[Southern Borderlands — Land of Rivers]
The village felt smaller up close—less a settlement, more a grave marker. Houses sagged under their own weight, roofs patched with driftwood and rusted sheet metal. The people here moved without sound, brittle silhouettes clinging to survival.
At the center, beneath the fractured torii gate, a gathering waited.
They weren't villagers. Shinobi without banners. Soldiers without wars. Scarred, hollow-eyed. Strays.
Sasuke stood before them, hood down, beanie shadowing his gaze beneath the unforgiving afternoon glare. He carried himself without posture—still, composed, but radiating a presence heavier than armor. Behind him, Kabuto stood at ease, arms folded, a ghost of amusement playing on his lips. Suigetsu lounged a few paces off, lazily sharpening his blade, half-interested, half-bored.
The stray leader—a lean man not much older than Sasuke, cheek split by an old scar—watched them warily, weight balanced on the balls of his feet. His eyes were sharp, not from clarity, but hunger. The kind that ate away at everything else.
"We don't need saviors," the man said, voice flat, already defensive.
Sasuke's expression didn't change. His gaze held steady, dark and unreadable.
"Good," he replied. "I'm not one."
The silence that followed stretched taut like wire. When Sasuke finally spoke again, his voice cut clean—not loud, but sharp enough to leave marks.
"You've been left behind. Discarded. You're surviving—but survival's not living."
The strays shifted uneasily. Their leader's jaw twitched.
Sasuke stepped forward, movements quiet but deliberate.
"What do you want?" he asked.
The leader's brow creased. "To be left alone."
Sasuke's lips twitched faintly. Not quite a smile. More like recognition.
"And how long until 'alone' kills you?"
The man bristled, but Sasuke's tone remained level, almost conversational.
"You have no walls. No allies. No future. You're ghosts waiting to be buried."
The strays glanced at one another, the weight of those words pressing into their already brittle bones.
The leader crossed his arms. "And you're here to fix that?"
Sasuke's eyes flicked upward, catching the man's stare fully for the first time.
"No," he said simply. "I don't fix people."
Another pause. Another wire drawn tight.
"But I can offer something."
The stray leader's mouth twitched, weary suspicion sharpening into something sharper. "What?"
Sasuke tilted his head slightly.
"A sword without a master doesn't rust. It waits."
He let the words hang there like a trap.
"You've been waiting."
The leader scoffed, tension rolling off him like smoke. "You think we're weapons looking for someone to swing us?"
For the first time, Kabuto stirred. He stepped forward, adjusting his glasses with a soft, sharp sound.
"He's being poetic," Kabuto said mildly. "Ignore him. He doesn't talk like a human."
The strays glanced at him, thrown by the shift.
"You want truth?" Kabuto continued, voice cool but cutting. "You're stranded. Forgotten. And you'll die in this hole unless you let us drag you out."
The leader's eyes narrowed, ready to snap—but Kabuto raised a single finger.
"No charity," Kabuto said smoothly. "We're not here to rescue you. We're not better than you. We're worse, honestly. But there's strength in numbers. And we're building something."
His voice lowered, something sharp slithering beneath it.
"The difference is whether you die here… or live long enough to choose what happens next."
The air grew heavier.
The stray leader exchanged glances with his people. Behind suspicion lay something uglier—desperation, gnawing and raw.
Finally, he exhaled slowly, like a man resigning to a storm.
"You're bad at this," he muttered, glancing at Sasuke.
Sasuke's gaze didn't waver. But something shifted in the corner of his mouth—a twitch of acknowledgment.
"I know."
The leader's shoulders sagged slightly, tension bleeding away into reluctant curiosity.
"We'll hear you out."
Behind Sasuke, Kabuto's mouth curved into something almost smug. "You almost lost them."
Sasuke adjusted his beanie, gaze flicking toward the horizon.
"Almost."
As the strays began to gather, wary but listening, Sasuke stood unmoving—quiet, coiled—not a savior, not yet a leader.
But something was beginning.
A house of knives and broken things, waiting to be sharpened.
---
The sky bled into rust and violet as the sun dipped behind the ridge. The village square—if it could be called that—had become a rough gathering ground. Stray shinobi sat scattered around the cracked well and broken steps, some nursing old wounds, others just staring at the dirt like it might swallow them whole.
They had names, but none of them mattered.
