“Uncle Shima, please, you have to stop drinking. The tournament is just in a week!”

“Yeah -hic-, you should prolly’ stop. ‘N dats comin' from me, heh…”

Shimabukuro looked around, vision blurry. On his right, Nodao-Douji, the red oni girl deep into... maybe her twelfth drink of the night. She had a strong hand on his shoulder. So much stronger than you.

On his left... Kichōna. Joyful, young, innocent Kichōna. The girl’s porcelain skin was clear as ever. She looked perfect. Unharmed, just as the day he had met her. Yet when he looked at her -

- like a limp rag, Kichōna landed in his arms. She was utterly motionless, her eyes lacking the carefree love for life that he had gotten to know. In his arms, her body felt wrong, as though bent or shattered in places he couldn’t quite place.

He looked up at the man - the monster - who had delivered his teammate to him. Shimabukuro expected rage or righteous indignation at the person who would dare hurt a child like this, but as the man’s nonchalant gaze passed over him, Shimabukuro only felt fear.

‘Fat lot of good all your training did,’ a traitorous part of him thought.

Shimabukuro felt very much like the canary caught by the cat. It was Nodao who jostled him, brought him to his senses, and got him to rush Kichōna out of the Forest of Death and to her father, the only man who could rebuild her.

He couldn’t look Osamu in the eyes, but he had to save her.

When he looked at her, all he could see was his failure. His failure to protect the young and pure of heart from all the world's evils. Failing to protect his team, though that at least was not new to him. And a feeling he had not felt in nearly sixty years... failing someone he truly cared for.

It had all cast him back into despair. It certainly didn’t help that the crown, which had once whispered to him in the beautiful hidden language of nature, was now nothing but a signifier of his ultimate failure. His last chance was squandered. He had returned it to the great tree that day and had not gone back. Better to leave it to a more worthy wielder.

Just as he was about to take another swig of sake, the bottle was swiped from his hand, and he nearly toppled backward out of his chair before Nodao caught him. He sighed.

“Just leave me, you two. Get a better teammate. I never should have deluded myself into thinking I could do this, not after all these years.”

Kichōna shook her head, working to stand Shimabukuro up from his seat at the bar. It was late, and it wouldn’t do him any good to stay up. Nodao stayed to drink some more.

She walked and talked. “Why must you say all these horrible things about yourself, Uncle Shima? They aren’t true. You’re an awesome ninja, and I know we can all be great together. Don’t let what happened to the forest get to you, we passed! You should be celebrating!”

Kichōna had grown more animated as she spoke, but Shimabukuro seemed to be falling asleep as she walked him home.

He didn’t respond until they were walking into his house, minutes later. Bugs skittered into dark and damp hiding places as they entered, and plants overgrew anything that wasn't regularly used. “You almost died,” he whispered, “you’re too kind to die because of me. You have so much potential.”

Kichōna laid him down in his bed, tucking him in. “But I didn’t, Uncle Shima. I lived, and we passed. And now, you have the chance to get even stronger. You have the chance to get strong enough that no one you care about has to get hurt. I know you can do it. So does Nodao. So does papa. We believe in you.”

She smiled, and though Shimabukuro was drifting into sleep and did not see it, he felt the sentiment. Most of all, he realized at that moment that Kichōna had something he had lost, after all of these years. Optimism. Hope. Joy. Heart. Despite what she had gone through, it was all still there.

Where was his heart? Where had he left it?

He would find his Heart, and he would grasp it.

-.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................-

The first thing Shimabukuro did the next day was thank Kichōna profusely for talking some sense into him. The second thing Shimabukuro did was redouble his training efforts. He communed more often with the Butterflies, spending hours on end in quiet contemplation in a field carpeted with the creatures. He studied the bees, as they flapped their little wings and collected pollen. According to some books he had sheepishly borrowed from Osamu, they should not be able to fly. And yet, there they were, working along day by day. To Shimabukuro, it only made sense that such hard-working insects should be able to fly. They did good work, and they were happy with it, and they produced true beauty in the world. According to the books, it was miraculous.

He needed to be miraculous.

Next were the spiders, in their corners and rotted-out tree trunks and below their rocks. He always asked, of course, as spiders were sheepish creatures on the best of days, but he watched them spin their silk in geometric patterns that he couldn’t imagine coming up with. He studied with them, learned with them, and practiced spinning his silk with motions only they could produce.

