, leaving the world clear for his heirs.

Later, people will whisper about the day of reckoning, of how it felt like to stand inside a sentence that begins “And lo, the Lord was displeased—” and does not end. Of how it felt to be judged and found wanting, to feel your life open and naked to vast, incomprehensible eyes. Later, witnesses would spin different doctrines to explain why the world had not ended. Every version began the same: He could have, and it would have been just. The miracle was not that wrath appeared; it was that wrath, having weighed everything, stepped back and let the scales fall still.

***

Ani is on his knees without noticing the descent. Power had been endless, keeping him where he wanted to be. Now, gravity reasserts itself.

‘Ani?!”

Knees grind against rubble, breath stutters, heart hammers like a caged finch. It is bewildering, this single, stubborn body. For years, shape had been fleeting and delightful, precisely what he needed or wanted it to be. Now there is only the one, imperfect and irrevocable. His knees rasp like rusted hinges, his back aches in a precise, prosaic knot, and every inhale feels two ribs short of satisfactory intake—and it’s altogether exhilarating. For better or for worse, this is his body now; every throb of lactic acid belongs to him alone.

A hand clamps his shoulder: Hideki’s, nails biting just enough to prove the moment isn’t a hallucination. Ani looks up; Hideki’s expression sways between awe and fury, but the man is alive, whole. Behind him, Sakumo and Katsuki stare as if sunrise just issued from the ground.

Ani tries to arrange his unfamiliar face into something like a smile. “If you can’t win, change the rules. Basic logic.”

His ears are filled with buzz, with static and the rush of his heartbeat. Eyesight is similarly ruined. He thinks they say something, they embrace him or talk to him, but he can’t be sure.

The world does not quake beneath their feet. No golden ziggurats rise. There is only wind, rubble, and room to choose what comes next.

And beneath Ani’s sternum, where infernos once coiled, a small, mortal heartbeat keeps time—steady, fallible, fiercely sufficient.

***