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FILLER EPISODE

It is deep within the Ame No Sato underground; a hidden facility so large that it stretches nearly to the boundaries of the hidden village that shares its name. It's technology has been pilfered and remodeled from a thousand different points around the world, hoarded like precious gems and forced into cobbled together shards of bizarre metal and blinking lights that do any number of things, powered by energy and thought. Walking its corridors is a man in an exquisitely pressed uniform that broadcasts his importance effortlessly to those around, scientists in starched white lab coats fidget nervously as he passes and salute incorrectly or turn back to digital screens projected on the petals of flowers as if suddenly consumed with their work.

He moves down a labyrinthine path carved beneath the earth where steel walls rise and form an overhead dome flashing fluorescent light from floating silver globes. His movements are swift and brutal, he cuts a swathe through the air with the abruptness of his turns and pivots, steps echoing loudly, nearing the epicenter of the place known publicly as AMP (Amegakure Municipal Power), but known throughout the black market sub-culture of the Hidden Rain as The Karst. He approaches a man whose back faces him and watches the researcher wander back and forth between five human-sized tubes, mumbling energetically to himself.

The first holds the collapsed body of a strangely dressed teenager, who is either dead or unconscious. The second holds the floating form of a small black haired child, his eyes closed, a stream of bubbles rising from the breathing apparatus at his jaw, surrounded by a partially opaque liquid that extends the entirety of the tube. The other three tubes contain what look to be infants, one of whom, the first in the triplet set, has his eyes open.

The researcher turns. He see's the well-dressed man and fumbles, adjusting his thick rimmed glasses. Coughs. Stutters out quick words.

"General Takeda! It is an honor, but I had heard you would not be visiting our facilities for at least another month! Had I known you were coming early I would have prepared for your arrival, of course, though the---"

Calm yourself doctor. There is no need for alarm. I heard that you've been making progress with your little project, and I wanted to see it for myself. There will be a delegation from The Land of Hot Water here within a few days, and a presentation of all military weapons projects currently overseen by the Daimyo will be necessary, if we plan on them actually funding the creation of more of your....what do you types call them...specimens?

"Yes, yes of course General! Have you been briefed on the specifications of my work? It is quite remarkable actually, and was in fact only possible by a rather fortuitous accident the ramifications of which I can no doubt assu---"

I have not been briefed, doctor, though I understand the gist of your work has to do with forgery, in one way or another, your criminal background notwithstanding. Now, if you would allow me to take a seat--

And the General is near instantly after bought a chair by an eavesdropping tech, within which he sat, leaning back and staring impatiently at the researcher.

--you may begin your briefing.

The researcher clears his throat once more, straightening a grouping of papers that will be unnecessary for his presentation, then realizes this, and places them back on the table, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He pushes a series of small engraved markings on the iron slab before him and pulls up a projection made with thousands of rearranged colored stones reflecting off of a tiny crystalline engine, showing images that correspond with his words.

"Ahem. As you well know, four years ago there was an event, written off as a freak meteorological incident that resulted in the destruction of Uzu No Kuni, as well as the Hidden Eddy Village. Now, we of course understand that this was a fallacy, a cover-story designed so that our own intelligence operatives could move in and secure the true cause of the event without attracting unwanted attention, and it was subsequently blamed on several shinobi villages, who are currently preparing for their own violent response to the tension a small country's total destruction created.

That event, was his arrival."

And the projection, as well as the doctor, indicated the fallen man in the first tube.

"We were unable to gather his name, nor any real information about him whatsoever, as he remained conscious for only a few seconds after our team was able to make it to his location. The items taken off of his person continue to defy even our greatest scientific minds, and what appears to be some sort of picture identification of the man is written in a code we are to this day unable to decipher in the slightest. Though mysterious, this in of itself is not the most remarkable aspect of finding him. The area, and the young man's own body, were highly saturated with a peculiar type of elemental chakra transformation, something our boys in R&D seem forced into labeling Jikanton.

You heard me correctly General.

Time Release."

Impossible.

And the doctor chuckles, pulling up several diagrams which show the various plausible elemental transformations, overlayed with a symbol representing Yin and Yang forces, as well as a gray area in between marked with the symbol for 'flow'. He presses another series of engravings, and the tube holding the fallen young man lights up from a series of panels near its top. In the soft glow of the light, tiny black spheres could just barely be seen, crashing into each other and reforming, bubbles trapped in each others spherical expanse and then collapsing into nothing and reforming again.

"Not quite as impossible as you might believe, General.

Though it is strange, all evidence points to a near constant stream of chronal disturbance that flows through the boy as naturally as any other particle. We doubt he has any control over it, and most likely whatever brought him here was an accident of the highest magnitude, but as it stands, where he comes from is not nearly as important as when.