With his butterflies, he focused on symbiosis. On living with the creatures, sharing a body. Decades ago, the idea was highly disconcerting, but today, it is simply a part of life. He had carved pathways in and around himself for butterflies to live in and allowed them to feed and stay fed off of his chakra. Alone, they were hardy creatures, but as a swarm, they could drain chakra and form waves of flapping wings harder than steel. He practiced in commanding them, with promises of chakra-infused nectar if they cooperated. He knew that more than anyone else, he could count on them to protect him if straits grew dire.

Nodao was excited to practice with him, once she saw that he was out of his slump. She tried to teach him about Taijutsu, but it was never his forte. He couldn’t take a hit, really, and though he could just barely buy some time with his staff if need be, he couldn’t keep up, even in training. What he did end up picking up, after grueling hours of sparring that left him unable to walk, were the basics of Chakra Flow. Fortifying his staff with Chakra made it a little easier to use in a fight, at least, and he needed to be more well-rounded so that he wouldn’t be caught unaware again.

He thought back to that man, who had delivered Kichōna to him, limp as a doll. He knew that he couldn’t fight him, only stall him, and he could never defeat him. But what about a trap? A spider could never fight a mouse, but trap it in a web? Certainly. Thus he began to study the art of Sealing, in case he ever had to fight that man or something like him so that no one else would ever have to. It was a difficult subject, but Shimabukuro had found everything he had ever studied difficult. The only difference was that this time, he had friends.

None of his team knew much about the subject, but Shimabukuro’s list of friends did not end with humanity. All of the forest was his friend, for he had fostered his relationship with Nature for sixty years, and had never thought to ask anything back from it.

The spiders knew sealing well. They knew to spin a web that prey walked into unknowingly, by which point they were stuck. But Shimabukuro did not know them well, and they refused to go deeper than the basics on the subject. It left him frustrated, to simply begin to grasp the basics, but he left them a gift regardless for their time.

The butterflies, on the other hand, were no experts on sealing. Shimabukuro asked them for their wisdom, and they shared it, in their way. Those who were well attuned with Nature, or simply a specific animal or type of animal, could understand them as easily as any other person. A canine’s bark, to one who lived and worked closely with canines, could be easily interpreted as a warning of enemies abound. Butterflies made hardly any sound, and as such their method of communication was slightly different, but after decades of building rapport with them, Shimabukuro could understand the flap of a butterfly’s wings almost more fluently than human speech.

Shimabukuro kneeled and watched as the wisest butterflies of the forest flew in complex fractal patterns of symbols formed by the combinations of hundreds of wing patterns, constantly shifting all around him. They spoke briefly of Sealing Jutsu, and then at length about his Wood Release, and then for some time about the benefits of sugar water and which fruits were the tastiest.

Despite their complex method of communication, Shimabukuro felt that he was not learning enough. Not nearly enough, not enough to protect everyone.

“Thank you, wise butterflies,” he grunted as he stood, knees wobbling.

The butterflies stopped flying. Confusion was evident in the way that they began to cling suddenly to available surfaces as if stopping their flight to put all of their efforts into thought.

“I am truly grateful to have you by my side, as always. However, I do not believe your teachings are effective enough at this time. I have always been a patient man. But I am old, and I have little time left to live, and I must grow stronger. To protect those in the village, those I love.”

Shimabukuro took a deep breath. He was about to ask something that, if it went wrong, could ruin his relationship with the butterflies forever. But he had to have hope. He had to believe that this would go well, that all of his efforts in building camaraderie and trust with the butterflies would make this work.

This was the first step in finding his Heart.

Shimabukuro bowed reverently. “I would ask for a meeting with the great Butterfly Clan of the Forest, and to learn beneath them.”

The forest was silent for some time. When Shimabukuro felt the time was right, he raised his head and saw that only a single butterfly remained with him. Its wings were yellow, orange, and silver, with a pattern almost reminiscent of a lantern.

It caught his eyes and fluttered into the forest.

Shimabukuro took a steadying breath and followed the butterfly. It flew faster than a normal butterfly could and stayed just at the edge of his sight. Butterflies were playful creatures, and even with the weighty mood that had settled since his question, the butterfly leading him couldn’t help but hide behind trees, letting Shimabukuro catch only glimpses of its flight.

