Welcome To The Family Pt. 2

In the dead of the night, using the guise of the Transformation Technique, a figure clad in a hooded cloak made its way through the seedier parts of town. The buildings were tall, half carved into the mountain and cave systems, half erected against the rock face to defy the limits imposed by the peaks. The hooded figure, whose transformation technique made them seem as dark haired ruffian with scuffed beard and a scar across the milky blind right eye, multiple faded ink tattoos across their cheeks and jaw, perused the narrow street with caution and curiosity, their breathing calm in spite of the steep climb across the peak at the periphery of the Kumogakure. As they approached an abandoned structure closer to the top of the peak, they looked back and gazed upon the vastness of the Kumogakure, its many peaks hiding so much of the village, yet letting so much more be seen. In the middle, a solitary peak hosted a blue curved building. The office of the Raikage of Kumogakure.

His office.

He entered the building, his senses expanding beyond brick or concrete, observing the insides. On the floor above him, two gurneys, set with IV Drips, saline, liquid nutrients to sustain life if needed, summoned onto this location by a crafty Storm Operative capable of moving without being seen and to transport entire objects by utilizing summoning techniques, who sat at a bench reading a book inside some sort of tent, next to a table with many utensils which could not be distinguished properly at the moment. Seals across the walls, floors and ceilings covered the building in a layer of secrecy, away from prying eyes of sensory. The zone was purposefully left with low patrolling resources, aided by the already infamous reputation of the peak inhabitants. It seemed no one had ventured to the building today; good. Noboru didn’t want to have to deal with thugs tonight. He had a different purpose here.

Dispelling his transformation technique, he was now visible as he truly was. Covered in his Darkened Skies, the only visible feature aside from his broad and stocky frame was the face, as if carved from stone, a mid-afternoon shadow beard poking through his strong jawline, an eyepatch that covered the right side of his face, and on the left side, a pitch black eye took in the dark room. Time to get to work.

The former cook made his way up the stairs, careful in case one of the steps was cracked, and in no time he looked upon the two gurneys within a makeshift medical tent. That had been a good move on the part of Kiseragi, he thought to himself. He reached out with his right hand to pull back the fabric of the tent’s opening, and shuffled inside. “Good evening, Kiseragi”, he said. “Evening”, he replied. He closed his book, and as he got up he set it down on the bench. “Plan’s still the same?”

The two ninja had been coordinating this for a while. First came studying the scroll itself, taking notes regarding the technique itself, then came historical accounts of the usage of the technique to try and gather as much info about it as they could. The historical accounts didn’t provide anything that wasn’t already covered in the scroll, however the two of them had been able to formulate a better plan to utilize the clones than what Noboru had initially thought of. While historically the clones had been used as mules to take on the roles the casters didn’t want to take, Kisaragi insisted on Noboru using the clones to the benefit of the village. It didn’t take much convincing, even if he sometimes double guessed himself. The opportunity to leave a clone to mindlessly slave over bureaucracy was tempting, yet with the state of the world as was, Kiseragi was adamant Noboru had to take in as much village responsibility as he could so as to reinforce the necessary traits a village leader needed. His edge would be trained at times with the Lord himself, who had agreed Noboru should partake in missions with his villagers from time to time, including higher risk missions where confrontation was expected. A society that separates its scholars from its warriors was doomed to have their fighting done by fools and their thinking done by cowards, he would say.

The third part of the plan had been to strategize a way in which the clones could be convincingly inserted into Kumogakure ranks without giving away the fact that they were in fact clones of the Raikage. The multistage plan had the two forging documents; birth certificates, schooling, travels, certificates for extinct villages that matched locations of former travels made by Noboru, which unfortunately led them to Demon Country, where Noboru had taken a long distance mission with his team. Blanks were already prepared to be filled once the two were able to be documented, once they knew how the clones turned out. It fit their plan anyway. From there, they would forge reports, and Kiseragi would utilize his SUMMIT position to influence said reports to match times at which he had been on active duty to include their entrance onto Kumogakure years ago. They would hopefully be able to utilize the burning of the restaurant as a front to an attack on Noboru and the two new ninja the world would soon see, and give that a motivation for Noboru to once again join the active military force of Kumogakure. Why would someone attack the duo while they met with Noboru as a retired ninja? Easily enough, they concocted the backstory of a duo of ninja attacked by a foreign force -- killed on site -- whose attack aimed at hunting the now Raikage’s Jugo son, led the duo into a deep comma, and left Noboru without any choice other than rejoin the force, both for financial reasons, but also to ensure something like that wouldn’t happen again in their village.