Naturally, we secured him here and begin immediate and extensive testing, almost every biophysical procedure that we have was run and then run again to ensure the validity of what his dna seemed to suggest, but after a while...there was simply too much information present to ignore.

This young man..is an Uchiha. Though he had no active Sharingan to speak of, he nevertheless possessed a strain of their kekkei genkai so advanced it was almost indistinguishable from what we currently understand about the clan, and we understand a great deal. It seemed prudent to test the practical applications of such an advancement, but we could not find a way to pull him out of unconsciousness. We assume that his mind is simply incapable of withstanding the rigors of his journey, and so waking him up and interrogating him was clearly not an option.

This is where my, ah--particular skills came into play. I realized that if we were able to transplant his DNA into the body of another, preferably another Uchiha, we would be able to see first hand the extent of its evolution over time. We sent for test subjects, to which our procurement agents returned with over one hundred who appeared viable for the transplant."

The doctor points to the second tube, and the young boy breathing slowly within confinement.

"He was our only survivor."

Who is he? How did he alone survive when so many others could not?

The doctor rummaged through a set of electronically encoded files, pulling up a smaller screen near his workstation, and reading quickly through the information provided, saying it aloud a split second later.

"His name is...Kouketsu Uchiha. Age 8. And we honestly don't know why he was able to survive the process. Perhaps its some rare mutation that only he possesses, perhaps some remnants of altered code from the clan's long ancestral heritage diverging from the Six Path's Sage, perhaps something else entirely."

Hmm. What then were the results of your findings? Did the boy display some unnatural power after transplant?

"As far as we can tell...no. While he didn't reject the transplant, his body was somehow able to over-write the changed code within his genetic structure. To put it plainly; he's too old. His body has simply spent too much time comfortably paced to its own biological development. Ten days after the operation, we found almost no traces of the foreign dna, and his immune system had largely fought off the more aggressive pathogens without the need to even develop the antibodies necessary for such a task. It seemed our efforts had been a waste.

That of course, brings us to my...specimens, as you put it. If the problem was his age and development, and we had proof that he alone could survive the transplant process...I surmised that the only sensible option would be to clone the boy, and introduce our arrivals DNA at an earlier stage in that clone's development."

The doctor waves his hand at the three remaining tubes, and the infants kept within. His fingers fly across the engraved stone and lights flash yet again, a blinking display that shows complex diagrams of bodily systems that appear completely interwoven with an aggressive chakra.

"We created them in a series of three, and began the transplant process six days after their 'birth'. It's now been over six months, and they show no signs of rejecting the transplants. Their health is stable, and our tests indicate that higher brain function, cognitive aptitude, motor functions, sensory interpretation--everything is at a level that far exceeds anything we've ever seen. Simply put, by the time they are fully grown, they will be unstoppable. And there are potentially hundreds more where these came from!"

I see that the legends of Sonzairyuu of The Endless Clones were not exaggerations. You have clearly taken your craft to the next level.

"Ha ha, no, no. That title was lost to me the day I put on this lab coat. It's simply Dr. Kaida now."

The General stands, walking back over, his fingers tracing light marks on each of the tubes as he passed. Coming to the third tube, first in the series of young clones, he notices that this infants eyes follow him as he moves, though the others have kept their own blissfully closed. He turns to the doctor, his face puzzled.

Why is this one awake? Were you aware that its eyes are open?

The doctor frowned and smirked slightly, as if embarrassed.

"Ah yes. The defiant one. We've kept them fed with a heavy dose of specialized sedatives and brain altering chemical cocktails designed to make them more susceptible to their future training regiments. We need soldiers who instantly follow commands, with no thought of fear, no regard for their own safety, no minds that can disobey in the slightest. That first one, AU-1; he's rejecting the drug. We can always do surgery to remove the conflicting element from his brain directly, if he decides to stay defective."

Do they ever leave these tubes?

"Only when we need to check something that might require an invasive procedure. They're perfectly capable of existing outside of their little cages, but it makes it easier if we don't run the risk of seeing them as children, or treating them like it."

What will you do with the boy? Kouketsu?

"He'll be studied for a few more years, and then disposed of, like all the others. His memory of being captured was already erased, and as far as we can tell, no one who would care has any idea he's even gone."

The doctor speaks cheerfully, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather, and not the lives of children. The General circles the desk and reaches out to shake the doctor's hand, a look of approval clearly read across his face.

Then I suppose there's only one thing left to say, Dr. Kaida.

"And what would that be, General?"

Shinra Tensei.

