The mountain wind whipped mercilessly at the edges of Shirokouu’s tattered cloak as he trudged downhill, carrying Ryuu Rei’s unconscious form across his shoulders. She was heavy in a way that no untrained eye would expect; far denser than her lithe silhouette suggested. Despite the surprising weight, he kept his footing on the half-frozen slope, steeling every muscle in his legs and back so as not to jostle her more than necessary. Blood was smeared across her brow and hands, although the glow of her unnatural healing had already begun to close the worst of her wounds. Shiro's own heartbeat drummed in his ears as he recalled the final seconds of that battle, of her voice, her fierce cry for his help, and the reverberating crack that accompanied the defeat of that last monstrous lycan. He hadn’t truly saved her so much as given her a fraction of time to save herself. Still, he could remember the heat of her skin when he hoisted her up in that fireman’s carry, and the subtle sense of relief when she didn’t push him away.
When the two of them finally reached Kumogakure’s mountain-side hospital, a flurry of med-nin and orderlies whisked the Main Branch Sennin out of his arms and onto a stretcher. As Rei was carted off, she managed to press her hand briefly to his. “Thank you,” her lips seemed to say, though no sound came out. Her scarlet eyes lingered on him until the door swung shut. In that instant, amid the hum of corridor lights and the distant thunder still echoing outside, Shirokouu felt something akin to the deep breath before a storm. There was weight to it, perhaps the birth of an emotion he was not sure he should name.
He never got the chance to see her conscious again. The hours that followed were an exhausting blur: giving statements to the investigators, recounting in detail how the outpost cabin had been destroyed and how the beasts, formerly Kumo shinobi, had turned on them. Eventually, Shiro managed to find a small corner in the hospital waiting area where he dozed off, drained from the fighting and from maintaining the raging weather in check. But when he woke again to the clang of a door opening, the corridor around him was… different. The metal benches had changed design. The light strips on the ceiling seemed new, like they were somehow sleeker. Even the chart on the wall listing patients and wards had different names than what he remembered. All of it was subtly, but undeniably changed.
In the next moment, he heard footsteps behind him, accompanied by hushed murmuring. Two med-nin in crisp uniforms approached, each older than him by a decade. They wore ID badges with dates that made his eyes widen. At first, Shiro tried to shake off the confusion as grogginess, but the more he observed, the more he realized: these new faces didn’t seem to recognize him at all. Their manner was polite yet distant, as if he were a stranger who had wandered in from the cold. One even called him “Sir” and asked if he needed assistance. “Excuse me,” Shiro repeated, measuring every syllable. “Where is… Ryuu Rei? She was pretty roughed up. I carried her in.”
The med-nin exchanged glances that telegraphed concern. “Ryuu… Rei?” One of the med-nin echoed. “We don’t have any new patient by that name in here.” The med-nin of course recognized the name. No one in Kumogakure didn't. Rei was a legend here. However, the Leaf headband that Shirokouu wore made him less likely to receive the full story, a fact he knew well. “That’s not possible. I brought her in myself.” Shiro added, his brow furrowed in that trademark way of his. The woman looked confused, a genuine expression that told the observant Santaru that he was either being lied to by someone with a lot of skill, or that this was the truth. “Sir, are you sure you’re in the right facility?” came the tentative reply. “We’ve handled no emergency admissions in the past few days… certainly no one from the Main Branch.”
"Days?" Shiro’s mind reeled. His memory was vivid, as though he'd just lived it, because to him, he did. He had marched Rei into this very place to the uproar of frantic staff. He could practically still feel the ache in his muscles from carrying her. Yet the staff was claiming none of that happened?
Sucking in a measured breath, he stepped backward into the corridor, ignoring their alarm. Calm… focus. His father’s voice echoed in his head. The gods are merely our collective consciousness… or perhaps I ended up caught in one of their illusions. This wouldn’t be the first time space and time had played cruel tricks on him. The swirling aftereffects of unknown jutsu or a Tenouza-driven warping of reality had once stranded him for years. He pressed two fingertips to his temple, forcing himself to observe. Subtle changes, posters on the walls proclaiming new vaccination drives, a newly minted plaque referencing the year. Two years ahead of what he remembered.
