49

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE:

Sansa felt strange, sitting on her bed at the inn that night. While a shower had served to wash away any physical reminders, the three days she'd spent in the mountain couldn't be erased from her mind so easily.

"Do you want to talk?" Jiraiya asked her quietly from the doorway to her room. Sansa hummed softly, thinking, as she braided her fresh-washed hair back from her face.

"No," she decided eventually and Jiraiya nodded, brief disappointment flickering through his chakra, even if it didn't show on his face. 

Still, he hesitated in her doorway, lingering before eventually sighing.

"Goodnight, Fuyuko-chan," he said. "If you need me, I'm one room across." Sansa nodded her acknowledgement and Jiraiya closed the door behind him gently, his quiet footsteps fading.

Sansa tied back her hair then let her hands rest on her lap. She stared down at them. They were so small, so delicate-looking. And yet, so easily had they torn apart other human beings. She closed her eyes, remembering Mito's words; protectors, her ancestress had called Uzushio's shinobi.

Sansa didn't feel like a protector. She felt like a killer.

And once again, she had failed to protect Lady.

Reverse-summoning herself to the spirit realm was nauseating as she remembered, but the moment Sansa found herself in the familiar forest she was already tripping over herself to run to the familiar den Lady and her kin called home.

Tsukiko met her at the entrance to the den, golden eyes gentle. "Oh Sansa," she murmured, bending down to nuzzle her. "Do not fret. Kita is recovering, dear one. It takes more than human steel to take our lives."

"It didn't last time," Sansa whispered, the shame thick in her throat at the memory.

"Perhaps," Tsukiko admitted, a pained edge to her chakra as she was reminded of Lady's past death. "But you have been born anew, daughter of my heart; do not let yourself drown in the memory of old sorrows."

"I didn't want her to get hurt," Sansa choked, "I– I never meant for anyone to get hurt! I never wanted any of this!"

This was never a life she had wanted, had sought. It had been forced on her, violating her very soul as she was forced to fight, to murder, to stain her hands with blood and violence to survive in a brutal world.

Sansa broke down then; Tsukiko a gentle, supportive presence beside her as she shattered, sobbing for the lives she'd been forced to take, the life she was forced to live. "You are so strong, Sansa," Tsukiko rumbled as Sansa wept into her thick fur. "You carry within you the best parts of the Starks and the Uzumaki. There is a force within you that cannot be denied and one day, you will once more know the peace you seek."

"Do you truly believe that?" Sansa begged for reassurance, lifting her tear-stained face up to the great wolf's. Tsukiko's large golden eyes met her own, solemn and proud.

"I do," she said and Sansa breathed in, let Tsukiko's faith lend her the strength that grief and sorrow had stolen from her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Anytime, my cub," Tsukiko rumbled and Sansa carefully dabbed at her eyes, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

"May I see Kita?" she asked and Tsukiko leaned forward to nuzzle her again.

"Of course," the she-wolf said. "I would not dare to keep you apart."

Walking into the den and seeing Lady there lifted a weight from Sansa's heart. Her precious other-half seemed peaceful in her sleep and the terrible battle wound did not look quite so terrible now, half-healed and still knitting itself back together, the blood washed away from her fair fur. Sansa pressed kisses to Lady's sleeping face, pretending there were no fresh tears seeping into the soft fur there, before bidding Tsukiko farewell and much gratitude for all her aid and finally returning to the inn.

Sitting alone on her bed, tears still damp on her face, Sansa suddenly wanted nothing more than to breathe fresh air. It was harder to slip out unnoticed now; in the aftermath of the slaughter of the second stage, she could sense how the patrol around the inn had increased. Sansa's skills as a sensor were put to the test as she took care to slip unnoticed around the patrolling ANBU and make her way to Kiri's more run down streets.

When she arrived at the street she had handed out seals, three days ago now, she almost wasn't surprised when the strange-eyed boy was the first to sidle out of the shadows to meet her. The street children that followed after him were mostly ones Sansa had met before; they already had stones in hand and Sansa set to work, marking the stones with seals that would provide a radiating heat when activated by a smear of blood, becoming inert when the blood was washed away.

Sansa was careful to stress to the children the danger of letting any shinobi see the seals. They laughed at her, and Sansa knew why; they already knew the danger of shinobi, knew their cruelty, their disregard of life. They would not be so careless.

After the children had all left and Sansa was left standing in the filthy street, exhausted but satisfied, the strange-eyed boy approached her at last.

"Those seals you make," he said, those strange eyes of his boring into hers as he spoke to her for the first time, "they do more than little tricks for children."