The butterfly led him for some time before he realized it was taking him through places he recognized. First, to a tree he had planted decades earlier, now flowering in full bloom. Then, past a hidden den that he had dug for a young hare who had been without a home. Through a field of flowers, he had helped to cultivate. He hiked through a growing number of inconspicuous sections of the forest he had called home for so long, marveling at how they flourished and coming to terms with the realization that it was because of him that they did. He indulged in an unfamiliar pride.

Eventually, they came upon a region that Shimabukuro would recognize even with his eyes closed, a clearing housing a great and venerable tree that he had visited every day for over forty years. A stalwart, silent companion, and his greatest teacher. Unlike most of the past forty years, a second, smaller tree accompanied the towering growth, some twenty feet away. Resting against that tree was... something Shimabukuro couldn’t stand to look at. He had left it here almost a week ago, shortly after he had brought Kichōna to safety.

The butterfly flew over and landed on the Great Crown of the Insect Sage, and Shimabukuro let out a shuddering breath and faced the butterfly.

“I’m not worthy of that crown. I... just take me to the Butterfly Clan, please.”

The butterfly’s wings dropped in a sigh, and it flew up to the great oak tree that dominated the space. Shimabukuro had not spoken to the tree since he had left, not prepared to face it. How would it feel? Angry, disappointed?

He sighed and dropped into a meditative stance, closing his eyes and letting the tree’s chakra slowly wash over him.

“Shimabukuro,” it whispered, “this forest has missed you. It has longed for you in the flowers thirsty for water and the grass untrodden by your feet.”

“I am sorry, truly, and I will return to my duties. I was lost in my emotions for some time. Have you kept healthy? I can check you for pests if you’d like.”

Its chakra pulsed, and a warm breeze pulsed over him rhythmically; an approximation of a chuckle.

Birds chirped and insects buzzed. “I am well, Shimabukuro. This place will not fall to ruin after only a week. Regardless, it is good to see you again, all the forest agrees.”

Shimabukuro smiled. “Good, good. The butterfly must have told you why I am here, yes? I wish to train with the Great Butterfly Clan, to grow stronger than I have in all my years of life. I need to,” he said, determination etched into his age-weathered face.

A pond somewhere was drying up. Fish would die, frogs would have to relocate, and plants would search for water elsewhere. It was the way of the world, but it was melancholic. “You must accept the crown, Shimabukuro. The Great Butterfly Clan will not speak to any human, save for the Great Insect Sage.”

“That crown... I thought that it was the key to becoming a ninja. To succeed where I have failed. But all it gave me was false confidence. I couldn’t protect someone I cared for, and she nearly died for it. I don’t deserve that crown. I was not granted the crown, I stole it!”

The forest went still. In front of Shimabukuro, the ocean of chakra radiating from the tree seemed to hone in on him, its vastness beyond his meager sense of chakra, towering over him and making him feel very much like an ant.

“You were not brought to the crown by circumstance, Shimabukuro. You have earned it through countless kindnesses and constant mindfulness. It was no coincidence that you were here to witness the death of the Great Insect Sage.”
“But I -”

A branch fell somewhere in the forest, interrupting him. “You have failed once. But have you not failed before? Even now you seek strength, despite your failure. Your failure does not define you, Shimabukuro, just as it did not define the Great Insect Sage before you. You may have failed once, but your circumstances will improve. The crown needs a wielder. Wear it and beseech the Great Butterfly Clan. They will come.”

His circumstances will improve. He only needed to be the catalyst for change.

Shimabukuro steadied his breathing. The tree was right, he knew. He had only let failure stop him once, and though he did not regret living in the forest for so long, he did wonder how different his life could have been if he had never given up. How could he do so again, after being given a second chance by something which truly trusted him?

He stood up and walked towards the crown. His guiding butterfly had flown over at some point, and with a flutter to signal a friendly smile, it flew off. He put on the crown, letting the rush of Nature’s chakra flow through him and allowing some small part of him to join that greater whole.

“I admit, I’m not really sure how to do this. Any advice?”

The forest was silent.

He cleared his throat. “I, Shimabukuro Fumio, ninja of Konohagakure, summon you, Great Butterfly Clan!”

Blades of grass tickled his feet. After a minute of nothing happening, he tried again.

“Great Butterfly Clan! I beseech you!”

