The cracking noise of a branch ruptured into the bleak nothingness of the dark night as Inoshi flew through the branches. Tonight was the night that Kirigakure changed. A change for the better. His eyes looked livid, filled with the adrenaline of what had just happened. His muscles flexed over his lean body, his clothes looking as if practically untouched. Clean. Somehow. Flapping in the slight breeze that opposed his direction, the fabrics about his body made a slight, soft, clapping noise. Everything was set in stone now. Everything was put in place for proper execution. This had been a three man operation, and it had come down to the selection of three of his finest shinobi to do the job. Kirigakure was unmatched in their abilities. Inoshi. Inoshi was unmatched in his abilities. The night's cold air stung against Inoshi's cheeks, his glinting and gleaming, reptilian smile looking changed. Accomplished. Almost happy. Giddy, even.

The change in the man was nearly more terrifying. Blonde hair shuffled against the wind in opposition, the feline mask that he wore still covering his face. It was unlike him to slack on a mission until he knew for a fact that he was safe and without possibility of detection. Even the combat readied mask looked clean, as if nothing had happened at all. And yet, that was hardly the truth. Landing on the last branch, Inoshi crouched in mid air, falling forward, aimed at the ground which he hit with a silent patting. Looking up at the large oak tree before him, Inoshi instantly saw the blood tracks.

Without a moment's hesitation, the Mizukage's fingers shot to his own neck, tapping a small walkie talkie com located on his neck, pressing a small, black button on its surface to allow him to connect to whoever else was on the other end. "All units, report in." His voice sounded calm, as if it was nothing more than a normal night. As soon as his finger released the button, the com started to chatter with activity.

"Unit one, reporting. All clear here, sir."

"Unit two, reporting. All clear here, sir."

"Unit three, reporting. Everything is in the clear, sir."

"Unit four, reporting. All clear."

"Unit five, reporting. Area clear."

"Unit six, reporting. All clear."

"Unit seven, reporting. Everything looks fine."

"Unit eight, reporting. Area clear."

"Unit nine, reporting. Nothing out of the ordinary, sir."

The check ins continued until unit thirty seven had reported all being clear. That meant that Akahari had not been detected, despite the blood wiped across the entrance. All was well, still. All was contained. Pulling back the lever, and allowing the oak disguised safe house to reveal its secrets, Inoshi stepped inside. His eyes darted to the blood covered walls, looking as though a hand had been wiped against it and smeared, dripping onto the floor. Instantly, Inoshi's body dropped into a caution, readying himself for each and every simulated surprise he ran through his head in the course of only seconds. Hands bared, he made a quick motion to retrieve a kunai knife, held backwards in his hands. Pressing forward, down the hallway, his eyes alert for traps, Inoshi reached the next door, pushing it open. Instantly, his heart fell.

As if a pulse of blood shot through his entire system at the sight that he saw, Inoshi's eyes quivered, shooting a glance around the room in one last attempt to seek out a trap. There was no trap. "What...have you done to me?" Inoshi's body didn't move for a second, staring down at the blood covered and desperate looking individual. His lips quivered, not sure whether to dip into a deep frown, or raise into a sliver of a smile. What had he done to the Uzumaki? He had created a monster. A killer. A perfect warrior. He had unlocked more than dormant feelings and mannerisms. He had unlocked potential. That was the ability of his jutsu; one of them, at least. He could alter those of the human race and make them better. Faster. Stronger. And more prone to killing.

The kunai dropped from his hands, clanging onto the floor with a metallic sound to it, chipping the hard wood floor with the sharp edge. Before the kunai hit the ground, however, Inoshi was half way across the room, darting in Akahari's direction, falling down upon him in a sturdy embrace of fellow warriors. Inoshi landed on the red head's right side, his left arm falling over the man's shoulder and pulling him back a bit from his crouched position, staring into those changed, almost demonic eyes. He could see the hatred and wrath within them, the shark like hunger for blood. It was fitting for someone of the Bloody Mist. A demon had been born on this night. Inoshi's breaths carved out the lack of silence, interrupted only by Akahari's own harsh breaths. The oak base was cold, dark, and Inoshi could see his breath in the still air, even if only a little bit. Only enough light was present to be able to see the room, and the blood covered man, in a dull wash of grays, reds and browns. Instantly, Inoshi's other hand tore the mask from his own face, allowing his blonde hair to fall back into place around his head, and his soothing, hypnotic, sea blue eyes to resume their analytically glare at the world around him. Only now it was different that most times. Eyebrows bent upwards near the center, framing his eyes in a way that made them look distressed, and worried. Worried about a friend.