Shirokouu swallowed hard. He had missed two years… again.
There was only one immediate course of action: The Raikage. Shinrya Kitsune was the unshakable pillar that had believed him when he first arrived in the future. Surely, she could unravel what had happened in his latest disappearance. Yet even as that thought surfaced, a second, stronger urge pulled at him. He needed to find Rei, to confirm with his own eyes that she was all right. She was a commanding force in his mind. He remembered the raw power she displayed tearing through those lycan-shinobi in an eyeblink, the stoic fervor when she discovered the remains of her subordinates, and the fleeting softness when she realized she could trust him enough to let him carry her. The memory caused a slow tightening in his chest that he hadn’t quite named.
Raikage or Ryuu Rei, he weighed the two. A pang of guilt gnawed at him. Surely, the village’s top leader should be informed of his abrupt reappearance. But the last time, Kitsune had delegated him to a watchful guard around the city, and he found no fault in her caution. However, this time, Shiro couldn’t shake the sense that it was Rei who needed him more… or perhaps, alone again, he needed to see her.
He reached out to a passing Chuunin for any word about Ryuu Rei. “Ryuu? Are you talking about the Main Branch Sennin?" The shinobi asked, brow furrowed. “She’s gone.” The simple straightforwardness of the young man's reply caused the white-clad Santaru's usually stoic demeanor to crack for a moment. “Gone?” Shiro repeated, calmly but with a faint tremor that belied his anxiety. “Yeah… word is she's not around anymore,” the ninja explained, tugging at his own flak jacket as if uneasy. “Some rumored she went missing on a mission. Others claim she’s traveling incognito. Either way, she hasn’t been seen in months.”
Shiro’s throat went dry. Two entire years had passed for him in what felt like an overnight nap. Rei was missing. No official explanation. The Shinobi Code often mandated that in times of war or crisis, even Sennin-level ninja might depart on secret tasks. Yet something about the tone of the Chuunin’s voice, some note of regret or fear, suggested that her disappearance was more than routine.
She had saved him from a pack of rabid shinobi-beasts, and he had done the same for her. To think that she might be… gone, truly gone, without so much as a farewell. That tightening in his chest returned, a stirring that was becoming more and more uncanny for the usually-distanced man. These kinds of thoughts were unlike him, especially when considering how briefly the two had known each other. Nevertheless, they were present, and they drove him on. If the official channels could not locate her, then perhaps her clan would hold the key. Shirokouu turned without another word and headed toward the Seki District, an area he vaguely recalled as being more traditional in architecture, where many of Kumogakure’s old families and clans kept their ancestral homes.
Navigating the Seki District was a surreal mixture of déjà vu and unfamiliarity. Under the fresh modernization of Kumogakure, with its sleek roads, overhead cables, and the multi-story housing complexes, this place lingered the imprint of older times. Here, worn cobblestones and high, curving wooden gates still announced the presence of established clans. Incense, drifting from small shrines at the entrances, mingled with the crisp mountain air. Shiro came upon the main gate of the Ryuu Clan Complex: two imposing pillars of dark-stained cedar flanking an iron-studded double door. The clan’s crest, an elegantly stylized dragon, was engraved into the wood, half-obscured by drifting bits of autumn leaves. Despite the age and grandeur, Shiro noticed fresh wards posted near the perimeter walls: newly fashioned seals that shimmered faintly with chakra.
A duo of clan guards stood at alert. Their gazes landed on the unfamiliar white-haired man wearing simple but well-crafted traveling attire, a short hooded cloak that barely concealed his sheathed blade. The guards each shifted their stance, ready for trouble. Shiro drew a breath, adopting the measured calm that had seen him through war and literal rifts in reality. “My name is Kakihara Shirokouu,” he said, bowing with one hand over his chest. “I’m here to request an audience with your elders. It concerns Ryuu Rei.”
