Chapter 11: Side Story: Nagato

Nagato whimpered softly, his long red bangs covering his eyes as he hugged his shoulders tighter.

The sound of soft breathing nearby was intermixed with the booming of a thunderstorm and the distant sounds of explosions and conflict. The ground frequently rumbled, objects in the house rattling in unison.

His mother and father huddled with him in a dark corner of their house, warily peeking through odd angles of the windows and making themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

Interspersed with the racket outside was periods of ominous muted silence, the slow ticking of the hallway clock barely audible. In one such period, the quiet was pierced by an urgent sequence of knocks on their door.

It was a passcode, identifying the new arrival as a fellow villager. Even then, his parents were cautious.

"I will check it. Please Fusō, you have to take Nagato and run if it's bad." his father hurriedly whispered.

"Ise dear, you must be careful!"

His mother's face was a picture of worry. His father's grim.

Tick.

Tock.

The clock continued measuredly and a bolt of lightning illuminated all of their faces through a window.

Slowly, Ise crept towards the door, peeking through the crack before quickly opening it and allowing a soaked individual inside. As soon as the figure had cleared the threshold, Ise started to bolt the door behind them.

Tick.

"No Ise-san! There's no time for that! The battle keeps straying nearer and nearer the village.
Yoshino-sama has been hit bad." the newcomer whispered urgently, "Please, we must have your help! Without Fusō-san's first aid I'm afraid to even move him indoors."

Tock.

Ise shared a look with the newcomer and his wife across the room, desperation in all three sets of eyes. Yoshino was a dear friend to their family. They had all traveled here together from their respective homelands to provide humanitarian aide. Years spent on the road together. He'd even officiated their wedding...
Though she no longer worked officially, Fusō was the most skilled medic they had available- the only one even near capable of saving him.

But...

Tick.

 

She would have to do it while in severe danger, out in the open. Enemies nearby and closer by the second.

 

Tock.

Thunder roared again, drowning out any chance for her to reply immediately. Those seconds were all it took for Fusō to resolve herself. She had to at least try to save their friend. Guilt and love and trust warred within her like the elements outside. Helping people was the whole reason she had come here in the first place.

But she had a family of her own now... her beloved Nagato, Ise....

She would ensure their safety first and abandon Yoshino if the combatants neared too quickly. That was the compromise she allowed with herself.

"I'll go." she said, her tone firm like steel, her expression tense.

Tick.

Fusō brought her shivering son by the hand to the doorway where Ise and the newcomer– Fuzuhara it seemed– waited. She already wore her medicinal pouch on her waist, but she grabbed an even larger bag of instruments from a wall hook and slung it over her shoulder.

"I'll assist as I always have–" Ise started gravely.

"This time, please stay with Nagato, at least one of us must. You understand, right? And now there's no time to lose!" She turned her head to the newcomer, "Fuzuhara-san, you'll be able to assist me. I mostly need you to carry Yoshino-sama once he's stable. I'll likely be too exhausted to do so myself."

"Shiraki-san is still with him, he can help too." Fuzuhara murmured frantically.

Tock.

Lastly, Fusō looked down at Nagato, grasping his shoulders tightly before hugging him close.

"Okaa-san will be right back. I'll see you soon, I promise, so wait patiently!" she whispered softly before nodding towards Fuzuhara.

Ise grimaced as Fusō and Fuzuhara dashed out into the rain and towards a ditch across the street a ways, where another figure crouched by the limp form of a man. It was Shiraki and Yoshino.

Tick.

"Damned if I'm just going to stand by..." Ise clicked his tongue and darted into the kitchen, gathering a few items into another satchel, preparing to either help or flee at a moments notice.

Nagato remained by the wide-open doorframe, unwilling to let his mother leave his sight.

Tock.

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Nagato must have been the only one still able to hear the hallway clock, but every second still seemed like an eternity.

They were only a few dozen meters apart. So near, yet so far.

'Okaa-san! Please be safe!' the timid child prayed desperately.

Moments turned into minutes as Nagato counted the clock ticks. His heart was pounding faster with each second. His mother had never had to leave their home at such a dangerous time before.

Relief and then worry fluctuated on Nagato's face as the group outside stood up, conversing urgently with each other but out of his hearing range.

Tick.

The two men then dove to lift the fallen Yoshino, dragging him frantically towards the door where Nagato stood.  Fusō trailed behind them, stuffing some bloodied tools back into her satchel as she ran.

A few shadowy figures flickered around on the rooftops above, but the boy failed to notice them.

Nagato held his breath and smiled tensely, ready to cry out to his mother and welcome her back.

She glanced towards him, noticed his gaze and smiled tiredly before her eyes widened and she jerked her head to her left.

Toc-

Ise ran up behind Nagato just in time to see the arriving group and the entire street light up in a blinding white, followed by a deafening roar that threw them both backwards and into darkness.

 

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...

The feeling of stone shards and rubble striking his skin awoke Nagato. Releasing a few coughs convinced him that he was still alive.

When Nagato's eyes next opened, he was greeted by his father's pained face. Ise's mouth moved, but Nagato's ears were ringing too loud for him to hear what was said.

"O-Otou-san, I-"

His father's eyes were blank, eyelids sinking until they were fully closed. Lodged in his back was a thick spike of wood from what used to be their front door.

"A-A-Are you alright?!"

It was then that Nagato remembered what he had just seen. Looking over his father's stiff shoulder, a massive crater occupied the spot where four people stood just instants prior.

The nearly unrecognizable body of Fuzuhara lay butchered at their rubble-riddled doorstep. His shattered jaw hung in loose halves, a great gash splitting his face, eyes vacant. There was no way he could've survived looking like that. And he was closest to the door, farthest from the explosion?

Two figures wearing red and brown uniforms leaped from afar and landed nearby, inspecting the carnage.

"We got 'em alright. Another win for the Explosion Corps, hah!" a harsh laughter erupted from the two, and as they turned to face the remnants of Nagato's house a crack of lightning high above illuminated their faces. Bands of metal strapped to their foreheads shone with a carved decal of two boulders, one large one small.

These men, they had...

As the facts slowly dawned on the dazed boy, his mind was subsumed in a rage that demanded one thing: Death.

An agonized scream tore from Nagato's throat.

"KKAAAAAA-SAN!!!!!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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