Convergence: A Sasuke Fanfiction

THE LAND OF WAVE

“Just to be on the safe side,” Our porter said, “we’ll take an inland waterway through town to a point where we can make landfall under the cover of mangroves. Gatō might be missing―hopefully, dead―but his men are still very much a menace in this parts. Given there is no one to pay them anymore, and the Gatō shipping company lies in shambles after being looted in its owner’s absence, those miscreants have turned to extortion to get by. I am guessing you lot would prefer to enter unnoticed. Should they find us, they might try to cause trouble and raise a ruckus, so this should probably be for the best.”

“Thank you,” Kakashi replied. We navigated our way through the waterway and mangroves before arriving at a small fishing shack fifteen minutes later.

“This is as far as I go,” the porter said bringing the canoe to port by a wooden jetty. We bid our farewells before departing to make our way into the town.

“Where are we going to now, Kakashi-sensei?” Sakura asked.

“Well, apparently, this Tazuna fellow had a daughter and grandson,” the Jōnin replied. “Why don’t we find them first? They might have some valuable information that they might be willing to share.”

With a goal decided we entered the town. It was a rather disappointing sight.

The Land of Wave stood in stark contrast to Konoha and the rest of the Land of Fire. As we navigated the filthy, winding streets and alleyways that led to what would have been a market square, we were immediately struck by the squalor and poverty that pervaded every corner. The buildings were dilapidated, with roofs that leaked and walls that were crumbling and covered in a revolting layer of grime. The paths were muddy and filled with garbage; the horrid stench of weeks-old sewage and rotting food overpowering.

It was a slum crowded with families crammed into small, one-room hovels. Children ran around barefoot and half-clothed, their faces dirty and their bellies empty. One managed to summon the courage to approach us, tugging on the helm of our kimono. We flashed a smile at the unfortunate creature before dropping a handful of sweets in his filthy, outstretched hand.

A haggard-looking man walked past us carrying a cardboard sign that read, “will do any job you want”. Another raced past, clutching a loaf of bread to his chest as he made to escape his pursuers. “Stop him! Thief!” came panicked shouts from behind but nobody made to intervene; a rather regular occurrence it was if one went by the reaction of the general public.

“What is wrong with this place?” Sakura whispered under her breath as we entered a grocery store.

“It’s been like this since that accursed Gatō first arrived,” the store owner said to her, lamenting. He was an old fellow, his visage weathered by the passage of time. We turned to face him, although our attention remained fixed on the group of thugs who observed us from outside the store. Hopefully, they were not stupid enough to try to harass a group such as ours.

“We’ve become a city of cowards, slackers and fools,” the old geezer continued, before shaking his head as if coming to his senses. “Nevermind me, younguns. You probably don’t want to be bored by the ramblings of an old fool. What do you want to buy?"

Our gaze panned across the scanty store. Even the little produce that did sit on the shelves has started to show signs of age. Any longer and they wouldn’t be fit for public consumption.

“We’ll like a few vegetables,” we told the man. Our teammates turned to face us, confused. We favoured them an empty smile in response. No need to explain every little thing to them. They had brains of their own which they soon had better learn to use.

“Which ones?” the store owner asked. We pointed at a bunch of the more expensive ones that were obviously struggling to find buyers. As the old man packed our order we tried to lull him back into a conversation. It took a while before we could ease up naturally into inquiring about our secondary targets, but eventually, we got there.

“Oh, Tazuna’s family?” the geezer said as he received our payment. “You mean Tsunami and little Inari? Yes, I know where they live.”

We received our target’s address and decided to make our way there immediately. Kakashi sent a clone to deal with the thugs that were tailing us, while we made a small detour on Sakura’s request. A portion of the goods we purchased ended up in the hands of the children who approached us earlier, but we were back on track soon after.

Thirty minutes later we arrived at the address we received from the storekeeper. But while we did find our targets, we stumbled on a little problem.

“Stay away from my family!” the lady we identified as Tazuna’s daughter, Tsunami, snarled her expression a rictus of rage and loathing. Peeking out from behind her was a small child. It stared at us, its gaze blank. We stared back into the void that was its soul. In its depths we found a sliver of emotion so pure and innocent, yet so ripe with hate. It intrigued us.

What a beautiful thing we found.

***

Getting Kakashi’s permission to conduct an investigation independently was much easier than we expected.

Suspiciously so.

As we predicted, the Jōnin sent a shadow clone to tail us from a distance he probably assumed was discrete. It took about fifteen minutes to shake off that tail; Kakashi’s clone continued on, shadowing the clone we tasked with infiltrating the skeletal remains of the Gatō shipping company.

With that dealt with, and the rest of our team distracted with their own tasks, we made our way back to Tazuna’s domicile. We snuck past a catatonic Tsunami, and up a flight of stairs, before arriving at a quaint, little room. The door was locked from the inside, but a subtle flare of our chakra opened the mundane mechanism. It creaked as it swung open to reveal a diminutive figure seated by the window, staring out at the sea outside.

We stood there in silence, observing the child. Yes, we thought to ourself. We had found it. The perfect vessel.

As if sensing our ill intent, the boy turned to look at us. His placid expression didn’t deform in surprise nor did shock flash through his gaze. Serene.

“Why?” the boy asked. We cocked our head in confusion.

“Why did they have to die?” he repeated.

Our Sharingan swirled into. In mere moments, our chakra wormed its way through the boy’s brain as we read his surface thoughts. Names appeared. Tazuna… Kaiza… Our mind whirred, as hundreds of logical deductions were made in milliseconds. Fatherly figures. Both deceased. Suffering cognitive dissonance. Mental stability: Poor. Strategic value: bullish by seventy-eight per cent.

We blinked, our Sharingan disappearing from view.

“They were weak,” we told him. “You were weak.”

The boy blinked. Then his gaze swivelled towards the door. “Will Mama die too?” he asked.

“Probably,” we told him. “She is also weak.”

He fell silent for a moment. Then his gaze rose to meet ours. “You are scary,” he said. “Strong. You can protect Mama?”

“Yes. Easily.”

“Will you?”

“For a price, yes.”

“...What do you want?” he asked us.

We smiled.

“Your soul.”