"They do," Sansa confirmed.

"I hear things, Uzu," he said, strange eyes gleaming as he leaned in. "Team Four– Team Death, they call you. And you, Onryō-hime– they whisper that you are Uzushio's vengeance, a drowned Princess of the Whirlpools risen again to haunt us for our sins."

Sansa laughed, unable to stop herself. "You make me sound so terrifying," she said.

"To them, for what you represent, you are," the boy countered, and he smiled at her, a sharp slice of vicious, predator teeth. 

"You weren't born on the streets, were you," Sansa said, more than asked; he spoke too well, knew too much. This time the boy laughed.

"No more than you, princess," he said, "but there comes a time when every king loses his crown."

"The bloodline massacres," Sansa murmured and the boy dipped his chin mockingly even as his eyes went flat and cold with an old, heavy rage that Sansa knew well.

"Do you know what they say about Uzushio?" the boy asked her, almost conversationally.

"They say many things," Sansa replied and the boy looked at her, strange-eyes boring into hers.

"Yes– but one of the most... persistant rumours is that they say it was an Uzumaki from Uzushio who was first to seal the Tailed Beasts," he said, low and fervent, and Sansa... stilled.

"If they could do that," the boy said, and his voice was almost feverish now, his hands coming up to grip onto Sansa's forearms; there was webbing between his fingers, all the way up to the second knuckle. "If they could do that, then surely they would know how to break the seals holding back the Tailed Beasts."

Sansa's breath caught in her throat as the boy leaned forwards, so close that his breath brushed against her face. "Can't you feel it?" he breathed, his strange eyes gleaming. "There's a revolution coming."

"It's not that simple," Sansa whispered, knowing what he was asking of her.

"Make it that simple," the boy urged, his hands tightening. "You can, you can." 

Sansa looked over at him, her eyes meeting his, and she exhaled. "I– I need a moment. Don't let anyone kill me," she ordered him, before sinking down to her knees and letting herself fall into her mindscape.

Standing amidst the weirwoods, with the foxfire dancing along pale branches, flickering between the deep red leaves, Sansa took a moment to breathe before walking over to activate the seal that would release Mito's chakra imprint.

"Is it possible?" She asked, once she had both Mito and Kurama before her and she had explained to them the boy's request of her to release Kurama's sibling from their prison inside Yagura.

"I don't know," Mito admitted, troubled. "The only incident where I've heard of a Jinchūriki seal been broken by an enemy force that doesn't involve the death of the Jinchūriki was what you've told me of the attack on Kushina," here, Mito turned to Kurama. "Do you remember anything of how you were torn from Kushina?" she asked.

"The seal was weakened, because of the strain of childbirth," Kurama rumbled, their eyes sharp with keen interest. "It was already breaking apart when the Uchiha took Kushina and entered her mindscape to place me under a genjutsu so I was under his control. My memories after that are... disjointed and blurred, but I do remember overwhelming what was left of the seal and forcing my way out." 

"But why does childbirth weaken the seal?" Sansa asked, frowning. It was Mito who answered.

"Childbirth leaves a woman both physically and mentally exhausted, in a way very little else does," she explained, "chakra is a combination of yin and yang energy– power of the mind and power of the body– and childbirth weakens both mind and body. The seal is at its weakest after the strain of childbirth because a host is so weakened."

"So that isn't an option for us," Sansa said, grimacing at the memory of the wars she'd waged on the birthing bed; battling the pain wracking through her body, screaming as it felt as if she was being torn apart and fighting through the terrible exhaustion in order to push her children into the world.

"...isn't it?" Mito murmured suddenly and Sansa looked at her ancestress, a touch bewildered.

"The last I checked, Karatachi Yagura was a man," she said. "And I'm fairly certain he wasn't pregnant." 

"Yes," Mito agreed, her eyes glittering, "but there are women in Kiri who are pregnant. Have you ever heard of ninshū, Sansa?"

"No," Sansa said slowly and Mito smiled, deadly and beautiful even as Kurama tilted their head back and laughed with genuine mirth, the sound terrifying as it echoed around the mindscape.

"Uzushio's history," Mito explained to her, "tells us that before chakra was weaponised into ninjutsu, it was intended to connect people's inner spiritual energies, to allow them to understand each other without communication. It was a practice called 'ninshū'." Here, Mito's smile widened. "Uzumaki are natural sensors," she said, "ninshū was easy for us– you must notice how easy it is for you to reach out with your chakra and feel other people's emotions?" When Sansa nodded slowly Mito continued. "Not everyone in Uzushio was able to connect with others so easily– those who did not use chakra, in particular, were unable. So there were seals created– to assist in that connection."