The pair exchanged glances. One guard, a woman with stern grey eyes, gave him a once-over as if deciding whether the name carried weight. “Ryuu Rei-sama is away,” she replied brusquely.
“I know,” Shiro said quietly. “That’s exactly why I need to speak to them. Please… I don’t come seeking conflict or to intrude on clan matters.”
He paused, letting the hush of the air fill the spaces between his words. Diplomacy first, he reminded himself. The faint swirl of static stirred around his fingertips as a reminder that he could defend himself if pressed, but he’d rather approach with the respect the family of his ally deserved. “Stay here,” barked the second guard before heading inside the compound, presumably to check if the Ryuu elders would allow such a meeting.
The quiet that fell was thick with tension. From beyond the gate’s high walls came faint chatter, the clang of practice weapons, and the scuffle of footsteps. Shiro took note of it all, letting his senses guide him. Admittedly, he was tired—tired of these time rips that robbed him of precious days (or years). Tired of never knowing who he would or wouldn’t find upon returning. All these trials made him determined to see Rei’s disappearance through to some resolution. "What if she’s in danger? How does a shinobi that powerful just go missing?" He mused, that unfamiliar tightness returning. In the swirling chaos of memory, an image floated to the surface: the young woman, half-smiling despite her injuries, leaning on him for support. That ephemeral moment in the hospital corridor—her parted lips, her trembling breath as she tried to thank him—had somehow felt more meaningful than even the storms of battle they’d weathered together. "Or… perhaps I’m the one in danger."
He pressed his thumb against his own temple, recalling with perfect clarity the look she gave him right after that final blow against the monstrous alpha wolf. How, for a heartbeat, their eyes locked, each acknowledging that they’d risked their lives for the other. The kind of bond that forms in crisis often outlasts any simple alliances.
A scraping sound drew his attention. The guard returned, motioning stiffly for Shiro to enter. “The elders will hear you,” she said, stepping aside so he could pass. His footfall on the stone walkway leading into the courtyard reverberated a kind of solemn promise. "I will find her." He told himself, a silent promise in his mind. He’d outlived his time in Leaf. He’d fallen into a second displacement here in Cloud. The gods of chance, or whomever was toying with these tears in reality, might be cruel, but the stoic Santaru refused to let that be the final note.
In the courtyard, ancient juniper trees stood in symmetrical rows, pruned to perfection, their twisted trunks hinting at the clan’s proud traditions of strength and resilience. At the far end, a low-profile building with wide eaves awaited him. Soft yellow light glowed from within, revealing silhouettes sliding behind paper doors. He heard faint murmurs, the elders already aware of his arrival. Before stepping inside, he lifted his gaze to the cloudy sky. “Just let me get to her,” he whispered, half to the heavens and half to the roiling thunderheads that seemed to follow him wherever he went. A flicker of pale lightning licked the sky in response, not enough to break the clouds, but enough to show the storm was listening. Perhaps it always listens, he thought fleetingly, recalling how he had promised to become a bridge between worlds. Leaf and Cloud, past and present.
Then, squaring his shoulders, Shirokouu crossed the threshold. He pushed back the hood, allowing the full stark white of his hair to show. The first of the Ryuu elders straightened from behind the polished wood table. The other two rose more carefully, lines of age carving gentle furrows around their eyes. He bowed again, carefully, mindful of clan etiquette. “Thank you for allowing me to approach you. My name is Kakihara Shirokouu…” he began, voice low yet resolute. “I come humbly, in search of any knowledge or leads on Ryuu Rei’s whereabouts.” The quiet was deafening. Only the hush of breath and the faint pop of the lantern flames crackling in the corners. Somewhere in those quiet corners of the building, Shiro suspected a half-dozen more guards watched him intently.
