21 Freedom With A Pricetag

At the crack of dawn when everyone else in the Land of Fire was asleep. While everyone was locked in the silent enjoyment of their own imagination. Nohara-sensei, just like every other demon of such high rank, was awake and setting his plans of torture in motion.

His first target for collection was quite easily decided to be Kobaru. As the nine-year-old preferred to ask questions only when he found himself knee deep in shit. A quality that was encouraged by people who didn't like to be questioned.

Rightfully so, the boy initially found it suspicious that the man was at his home. Of course, there had to be something incredibly wrong for the jonin to appear at his doorstep, before sunrise. It was like crossing the path of a black cat not necessarily a sign that things had gone south. Nonetheless it was a bad omen.

Kobaru was fully aware that he had a week off to rest. He was fully aware that he didn't have to follow Nohara-sensei out into the day's dawn.

All he had to do was politely decline then go back to bed. There's no superior who would fault him for that. A pity curiosity was in his nature, and nothing piqued his interest more than a silent halfhearted request to follow. So, the boy willingly complied following the man around as he headed to the barracks.

The next target would be Nagisa.

She met them at the door, kunai in hand and a look of disappointment to go with it. Clearly underwhelmed by the lack of intruders, she shot Kobaru a glance. This was an attempt to make sure he wasn't being forced against his own will. He foolishly shrugged and she followed suit.

The final stop would be Chusei's apartment.

The boy heard them enter but refused to react. Even with the intentional ruckus they caused, he pretended to be asleep in hopes that they would leave him to rest. A palm to the back of the head made it abundantly clear that he was their target. So, he shot Kobaru a look, the same silent question behind his eyes. Then just as the girl before him Chusei followed, but only after he was given a confused shrug.

With that simple gesture he condemned both his friends to their punishment.

Kobaru was not aware that he could live to regret a shrug. He was quite sure that a neutral response was impervious to regret. Yet Nohara-sensei found a way to screw with his psyche once more.

When they arrived at the northern wall. Nohara-sensei had the three of them ascend the village boundary and stop just before they got to the summit. They suspected this to be an advanced form of chakra control training. So, they went into the first twenty minutes with their usual laser focus.

After all they had to endure the worst in hopes of expanding their abilities. Such was the mindset of the hardest working genin of Konoha.

The three of them happily executed the task. Playfully joking with each other who would be the first to give up. It was all fun from the perspective of children. This playfulness was replaced by absolute horror upon sunrise, as the realized the true intention behind their position.

As orange rays of hellfire shot from the East end of the village. Their thoughts raced in a shameless attempt to uncover what they had done to anger their sensei. As anyone with an eye and a patch of skin could tell that the man was intent on having the genin spit roasted

Without the spit.

The Land of Fire went by many nicknames. Hinote's First Born, The Burning Stronghold, The Blazing Center or The Scalding Hot Hell Hole. It didn't matter what you called it; one thing was certain. The name you chose had to serve as a clear warning of the country's searing heat.

The climate was something that left a young Kobaru confused on exactly how the weather system worked. As in Konoha, the sun's belting warmth was indiscriminate. Beating anything with skin into unrequited submission.

It would be hot when it rained.

It would be hot when it snowed.

It would be cold and hot simultaneously as though the people had angered the sun god and all his children.

Torturous climate that left three ways around not melting your skin right off your bones.

One was to leave the country altogether. The next was to invest a godly sum into installing the nation's best air conditioning and hope that the powerplant didn't give in to the heat. Then if those two weren't a financially sound option. You could always hide under the evergreens and pray that the heat wasn't exceeding ninety degrees in the shade.

Thankfully the final option was one of commonality. As Konoha grew trees in abundance and scattered them generously inside the walls. The most consistent being the ironwood that bore green leaves that would stretch out to provide persistent shade all year round. For these types of trees, anyone seeking to not die of a heatstroke would hold an immediate reverence.