Insects buzzed around a flower nearby.

“How about... The wearer of the Crown of the Insect Sage summons the Great Butterfly Clan!”

The first sign it had worked was the silence that fell over the clearing.

The next was the odd feeling of distance from everything else. The grass no longer tickled his feet. The wind no longer ran through his hair. The light of the sun seemed to distance itself, and even his own chakra felt detached.

After what felt like a second but could have been minutes, something began to approach from beyond the great and wise tree. It emitted light that blinded him but drew the eye. He found himself staring at it, unable to discern its size or shape beyond the light and found that light beautiful even as it seared his eyelids. He tried to push through, but felt a pulse -

The being in front of him was everything. It was the most important thing in the world, the most beautiful being in existence, the only thing. He would do anything for her, he would -

“Great Insect Sage, thou hast changed much. I apologize if mine aspect hath caused thee harm. 'T hath been some time since mine venerable clan hath received thy correspondence. Thou look'st brave. Hast thou cut thy hair?”

All at once, the foreign thoughts ceased as a giggling, girlish voice cut through. Shimabukuro beheld the creature before him, the light around her abating. She was a butterfly, slightly larger than his head, with wings patterned with ever-changing colors that almost popped out. She was fuzzy, with white hairs covering most of her body, and she wore a pinkish sash emblazoned with an emblem depicting a butterfly atop a flower between her thorax and abdomen. Her antennae twitched absently.

Shimabukuro kneeled. “Representative of the Butterfly Clan. I am Shimabukuro Fumio, the new Great Insect Sage. I prostrate myself before to beseech your aide. I wish to learn under the Butterflies.”

She flew around Shimabukuro, giggling as she inspected him. “Oh? A new Insect Sage? The butterflies have whispered of thee, Shimabukuro Fumio. I would accuse any other of madness to claim the title, but thou art no simular. Thy deservings are well known among mine clan. Thou art honest, and thy workings quaint. I gladly receive thee, Insect Sage Shimabukuro. Rise. How shall I succour thee?”

“I should ask your name, madame, before we talk business.”

“Ah, how unmannerly of me. I am Chagama, daughter of the Great Butterfly Sage. I am honored to formally make thy acquaintance, Insect Sage Shimabukuro.”

Shimabukuro bowed once again. “I would like to request a teacher from the butterfly clan. To aid in my growth, for the protection of the beauty and joy in the world. I must grow stronger.”

Chagama fluttered about for a second, more graceful than anything Shimabukuro had ever seen, and then stilled in front of him, her eyes inches from his face. “Thou wishest to grow under the tutelage of the Butterfly Clan? How queer. The previous Sage was an unpregnant wall-eye, by mine own reckoning, e'en if mine father respected him. Thou art not he, Shimabukuro. Thou art choate and of cunning mind. The idea doth quicken mine affect, to expediate thy tie to us. My idea is such: I shall teach thee. Sign my contract upon the tri-trigon. We shall mate and bear egal yoke of respect, and thou wilt be able to call upon me, and I shall aid thee. As we grow closer, thou will one day be brought to the Land of Butterflies, to further thy relationship to our clan.”

Shimabukuro knew he had to accept. How could he not? This was going much better than he could have anticipated.

“I accept. Now what was this about signing a tri-something?”

He had hardly any time to react to her proboscis piercing his skin, but though he jumped back in expected pain, he was met with a soothing sensation spreading from the wound through the rest of his body. Chagama stared him in the eyes as she slowly retracted the proboscis, which she then used to write on a paper that she had gotten from - somewhere. Shimabukuro had been sucked into the feeling and hadn't noticed.

He signed his name on the dotted line and, after briefly “marking” him with a shed scale from her wings and instructing him on the proper jutsu to summon her, Chagama left him, a contract made and signed.

-.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................-

Two days had gone by since Shimabukuro had successfully made a contract with the Butterfly Clan, and he had been feverishly training with Chagama in between visits to the great tree and celebration with the butterflies he knew well, who were overjoyed that he was finally stepping foot into ‘their world’ and were having sugar water all around. Chagama had shown him the basics of various Summoning jutsu, as well as explained that she specialized mainly in genjutsu, though she knew a little concerning sealing jutsu. She also showed him how to tap into that greater connection to Nature energy which the crown facilitated, calling it ‘Sage Mode’. Privately, Shimabukuro was excited for the day he could shout that name out as he tapped into it. For now, though, it was still exhausting to use and required so much focus it wasn’t really viable in a fight.