He slowly inhaled. Part of him knew that they might reveal nothing to him, an outsider, or that they themselves might not know where Rei went. Yet each step had to be taken. She was the first person in this era who had accepted him for what he was, who had recognized his skill not as an archaic relic but as something vital. And she was the one he, in turn, had felt honored to protect.
So, if intangible feelings of attachment, simmering somewhere beneath the surface, propelled him more fiercely than any vow of duty? Then he would not deny it to himself. Not anymore.
[MFT .:. 2392 Words]
When the two of them finally reached Kumogakure’s mountain-side hospital, a flurry of med-nin and orderlies whisked the Main Branch Sennin out of his arms and onto a stretcher. As Rei was carted off, she managed to press her hand briefly to his. “Thank you,” her lips seemed to say, though no sound came out. Her scarlet eyes lingered on him until the door swung shut. In that instant, amid the hum of corridor lights and the distant thunder still echoing outside, Shirokouu felt something akin to the deep breath before a storm. There was weight to it, perhaps the birth of an emotion he was not sure he should name.
He never got the chance to see her conscious again. The hours that followed were an exhausting blur: giving statements to the investigators, recounting in detail how the outpost cabin had been destroyed and how the beasts, formerly Kumo shinobi, had turned on them. Eventually, Shiro managed to find a small corner in the hospital waiting area where he dozed off, drained from the fighting and from maintaining the raging weather in check. But when he woke again to the clang of a door opening, the corridor around him was… different. The metal benches had changed design. The light strips on the ceiling seemed new, like they were somehow sleeker. Even the chart on the wall listing patients and wards had different names than what he remembered. All of it was subtly, but undeniably changed.
In the next moment, he heard footsteps behind him, accompanied by hushed murmuring. Two med-nin in crisp uniforms approached, each older than him by a decade. They wore ID badges with dates that made his eyes widen. At first, Shiro tried to shake off the confusion as grogginess, but the more he observed, the more he realized: these new faces didn’t seem to recognize him at all. Their manner was polite yet distant, as if he were a stranger who had wandered in from the cold. One even called him “Sir” and asked if he needed assistance. “Excuse me,” Shiro repeated, measuring every syllable. “Where is… Ryuu Rei? She was pretty roughed up. I carried her in.”
The med-nin exchanged glances that telegraphed concern. “Ryuu… Rei?” One of the med-nin echoed. “We don’t have any new patient by that name in here.” The med-nin of course recognized the name. No one in Kumogakure didn't. Rei was a legend here. However, the Leaf headband that Shirokouu wore made him less likely to receive the full story, a fact he knew well. “That’s not possible. I brought her in myself.” Shiro added, his brow furrowed in that trademark way of his. The woman looked confused, a genuine expression that told the observant Santaru that he was either being lied to by someone with a lot of skill, or that this was the truth. “Sir, are you sure you’re in the right facility?” came the tentative reply. “We’ve handled no emergency admissions in the past few days… certainly no one from the Main Branch.”
"Days?" Shiro’s mind reeled. His memory was vivid, as though he'd just lived it, because to him, he did. He had marched Rei into this very place to the uproar of frantic staff. He could practically still feel the ache in his muscles from carrying her. Yet the staff was claiming none of that happened?
Sucking in a measured breath, he stepped backward into the corridor, ignoring their alarm. Calm… focus. His father’s voice echoed in his head. The gods are merely our collective consciousness… or perhaps I ended up caught in one of their illusions. This wouldn’t be the first time space and time had played cruel tricks on him. The swirling aftereffects of unknown jutsu or a Tenouza-driven warping of reality had once stranded him for years. He pressed two fingertips to his temple, forcing himself to observe. Subtle changes, posters on the walls proclaiming new vaccination drives, a newly minted plaque referencing the year. Two years ahead of what he remembered.
Shirokouu swallowed hard. He had missed two years… again.
