Eight

The Dawning

A vast lake surrounded Amegakure. Heaven's Gate, Sakura called it.

The waters were dark and tumultuous with broken pipes and half-submerged stone statues breaching the surface; pollution, one might say, though another might argue they had been strategically placed for defense and footholds if there was ever an attack on the village. A long, single stretch of a cement bridge with no barriers cut through it, dark liquid lapping at the sides and leading all the way down to the stone entrance that looked like a castle gatehouse attached to two short watchtowers.

All around them, it rained. By God, did it rain.

The downpour was so strong that it was as if there was a film over their vision, a little misty, a little foggy, but it couldn't hide the view of a thousand neon lights piercing through the sky. All sorts of colors were so blindingly bright from where they burst from the enormous industrial buildings—steel, cement, thick wires, gray.

Kiba tightened his hold around Tenzo as he carried the man on his back as gently as he could. They had to move at a far slower pace as to not jostle him and reopen any wounds, and it had taken them through the night and early morning to finally push through the marshland and dark undergrowth of Storm Country.

"So here we are," Kurenai murmured, peering into the distance from under the heavy hood of her rain cloak. They were dark brown and warm, nothing too fancy, but Sakura had taken all of them and sewed reflective patches of cloth onto the shoulders; simple rectangles of solid white that refracted the rainbow when twisted this way and that.

When she'd asked why they needed something like that, Sakura simply stared down at the patches and frowned.

It's part of the culture, she'd said. It will help convince the gate guards. I can explain everything once we've settled.

Everything. Kurenai hoped that meant she'd learn of her father and his 'management' as well.

And not only had Sakura told them to always have their hoods up and to make sure Kiba's chakra camouflage seals—ones that didn't mask chakra but masked the distinct signature—were in the cloaks' lining so that their identification wouldn't be properly recorded.

Lastly, she cautioned them to never let the rain even skim past their skin unless you wanted God to know where you were.

"Y'know, your warnings are really creeping me the hell out," Kiba said as they slowly descended up on the entrance. Now they were close enough to see five guards waiting upon their arrival, all of whom wore conical hats atop their heads and gripped spears in their hands.

At the head of their group, Sakura nodded. "Good. Then you'll listen."

All too soon they were only a meter away from the armed guards who each took in Tenzo's unconscious, cloak shrouded form, the massive dog at their side, their faces.

Shino noted that their stares lingered on the reflective patches on their shoulders.

"State your business," the middle guard ordered. There was a thick mustache on his face and ice in his eyes, and in that moment Kiba truly realized that his pack mate really did grow up in a place that never embraced the softness Konoha was so notorious for. She had no warm nights eating dango under the stars, just cold rain and cold people with neon lights that mimicked the sun.

And when Kiba looked to where Sakura stood in front of them, he held back the urge to reach out and squeeze her hand.

"We've gone rogue from Konohagakure and are looking for shelter under Tenshi-sama's wings," Sakura replied. Kurenai staved off the questioning look that threatened to rise on her face. It was another one of those custom things, probably, and she would have to start reading up on the histories and traditions here. But at the mention of this Tenshi-sama, the four other guards ducked their heads and murmured amongst each other as Mustache regarded them with intense scrutiny. "We have one injured, four able-bodied shinobi, and a ninken. We ask for asylum and medical care."