Reborn in the Mist

The high winds blew against my skin, bringing with them the cold and scent of Kirigakure. My gaze pierced through the mist gathered and clumped around the edges of various important buildings, it obscured the view of the sky for the common man and disoriented lesser shinobi.

Quite a bit clouded around the Mizukage Tower, my tower. I sat at the edge with one foot held up to my chest and the other dangling over, in the briefest moments of respite I’ve found over the last days the top of my tower held the most serene atmosphere to manage my mood.

Lights flickered below the mists, my people, citizens I’ve been charged to protect carry on with their nights many still riding the celebratory wave of my public inauguration. It was a brief affair arranged only for the satisfaction of the lame man, for the vulnerable civilian looking out for their families in this time of world strife.

The gaze they set on me then felt far more intense than any major or second rate clan had, they looked onto me as their beacon of hope, several crossing their fingers as they wished for positive change and others simply wishing an end to insecurity.

The pressure of their gaze led the way to my first order— no curfew. The night the Kaguya clan attacked the major clans the village was thrust into a state of emergency, but due to the Daimyo’s visit literally the next day, it couldn’t be enacted in full. The Daimyo left as soon as the third day after my swearing in at Bar Beach and though my advisors— Uncle, Nana Megumi and Lord Funato— complained it would place them in jeopardy…I wasn’t thinking about them when I gave the order.

In truth, it was a multi-faceted test, to find the limits of my executive powers and to bait the Kaguya. It might feel like a whole month or two has passed since their attack but it’s barely been a week, I haven’t forgotten about them.

But still, they haven’t taken the bait and they haven’t anything to do with my mood lately. I bit into my cheek as the sweet scent of fried shrimp wafted into my nostrils from…somewhere in the village, I couldn’t be bothered to actually track it down when I’ve tested that I can simply order mine made right here in the Tower.

I wasn’t hungry anyway. I was tired and lazy and I didn’t want to leave my spot at the edge of the Tower for anything. My mind played the conversation with the real Yagura over and over in my mind, the sight of Isobu, asleep and unconcerned filled my thoughts and the presence of his chakra within me boiled against every delusional idea my brain spat out at me.

This feeling was all too familiar to me but to Yagura, it was jarring. In the past two months I’ve never felt more like Jason than I do now, depressed, lethargic, unwilling to progress. Yagura felt disgusted at the sensation but he couldn’t do anything about it, it was paralytic and only time would tell at this point.

But one thing was certain, I wasn’t sure what I was doing anymore. Somehow, all my fiery passion to reinvent Kiri, to fight against Obito and his Akatsuki, to protect my village, it all vanished as I became the Fourth Mizukage.

No, those ambitions still lay within me but more in Yagura than Jason and right now, all I feel is pathetic old Jason. And I’m not even sure why. I have a theory though, one that excuses me of my laziness and it was that my sense of reality was broken.

I mean, how couldn’t it be? I thought of myself as two people in differing conditions and both in others. The real Yagura challenged my sense of reality for what has to be the third time by revealing that in all likelihood, I was going to chart the same course for Kirigakure he was fated to.

The fate of the Bloody Mist.

No amount of arguments I came up with could refute that possibility without willingly blinding myself to it. I heaved a sigh and tried to gather the will to continue fighting, to dare to change fate if there is such a thing, after all, that’s literally one of the many lessons watching Naruto imparted.

But I merely felt like crying and Yagura hated me for it.

With some skill of my own I sensed a presence fall behind me, I didn’t need to turn around to know some ANBU or another knelt at my back, “What is it?”

“Funato-dono is asking for you.” It was Owl mask, she had a deep, icy pressure behind her voice whenever she spoke, like she held the frost in her throat ready to release it at any moment.

I snorted. I spent two days entertaining the Daimyo and receiving gifts before Funato grabbed me for lessons in being a Kage. Though calling them lessons are a bit of an exaggeration, many of the things he showed me were things the Third Mizukage already exposed Yagura to.

Still, he had his use, particularly in placing Kirigakure’s many keys to power in my hands and if I didn’t feel so terrible about this reality, about myself, I would drop down to indulge him.

“Tell him I’m…” I trailed off in thought as I failed to conjure a satisfactory excuse and simply sighed, “You didn’t see me.”

Owl mask restrained a snort of her own and nodded behind me. Although she wasn’t among my advisors her position as head of the ANBU placed her near me in matters of village and national security. I’ve only gotten around to reading a couple of her organizations reports but they were brief and without detail, the barebones Funato introduced to me one fine morning.

In truth, ANBU reports couldn’t be recorded on written material and so much of their debriefings were oral and direct to their immediate superior or whoever called on them to give a report.

“Sir,” she starts, unlike Fuguki who has no trouble using my title, it’s come a little slower to others, “Ao has returned.”

My jaws clenched at this, Ao…I had plans for him, Jason did, not Yagura. For a moment I felt excited and rose to my feet. The winds blew through my hair and fluttered my black shirt and grey trousers, I cracked my fingers and my wristbeads rattled in anticipation as I met Owl mask’s gaze.

“Good, it’s about time we pay a visit to our prisoner.”

Ao…his existence made me feel confident, he was the one who broke Yagura out of genjutsu in the fated reality. His existence made it feel not so bleak that I couldn’t accept Yagura into my main personality, that I couldn’t accept the fierceness of a Kage-level shinobi.

Clinging onto the feeling of progress, of fighting against the strings of fate and against Yagura himself, I leapt after Owl mask, following her lead down into the Tower.

I can be both, I don’t have to become Yagura completely. I can change. I will change!