And Sansa– Sansa finally realised what Mito was proposing. Her eyes widened.

"You want to use seals to connect Karatachi to a woman in labour in order to weaken the seal?" she asked, stunned.

Mito looked vicious in her satisfaction. "I think," she said, "it should be possible to link his chakra to that of a number of women who have been induced to be in labour simultaneously, if these rebels time their revolution right– and while his spiritual energy, his Yin-chakra, is being attacked through the seal anchoring him to the childbirth, the rebels can attack him in order to weaken his physical energy, his Yang-chakra, through battle in a two-pronged assault. Together, it should weaken the Jinchūriki seal enough that the Bijuu inside him can break free." As Sansa stared at Mito, in awe of her wicked genius, Mito's smile faded. "There is, however, the small issue of the anchoring seal," she said. "You will have to be the one to apply it to Karatachi, Sansa."

Sansa's face set, determination stirring within her. "I'll figure it out," she vowed. "I promised Kurama, that I would free their siblings, and I meant it." 

"I know," Kurama rumbled. "And I trust you."

Sansa couldn't help the soft sound she made, looking up at them with wide eyes; for beings like them, a declaration of trust was a far weightier thing than one of love. Love could be fleeting, ever-changing, could burn hot and bright, there and gone in a moment, but trust– trust was something built sturdy, built to last.

"I trust you too," she told Kurama; honest, warm.

"Now," Mito said, her eyes having softened as she gazed over at them both, "let me teach you the anchoring seal."

~

When Sansa left the mindscape she was still in the same street, the boy standing over her. She pushed herself back to her feet and met his strange eyes calmly. "I know of a way to break the Mizukage's seal," she said and his eyes gleamed with vicious glee. And when she explained to him the plan, he tipped his head back and laughed.

"It is ironic, is it not?" The boy said, mirthful. "That he rises to power by taking so many lives from this world and he falls from power through new lives being brought into the world."

"You can organise it with your people?" Sansa asked, not doubting the boy had connections to the rebels. The boy practically bared his hooked teeth at her.

"So long as you get your seal on the bastard," he said.

"I will," Sansa vowed and the boy nodded.

"Then I will," he echoed.

Sansa still had the special chakra-conducting paper Jiraiya had bought her stored in the storage seal in her arm and it was on this paper that she carefully applied the seals that would need to be placed on the labouring women, knowing that there was no room for error as she carefully shaped her chakra under her palm before letting it flare, a muted blue, onto the paper. At the boy's insistence, she made twenty-five of the seals and he tucked them away, his strange eyes bright with victory.

"You know," Sansa said conversationally, "I still don't know your name." The boy grinned at her, sharp.

"Well, Uzu," he said, "how about you call me Ki."

"Ki it is," Sansa said graciously, as it was better than nothing at all– and truly, it was only fair.

"We're depending on you," Ki warned and Sansa nodded.

"I won't let you down," she said quietly as Ki disappeared into the shadows. 

~

As morning dawned on the final day of the Chūnin Exams the rising sun illuminated the mist shrouding the village of Kiri an eerie red. It was an omen, Sansa thought grimly to herself, of dark things to come.

Jiraiya gathered her, Kabuto and Chiyoko after breakfast, his face just as grim as her thoughts.

"Out of all the contestants that went into the second stage, there are twelve of you left," he said. "The final stage of the Chūnin Exams is always one-on-one matches. You could be fighting anyone today, even each other."

"What do we do, if we are fighting each other?" Chiyoko asked nervously.

"You remember who you are," Jiraiya said firmly. "You're shinobi of Konoha. You're teammates. You give it your best effort, but at the end of the match you help each other back to your feet."

They all nodded and Jiraiya sighed. "Look," he said, "the others will be coming at you hard. Kiri especially. The people you killed, they knew them. They probably liked them. They might have even been friends. And now? Now they're going to want to make you pay. So when you get out there, you'll be fighting for your lives."

"We know," Chiyoko said, a steely look on her face. "We've been fighting for our lives since the start."

She didn't say that Konoha had sent them to Kiri, knowing their lives would be in danger– but her eyes were hard as they met Jiraiya's and Jiraiya nodded; it was clear that he heard what she wasn't saying, but like her he wasn't going to acknowledge it. Not out loud. 

"As long as you understand," he said instead. "Good luck out there today, kids."

He didn't say 'you'll need it' but the sentiment was there.