The children were taught that the trees were planted by Lord First as a symbol that Konoha was a shade from harsh realities. A place where one would seek protection when the heat became unbearable. A place where waters from Lord Second's hand would flow with an air of timelessness. Everyone accepted this as common knowledge and boasted that the village would continue to be a safe haven for generations to come.

All this crafted by the forefathers seemingly made the unrelenting heat a minor inconvenience for everyone hidden in the leaf. Brewing comfort and complacency that lead most to forget exactly the kind of intensity they were dealt daily.

This air of complacency, a fleeting thought for civilians and to Nohara-sensei the perfect set up for sun related punishment.

"I... I," Chusei drawled his fatigue made clear through his tone of voice. So far, he had tried his best to keep the others calm as they baked in what appeared to be their second days' worth of sunlight. However, it wasn't hard to tell that he was nearing his limit. Kobaru was just barely in control of himself, but he could tell that Chusei would break first.

The orange haired genin continued to repeat himself until the rest of the sentence formed, finally speaking his mind as though the words were falling from his mouth, "I can't come up with a word for waterfall that doesn't sound equally disappointing."

"Excuse me," Nagisa turned her face to glare at the older genin, "Could you at least allow me to die in silence."

This was followed by the much requested silence. One that, unlike the trio, met a swift end.

"Do any of you smell ice?" the youngest asked trying his hardest to not lose his grip on the wall.

"No," Nagisa turned to glare at the boy standing to her right, "and this is all your fault by the way."

"How is it my fault?"

"If you warned us I could have been practicing... in the shade," Nagisa yelled clearly losing the grip on her usually calm demeanor.

"Would you jump of a cliff if I did," Kobaru replied a feeble attempt at a counter argument.

"Knowing you there might be a good reason," she shot back at him, "I'm beginning to see that such faith is unwarranted."

"Well I didn't know it would turn out to be something bad."

"Oh really!" she continued as her yelling went up an octave with every syllable, "go ahead and inform me of the many times when following Nohara-sensei went right. I can wait so take your time."

Kobaru provided a quick rebuttal, "that time he taught us how to water walk. That went well."

"Yeah up until I was almost killed by Chusei," Nagisa spat just as fast.

"She got you there Kobaru," Chusei chuckled the lucidity trickling into his speech, "looks like you're taking the fall for this one," he snickered to himself before looking down, "don't actually fall though. We're like thirty meters up. If you drop from here it's a painful death or a painful life."

Nagisa shook her head and sighed, "I swear I'm surrounded by idiots."

"Birds of a feather," Nohara-sensei said materializing just above the three, "You're less of an idiot than these two but still an idiot by my standards."

Kobaru squinted through the sunlight to get a good look at the jonin. Then rubbed his eyes to ensure that his mind wasn't deceiving him. Under his left arm were three dossiers. Which meant one for each wall flower. That was normal. What bothered him was the man's attire.

In addition to his usual jonin outfit, he had a wide brimmed straw hat that cast a shadow over most of his shoulders. Said hat was also designed with flamboyance in mind. It was topped with a handful of embroidered flowers, in a variety of colors and sizes. The accessory couldn't deflect attention if it tried. Yet Kobaru's eyes were drawn elsewhere.

What really held his attention was the glass of perfectly chill iced tea held in the jonin's right hand.

"That's six hours of daylight down," he "greeted" before taking a sip of his drink, "You guys have about six more to go."

"Woohoo," Chusei celebrated flailing both his arms in delirious excitement. An obvious sign that the boy had mentally surrendered and was going to survive the rest of the punishment on basic motor functions alone.

"Is that ice?"

Nohara-sensei ignored the boy's query and opted for a question of his own, "do you three know what I did yesterday?"

The trio made quick glances at each other before shrugging.

"Well, I was invited to the Hokage's office to review your mission reports and let's just say it didn't go well," he said before handing them the dossiers. They silently complied and opened up the folders to see photos of children his age. Children that he should recognize, "which is why I have you standing here today, because this is the only thing, that I could think of, that is equivalent to the bullshit I had to endure on your behalf."

