Chapter 4.4

I’d assumed that wielding Azyr would be akin to Singing, that if I focused hard enough, summoned enough energy to do my bidding, I could bend its powers to my will and escape unscathed. I was wrong, and in hindsight, the reason why seemed obvious.

Wielding the Blue Wind of Magic was fundamentally a different task than Singing. Singing was something innate to me, courtesy of the perk that had practically started it all. When Singing, I was, to use a crude analogy, projecting my will outwards. That much was true for Azyr, but I had severely underestimated the sheer push back I would get.

Imagine, for a moment, that the world is one big, living organism. Singing was like coaxing the world to do what you wanted it to. It answered if your call was strong enough, and the particulars of Singing made it so that the world was fond of you, too. Azyr was nothing like that. You had to wrestle with it, expose your mind to its unrelenting assault, submit at times, dominate at others. But whatever you did, it would take its due. When I’d channelled such a vast amount of the Blue Wind, I’d made the world angry. In effect, I’d had to brute force my way through it all.

I hadn’t realised it the moment I let that spell drop, but I sure as hell felt it a minute after. I was wheezing and only half conscious of my surroundings. The sheer amount of chakra being swung here and there should’ve jolted me awake, but all it did was make me want to curl up into a ball and lay there till the sun vanished under the horizon.

And so I did. I lay there and breathed in, recovering my strength slowly. It wasn’t nearly enough to jump into the fight, but if Gaara and Rasa managed to hold them off for a while longer, I could at least help. I wasn’t going to be able to fling around techniques that could harm a Jinchūriki, not ones as powerful as Han and Roshi, but if I was smart about it, I could at least tilt the situation to Suna’s favour.

Just as I felt I had enough energy to finally stand, something hot and cold at the same time slammed into me, tearing into my flesh, flaying my skin. I could feel the steam scald off layers of my form. I heard screaming – mine, perhaps – but the pain was too overwhelming to focus on little things like that. There was a brief moment where I thought it would continue, but I forced myself to look past it, tweaking my pain receptors till they were almost unresponsive. I could fix the pain from the errant steam technique, but I could do exceedingly little about Azyr’s revenge. That pain, I bore patiently.

I could breathe again, and so I did, slowly gathering as much energy as I could.

There was an ebb and flow to every battle, and this one was approaching its climax. I could feel it, the sheer certainty of it ringing my bones. “Get away from my son,” I heard Rasa say, distantly, like I was underwater. I looked up, vision swimming.

A wall of gold separated me from Han, Rasa’s fury reflected in the minute tremors running their way through the gold dust. I breathed in. The faith energy was coursing through me, doing its best to combat against the sheer spiritual emptiness of having sent that much of myself out against the Blue Wind. It was filling me, slowly, almost torturously. I breathed out.

Then, I lifted myself onto one knee. I could hear Gaara say something, but I couldn’t make sense of it. All I knew was that Rasa was not in the position to take Han on. I rose, steeling myself against the weight of the world. Inspiration struck me then, almost taking me by surprise. That could work. It had to work.

“Gaara,” I said, gesturing at the boy. He trudged over to me, injured, beaten, bleeding. He was alive, and Shukaku would do his best to heal his injuries. It wouldn’t be as effective as Naruto’s unique blend of regeneration, but it was still leagues better than an average ninja’s. “I need you to do me a favour.”

His eyebrows drew closer, concern and fear written clearly in his eyes. I shot what I thought was a comforting smile at him, placing a trembling hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to do something. It’s stupid, it might not work, and even if it does, it might not be what I’m expecting. But I need you both to try anyway. Do you trust me?”

There was a second of hesitation where Gaara conversed with Shukaku. Then, he nodded slowly.

A more genuine smile spread across my face. This was a hell of a long shot, but it’s all I had.

“Wonderful,” I said, drawing a long, deep breath in. I sang, reaching out to the both of them. Shukaku and Gaara shone in my mind’s eye like a bonfire, their souls entwined with one another. My soul reached out to theirs, and theirs reached out to me in turn. The combined weight slammed into me like a freight train. My knees buckled, but I held strong, leaning on Gaara for support. There was a brief flash of concern in his eyes that I waved off, raising my voice. Rasa didn’t have a long time, and I had maybe seconds before the little energy I’d been able to gather would die.

I didn’t have energy to waste. I couldn’t sling it out in waves of destruction, I couldn’t gather it any faster than I was naturally, and I couldn’t shield Rasa or Gaara in any meaningful way. Against a Jinchūriki’s sheer, overwhelming power, even the strongest of my barriers, which I couldn’t make at any rate, would do little more than give a moment’s pause.