Sansa dressed slowly, reluctantly. Her hands were stiff and jerky with nerves and her fingers stumbled over her careful styling of her hair. She was wearing it in a traditional style for nobles of the Elemental Nations; a high-piled bun, secured with about a hundred hidden pins, the antler combs and the kanzashi that had been a gift from a past Shogun to an Empress of Uzushio– a kanzashi that was as much a weapon as it was a hairpiece. 

She carefully painted her face, knowing there would be visitors to Kiri in attendance, coming to watch the last stage of the Chūnin Exams– guests, such as nobles from the Water Daimyō's court who would understand what it meant that she had red hair, wielded seals and wore Uzushio's spiral proudly on her forehead. They might even recognise the kanzashi– she could only hope.

When she met Jiraiya down at the entrance to the inn, there was something wistful about his expression, a twist of nostalgia and old, stale grief to his chakra as he gazed down at her. "You're something special, Uzumaki Fuyuko," he murmured.

Sansa could have said many things there. She could have said something cutting, could have commented on how Jiraiya would have known that, had he ever been around, could have brought up Danzo, or the Hokage, or any number of ways Konoha had failed her and Naruto. He was almost expecting it, she could tell, already bracing himself for the harsh lashing of her tongue.

But Sansa said nothing. She just nodded and waited silently with him for the rest of her team to arrive.

~

The stadium for the final stage of the Chūnin Exams reminded Sansa of a mix of a tourney grounds and the dragonpit at Kings Landing. It was built of stone, the stands encircling the grounds where children would battle, the seating growing progressively higher the further back it was from the arena at the centre.

The Mizukage and his guards were set apart from the crowds and Sansa didn't miss how purple eyes tracked her progress through the stadium, over to where the Chūnin hopefuls were gathered.

They were read the rules by a proctor. It wasn't complicated; they fought until their opponent yielded or was unable to fight any longer. Nothing was outright forbidden in a fight, other than starting before the proctor said to start, and continuing after the opponent yielded or the proctor finished the match.

Sansa's first match was against one of the Suna nin and it was a third match of the day. By the time her name was called, her anxiety was a living, twisted thing inside her gut and she was almost relieved to step out into the arena, to face the Suna nin– a puppeteer.

Sansa didn't like the look of her opponent's puppet. It was disturbingly life-like and if not for her ability to sense chakra, Sansa would not be able to tell it wasn't alive and instead made of wood and steel.

"Match start!" Called the announcer and Sansa was forced to use her tessen to defend against a barrage of kunai, knocking them away from her. She then leapt up, twisting in mid-air to dodge the puppet which had rushed towards her and landing on its shoulders, using it as a springboard to launch herself towards the puppet mistress.

The Suna genin defended herself, meeting Sansa's attack with a kick that connected with her forearm, numbing her entire hand and knocking the tessen from her grip. Swearing, Sansa retreated slightly, her healing working overtime as she darted around the Suna nin, attempting to strike while the Suna nin was careful not to let Sansa's hands touch her.

Sansa was so focused on her opponent, she almost missed the puppet's approach behind her, dropping just in time to avoid a blow to the head, rolling and darting back to her feet as the Suna nin scowled at her, hands glowing blue with chakra strings. Suddenly, the puppet shot forwards, gleaming inch-long spikes shooting out of every surface of its body. Sansa had no doubt the spikes were poisoned and had a split-second to debate the risk of if her body was inoculated against the poison or not before dropping low and sliding beneath the puppet, rushing to focus her chakra as she did so, moving her hands in the correct signs for the water-bullet jutsu.

The distraction of the water bullets wasn't enough for the Suna nin to cut off her chakra strings– but it did take her attention away from Sansa's hands long enough for Sansa to send a senbon at her neck with the perfect accuracy Kaeru had trained into her, sending her opponent dropping to the ground at the same time as her puppet crumpled, the chakra strings suddenly cut off as the Suna genin found herself paralysed.

Standing back up, Sansa shook out her still partially-numb hand, which was at least starting to tingle, and looked over to the announcer. "Uzumaki Fuyuko wins!" he called and Sansa didn't bother to retrieve her senbon from the girl's neck, instead leaving her to the medics to sort as she went to collect Shion before making her way back over to the stands.

"Wonderful show of sportsmanship," Jiraiya grumbled at her. "Konoha's supposed to be the nice village."

"Your congratulations are acknowledged and appreciated," Sansa replied, not even bothering to look at him.

She didn't have time to for 'nice'.

She had fights to win and a Kage to fool.