The man took a quick sip of his tea and continued to throw his anger at the genin, "Your reports were alright in terms of puttin' words on paper, so once I got home the rage for that subsided. What pissed me off. What really hurt me. What really kept me up all night plotting to hurt you! Was that there were four of you in that cell. And the three of you refused to refer to the next maggot by name."

Kobaru felt his face run cold. Thanks to Konoha's mid-day sun his skin was reheated just as fast. Too quickly for him to even focus on his own incompetency. Leading him to ask once again, "is that ice?"

Nohara-sensei turned to him and used his silent scrutiny to force the boy into aligning the thoughts necessary to read.

Kobaru looked over the dossier and he quickly recognized the reason he was being forced to sunbathe. It was because he couldn't for the love of his mother recognize anyone on the file. It even took him an uncomfortable amount of time to identify which one was the fourth genin.

"Excuse me," Nagisa raised her hand while still scanning through her dossier, "so those other genin not being interesting enough to learn about. Is the reason we're being sun cooked on concrete."

"Interesting? You think they need to be interesting?" Nohara-sensei asked his loose jaw reflecting his confusion, "look I'm going to be a bit lenient this time around 'cause I know that heat does something to the brain," he took another sip of his ice-cold tea, "but if your uppity ass doesn't get off that high horse, I will beat you off of it. The reserve corps is the closest thing to family you have left. I understand how you feel, but that was never a valid excuse," The man paused to meet Nagisa's glare. The girl was standing stiffly with her elbows glued firmly to her sides. However, from the look in her eyes, she was contemplating if her obedience was equivalent to the consequences of the harm she could cause.

Nohara-sensei realized that she had a good enough hold on her emotional refute and continued his rant, "So you will learn every fucking name and every fucking hobby of every fucking genin left in the reserves. And you'll do this by sunset. Or you're staying the night."

"Fine bring on the heat old man. I don't have anything to do for the next three days," Nagisa smirked but didn't dare to make excessive movements, "This little forest swelter is uncomfortable for you, but I grew up on the beach so both you and the sun god can kiss a rat's ass."

"Whoa dude," Chusei nudged Nagisa's shoulder in hopes that he could calm her down, "Could we like... just... like not be angry right now."

"Nohara-sensei," Kobaru called, "is it possible for you to shake the glass again. The sound of ice is helping me think straight."

"What- Kobaru what glass? What ice?" the jonin stared at him a sincere confusion in his eyes. For a while he held his thoughts before turning to look at the girl once more, "There's twelve names in there and none of them are worth a full tan. I'll be back after lunch. Move from here and I'll beat the shit out of you."

"Please sensei shake the glass once for my peace of mind."

XxX

From youth Mr. Hayazuki had decided that humanity was nature's anomaly.

As a species humans were the only ones that lobby for peace whilst readying weapons for war. There were populations that were dying of hunger, yet food storage continuously devolved into hoarding of the surplus' surplus. Humans, truly a strange creature that would do anything to secure comfort.

People would bend and contort the reality of existence in order to push an idea. A being of true terror that somehow managed to wring personal moments of enjoyment from the horrors that they made for themselves. They do this, as with all things humane, their reverence was a matter of perspective.

There were people surrounded by riches and loved ones, who lived bitter and hateful. Whereas there were homeless who resided amongst swine that existed in perfect satisfaction. To the rich man the homeless is seen a lazy fool. To the homeless the rich man an ungrateful prick.

Humanity was simply an anomaly because they lacked nature's uniform standard.

As a result, the life of mankind was a consecutive chain of clashing stories and ideals. Everyone forced to pick a side, more often than not choosing themselves.

As a historian and self-proclaimed unbiased narrator of life. Hayazuki observed moments that were perceived as human redemption and noticed that they were always tied to an uprising fueled by human selflessness. When soldiers rose knowing there was no hope of returning home. When strong men brought forth trees knowing they would never feel it's shade.