It was very nearly the day of the tournament, so he was taking it easy, sitting in a simple meditative pose that allowed him to cycle his chakra even as he tried to speak to a particularly curious squirrel. His symbiotic butterflies flew in concentric circles around his head, as a practice in tolerating extended time without his chakra, since they tended to grow more agitated and less responsive as they were outside.

The squirrel noticed the commotion before Shimabukuro did, running away with a squeak.

“Oh, was I boring you? Well, stay safe, little one!” he shouted as the squirrel took to the woods. He tried to resume his meditation, but something felt off, and he used his staff to stand himself back up as he recalled his butterflies.

It was then that a young girl came barreling into the clearing, screaming bloody murder. She wasn’t a ninja, only four or five years old, and she quickly spotted Shimabukuro and hid behind him.

Despite the panic growing within him, he spoke to her calmly. “What’s wrong, little one? Don’t be afraid. My name is Shimabukuro. I’ll help you.”

“I- There’s a - and it - so much blood! A monster! I heard a noise and I went to look and, and, and it killed a ninja already, please help me!”

Shimabukuro was proud of the brave little girl for getting all of that out through her tears. He sent out a group of butterflies to scout ahead and warn him of coming danger. “Was this monster following you?”

She nodded, still crying. If this thing killed another ninja, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Could he afford to use ‘Sage Mode’? No, it was too dangerous, especially without Chagama here... but he could summon her. He still had to get used to his new options. The girl might get scared of Chagama, though, and -

His thoughts were interrupted by a colossal boar ripping through three trees and charging straight towards him. It struck a wall of butterflies just as he swung his staff to push the little girl out of the way, and she landed roughly on the floor. His wall didn’t last long as the boar continued to push, breaking through after a second of effort and sending Shimabukuro slamming into a tree, his chest plate cracked.

He sucked air in greedily to refill his lungs and looked at the beast. It was massive, with tusks as long as he was tall, a hide horrible scarred by countless battles, and eyes that held something beyond bestial rage in them. As the boar prepared to charge once again, Shimabukuro stared into those eyes. There was a spiteful sort of cunning in those eyes and a sort of familiarity. Then, as his vision and mind cleared and he noticed the ninja impaled on the beast’s tusk, Shimabukuro realized what it was.

He knew this boar. How many years ago had it been - how was it still alive? Perhaps it was simply a descendant of the Young Wild Boar he had fought off all those years ago.

The boar’s next charge was cut off by a tree sprouting underneath one of its back hooves. Shimabukuro shook his head. Now was not the time to reminisce - he had to get the ninja off of that tusk. His mind might have been playing tricks, but he was certain she was still struggling. She wasn’t dead.

“Run!” he shouted to the terrified little girl who was still on the ground, and she seemed to get the message, running back towards the village. Shimabukuro charged the boar while infusing some chakra into his staff and struck, taking a steady stance just like Nodao had taught him.

His staff bounced off of the boar’s tough hide, having no discernible impact.

It was only his butterflies that saved him from being turned into a paste by the boar’s hind legs kicking out wildly at him.

If this truly was the same boar he had once fought off, it had grown tremendously in strength. Much stronger than he had, in the same amount of time. He tried not to dwell on the fact that he may have been outdone by a wild animal.

He sent some butterflies to try and drain the boar’s chakra. To his surprise, the boar’s mouth started to foam and bubble before it shot out a pressurized stream of vomit, disintegrating a mass of airborne butterflies. Some got through, but the majority popped as soon as they began to drain the boar’s chakra, and only a few remained alive to do their job.

‘I owe them some nectar for this,’ he thought.

He took stock of the situation as he dodged another charge. At the very least, the thing was predictable. He certainly couldn’t hurt it, so he had to get that ninja off of the tusk and run. Who was she anyway? White hair, short, lithe build, somewhat fashionable clothing... she seemed familiar, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember.

“I’m going to help you, young lady!” he shouted out, growing a dome of wood around the boar, leaving its tusks sticking out. It promptly broke through and lazily spewed vomit in his direction, sawing a tree in half.