Pulling the Uzumaki back, withdrawing him from his hunched position on the couch, Inoshi allowed their eyes to meet with full, shocking force. It was as if the fire burning within Akahari's eyes were being drowned out by the endless sea of Inoshi's. "Wh-- what happened, Akki-kun?" Inoshi spoke over deep breaths, staring at Akahari's ripped clothing, and the blood covered skin underneath. What had happened? How had he been covered in this much blood? How had he gone about his killings. Was this the result of his inner self. Had he really birthed a true demon from within the confines of his own psychology?

Taking his right hand, Inoshi placed his palm against the man's cheek, positing him so that he faced Inoshi, resting on his knees - as did the Yamanaka. Thumb wiping the blood off of the Uzumaki's face as much as it could, clearing it from his cheeks. It was still wet, slippery, unyielding. "What... did you do...?" Inoshi asked, his voice seemingly more quite than before, eyes still burrowed in their worried expression. This was his friend, after all. This was not just another shinobi.

Each word broke Inoshi's guard down, tearing it from the foundations on which it stood. It was so mixed. So downtrodden with emotion that he could not solve properly. His one friend was someone that he had created, and intoxicated with this disease. With this kind of immortal power. He was yielding such potent results for Inoshi's own abilities. He was truly something beyond the others. He was able to create such results. And all with the mind. Those that doubted before would be unable to doubt now. But at what price? This? This was too high a price. Inoshi's grip around the man tightened, his eyes looking pained as if he was losing the man that he had grown close to. As if the man that he had seen just earlier in the day was dead and gone, and the demonic form had taken his place. All of a sudden, all of the shy and insecure moments that had presented themselves as annoyances before, seemed harmless and desirable to the blonde haired man. As if he missed it.

The corners of his mouth fell as he looked upon his creation. "I followed my orders, shishou." Inoshi's eyes cringed, as if undergoing some kind of terrible pain. The hand left on Akahari's face clenched on his cheek, brushing off the blood, even when there was nothing more to wipe. Nodding a bit in reflexive response to the man, Inoshi studied his face, concerned for what was going on in the man's mind. It was not something normal in the slightest. Even Inoshi had no way of understanding what he was looking at. Of course, he knew better than most; only because he knew what he had unleashed from within the young man. Inner desires, as well as an inner deviant. He unlocked the young man's inner restraints on himself.

So this is what he was hiding.
Even Inoshi had not been suspecting that.

"I tore them apart....Some of them were nothing more then scattered pieces. I cut them open, danced in their blood. I enjoyed the fear in her left eye while I shoved my mask shard in to the right one." Each word that passed sounded more and more lost. More filled with an insanity that corrupted the once much more innocent man. Whoever Inoshi knew was not home at the moment. Only this monster. With each word, Inoshi's heart pulsed with another pouncing pain, until finally he lurched forward, his hand pulling Akahari towards him into a full and proper hug, squeezing himself against the red head. He was his friend, and this was how he treated him. Yet, was he really a friend? Would he have been Inoshi's friend without the effects of his own jutsu? Did he have to create those that were "worthy" of his grace? "What... what have I done to you, Akki-kun?" Inoshi spoke through hushed lips into Akahari's ear, almost whispering, but slightly more audible than that. Speaking onward, still, the ginger continued. "The red rain fell around me, and I stopped and admired the sight as I smiled." Inoshi only tightened the grip he had on his teammate. His partner in crime, hugging him as tightly as he could against his ow body, blood staining his clothes without him caring.