Tetsuya. The scarred man who'd spoken earlier. Lean, taut, a lifetime of exhaustion in his posture.
About two dozen others, bruised by years of being used and discarded.
Sasuke stood a little apart, arms folded, gaze trained not on them—but on the fractured torii gate looming like a scar above the village. He said nothing.
Suigetsu sat lazily on the edge of the well, canteen rolling between his fingers. He broke the silence first.
"So let me get this straight…" Suigetsu drawled. "You people just stayed here? Starving in this dump? No one tried to rebuild, move, rob a caravan or two?"
A young woman with hair knotted messily and two missing fingers snorted. "Rebuild with what? Dreams?"
Another—a thin, wiry man who hadn't stopped chewing on dry grass since they arrived—shrugged. "The world doesn't buy broken tools."
Tetsuya's voice came next, flat but sharp. "When Orochimaru vanished, so did our purpose."
At that, Kabuto—perched casually on the broken shrine steps—clicked his tongue, notebook balanced lazily on his knee. "Purpose," he repeated quietly. "Funny how that's what breaks people more than wounds."
Sasuke finally spoke without turning. His voice was quiet, but cut through the noise like a blade.
"You're not the only ones who were left behind."
Some heads lifted, eyes drawn to him despite themselves.
"There are others," Sasuke continued. "People who were discarded, forgotten, because they saw something they shouldn't. Because they refused to fit inside the cage built for them."
Tetsuya scoffed, voice rough. "Easy words. You got a plan?"
Before Sasuke could answer, Kabuto glanced up, smirking faintly. "He doesn't."
Sasuke shot him a dry look but didn't deny it.
"Yet," he said.
A pause.
Then Sasuke stepped forward, nodding toward the broken walls and half-sunken houses around them.
"This place… it's not much. But it's isolated. Defensible. No one's coming here unless they want to disappear."
Suigetsu lifted a brow, taking a swig from his canteen. "You're serious? You want to make this dump our base?"
"For now," Sasuke replied evenly. "You can't change the world from nowhere."
The strays shifted, restless, uncertain. Some scoffed. Some listened.
Tetsuya's eyes narrowed, reading something beneath Sasuke's calm.
"And then what?" he asked.
Sasuke crouched, fingers brushing over the dirt. He picked up a small, smooth stone, turning it between his fingers.
"Then you start building."
The words fell like weight into the hollow space between them.
The woman with the missing fingers let out a bitter laugh. "You make it sound easy."
Kabuto's smirk sharpened. "It won't be. You'll hate it. You'll hate each other. Half of you will want to slit the other half's throats by next month."
Suigetsu leaned back, grinning lazily. "But if you survive, you'll get to call yourselves something other than strays."
One of the older men—silent until now—looked up sharply. "What's in it for you?"
Sasuke met his gaze without hesitation.
"A place outside the system. Outside the lies. Somewhere we decide who we are."
Tetsuya leaned back on his hands, studying Sasuke for a long moment.
"You're a terrible salesman."
Sasuke gave the faintest smirk.
"Good thing I'm not selling."
The strays fell quiet.
They didn't look convinced.
But they also didn't walk away.
And in the gathering dusk, that was enough.
A fault line had cracked open.
Something fragile, raw, and dangerous.
But it was there.
---
The moon hung low, pale and brittle above the village's ruined rooftops. Below, the makeshift camp had finally quieted—fires burning low, stray shinobi murmuring in clusters or drifting to uneasy sleep. The kind of sleep born from exhaustion, not peace.
Sasuke sat at the base of the old watchtower steps, arms resting on his knees, staring into the shadows. Kabuto crouched nearby, journal half-open, though his pen hadn't moved in minutes. Suigetsu lounged like a discarded weapon, back against the crumbling stone, watching them both with lazy eyes that missed nothing.
For a long while, none of them spoke.
Then Suigetsu broke the quiet, voice light but edged.
"Y'know, boss… You're playing house with orphans, but you're missing something."
Sasuke glanced at him without turning his head. "What."
Suigetsu stretched his arms over his head, cracking his knuckles. "Numbers."
Kabuto's pen tapped against the parchment. "We've got numbers."
"Barely," Suigetsu said. "Two dozen burned-out shinobi who'd sell us out for a bowl of rice if things get ugly."
He turned his eyes to Sasuke, voice dropping.
"You want this thing to last? You need more."
Sasuke's expression didn't shift, but Kabuto raised a brow.