There was only one immediate course of action: The Raikage. Shinrya Kitsune was the unshakable pillar that had believed him when he first arrived in the future. Surely, she could unravel what had happened in his latest disappearance. Yet even as that thought surfaced, a second, stronger urge pulled at him. He needed to find Rei, to confirm with his own eyes that she was all right. She was a commanding force in his mind. He remembered the raw power she displayed tearing through those lycan-shinobi in an eyeblink, the stoic fervor when she discovered the remains of her subordinates, and the fleeting softness when she realized she could trust him enough to let him carry her. The memory caused a slow tightening in his chest that he hadn’t quite named.
Raikage or Ryuu Rei, he weighed the two. A pang of guilt gnawed at him. Surely, the village’s top leader should be informed of his abrupt reappearance. But the last time, Kitsune had delegated him to a watchful guard around the city, and he found no fault in her caution. However, this time, Shiro couldn’t shake the sense that it was Rei who needed him more… or perhaps, alone again, he needed to see her.
He reached out to a passing Chuunin for any word about Ryuu Rei. “Ryuu? Are you talking about the Main Branch Sennin?" The shinobi asked, brow furrowed. “She’s gone.” The simple straightforwardness of the young man's reply caused the white-clad Santaru's usually stoic demeanor to crack for a moment. “Gone?” Shiro repeated, calmly but with a faint tremor that belied his anxiety. “Yeah… word is she's not around anymore,” the ninja explained, tugging at his own flak jacket as if uneasy. “Some rumored she went missing on a mission. Others claim she’s traveling incognito. Either way, she hasn’t been seen in months.”
Shiro’s throat went dry. Two entire years had passed for him in what felt like an overnight nap. Rei was missing. No official explanation. The Shinobi Code often mandated that in times of war or crisis, even Sennin-level ninja might depart on secret tasks. Yet something about the tone of the Chuunin’s voice, some note of regret or fear, suggested that her disappearance was more than routine.
She had saved him from a pack of rabid shinobi-beasts, and he had done the same for her. To think that she might be… gone, truly gone, without so much as a farewell. That tightening in his chest returned, a stirring that was becoming more and more uncanny for the usually-distanced man. These kinds of thoughts were unlike him, especially when considering how briefly the two had known each other. Nevertheless, they were present, and they drove him on. If the official channels could not locate her, then perhaps her clan would hold the key. Shirokouu turned without another word and headed toward the Seki District, an area he vaguely recalled as being more traditional in architecture, where many of Kumogakure’s old families and clans kept their ancestral homes.
Navigating the Seki District was a surreal mixture of déjà vu and unfamiliarity. Under the fresh modernization of Kumogakure, with its sleek roads, overhead cables, and the multi-story housing complexes, this place lingered the imprint of older times. Here, worn cobblestones and high, curving wooden gates still announced the presence of established clans. Incense, drifting from small shrines at the entrances, mingled with the crisp mountain air. Shiro came upon the main gate of the Ryuu Clan Complex: two imposing pillars of dark-stained cedar flanking an iron-studded double door. The clan’s crest, an elegantly stylized dragon, was engraved into the wood, half-obscured by drifting bits of autumn leaves. Despite the age and grandeur, Shiro noticed fresh wards posted near the perimeter walls: newly fashioned seals that shimmered faintly with chakra.
A duo of clan guards stood at alert. Their gazes landed on the unfamiliar white-haired man wearing simple but well-crafted traveling attire, a short hooded cloak that barely concealed his sheathed blade. The guards each shifted their stance, ready for trouble. Shiro drew a breath, adopting the measured calm that had seen him through war and literal rifts in reality. “My name is Kakihara Shirokouu,” he said, bowing with one hand over his chest. “I’m here to request an audience with your elders. It concerns Ryuu Rei.”
The pair exchanged glances. One guard, a woman with stern grey eyes, gave him a once-over as if deciding whether the name carried weight. “Ryuu Rei-sama is away,” she replied brusquely.
“I know,” Shiro said quietly. “That’s exactly why I need to speak to them. Please… I don’t come seeking conflict or to intrude on clan matters.”