"I've never been happier then when I was standing over their bodies and watching the blood drip from my hands. Knowing it was theirs." Inoshi pulled back from the hug to look at the man's face, into his eyes, staring deep within him, searching for whatever it was he could find to subdue him. At first, he had considered another jutsu, another selfish waste of chakra to sedate him, but that was hardly fair. He was facing someone that he trusted. That was rare, and he needed to reciprocate that as much as possible. A friend was more than a comrade. It was more than a partner, or associate. That bond was deeper than what he had with most people. "Akki-kun, stop. Come back to me. Come back to me." Inoshi almost shook him, planting both of his hands on the man's shoulders, nearer to his neck than not. "I'm right here. You did what I asked, and you did amazing. Now please... come back to me... be the Akki that I know. You've got me right here. It's just you and me. The mission's over." Inoshi's voiced sounded slightly frantic, working his tones to conjure the perfect diffusion methods together. The catch was that they were genuine. He wanted to reverse what he had done to the man, but it would take time.

And then, in an instant, it broke. Shattered, Split into may pieces, not one larger than the rest, and all of them microscopic. His heart, blown apart into unrecognizable pieces of cover story, of lies and slanders that he had told not only the others, but himself. His own heart was incapable of looking onto the demon he had created, knowing that inside of that demon was a man that he cared about, writhing in pain; a pain much worse than anything physical, but from the lack of love. Inoshi knew what that felt like. He understood the constant search for something substantial. He understood finding it, tasting it, and then losing it to the awakening of a monster. They were the same, but completely different. Two different sides of the same coin. Inoshi's eyes were held open wide, frozen, like the deep oceans within each orb had all but frosted over, creating yet another barrier between him and what he wanted to be him.

And then the push. The push that rendered his own, new found and birthed feelings useless. The push that he had received all of his younger years. The one that meant he had messed up, not done it well enough, and was thus undeserving of the love he wanted. And that was what had happened here. Crusted over in his own guilt, Inoshi fell backwards at the push of Akahari's hands, causing his body to stagger backwards and trip so that he held himself up from behind with his arms, leaning backwards onto them. His lips were just parted enough to see that they were not touching, without offering enough light to see inside of his lips. His tongue lay still in the basket of his mouth, no longer tasting the half-breed of satisfaction, and only the guilt that stabbed him like dozens of needles in his stomach.

"Come back...but I never left. It will always be there just under the surface, waiting to swallow me. I'll never escape it." It was more true than the man even knew. Inoshi had created a fracture in the man's mind, thinking that it would finally be the perfect experiment. Thinking that finally he had found someone with a strong enough resolve to understand and comprehend the fracture, and go on living with it. He had underestimated the power of his own touch. The ability to cripple someone from the inside out, and then birth something within them that would tear a way out through the victim's most potent weakness. Their needs. He had injected this into the Uzumaki, and there was no way to remove it now. He could not simply take back what he had done with another touch. It would simply create another fracture which would only hold for a limited amount of time. No. What he had done was permanent, and it showed just how flawed the jutsu still was. Just how much work it still needed before it could be used without such devastating results.

The face of his only other friend flashed in his memory. The boy that he had hardly gotten to know the name of, but that he had promised lunch upon their next meeting. He had never seen him again. the cruel ninja world had taken away the one boy he had finally allowed himself to reach out too. And now it was happening again. One meets their fate on the path they take to avoid it. It was proven over and over again. Blonde hair shifted with his weight as he leaned, watching in stunned horror as the red head spoke ahead of him. "My mission will never end. If you can't understand that then you don't truly know me, Inoshi." The blonde's eyes flaired at the challenge. He understood full well what Akahari meant by it all. His mission was not so limited as here is your target, take him or her down, and the mission ends. The Uzumaki's mission was simply to act in service of his Mizukage. No. More than that. His idol, his master, his reason of life. That is what Inoshi had unleashed onto him. Had given him; no; had forced upon him and injected into him.