"You have an idea."
Suigetsu grinned faintly, teeth flashing in the dark. "I always have ideas. You two just never listen."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Orochimaru's labs."
That earned Kabuto's full attention. His eyes sharpened, flicking over to Sasuke as if to gauge his reaction.
"Some of them are still out there," Suigetsu continued. "Half-forgotten. Sealed. Broken. But they're not empty."
Kabuto's mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "Not all of them are human."
"Neither are we," Suigetsu shot back.
Sasuke's gaze finally lifted fully, resting on him.
"You want to open the cages."
"Damn right," Suigetsu said. "You want numbers? You want a force? There's people like us, locked in basements, strapped to tables, written off as failures."
Kabuto exhaled sharply, voice dry. "They weren't meant to survive."
"Neither were you," Suigetsu snapped. "Neither was I."
The words hung there, heavy.
Kabuto looked away, tapping his pen once against the stone before closing the journal. "Some of those experiments… they're monsters."
Suigetsu tilted his head, grinning lazily. "Yeah. But monsters need homes too."
Sasuke didn't speak immediately. He stared out across the village, where shadows moved like thin smoke between crumbling walls.
"They'll be dangerous."
"They'll be loyal," Suigetsu corrected. "Because we'll be the ones who opened the door."
Silence fell again.
Then Kabuto spoke, quieter now. "I knew one of them."
Sasuke looked over.
"A girl. Red hair, glasses, sharp as hell. Ran logistics, monitored security for one of Orochimaru's sites."
Suigetsu snapped his fingers. "Karin."
Kabuto nodded faintly.
"She wasn't like the others," he murmured. "Always asking questions she shouldn't. Always curious. But she survived."
Suigetsu smirked. "Said something about living above the clouds."
That made Sasuke's brow twitch, just slightly.
"Skydwellers," he said quietly.
Kabuto's head turned sharply toward him, frowning. "You think she's one of them?"
"No," Sasuke said. "But maybe she knows something."
For a moment, the three of them sat still, tension winding quietly beneath the night.
Suigetsu let out a soft breath. "You're serious about this."
Sasuke's eyes met his.
"I didn't come this far to stop at twenty strays."
Kabuto's voice softened, thoughtful. "You're not trying to build a company."
Sasuke shook his head once.
"No."
He glanced up at the broken watchtower looming above them.
"I'm building a place."
The fire crackled quietly between them.
Suigetsu leaned back again, folding his arms behind his head.
"Well," he muttered, eyes half-lidded. "Guess we're gonna need a lot more stones."
---
The embers in the campfire crackled gently, shadows flickering across stone and tired faces. The strays were finally asleep, scattered in loose circles around the broken village square, their breathing soft and uneven.
The night had settled heavy, but not peaceful.
Suigetsu broke the quiet first, staring lazily at the stars above. "So… the redhead. Karin. You're saying she's an Uzumaki?"
Kabuto adjusted his glasses, eyes sharp even behind the faint reflection of the fire. "Confirmed. Records spotty, but her chakra signature, her surname… it's not a coincidence."
Suigetsu gave a low whistle. "Didn't think there were any left."
"There aren't," Kabuto said flatly. "Not officially."
Sasuke, quiet until now, glanced toward him. "That's the point."
Suigetsu sat up slightly, curious. "You think she's important?"
Kabuto leaned back, gaze flicking toward Sasuke. "She's something. When we last crossed paths, she always claimed she 'lived above the clouds.' We thought it was nonsense. A survival fantasy."
Sasuke's fingers tapped quietly against his knee, thoughtful. "Maybe it wasn't."
Suigetsu glanced between them. "Okay, I'm missing something."
Kabuto exhaled, voice softer now. "The Uzumaki didn't fall in a siege. Their village didn't burn. They disappeared. Vanished like they were never there."
Sasuke added, "No refugees. No bodies. No graves. Just gone."
Suigetsu frowned. "You think this Karin girl's weird 'cloud' talk has something to do with that?"
Kabuto met Sasuke's gaze knowingly. "That's what you're thinking, isn't it?"
Sasuke didn't answer immediately. Then, quietly:
"It's possible."
Suigetsu blinked. "So what? She's floating up there on a flying island with the rest of her clan?"
Sasuke smirked faintly. "Stranger things exist."
The silence settled again—heavier this time, like the fire itself had leaned in to listen.
