Reborn in the Mist

Pieces of Kinoto splattered against the mud, his hand still clung onto the end of his weapon that cleanly ran through the heart of the Paper Angel. Danzo's breaths were laboured, but she continued to hover, a defiant deity refusing to fall, even as her strength waned.

He surveyed the battlefield—corpses lay strewn, mingling with blood and guts in the muck, the acrid scent of Ninjutsu and death thick in the air. The scene pulled him back to darker times—fighting impossible odds at his teacher's side, enemies swarming from all sides like vultures on the carcass of Konoha. 

It was the opposite here. The plethora of shinobi the Rain Village had spat out to defend against their invasion were broken, melted, decapitated, drowned and buried under the foot of his elite forces. And the one thing left standing in their way, their so-called Angel, was faltering, barely holding on after Kinoto's good work.

Lightning still arced across Kinoto's blade, crackling with the remnants of energy as it passed through the Angel's back. Her paper wings crumpled and seared, disintegrating like ash when exposed to the high voltage. Danzo sharply nodded at Tatsuma Aburame, the only other ROOT-nin to stand at his side against the Angel. 

Without a word, the cloaked Aburame raised his arms in a gesture that sent a horde of insects, [Kikaichu]—the chakra-hungry insects—swirled into the air, surrounding the Angel in an engulfing cloud. Worthy of her name and the hell she'd rained down on their heads, the Angel defiantly extended her wings. A weak flurry of razors slashed out at the Kikaichu but the horde was quickly overwhelming her.

Danzo's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he watched her flail, dance and give the Kikaichu something to chase after. He groaned, growing impatient with her defiance, and flexed his arms. He picked up his blade and with the chakra draining Sharingan in his right eye, kept close track of her sporadic movements through the air. Tatsuma, sensing Danzo's intent, urged the Kikaichu to drive the Angel closer, her escape routes narrowing.

"Good," Danzo muttered under his breath, coating his blade with Wind Nature chakra. She sensed the impending strike and tried to take to the skies, but Tatsuma was relentless, sending a fresh wave of Kikaichu to pin her down. 

The swarm pressed her to the ground and nearly smashed her against the mud as she continued her flight. She pulsed chakra through her surface and shed away a thick layer of her paper form to the nesting Kikaichu. Gone were her colossal wings and found were her feet as she planted them to skid through the mud as she frantically manifested a paper sword to defend against the narrow opening that awaited her in Danzo's sights.

Danzo dropped into a low stance, slipping beneath her desperate slash and took a good look at her. The rain had turned to a drizzle soon after explosions went off within the village and now the stormy clouds were slowly beamed through by the sun's rays. His eyes locked onto hers—she was young, with blue hair and a cold array of piercings. Her hollow eyes met his, devoid of the fire one would expect from a deity facing doom. Instead, they were filled with resignation, as if she knew leading her the of her village fodder had been futile.

In one swift motion, Danzo slashed at her eyes and caught tendrils of loose hair as she jerked back to avoid the cut. She formed a quick one-handed seal and to his surprise, a jet of water burst from the ground, grazing his side just as he spun away from her follow-up strike. He blocked her next paper sword attack with ease, retaliating with a razor-sharp gust of Wind Nature chakra that slashed across her abdomen.

A pained yelp escaped her, and blood seeped through the red clouded cloak of Akatsuki. The sound of her agony, her body recoiling, was all Danzo needed to confirm that this was her true form—no tricks, no illusions. This was the end.

He ripped his mask off, Shunshined in a blur, and seized her by the throat, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. She coughed and swung her paper sword at his head but the paltry weapon lost all consistency and fluttered to nothing before touching Danzo.

Danzo's Sharingan bore into her hollow eyes, weaving a Genjutsu that compounded the suffocating grip around her neck. "It's over—for you and your hub of terrorists. Where is the Rinnegan?"

Her eyes fluttered, rolling back under the weight of his Genjutsu compulsion, but a crooked smile twisted her lips.

"W-with...God," she rasped before her body went limp in his grasp, unconscious.

Danzo's frown deepened, he let her body fall into the mud as Tatsuma approached, his Kikaichu quick to blanket and drain her of chakra.

"Take her with you," Danzo ordered, his attention already shifting to the rising plumes of smoke in the distance. The rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, casting an eerie glow over the ruins of Amegakure. His left side throbbed where an explosion had torn through his armor, scorching the flesh beneath. There would be healers among the ROOT shinobi he had brought, though some may have perished. Even if they lived, however—There's no time left. He could feel it, a gnawing certainty deep within him.

Despite their seeming victory, despite Jiraiya battling the one who likely held the Rinnegan, Danzo's instincts screamed that their time in Amegakure was running out.

"Return to our nearest base in the Land of Fire. Escape this place with her; she will reveal what we cannot uncover here."

"What about you, Lord Danzo?" Tatsuma asked, his eyes behind those thick sunglasses had surely gleaned what Danzo wanted to do next.

Danzo's eyes flicked toward the plumes of smoke again. He could see it now—the storm that threatened Konoha. "I will aid Jiraiya in his struggles."