The mountain slope materialized around me with the nauseating lurch of a reverse summoning, and I sucked in a breath that tasted like autumn itself.
Fucking hell.
The air was crisp, sharp, and clean, carrying the mineral scent of mountain streams and something sweet I could never quite place. Like fermented honey, maybe. Or old sake left to age in cedar barrels.
The trees towering above made Konoha's sacred Forest look like a fucking bonsai garden. Massive, gnarled things with trunks wider than some buildings, their branches twisted into impossible angles that somehow still looked graceful. Every leaf was crimson, some bright as fresh blood, others deep as old wine, and they carpeted everything in a rustling red sea that went on for miles.
Sunlight filtered through in shafts, turning the whole place into some kind of temple where even my breathing felt too loud.
After the damp, fetid shittiness of Ryuuchi Cave, all stale air and snake musk and the cloying scent of whatever the fuck those serpents ate, this was like being dunked in cold, pure water. My lungs expanded properly, and I realized my shoulders had been up around my ears the entire conversation with the Snake Sannin.
I let out a heavy sigh that rattled through my chest, leaning back against one of the ancient maples. The bark was rough but felt solid.
Only now, with the distance of a summoning contract between us, did I realize how fucking tense I'd been. The Snake Sannin's smile had been pleasant enough, his words reasonable, but I'd been in his presence long enough to find it grating to my nerves.
I closed my eyes and just... breathed.
The moment stretched, sweet and calm, and I let myself have it. The rustle of leaves overhead. The distant sound of water over stone. The absence of any killing intent whatsoever. I wanted to stay here. Just slide down to the roots and sleep and dream. About what? It doesn't matter, just….
Then I shook my head, pushing off the tree. Orochimaru had already wasted too much of my time with his cryptic bullshit and political maneuvering. My clone was going to summon me soon enough, and when it did, I'd be yanked back to Konoha. I needed to get my business done here while I still could.
I channeled chakra to my legs and launched up onto a thick branch, tree-hopping through the canopy with the ease of years of practice. The red pandas tended to build their temples in the valleys between mountains, usually around ponds or streams. Made sense for creatures that valued tranquility and reflection. Water was basically nature's mirror, after all, and these fuzzy bastards loved their metaphors.
The foliage made it hard to see much beyond the immediate vicinity. Giant branches crisscrossed overhead like a second forest, blocking out the sky in places. But I knew the general layout. Down the slope, follow the streams, and eventually—
Eventually, I found it.
The valley opened up below like something out of a fucking painting, and despite everything, despite my anger, my impatience, the whole clusterfuck of the past few days, I stopped to stare.
Mountain peaks ringed the valley on all sides, their slopes covered in the same crimson forest. Jagged cliff faces of dark gray stone jutted out here and there, contrasting sharply with all that red. Below, the valley floor was dotted with dozens of ponds, their surfaces mirror-still and reflecting the autumn canopy. Each pond was ringed by small islands, some natural, some clearly man-made—or panda-made, I guess.
The islands were connected by an insane network of bridges. Wooden ones, gracefully arched. Stone ones that looked older than Konoha. In the shallow parts, just smooth paving stones set into the water, creating paths that seemed to float on the surface. And on every island, temples. Some were tiny, barely more than shrines. Others were elaborate stone structures with multiple levels and sweeping roofs. Some were maintained to perfection, others were crumbling with age and moss. A few looked downright luxurious, with gold leaf and intricate carvings, while others were humble wooden affairs that might blow over in a strong wind.
Gnarled trees with blood-red foliage towered over everything, their roots drinking from the ponds, their branches creating natural canopies over the temples. At the valley's entrance stood a massive torii gate, its vermilion paint faded but still vibrant, marking this as sacred ground.
I dropped down, gravity tugging at my stomach, and landed silently on a wooden bridge.
Lucky me. Of all the valleys in the Momiji Sanctuary, this was the one I needed.
I didn't waste time admiring the view, making straight for the island I usually meditated on—a medium-sized one with a simple stone temple and a clear pond. Red pandas were everywhere, going about their business. Young ones practicing forms on flat rocks. Older ones meditating in groups. A few giving me curious looks as I passed.
Normally, I'd stop. Bow. Maybe exchange pleasantries with the ones I recognized. Not today.
Today I had one target, and I spotted him immediately.
Shifu stood at the pond's edge, paws clasped behind his back, staring at the water like it held the secrets of the universe. His russet fur was immaculate as always, his long white beard flowing down his chest. He didn't move as I approached, didn't even twitch an ear.
"Have you been waiting for me, old man?" I said, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. "Or did you just freeze up like that due to arthritis?"