Inoshi's breaths came at an uneasy pace, the voice in his head screaming at him to stop and look at what he was doing. It terrified him. He had not accounted for this. The man before him was an experiment. Was nothing more than data, right? He was simply the next victim, the next to suffer, right? The voice screamed at him again, telling him to stop, telling him to remember. Telling him to stop being himself, and start being himself. Only Inoshi could fully comprehend it all, to the level that was needed. What seemed like minutes, hours, went by before the voice came from the exhausted looking man on the floor, now covering himself as if fending off the ice of Inoshi's eyes.

"Mizukage-sama...I can see my reflection in your eyes. I'm losing the ability to hold my own head up." The voice stopped in Inoshi's head. Drowned out by the formation of differing emotions. Shoved into the abyss of Inoshi's inner depths, and locked away behind thicker bars than before, thrashing and screaming until the voice's tone was too coarse to make out; and then it just faded. Glassy eyes looked at the ground, and then at the man before him once more. "If I could ask a favor...could you help me get cleaned up? I couldn't get this thing on even when it was new."

And then it tipped, pushed, fell, tripped, collided. His emotion slung to one side, gathering momentum, and throwing his body forward into a second, almost rough hug. The hug of two warriors. Two friends. Two enemies. His head buried itself into the gap between Akahari's neck and shoulder, like a small child hugging his one and only friend after nearly losing him. Like an innocent individual hugging the corpse of their brother, freshly after watching them die before them. "Yes, Akki. Inoshi sputtered his voice through the cracks of his conviction. "Yes, you idiot." It was obviously said with a loving caress to the words.

However, this had cut into Inoshi.
Opened the wound.
Leaving it to scar.
And scar tissue is much stronger than the skin there originally.

All he did was feel the moment as it unfolded. He was always feeling the moments, spacing them out, understanding them, analyzing them, and coming to know them. Memorizing them. Replicating them. But now, he just felt the moment. It was bitter sweet, with a bitterness that would soon prevail in his mouth, casting out the sweet. He tried to savor the flavor slowly, not wanting to have to be ruined by himself once more. Inoshi's eyes closed, his body still hung over the red head's own, arms clasped around him, his right hanging over the man's left shoulder, and his left just below the man's right. The moment extended for what seemed like hours, and merely seconds both. It was too long, and yet not long enough. "Just...I want you to know that you don't need to hide things from me. You could go mad and say the sky is falling, dancing naked in the streets with a sword in your hand. I would gladly join you." Inoshi smiled.

It was the kind of smile that was close to a laugh, nearly giggling at the absurdity of the words coming from Akahari's mouth, hardly understanding how he had conjured them and approved them as appropriate for the situation at hand. But in that odd way, they were. They weirdness only made them more fitting. After all, he was talking to a rather random and extroverted Uzumaki. "I would follow you to the ends of our world and beyond." And then the serious version. The version that hurt more. Inoshi's eyes closed quickly, pressing their lids against each other, and trying to fight the words that felt the need to surface. It was not the right time to tell him. Not yet. Tell him that, yes, yes he would follow the blonde to the end of the world - because that was how he had been programmed. Instead, Inoshi pulled back slightly from the hug, allowing his face to be held directly in front of the red head's own, close, but not too close. "I know you would, Akki-kun." Inoshi paused, his eyes wandering up to the ceiling, almost jokingly, the hint of a boyish smile creeping on his lips. "Oh... and... the sky is falling, Akki-kun." With another moment's pause, Inoshi pulled back further, ending the moment when it felt right. "But I'd never bring a sword with me. I don't see the point." His tone seemed completely serious, in a joking way, as if actually confused by the red head's proposition, despite it obviously being a joke; teasing the Uzumaki.

"Now c'mon, let's get you cleaned up, you mess." He took a breath, standing as he spoke and offering a hand down to his younger friend. "Those ANBU suits are expensive... you going to pay for that, hmm? Hmm?" It was humorous, of course, but in reality, it was all in an effort to have the red head forget the fracture of insanity that he had just experienced. Inoshi could not afford to have him question it yet. That much was certain. Any kind of naturally born distrust could cause the mental fracture to crack a little further; his natural mind telling him not to trust, while the other, implanted and hardly natural side of his mind telling him that the Yamanaka was incapable of doing wrong. It would only further the damage. Inoshi's smile remained on his face, looking down at the torn up body below him.