But then, Singing was never truly about bruteforcing your way through situations.

So what if I couldn’t fight Han on equal footing. So what if I didn’t have it in me to call down comets or sing pillars of flame into existence. What was it Shukaku had said, that Singing resembled Ninshu? Now was the time to test that theory.

I pushed my Singing further than I ever had before, focusing not on destructive spells or powerful, sweeping changes to the world, but on clearing a path between Shukaku and Gaara’s gestalt existence to another pair of souls so terribly similar to them. I wasn’t connecting them, I wasn’t forcing my way into their heads, I wasn’t even touching them. I was only letting both pairs see that there was another way to resolve this fight. The moment the path cleared, I completed the last few notes of the song and loaned every last remaining drop of energy to Shukaku, trusting him to know what to do. Disbelief emanated from the Tailed Beast in waves, as if he was caught flat-footed at being charged with such a responsibility. The last thing I felt before my eyes started drooping again was said disbelief morphing into grim determination.

Han II

How- Kokuo shuddered. Han paid it little attention, gritting his teeth as a pillar of gold dust slammed into the space he’d been occupying a second ago. He jumped out of the way of the tendrils that snaked their way out of it, took what little steam his armour could still produce, and covered himself in it.

That boy, Gaara, had managed to crack open the furnace resting on the back of his armour. Without it, he would have to burn through more and more chakra to use his more powerful techniques. Chakra he had plenty of, but using Kokuo’s power against a Perfect Jinchūriki, and then a Kage, was beginning to push his body to its limits. Jinchūriki were incredible against normal ninja. They could bring overwhelming power to bear in an instant and sweep away all opposition, but operating at their maximum if a fight became a long, drawn out slugfest would eat away at their life force.

He had ten, maybe fifteen, more minutes of using Kokuo’s chakra to the fullest extent before he’d have to power down. That was more than enough time to blast through anyone’s defences, but against Rasa as he was now, furious that his son had been harmed, when a critical aspect of his fighting style could not be relied upon? It was cutting it too close for Han’s liking.

He smashed through a wave of gold and launched off the ground, intent on hitting Rasa as rapidly as he could.

It was then that he heard it. A Song that seemed to ring in his head and vibrate through the earth. His punch went wide at the last moment. Rasa, to his credit, capitalised on that immediately, willing a hand made of that infernal substance to hurl Han away. He landed on his feet, nursing his forehead. The Kage pressed his attack, launching thinner, almost needle like projections at him that Han weaved around.

What’s going on, he asked Kokuo, gritting his teeth.

The third. He’s using Ninshu.

Han had a moment to widen his eyes before a construct caught him in the shoulder, drilling into his armour. He snapped it off with a burst of Boil Release.

That’s impossible.

Han didn't know much of it, but from what little his Biju had been comfortable telling him, Ninshu had been the precursor to all modern techniques that shinobi used, given to mankind by the Sage of Six Paths himself. No matter the words Kokuo had described it in, Han knew that Ninshu had allowed the Sage to pacify the world for a time. The Tailed Beast had sworn him to secrecy on the matter, holding it as the one true condition for its continued cooperation with him. He scarcely had time to think of the implications of a living, breathing individual wielding such a power. The old man had to be told about-

Kokuo seemed to growl in response. Then, Han felt a connection of sorts snap into existence. It felt like a door had formed in his mind – or perhaps his soul – that he could open if he so desired. Han asked Kokuo to investigate, focusing back on the fight. The constructs Rasa had been throwing around had been getting progressively weaker. He could still win this. He threw himself back into the fight, moulding a sizeable portion of his chakra. Flashing through handseals, Han clapped his hands together.

“Boil Release: Scalding Chains!”

Half a dozen translucent chains burst through his hands, twisting and writhing in the air. He couldn’t afford to get up and close anymore – whatever that third Suna-nin was doing was disrupting his ability to think clearly. If he seized up in close quarters, even for a moment, Rasa was skilled enough to take advantage of it. And so, Han willed the chains to extend forward and upwards. They scythed through the air, dissipating layers of gold dust where they met. A pair closed in on Rasa from both sides while the rest dealt with the Kage’s counter techniques.

Rasa was forced to summon more of his gold dust back to him, leaping out of the way of the chains. If Han could corral him into one place and keep him out of the air, Rasa simply wouldn’t be able to ward the Jinchūriki off anymore. Against all of Han’s expectations, Rasa didn’t try to create distance between them. Instead, he shrouded himself in gold dust, imitating the Chakra Shrouds that Han used, and moved, quickly eating up the space between the two.

