Queen of Air and Darkness

IV. Fourth Interlude

Winter reached Konoha like an advance guard, the chill setting in as Sasuke's army advanced into the heart of Konoha's territory. The snow crunched under his mount's hooves as he approached home, leader of the writhing mass of fighters that extended out a mile behind him.

The Zetsu army had claimed the high ground. From his cliffside vantage point, Sasuke could see the capital itself nestled at the foot of the mountains. The rebuilt castle peeked out from a cluster of houses, the first signs of humanity in a forest deadened by the cold.

It looked so exposed, so open to attack, surrounded by the dark, clawing trunks of dead winter trees. The great forest of Konoha was its first line of defense—but that did not come without disadvantages. An advancing army, lead by one who knew the forest, could use it to disguise and disorient. They would pick off scouting groups, setting small traps through the forest to restrict defenses.

Just as Sasuke had done. They had no idea that their supply lines had been cut off, that trade had been stymied, that now Sasuke himself had arrived with the winter, seeking payment for the debt it owed him. A debt that could only be paid in blood.

Fury burned in Sasuke's heart at the sight of his target. It was the city his brother had killed for. It was the city he had died for. But his brother's death had only left him with more questions than answers. With the Akatsuki, Itachi had also attacked this place. And with his dying breath he had told Sasuke to question Madra, that he died to seal him away and stop the plan that Madra and he had laid, so carefully.

And for what?

What about this place could be worth dying for?

The city was made for sieges, but Sasuke knew its every curving street, every crack in its armor. And he knew, that as the villages had burned this summer, and as the price of food rose, it could not withstand a siege. Madara had been slow, nurturing his vengeance for generations in the dark heart of Orochimaru's castle, where he had been entombed. In those days, the alliance between the frozen Kingdom of Mist and Konoha had been strong. When the second Senju king had sealed him away, their alliance had been strong. Now that kingdom was nothing but a proliferation of warring mercenary states, further tipped into chaos by Orochimaru's power grab and the creation of Otogakure.

Now, after the Zetsus had cut their wide swathe of carnage through the northern kingdom, it would be years before the kingdom could recover. The Akatsuki and Orochimaru's demise would leave a power vacuum to be filled by warlords.

But it would be worth the cost.

Sasuke snapped his spyglass shut and hung it from his belt. A lone rider on horseback could make it to Konoha in a day if he took the King's Road. The army would take longer, its pace a slow crawl of death. To hide their advance they would have to take a winding path, laying traps in their wake.

Sasuke knew the Zetsu's nature well enough by now to know what a state they would be in by the time they arrived. Hungry and burning with bloodlust.

People he had known, people he had fought beside, would die in the onslaught.

Naruto would die.

Sasuke's fingers clenched around the spyglass as he tried to imagine Naruto's wide blue eyes, open but unseeing. Perhaps he would die in the great hall, before the throne he had never been meant to rule from. No—far more likely that he would charge into battle, eager to prove himself on the frontlines. He would never tolerate being locked away in safety while his friends faced death.

To overturn the past, the king was a necessary sacrifice. Sasuke had always known the realities of power.

Why then, did his teeth clench at the thought? Did his fingers curl so tightly around the bras spyglass, until they bit into the flesh of his palm?