Shifu didn't move. Not a whisker twitched. The silence stretched until it became awkward, then annoying, then infuriating.
"You survived."
I scoffed. "No thanks to you."
That made him pause. His ears twitched. Slowly, he turned his head, looking over his shoulder with eyes that were far too human for a raccoon-dog-bear thing.
It pissed me off.
"You are... angry," he mumbled, as if making a groundbreaking discovery.
"Astute observation, Oh Great Wise One," I deadpanned, crossing my arms. "Maybe if you bothered to check the summoning scroll once in a while, you'd know. But why would you, huh?"
He could've checked anytime. But that would've required giving a shit.
Shifu turned fully now, his bushy brows furrowing. He looked me up and down, squinting like I was a smudge on a perfectly clean window. Like I was a fascinating, disgusting bug he'd never seen before.
It made my blood boil hotter. It made me want to kick something.
"Your spirit is... turbulent," he said.
"Turbulent?" I laughed, harsh and humorless. "My spirit is fine. It's my patience that's fucked. That tends to happen when your supposed teacher leaves you to fucking die,"
I was done swallowing my anger, done playing the humble soul grateful for scraps of knowledge. I couldn't put a finger on it, but something had shifted in me during that conversation with Orochimaru. The Snake Sannin had treated me like an equal—a dangerous one, sure, but an equal. Someone whose actions mattered. Someone who'd changed the political landscape of the entire shinobi world by putting a blade through Yagura's throat.
I wasn't some weak orphan anymore, scraping by on talent and luck. I was a jonin. I'd killed a Kage. A jinchuriki at that.
I was done with the bowing.
I deserved respect. From the Sannin. From the village. From the Hokage and his band of dubious quality. And definitely from this old furry little bastard who pretended his apathy was wisdom.
So yeah, I was angry. And I was done hiding it.
Shifu didn't seem bothered by my outburst. He stroked his beard thoughtfully, still studying me with those unreadable eyes.
"I see," he said simply. He acted like there was some huge, profound lesson hanging in the air that only he could see.
"Do you?" I bit out. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't see shit."
"Why have you come here, Eishin?"
The question made my teeth grind together. Like my rage was just weather he had to endure, not something that demanded acknowledgment.
I started to answer, "I came here to—"
"Before you speak," Shifu interrupted, raising one paw, "you will complete the purification ritual." He gestured to a small shrine well off to the side, partially hidden by hanging moss. "Cleanse yourself of the taint you carry. Then we may speak properly."
My vision actually went red at the edges.
Taint.
Of course. Of fucking course that's what he saw when he looked at me. Not a shinobi who'd completed an impossible mission. Not a student who'd survived against astronomical odds. Just... taint. Corruption. Something that needed to be cleansed before I was fit to stand in his presence.
I know I'm a guilty person. I know my hands are stained with blood, and more. Some justified, some not. I've done things that keep me up at night, made choices that sit heavy in my gut like stones. But aren't we all? Aren't we all walking around with blood under our nails, justifying our kills, rationalizing our cruelty? Shinobi built their entire lives on violence, on making the hard calls, on doing terrible things for the "greater good."
But somehow, I was the only one expected to carry the guilt. The only one who needed ritual cleansing. The council could order assassinations and call it policy. The Hokage could sanction black ops missions that left villages burning and call it necessity. Orochimaru could experiment on living kids and call it research. All of them sleeping soundly, convinced of their righteousness.
But me? I was tainted. I needed to be purified. Washed clean before I was worthy of instruction.
Fuck. That.
My chakra started boiling in my coils, responding to my rage. I felt it crackling under my skin, eager, hungry. The kind of anger that made stupid decisions seem brilliant.
"Eishin," Shifu's voice sharpened, taking on a tone I'd rarely heard from him. "Begin the cleansing ritual. Now."
I let out a harsh laugh. "Make me."
The words hung in the air between us, a challenge neither of us could take back.
What the hell was I even doing here? What had I been thinking? That this pompous fur-ball who'd abandoned me to die alone would suddenly decide I was worth teaching? That he'd see my accomplishments and think, ah yes, this one deserves my knowledge now?
I'd come here to ask for help with my sage arts. No—I'd come here to beg. And for what? So he could tell me I was too tainted, too corrupted, too unworthy?
Waste of fucking time.
"Stubborn child," Shifu muttered, shaking his head slowly. "This is precisely why I refused to take a student. You lack discipline. The humility to—"
"You're absolutely right," I cut him off, my voice cold. "We're both better off this way. You don't have to waste time on a lost cause, and I don't have to waste mine begging scraps from someone who never gave a shit in the first place."