He saw her come slightly more to consciousness, and she weakly formed some hand signs he couldn’t recognize from afar. Three copies of her appeared in a heap on the ground next to the boar and immediately began to vociferate her greatness through pained groans.

The boar turned away from him, and he was thankful for the distraction. He needed to end this soon.

Quickly forming hand signs and placing his palms flat on the ground, Shimabukuro sent out a pulse of chakra which traced a black sign on the ground. “Summoning Jutsu: Chagama of the Great Butterfly Clan!”

Chagama appeared in a flash of blinding light, and to her credit, quickly took stock of the situation. Shimabukuro asked her to aid in distracting the boar for long enough to remove the ninja from its tusk, and she began to lazily flutter over to the beast as it finished stomping on the girl's shadow clones.

She floated just below the tree cover before sending a burst of scale dust down at the boar. At the same time, Shimabukuro sent a stream of silk out, not expecting it to bind the creature, but to adhere the dust to its hide.

He knew what the dust was - a vessel for genjutsu. He didn’t know exactly what, but he trusted Chagama.

The boar began to retch violently as the dust got into its lungs, and with a look of fury crouched and lept vertically up to Chagama, and she tried to quickly reorient midair and turn away from the blow. Shimabukuro extended a pillar of wood horizontally from a tree, striking the boar in the snout and sending it slightly off course, where it then crashed into a different tree and continued through at least five more as it dropped to the forest floor.

Shimabukuro and Chagama quickly followed. The boar was dazed, on the ground in an awkward position, but one it was quickly recovering from. It was now or never. It had to be.

He took a deep breath. Chagama landed on his back, wrapping her forelimbs around his chest and neck, steadying him. Shimabukuro connected to the forest around him, feeling the energy of Nature flowing in perfect concert. He let himself become a part of that concert, feeling the energy flow through him and empower him.

Chagama let out a blinding flash of light, but it was okay. He didn’t need to see, at this moment. He sprouted vines from a nearby tree, ripping the girl off of the tusk and crashing into Shimabukuro in an admittedly violent moment. She let out a ragged scream, but even through the pain she held one bloodshot eye open and caught the gaze of the wild boar, whispering something under her breath.

Whatever she did, it may have been the worst possible option at that moment, as the boar’s eyes, earlier wrathful but still at least somewhat intelligent, were now utterly clouded by rage. The boar roared with such force that it released an almost physical shockwave, sending Chagama veering wildly in the air and Shimabukuro sliding across the ground.

The boar started to strike wildly at seemingly invisible foes - what had that girl done? It attacked those apparitions with such force that even dozens of feet away the shockwaves uprooted trees and shook the ground. It looked upwards and spewed a stream of vomit with such force that the droplets coming down began to carve divots in the ground below, and Shimabukuro was glad to be far enough away to avoid the worst of it. He started running towards the village, propelling himself by shooting lines of silk at tree branches and pulling. It was hell on the arms, but he was making good time. He hoped that Chagama had gotten away okay after the boar had begun to rage - that vomitous eruption would have torn her up. He’d have to make it up to her later.

As he swung, the girl he was carrying began to mumble.

“Shitty geezer,” she said, half-conscious, “I was doing fine on my own. Everyone woulda known my power...“

“Good, keep speaking to me. I’m glad you’re alive. Overconfidence is the greatest folly of youth, you know.” He deigned to ignore what she had called him.

Not that she would make it easy to. She started to struggle in his arms, seemingly having regained some of her strength.

“Didn’t you hear me? Your age make you go deaf, you old fart? Let me go! I need to finish the job!”

Shimabukuro stopped swinging out of fear the girl would fall out of his arms and hurt herself.

“You’re bleeding profusely, and likely not of sound mind. Let me help you!”

“I don’t need anyone, least of all you! You think I’m going to let some hundred year old eternal genin help me? You must be out of your mind!”

“Listen you brat, the boar is at least five minutes away in your state-”

“Don’t imply you know what I’m capable of! I will unleash the Mangekyo Sharingan if I must, now unhand me!”

“The mango what? I don’t -”

Their bickering was cut off by a roar that Shimabukuro, and he presumed the girl, were now familiar with. The boar, and by the sound of it coming straight towards them even faster than before. After a beat of silence and a shared glare at one another, Shimabukuro was back to swinging in the direction of the village.

Not long after, the girl shrieked and produced two shadow clones which promptly dropped twenty feet onto the ground.