There is an explosion of force, with the General as its epicenter, and the doctor is separated from the hand the man still holds in his grip, as everything within the lab is blown back by gravity itself. Every light and machine is destroyed, the tubes burst spilling their liquid contents everywhere and throwing the surroundings into true chaos as the General's form shifts in space, then rearranges. The man standing there, eyes a unique grayed spiral that evokes power all but unheard of, is known as The Six Paths of The Moon, and he has learned all he needs to of this place. He turns his head, and see's that the tube containing the collapsed man has fallen inward, showering the boy's body with sharp glass. He was dead seconds after the blast went off. The tube containing the boy, Kouketsu Uchiha, has been thrown clear through the wall behind it, and though sprawled out, the Six Paths of the Moon's eyes show him that yes, the young man is still alive. Of the infants, he catches only the faintest of life-signs, their habitats torn apart around them, but he is not surprised to see that the life he has detected belongs to the young one whose eyes had been opened the entire time. He walks over to the child, slow patient steps as the few scientists survivors screaming and running about within try to flee to safer ground, and picks the infant up, watching the struggling rhythm of his heartbeat. He places his ear close to the boys face, listening for traces of breath...

...and the infant rises up suddenly, hitting the Six Paths of The Moon on the side of the temple with his forehead. The infant does not cry. He looks angry, squirming suddenly to free himself of the man's grasp.

The Six Paths of the Moon, Pirate Lord of an ocean many have never seen, has no choice. He laughs. This infant is the first person to have ever struck him out of anger in nearly forty years.

You seem to have some potential, little one.

The pirate begins to walk throughout the remainder of the facility, carving his own way and killing whatever stragglers happen across him without the briefest remorse, holding the infant in his hands the entire time. It takes almost an hour, clearing debris and rewriting the area until he has transformed the facility into little more than a collection of rubble. Upon seeing daylight through a distant grating that leads to the nearby beach, a shadow flickers to his side, kneeling as it comes before him.

"Took long enough, but we're finally here. This place isn't exactly on any map, Captain, but the ship's prepped for take-off and the crew is antsy to leave behind all this rain. You know the natives call this whole area Akuharu? Means double-evil in whatever island-tongue they used when they first settled this chunk of rock. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, we're ready when you are. Find what you were looking for?"

And the Six Paths of The Moon looks down, nodding his head, the briefest flash of a smile on his face for only an instant.

I have. And we are bringing a passenger.

He hands the infant to the shadow, who looks up at him perplexed, unsure of how to even hold the baby properly.

"Guess I won't ask where he's come from. This uh...kid...he got a name?"

.....Yes. His name is....Akuharu.

And the shadow's expression alone questions his captain, as if to say really?

Akuharu...Uchiha.

SPOILER: Click to show

Uchiha Shippuden: Soratsu Chronicles!
STAY TUNED!

Unfortunately, an upwards circular rotation of the masked man's sword would be used to deflect the dual motion of Akuharu's blades. Fortunately, as both strikes had occurred at the same time, the very clockwise rotation that stopped one blade, could not of course, be used to stop both simultaneously, as the rotation itself would require the opposing blade to travel from Akurojin-no-hi to Nameless in order to divert simultaneous horizontal and vertical attacks. The man could, of course, not instantly deflect a blade from two different locations without meeting some physical resistance from Akuharu, who was both taller and heavier than his opponent, and any physical resistance sufficient to stop the swords motion for the briefest of instants, would be enough to ensure the man was cut. Though his defense was successful...it would only be partially so.

However, Akuharu had restrained himself, as his motions sought motive over all else, and the blade connecting with his opponent would do little damage. It had not truly been made to. The strangers foot racing out in a simple kick to catch him in the chest would drive into the bones of his upper body, forcing him down into the grass, and then bleed away into the crimson swirl of his Sharingan, its prediction now engraved in the Kirigakure genin's mind. In real time, each detail of the foot moving towards him was outlined, and though the momentum of his body had been quite profound...his earlier restraint would ensure it was not as profound as his opponent might have hoped.

The bladed end of Akurojin-No-Hi, diverted from its original aim, would move with the force of the man's attempted defense into the ground directly before him, sticking fast and deep due to the superior strength of the stranger, between each of his feet. As the kick would rise up to catch him, it was not difficult at all to predict which side of the Naginata the foot would rush out from, as it would have to pick if it wished to connect with his chest. The slightest push in either direction would easily shift him to the opposite side of the attack, where he would release his grip on Akurojin-no-hi, and a procession of quick steps would carry him backwards no more than ten feet, placing the handle of Nameless between his teeth.

"My movements don't betray me, yours do. You rushed into an attack, knowing full well that I was faster and stronger than you, hoping to gain what?"

The hunted do not justify themselves to those that seek them. Gaining implies the desire to gain, as well as the possibility of loss.

When a man wanders the desert at the brink of death, he has nothing to lose by throwing stones at the vultures. There is always hope. All I can do now, is hope that my guess is correct.