Then Suigetsu muttered, breaking the mood, "Y'know, boss… you're really bad at this."
Sasuke gave him a sidelong glance. "At what?"
Suigetsu gestured lazily toward the sleeping strays. "People. Talking. Convincing. If Kabuto hadn't stepped in today, they'd have told you to shove off."
Kabuto didn't even bother hiding his smirk. "He's right."
Sasuke exhaled quietly, rubbing a hand down his face—almost sheepish. "…Yeah. I'm not good at that."
Suigetsu grinned. "Well, at least you're aware."
Kabuto shook his head, voice dry. "If we're going to build something out of this wreckage, you'll need more than cryptic speeches and haunted eyes."
Sasuke glanced over. "You volunteering to charm them?"
Kabuto smiled faintly. "I prefer subtle manipulation."
Suigetsu stretched with a mock groan. "I vote we let me do the talking. I'm obviously the people's choice."
Sasuke rolled his eyes. "The day that happens is the day we're doomed."
Their laughter—quiet, honest—flickered like the flame between them.
Then Kabuto's voice grew thoughtful again.
"If she really did survive… if she found something beyond the world we know…"
Sasuke's gaze lingered on the sky.
"We'll find her," he said softly. "And maybe when we do, we'll finally understand why this world keeps pulling itself apart."
Suigetsu shook his head, smiling faintly. "Just make sure when you do, you don't scare her off with your tragic speeches."
Sasuke's lips twitched, almost smiling.
"No promises."
---
The night was quiet, but not empty.
The soft crackle of their campfire barely reached beyond the ridge, swallowed by the cold wind brushing over stone and dirt. Sasuke sat cross-legged beside it, arms folded loosely, eyes half-lidded but sharp. Across from him, Kabuto scribbled something into his worn journal, the faint scratches of his pen mixing with the sound of burning wood. Suigetsu lounged nearby, lying on his back with one arm behind his head, idly flipping a knife in his other hand.
For a while, none of them spoke.
Then Sasuke broke the silence, voice low and almost casual. "We shouldn't split ways after this."
Suigetsu blinked lazily at him. "Huh. That's new."
Kabuto glanced up, brow arched behind his glasses. "Why?"
Sasuke's gaze remained on the flames. "We've seen what's out there. How broken it is. How easy it is to throw people away."
Suigetsu let the knife fall onto his chest with a soft clink. "And you want to fix it?"
Sasuke shook his head. "No one can fix it."
He looked up finally, voice steady.
"But we can build something in the cracks."
Kabuto tapped his pen against the paper, eyeing him carefully. "You want to gather the strays. The discarded. Make them useful."
"Make them free," Sasuke corrected softly.
Suigetsu whistled. "Wow. You're really bad at this, I can't believe it."
Sasuke blinked. "What?"
"Now you sound like you're recruiting for a funeral."
Kabuto gave a quiet, almost amused chuckle. "He's not wrong. Again."
Sasuke exhaled through his nose, noticeably defensive. "Well, excuse me. I'll study how to steal hearts later."
Suigetsu laughed. "Yeah, you might wanna work on your pitch."
Kabuto glanced between them, then added offhandedly, "You know… never noticed it before. But you and the Dancer really are alike."
Sasuke's brow twitched, almost caught off guard. "Sakura and I? How?"
Suigetsu sat up, stretching. "Well, her nickname's infamous even in the outer provinces. Everyone talks about how she smiles when she's cutting people down."
Kabuto hummed, voice sharp. "And you? You smile when you're trying not to care."
Sasuke scoffed, adjusting his beanie, but something subtle shifted in his posture.
"I don't smile."
Suigetsu grinned wider. "Sure you don't, boss."
Sasuke's reply was a faint click of his tongue, gaze shifting away toward the quiet sky.
Kabuto didn't press, but his eyes lingered a moment longer, thoughtful.
The fire between them crackled, casting long shadows over their small circle.
Sasuke spoke again, softer now. "We build something. For people like us. For anyone who's been thrown away."
"And what do we call this strays' paradise?" Kabuto asked.
Sasuke's eyes stayed on the stars.
"The Veiled Raven."
Suigetsu blinked. "The hell does that mean?"
Sasuke's voice was steady. "A bird that watches from the dark. A sign for people who were never meant to belong."
For a long moment, no one replied.
But something solidified in the quiet — not loud, not triumphant.
Just real.