I leaned forward, fists clenched, ready to rip every whisker off this pompous furball's smug little face.
"How heartwarming," a new voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk, "the bond between student and master. Such spirited discourse! Such passion! Why, it's practically a theatrical performance."
My anger stuttered, confusion breaking through the red haze. I blinked.
The red haze of the maple leaves was gone. The crisp, autumnal scent with it. We weren't in the valley anymore.
The serene pond, the temples, the bridges…. Instead, we stood on a dirt trail at the edge of a stark divide. Behind, the familiar crimson canopy of ancient maples. Ahead, a wall of green spears so dense it looked solid. Bamboo. Towering stalks that swayed despite the absence of wind, creating a susurrus that sounded too much like whispering voices.
The contrast was jarring. Red to green. Warm to cold. Safe to... not.
My skin prickled. I knew this forest. I'd been dragged through it once before. The bamboo didn't just grow here. It watched. It moved. It hunted. I'd woken up screaming for a week afterward.
"Delightful energy, tis," the voice continued, chipper and amused. "It brings such levity to this otherwise silent and dreadfully dull valley."
I tore my gaze away from the bamboo—it took actual effort—and looked at the source of the voice.
Standing next to Shifu was another panda. But this one... he didn't look like a sage. He looked like a beggar. He was tiny, barely coming up to Shifu's shoulder, wearing robes that were little more than tattered, faded rags stitched together with what looked like vines. He looked young, his fur unblemished by grey, his face smooth and round.
Shifu immediately dropped into a deep bow, his long whiskers brushing the dirt.
"Red Wise," he said, his tone dripping with deference. "Forgive the disturbance. I am honored by your presence. Though I must clarify—I am not this stubborn welp's master. I have never claimed such a relationship."
Red Wise, or with his full name, the Great Red Sage, the oldest presiding entity of the Momiji Sanctuary, turned those glittering eyes on me, head tilting. "Is that so, Eishin?"
I…. just shrugged, keeping my mouth shut. Mostly because I didn't have words. My brain was still trying to catch up. One second, I was about to commit panda murder. The next, I was standing at the threshold of my personal hell, with a fearsome sage, and I hadn't felt a damn thing.
It stung. My pride didn't like being manhandled, even by a glorified furball.
But the anger…. It was still there, simmering, but I couldn't find the shape of it anymore. Couldn't figure out where to aim it.
"Bow, you unmannered brat," Shifu hissed at me, not looking up from his prostration.
I eyed him. Then, very deliberately, I stayed upright.
The satisfaction of watching his fur bristle in indignation was petty, childish, and absolutely worth it.
Shifu's glare could have scorched steel. Good. Let him stew.
He turned back to the Red Wise, his tone shifting to something almost pleading. "You see, Red Wise? This is the obstinacy I spoke of. He refuses even the cleansing ritual. Perhaps... perhaps we should reconvene after the boy has been properly purified? We wouldn't want to... disturb you with his tainted energies."
I blinked. Was that... was the old bastard trying to help me? In his own condescending, backhanded way? No, he doesn't have it in him.
The Red Wise raised a paw, small and delicate, but the gesture carried weight.
"It can wait," he said simply.
Shifu's eyes widened. "But—"
"She asked to see you both."
Shifu went rigid. His ears perked straight up, and for the first time since I'd met him, he looked genuinely rattled. "She... she did?"
The Red Wise didn't explain. He simply turned on his heel and began to walk toward the dark, looming wall of bamboo.
I would have enjoyed watching Shifu squirm. The stammering, the uncertainty…. it was a rare crack in his stoic façade. But my eyes were locked on the forest ahead, and every nerve in my body was screaming at me to run in the opposite direction.
I raised my hands, palms out, taking a slow step backward.
"Yeah, see…. so here's the thing," I said, forcing my voice into something light. I wasn't afraid. "I just remembered I have a very important appointment. With literally anyone else. Anywhere else. You guys have fun with your... bamboo yoga retreat, or whatever this is."
Another step back.
"I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm flattered by the invitation. Really. But I've got a strict policy about entering forests that eat people. It's a whole thing. Very responsible of me, if you think about it."
I turned on my heel, ready to bolt back toward the crimson sanctuary of the maples.
I froze.
My stomach dropped into my shoes.
The red maples were gone. The slope was gone. The open sky was gone.
Behind me, stretching out into infinity, was green. Thick, silent, suffocating stalks.
I wasn't at the entrance anymore.
"Not again…" I whispered into the gloom.
I was already inside the nightmare.
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