“You’re a madman,” Han said, meeting Rasa’s blow. His opponent snorted.

The steam he produced was deflected off of the armour encasing Rasa. It didn’t matter, as soon as the chains pierced the gold dust, Han would end it in one go. He deflected a kick, weaved around a punch, and then drew himself back when he willed the chains to snap towards his position. Rasa, unheeding of the danger, rushed forward. At the last moment, right before Han’s fist was about to meet his, the Kage jumped out of the way, shedding some of the gold dust around him to propel his feet upwards.

Han’s eyes widened as he saw the chains that had just been about to pierce Rasa come flying towards him. He dispelled the technique in an instant, whirling around. He’d been momentarily duped, Han grudgingly admitted.

Then, just as Han was about to gather the strength to give chase to Rasa, he felt something – someone – reach out to him. He heard a Song pour into his mind from the door that had been formed, felt its notes wash over him like a gentle wave. Had Kokuo been so easily defe- no. This wasn’t an attack. This was an attempt to communicate.

“Stop!” Han heard Gaara yell distantly. To his surprise, Rasa actually paused, hesitating in launching his next attack.

Han felt Kokuo pull back all the chakra it had offered. The weight of his actions slammed into him, buckling his knees. Han struggled against the feeling, knowing that if he were to come before his Tailed Beast now, Rasa would finish him. Kokuo sent out a wave of disagreement, drawing his attention to the fact that the gold dust that had littered the battlefield had been withdrawn entirely. Han’s eyes were drooping against his will.

“Kokuo,” he slurred, “If I end up dying, I swear I’m going to hau-”

When Han next opened his eyes, he was in knee-deep grass, standing below an overcast, grey sky. He drew a deep breath in, knowing that the action was mostly metaphorical. There was no real air here to breathe, nor lungs to support. The question remained, why had Kokuo pulled him into his mindscape?

The answer stared at him through a pair of massive, ringed eyes, shimmering gold in the false light of his mind. Han took a step back involuntarily. That was-

“Greetings, Han,” Shukaku rumbled. Its voice sounded like a distant rumbling, like a great sand dune had collapsed inwards beyond one’s vision.

Han slowly nodded back, gathering his chakra.

“Oh, stop that,” Kokuo snapped, appearing from somewhere. Kokuo was a reserved soul, content with speaking little and interfering less. For all that it was a massive, mountain-sized horse with a dolphin’s head and five tails swaying behind it, Han had never known it to use its size to intimidate or threaten. Not even when the seal locked it within a stable-like construct had Kokuo been particularly temperamental, though that did not mean it was happy to be sealed, as Han had found when he’d first bonded with the Tailed Beast. For it to so actively restrain him from fighting, in the real world and here, spoke volumes of how important it was to Kokuo.

“Forgive me for being taken aback at coming face-to-face with a giant, massive raccoon that can flatten me under its tail,” he said dryly.

Shukaku shifted on its haunches. “That’s simply offensive, I would never do that,” it sniffed, peering at Han contemptuously, “Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean blood off your tail?”

Han tensed, lowering his centre of gravity.

“I was joking,” Shukaku grumbled.

“I was made to believe you were a dour fellow, even among your kind,” Han shot back, not quite rising, but not quite settling into a stance either.

The Tailed Beast huffed at Kokuo’s laughter. “I take it back,” Shukaku said to its sibling, “I’m okay with cleaning blood off my tail.”

“Can we get to the part where we discuss how to stop my father and Han from trying to kill each other,” a low, amused voice drawled out. Han whirled around. There, sitting on a boulder that Han could swear had not existed in his mindscape earlier, was Gaara, looking at the two Tailed Beasts in bemusement.

Han stared. Gaara stared back.

“Okay,” Han said finally, “Kokuo, I’m going to need an explanation from you on why there’s two people in my head.”

“Ha!” Shukaku crowed, “He called me people. And here Gaara thought I was going to scare him into attacking.”

Han slowly, slowly turned to look at the Tailed Beast. Shukaku met its stare head-on. Then, it snorted, resting its head on its paws.

“This is going to take a while,” it said, nodding once at Kokuo. “You better get comfortable.”

AN: Been struggling with some health issues, sorry for the pause in between updates. Here's the next chapter. I'll get one or two more out here before I update the main thread. Plus, I'm going to be rewriting some of the earlier chapters based on the feedback you all have given me.