That's when great things happened.

History proved that farmers armed with garden hoes and enough conviction would be sufficient to overthrow empires.

Hayazuki had descended from the very farmers who built a home on the graves of the old regime. He had heard countless times over how the vastly oppressed population armed themselves and seized their country in the dead of the night.

To his people, they were legends written in stone. To those that were stomped and left unremembered by history, his ancestors must have been seen as uncivil demons from the farmlands.

The accuracy of history goes to the victors. He had seen reality rewritten with his own two eyes. The paranoia that came after made up the cornerstone of his perception.

As the son of royalty, he was born at the peak of his society. A position that stagnated his perspective as anything that needed to be observed was seen as beneath himself.

It was him versus anything outside of the court and so much of his life was spent ignorant to the many attempts on his family's life. His ignorance, the result of the people around him being paranoid and wealthy enough to deflect most threats before he realized that there was one.

A blind eye cast to the many times that they had to stop for sudden "breaks" on their diplomatic travels. Unable to unravel any deeper meaning behind having ten different food tasters in his first nine years of life. A forged sense security that he struggled to rid himself of even as a fugitive of the state.

How he regretted not being born a commoner.

The first day of his travel showed him that life without guards between him and the hands that wanted him dead, was nothing short of torture. Without soldiers willing to die on his father's command death was always closer than he was prepared for it to be. Thankfully his escort seemed eager to do most of the heavy lifting and prevented the man from dying just under twenty different times.

By the second day of his escape, he had forgotten the sensation that came with something as simple as closing his eyes. They ached with dryness, but fear kept his lids in place.

Everything was a threat; therefore, nothing could be missed.

They spent every waking moment on foot. Dancing across borders in hopes of getting to the hideout undetected. Coffee beans and stale bread the source of their energy. All these things lead to him thinking that maybe he would be better off dead. That maybe the alliance of bandits would be better off without his company and direction. That he was potentially a waste of clearly more important resources.

He was unsure why they were so accepting of his fraternity. They had gone as far as extending an olive branch, long before he was deemed treasonous. Once he was shipped off to Konoha stripped from his father's possessions, he was greeted by the opportunity to fulfill their promise.

For their generosity he thanked them, but all things considered he was still royalty and if he had to crawl through the underbrush one more time. Then, he'd give up and drown himself in a puddle.

That thought appeared to lack motivation behind it, as he crawled through several more vine topped swamps without as much as a disgruntled sigh. Steeling his mind once he was informed that they were only a quick sprint away from the destination.

His knees grew weaker with the realization that they were close, yet he refused to collapse. He would not ruin his second impression by keeling over. If he did, they would show no restraint in viewing him as the pampered rich boy with daddy issues.

That was a facet of his life he was happy to leave behind and he hoped that it would stay there.

Just as promised the hideout was close.

The relief of a thousand years' worth of pain immediately lifted off Mr. Hayazuki's back as the sight of the settlement fell on aching eyes.

He then stopped in his tracks. A sudden movement that prompted a second glance from the escort, upon seeing his face the man smiled then continued his walk into the settlement. As on Hayazuki's dirt ridden features were wide eyes and a slight upward tug on his cheeks. A look of pleasant shock. A shock he found to be more than warranted.

The rubric that measured standard of living was quite rigid and delegated by those who deemed themselves better off than others. In other words, documented measurement by a group of people with inflated egos. One thing the vast majority of people used as a litmus for a manageable environment was children.

How many children?

Are they visibly healthy?

How would they react to the sight of a middle-aged stranger staring at them?

There were many children here. Thirteen of them were carelessly scampering about. None of them a day over ten and most surprisingly they were all smiling. As catfish in a pond, children were a great indicator for the quality of their surroundings.

A lack of usual interruption made for louder children. Louder children were the results of carefree parents. In turn carefree parents were the result of less focus on the stresses of life. Which meant they either didn't see that they had troubles or were doing a damn good job at hiding it from their kids.