“What’s going on?” Shimabukuro asked.

“It’s gaining on us! Can’t you go any faster?!” the girl shouted, banging her fist on his back.

“I thought you could take it, hm? Why is it you wish to retreat all of a sudden?”

“Shut up and swing!”

Shimabukuro did just that, leaving walls of wood and pits in the earth down at ground level periodically. They didn’t serve to slow the beast down much, but what they did do was inform him of how close it was.

It was gaining on them, and quickly. Shimabukuro was beginning to feel exhaustion creep up on him. The physical activity was one thing, but his chakra reserves were quickly being eaten through. He continued to swing desperately.

Eventually, he had slowed a little too much. The overbearing tromping of the boar behind him splintered his attention, and the damn thing did not sound even a little tired, just angrier. Shimabukuro was certain he might die here.

Then he missed a swing, a line of silk going wide past a tree, and plummeted down to the ground, positioning the girl so she would fall on top of him.

“Go,” he harshly whispered, “run while I hold it off.”

“I told you I didn’t need your help, geezer. But I guess I can’t just make you leave. I’m staying.”

Shimabukuro shook his head. She was pretty hurt, but he was certain that she had utilized a powerful genjutsu on the boar earlier. If she could get a good opportunity again, maybe they could -

It happened before he could finish his thought, barely a five seconds after they had hit the ground. The boar was upon them. It was just a dozen feet away.

Shimabukuro could almost feel his life flash before his eyes. Growing up in the village. Trying to become a ninja with his friends. Tomio, Bukuraka, where were they now? They had left him behind after his seventh failure, and he didn’t blame them. The decades spent in the forest. The growth he fostered, and trust given to him in return. His new team. His newfound confidence. Becoming the Great Insect Sage.

He could not die here.

Shimabukuro and the ninja girl suddenly found themselves propelled ten, twenty, fifty, one hundred, then two hundred feet in the air. The girl was stuck in a dramatic pose, having been displaced so quickly that she hadn’t processed what had happened. They both fell into a bed of leaves, before realizing they were atop a tree. A tree greater than anything in the forest for miles. Shimabukuro looked at his hands in disbelief. Could he have truly done this?

It was miraculous.

“What did you do?!” the girl asked, her jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed, “I was just about to finish it!”

“I did this?” Shimabukuro asked himself aloud. The tree shuddered beneath them - the boar was attempting to take it down.

“And when did you get enough time to put on makeup, huh? Aren’t you taking this seriously? What if I had died?” the girl continued to ramble. Shimabukuro tuned her out as he thought of a way out of this situation.

He could see the village from here; they had been quite close, it seems. Maybe he could fashion a silk glider, or a parachute? The tree shook violently beneath them, and he nearly fell.

Suddenly, smoke puffed next to them, and a ninja in Konoha garb appeared, quickly catching himself on a branch and taking stock of the situation.

“Shimabukuro Fumio right? And... Yuma something-or-other. I’m jonin Natsuo Uchiha. That little girl you saved got back to the village crying about a monster. Quite the tree you’ve sprouted here, I’m impressed. We’ll take care of this insane wild boar from here. You two get down from here and make sure to go see a medical nin. And, uh, good job saving that girl,” he nodded awkwardly and made a hand signal, poofing away in a cloud of smoke.

Shimabukuro and Yuma, who’s name he finally knew, both looked at eachother and slumped in relief, though Yuma tried to hide it.

Now, to get down from this tree...

-.............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................-

Shimabukuro had treated Chagama to a bundle of fresh fruit and a movie. Her wing was apparently slightly wounded in the endeavor, though when he summoned her she was unharmed. He let her know about the coming tournament, and she was happy to help, though she admitted she mostly wanted to see more human ninja, as she did not spend much time away from her clan.

Shimabukuro was well rested, well fed, and mentally prepared.

“Kichōna. It’s a wonderful day, isn’t it?”

“It is, Uncle Shima. I am happy to see you in good spirits today!”

“Of course I am. Win or lose, whatever happens in this tournament, I’ll grow from it. That’s what matters. And one day, I’ll grow enough to be a ninja this village can be proud of. Enough to protect it, and everyone in it.”

Kichōna smiled. She was happy Shimabukuro was back. She was happy that he was happy. It felt good, she decided.

Now, it was time for the tournament.