“Yes, the plan is still the same”, he replied. A snap of his fingers, and the two scrolls appeared in his hands. He unrolled one of the scrolls over one of the gurneys, to the left, and dispelled the body of the woman who passed away not so long ago. Noboru and Kiseragi dressed her in hospital scrubs, and gently laid her back onto a pillow. They repeated the process with the grotesque body of the Jashinist who met his god underneath Satoru Jugo’s bed, although the process of dressing them in hospital scrubs was slightly more fascinating, not only by the many deformities of the Jugo, but also the plethora of tattoos on the fanatic’s body, and as such it took the duo more time to finally dress the man.

Both corpses now laid in their beds, eyes closed, the blankets pulled back by their feet ready to cover them once the technique was performed. They looked peaceful.

“Ready to start, Lord Raikage?” Noboru nodded, confirming he was ready, in spite of the reservations he felt about whether or not he was truly prepared for this.

He stood between the beds at the midsections of the bodies, his hands able to reach either at the same time. He performed a few hand seals, and immediately he was able to feel his chakra swelling and flare up, as bubbles formed around him, barriers meant to bar any deterring effect that could affect the Raikage. While it wasn’t a necessity for the performing of this technique, he felt it a necessity, as it provided him with much more powerful chakra, but also refined his control acutely from the bare control the redhead ever had. It was time.

He weaved more hand seals, this time the powerful and precise chakra being molded within him a part of the history of the Kumogakure: Quake Chakra, tumultuous and destructive, was readied within the Raikage, and as he extended his arms to either side to grab at the corpses hands, the chakra bolted and coursed through him powerfully. Upon contact, he could feel his chakra leaving his body as the three become one for the time being, his chakra travelling their networks and dispersing through the body, crackling and reshaping the reality of their physiology as the energy boomed through the room, shaking the gurneys in their places, disturbing the tent’s fabrics and rattling the utensil table. The book on the stool fell over, such was the power coursing through the room at the moment, and Kiseragi himself shielded his eyes with one arm as he left just enough of a window so his Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan could witness what was happening.

Noboru himself was having his senses assaulted. At the moment, the two dead bodies touching him brought him awful sensations all over his body, he could feel an icy grip around his heart, his lungs struggled to inflate, liver, sleep and pancreas felt as if they were being bled dry, and his intestines contracted. The pain was almost enough to distract him from the assault on his mind, which made him grimace as he pressed his jaws together, his teeth and skull hurting from the pressure, though he held his grip onto the corpses, as if by magnetism alone. The images were brought before the eye of the mind, a movie of Noboru’s life distorted with people he did not recognize as the characters meant to play him and people he had met in his life. A red headed lad tilled the land. A young lass with pigtails chopped onion fast and expertly. The lad was older now, maybe a teenager, and he engaged in close quarters combat with another ninja. The lass practiced, sword in hand, under the tutelage of a faceless ronin. The lad, now a grown man, experienced love. The lass, a grown woman, walked away from yet another failed relationship, cold and calloused. The lad shoved his hand through a spinal cord, destroying his opponent as they ran away. A miscalculation cost the lass her knee, and her foreleg tilted unnaturally toward her as she fell to the ground. The lad murdered a friend, who lay in bed, for a slight. The lass, in disbelief, fought and killed a child who had attacked her.

With a scream which clawed its way out of the constricted throat of the Raikage filled the room, and he let go of the hands, stumbling backwards before falling down to the floor. Kiseragi rushed to his side, noting how Noboru was covered in a sheet of sweat, his hair clinging to his face, his breathing labored. “Forget me”, started the Kage, “check on them” rasped his coarse voice, the pain apparent. He leaned and laid back on the cold floor, unaware of how much time he had been grasping the frigid hands of the corpses, the pain slowly subsiding as he took deep and slow breaths, trying to give his time time to slow back down from the frantic pace it kept. He could hear Kiseragi shuffling around the bodies, and from the corner of his eye he spied him checking for pulses, before moving towards the side table with the utensils. Nobo leaned his head forward to see the man pick a stethoscope, and as he lifted his torso off the floor while balancing his sore body on his elbows, he saw how Kiseragi put the stethoscope to the bodies, listening air flow, while pressing his hands on the abdomen of the two bodies. Something in his eyes worried the redhead, and he pushed through the discomfort to watch Kiseragi go back to the table, picking a pen; the pen turned out to be a low powered flashlight, which he used to pry open the eyelids and look into the eyes. Now sitting on the floor, Noboru started to realize what might be the issue.