"A guess at my purpose?"

Your purpose is irrelevant. Understanding what resolve might drive that purpose is far more important. It must be, if I might die by your hand merely on a whim.

The man would bring his sword back before him.

"Don't underestimate my resolve again. Next time you will die."

There would be a gathering of chakra within Akuharu in time with the man's words, the sealing formation of deft hands.¹ Vibrant eyes watching all.

Crack. His hands collided with the man's arm in perfect timing, though the knockback effect normally presented with the maneuver would be nullified by the angle of each strike, and Akuharu heard the sharp sound of metal splitting as he gripped, rose, and pushed away from the stranger, leaving the bones of the hands, unfortunately, unharmed.

"Showing some life before dying."

One's life is lived, not shown, through moments that define the character of the one who experiences them.

"Interesting..."

Ten meters away, Nameless had been removed, and Akuharu reversed his grip as Akurojin-no-hi was also freed from the thin chain at his back. Blood red eyes watched as the newcomer withdrew his own blade, holding it in front of his body, waiting.

The Kirigakure Shinobi's Sharingan birthed detail from the simplest of movements, and had seen the flickering of the man's pupil as it seemed to easily track his every movement, a feat not readily performed by any normal man. His stance was even, and confident, but still wary, a sign that he'd fought many battles, and learned not to underestimate even the most unassuming of adversaries. But therein lied the problem.

The man could track him, unaided, the dark-gray of his eyes shimmering over Akuharu's movements as if possessed, observing all he did. He had not escaped the man's attack...he had been allowed to catch his bearings. This information conflicted with what Akuharu had already come to understand; if the man was willing to cause such a disturbance, within the sanctity of a graveyard, without any concern for those around, he was most assuredly not consumed with any 'warrior's honor' that might explain allowing Akuharu to catch his bearing. His Sharingan had already showed him; had he not moved, he would have been attacked, unprovoked, without any hesitation. Why then, would such a being wait and give him even the briefest opportunity to escape or counter-attack? Why not merely kill him where he stood immediately?

You are...faster than I am. Stronger. You wish to kill me, and could do so easily, but you have not. You are...observing me. Analyzing. Testing.

Why?

As the words were spoken, another burst of chakra had carried the young man forward to appear before the man, crouching slightly, Akurojin-no-hi in his left hand stabbing towards the man's core at a slightly downward angle, the reverse held Nameless slashing across at the same moment to rip across the man's throat, but restrained. Motions designed to ascertain motive more than mortality, the genin's eyes spinning and revealing what they could of the man's every movement.

You have done this before; this business of war. Your movements betray you. Yet you sought to provoke a stranger for little more than a petty act of murder? It seems unlikely, somehow. Cheap. Not the actions of one with purpose.

Tell me...what purpose could that honestly be?

"Death is part of life. If you welcome it, like you seem to be doing, it'll consume you. And then, well..."

A voice. The slightest pause before a sound like a steel anchor hitting brick and suddenly, a figure crouched before him, its face concealed, tiny slits in an unknown material revealing eyes more dark gray than black, tinged with bemused self-contentment.

"You'll actually die."

Akuharu's head was down, his gaze cast at his own feet, but he slowly looked up as some small part of his thoughts registered the voice speaking to him. Painstakingly slow, as if his head were the heaviest in all the world, he would meet the gaze of the stranger, and his eyes, almost against their own will, would begin to change. It was not the rapid-fire switch necessary for combat, but more an exhibition, a spiraling that made it appear as if a patient hand was stirring his black pupils into the crimson red of his Sharingan, the tomoe flaring just as slowly, then fading back into black as he looked down once more. For the briefest of seconds, the calm and practiced demeanor he always wore broke, and Akuharu's face was nothing but a contorted mask of animal fury and hatred, as if a hundred years of pain could be expressed in the blink of an eye, but it faded as swiftly as it had appeared, like a dream, and his expression immediately after seemed almost apologetic, confused. He sighed heavily, almost irritated, before speaking out with a subtle softness partially obscured by the mask he wore.

I am sorry, sir. I do not wish to be rude to you, but I am in an ill-mood to accept advice, even if it is given with the most sincere of intentions. If you do not wish to be in the company of those consumed by death...

...perhaps a graveyard was a poor choice of travel.

And Akuharu's head would bow once more, a simple nod, as another couple passed close by, gawking at the strange man who'd so suddenly dropped from a tree before them. They pointed and grabbed their tiny child close, who'd begun to cry and mutter g-g-g-g-ghost between sobs. Several of the nearby attendants, sifting through broken plots of dirt or piecing together the days chores for their own subordinates with shovels in hand, had also taken notice of the man's strange antics, but appeared amused, watching from a distance, and chuckling among themselves.