Whichever way it went it led to smiling children. From experience a kid with a grin was a lot easier on the eyes than a hungry one.

The escort continued to lead him through the gathering of tents with none of its inhabitants paying mind to the stranger that was just walking through their village. Of course, the children stopped to point and follow for a few steps, before ultimately deciding that aimless running was more interesting. No one really invested energy into figuring out who was the unfamiliar face.

Mr. Hayazuki took it upon himself to deduce that strangers being escorted in was a normal occurrence and therefore warranted no attention.

After another minute of maneuvering through huts and tents to greet a few people. Brief moments from the escort to engage in friendly conversation and introduce his family. Mr. Hayazuki realized that even as a thirty-two-year-old. He was among the oldest people there. With the most senior individual being a woman, just about ten years older than himself, who was hunched over a stone oven tending to a meal as they walked by.

This was to be understood as they were bandits by trade and age made one slow. And if you were slow against shinobi then your odds of survival were almost non-existent. Your only hope would be that they somehow lost their footing while doing battle. That was less likely than sharing a fingerprint with a stranger.

A large tent with ten different peaks of varying height appeared to be the destination. This must have been where the leader resided. Mr. Hayazuki had not seen the man in five years and his mind struggled when piecing together an image. Yet he thanked the ghost hidden in his poor memory as he was the only reason that Mr. Hayazuki was alive today.

Hopefully he would help him stay alive for much longer.

The escort pulled the curtain aside and motioned for his travel partner to enter as is. Mud ridden sandals, sweat stained clothes and all. He ignored his desire to at least shower before being entertained as a guest, but he was the outsider, so he ought to be the one blending in.

With held breath and a slight duck of his head the former noble entered the tent. His mostly stoic demeanor crashed down as he was greeted with rambunctious chatter of the tent's inhabitants. Before he could question why he couldn't hear such uproar from the outside, he quickly recoiled his frame.

He reversed into his previous standing position and locked eyes with the escort. Silently questioning if he had heard the same. The man glared at him a sign that he was just deemed insane by his only companion for the last two days. This reaction prompted the man to gather his wits and enter again.

He braced himself for the loud unorganized argument he heard prior, but instead he was met with perfect silence and a group calmly waiting on his reappearance.

To his left stood a group of six who took their time staring back as he entered. They were gathered around a circular slab of stone, about six feet in diameter and just under four feet high. Traces of mud and dirt upturned at the side, a sign that it was an earth technique brought out for the purpose of their discussion.

Three stood on either end of the table.

To one side uniformed shinobi from the hidden rain, facing them were people who appeared to be residents of the hideout. From the latter was the man Mr. Hayazuki indebted his life to. He wasn't sure why he failed to recollect a moment prior, but upon seeing the shocking figure his memory caught a second wind. Efficiently stringing together details he had once forgotten.

The man looked exactly the same. Albeit he was still garbed in bandages from head to toe like a living mummy, but still the same. The opening for his mouth showed a proud, almost excited smile. He had no idea what the man truly looked like, yet the genuinely happy smile remained the same.

That proved to be sufficient familiarity to gain a sense of comfort and Mr. Hayazuki could feel the tension subside.

At the mummy's side were a man and a woman, both of whom stared at the former royal as though they were waiting for the command to take his head.

The shinobi at the makeshift table appeared to be less interested in his appearance as they continued to gaze down at the table that sat before them. Each wearing an expression of urgency. Proving that he had interrupted what an important gathering with his presence.

One of them quite obviously of Uzumaki descent, the other two reminded him of the genin who allowed his escape.

Mr. Hayazuki abandoned desire to stare any further and looked back at the bandaged man. The target of his interest realized he was being looked at and tilted his head at his new guest. An action that birthed several questions for said guest. As he was quite sure that no one could see through ten layers of cloth.

His musings were cut short when the man called for his attention.

"Hayazuki," the man said his tone overly delicate, "it is a pleasure to see you here in one piece."