He got to his feet, and Kiseragi walked towards him. “How are you feeling? That seemed to be quite the ordeal.” Noboru brought a hand to his face, scratching his beard absentmindedly. “Are… why…”

To the left, the woman had been laid, and to the right, the Jugo male covered in tattoos. Yet it appeared the roles were inverted now. To the left laid the lad, somewhere in his mid twenties, and the lass, in a similar age, to the right, both of whom had appeared to him in the vision the technique or his brain concocted. “I can’t explain it either. The technique only mentioned creating clones with appearances based on the caster’s choice, and they should have their own memories and personalities already forged. But, you’d figure they would be the other way around… Maybe they merged through you and you reconfigured their genetic codes with your own blueprints.” Noboru had no idea what he was talking about. The one characteristic that bound the three of them was the same hair color. Full red manes, characteristic of the Uzumaki clan. “Are they alright?”

Kiseragi looked at them and nodded. “All systems seem to be operating properly. Their organs appear to be functioning without problem, pupils responsive, even their muscles show no sign of atrophy. They’re healthy as bulls.” Noboru glanced at Kiseragi. “Then why aren’t they awake?” Kiseragi shrugged. “I would wager their brains are still processing the information, configuring the body to the new reality. All automatic systems are working, but the brain, where these new personalities are forming, is probably still settling. We’re gonna have to wait.” Noboru sighed. “Fine. Let’s give them some time.”

Kiseragi moved away and started plugging the machines to the two. Vitals displays, and IV drips with saline-based electrolyte solution containing selected vitamins and nutrients to ensure the bodies were stocked on everything they might need in these crucial first hours. Noboru took one of the stools, and took a seat, watching as the man worked. He later would insist on checking Noboru’s vitals as well, which he obliged if not to make sure everything was ok, to at least appease the man. The night moved on, slowly, and in the distance the Raikage could see the sky gradually brighten, from the pitch star speckled emptiness to dark shades of blue as the light from the sun refracted off the atmosphere.

A shuffling motion alerted the two, accompanied by groans as if someone was waking up from a deep sleep with a hangover, and Noboru made his way back inside the medical tent in time to see Kiseragi hovering the lad’s gurney as he came to his senses.

“Where am I?”

Baby’s first words.

Kiseragi spoke up. “You were in a deep comma. Do you know your name?”

“My name…” The clone’s crimson eyes moved from Kiseragi to Noboru, then to the ceiling of the tent and then he closed his eyes as he leaned his head back onto the pillow. He had long hair, as Noboru did not so long ago, and underneath his eyes two lines as if two additional closed eyelids. It reminded him of… but how? Judging by the musculature and facial structure, he was rather healthy, lean and with low body fat. His eyes opened once more. “My name is Akemi Kaito.”

The two lords of storm exchanged a look; it seemed the clone had taken Noboru’s family name.

“Do you remember how you came to be here?” Akemi once again closed his eyes and groaned. “Water…”, he asked. Kiseragi moved to the cabinet with utensils, opened a lower drawer and extracted a bottle of water from it, before pouring it into a cup and handing it over to the young man. Noboru looked to the side, at the young lass. Her brown eyes looked at the top of the tent. The redhead -- the redheaded Raikage, that is, moved closer to her, and as he approached, he grasped her hand in his. She seemed startled for a second, before looking at him with a confused and scared expression. Her voice was soft and hushed, with a hint of fear within. “Dad?”

Noboru looked into her brown eyes, the eyes he had seen so many times in the mirror. “Can you recall your name?” She nodded weakly. “Hayami.”

Kiseragi got active, getting a notebook and a bench to sit between the beds. Noboru listened from the side, pensive. One word echoed in his mind.