He paused, letting the hush of the air fill the spaces between his words. Diplomacy first, he reminded himself. The faint swirl of static stirred around his fingertips as a reminder that he could defend himself if pressed, but he’d rather approach with the respect the family of his ally deserved. “Stay here,” barked the second guard before heading inside the compound, presumably to check if the Ryuu elders would allow such a meeting.
The quiet that fell was thick with tension. From beyond the gate’s high walls came faint chatter, the clang of practice weapons, and the scuffle of footsteps. Shiro took note of it all, letting his senses guide him. Admittedly, he was tired—tired of these time rips that robbed him of precious days (or years). Tired of never knowing who he would or wouldn’t find upon returning. All these trials made him determined to see Rei’s disappearance through to some resolution. "What if she’s in danger? How does a shinobi that powerful just go missing?" He mused, that unfamiliar tightness returning. In the swirling chaos of memory, an image floated to the surface: the young woman, half-smiling despite her injuries, leaning on him for support. That ephemeral moment in the hospital corridor—her parted lips, her trembling breath as she tried to thank him—had somehow felt more meaningful than even the storms of battle they’d weathered together. "Or… perhaps I’m the one in danger."
He pressed his thumb against his own temple, recalling with perfect clarity the look she gave him right after that final blow against the monstrous alpha wolf. How, for a heartbeat, their eyes locked, each acknowledging that they’d risked their lives for the other. The kind of bond that forms in crisis often outlasts any simple alliances.
A scraping sound drew his attention. The guard returned, motioning stiffly for Shiro to enter. “The elders will hear you,” she said, stepping aside so he could pass. His footfall on the stone walkway leading into the courtyard reverberated a kind of solemn promise. "I will find her." He told himself, a silent promise in his mind. He’d outlived his time in Leaf. He’d fallen into a second displacement here in Cloud. The gods of chance, or whomever was toying with these tears in reality, might be cruel, but the stoic Santaru refused to let that be the final note.
In the courtyard, ancient juniper trees stood in symmetrical rows, pruned to perfection, their twisted trunks hinting at the clan’s proud traditions of strength and resilience. At the far end, a low-profile building with wide eaves awaited him. Soft yellow light glowed from within, revealing silhouettes sliding behind paper doors. He heard faint murmurs, the elders already aware of his arrival. Before stepping inside, he lifted his gaze to the cloudy sky. “Just let me get to her,” he whispered, half to the heavens and half to the roiling thunderheads that seemed to follow him wherever he went. A flicker of pale lightning licked the sky in response, not enough to break the clouds, but enough to show the storm was listening. Perhaps it always listens, he thought fleetingly, recalling how he had promised to become a bridge between worlds. Leaf and Cloud, past and present.
Then, squaring his shoulders, Shirokouu crossed the threshold. He pushed back the hood, allowing the full stark white of his hair to show. The first of the Ryuu elders straightened from behind the polished wood table. The other two rose more carefully, lines of age carving gentle furrows around their eyes. He bowed again, carefully, mindful of clan etiquette. “Thank you for allowing me to approach you. My name is Kakihara Shirokouu…” he began, voice low yet resolute. “I come humbly, in search of any knowledge or leads on Ryuu Rei’s whereabouts.” The quiet was deafening. Only the hush of breath and the faint pop of the lantern flames crackling in the corners. Somewhere in those quiet corners of the building, Shiro suspected a half-dozen more guards watched him intently.
He slowly inhaled. Part of him knew that they might reveal nothing to him, an outsider, or that they themselves might not know where Rei went. Yet each step had to be taken. She was the first person in this era who had accepted him for what he was, who had recognized his skill not as an archaic relic but as something vital. And she was the one he, in turn, had felt honored to protect.
So, if intangible feelings of attachment, simmering somewhere beneath the surface, propelled him more fiercely than any vow of duty? Then he would not deny it to himself. Not anymore.
[MFT .:. 2392 Words]
