The Prime Gate was already gone.
The oasis of the Howling Mirage had been reduced to glass. Sajura, the Great Sage of the Domain, was dead. Uchiha Madara had seen to that hours ago.
But the Domain had not died. It had shattered.
Because of the ancient law of the Hound—Loyalty—the domain refused to dissolve. Instead, it splintered. The madness and paranoia sank into the dunes, finding a vessel in a tea-kettle spirit (the Tanuki). The nobility and ferocity fled, racing across the border like a spooked herd, seeking the deep woods of the Land of Fire.
Mikazuki stood at the edge of the crater in the Wind Country. He was a creature of immaculate beauty in a wasteland of ruin. His hair was a cascade of liquid mercury, his face marked with the purple crescent and magenta stripes of his lineage.
He looked at the man standing amidst the glass.
Uchiha Madara did not look tired. He looked bored.
"The head is cut off," Madara said, looking at where Sajura had fallen. "But the body twitches. The wolves have run to the forest."
Madara turned his eyes to Mikazuki. The Sharingan spun lazily.
"Go to the forest, dog. Silence the echo. If the Wolf Mother lives, the domain will try to rebuild. If she dies, your pack becomes... merely beasts. And beasts I can tolerate."
"Execute your spirit elder."
He didn't need to ask, 'or what?'
Uchiha Madara never explained himself.
If an explanation was needed—you were not.
"Tch."
Mikazuki turned his back on the God of Shinobi. He began to walk East.
The journey took three days. Mikazuki did not sleep.
He crossed the border from the scorching Wind into the lush, towering canopy of the Fire Country. The air here was wet and thick with life. It was a good place to hunt. It was a good place to die.
He stopped at the edge of the deep woods. At his side was his physical companion, a massive wolf-dog with dark fur.
Mikazuki placed a hand on the beast's head.
"Go home, boy."
The wolf-dog whined, looking from Mikazuki to the deep forest where the spirit pressure was emanating.
"Go to the humans. Serve them. Be a dog. Do not be a spirit."
The wolf-dog licked Mikazuki's hand—tasting the salt of sweat and the iron of dried blood—and then bolted towards the settlement that would become Konoha.
Mikazuki walked alone into the dark.
Dusk was upon him now, bloody red and ominous, leaking through the heavy leaves of the Fire Country.
He did not move silently. He did not need to.
He was welcome here.
Howooooooo.
The howl did not come from a throat. It came from the ley lines of the forest.
She appeared in a clearing illuminated by fireflies.
Ginga. The Silver Fang.
She was not the erratic monster the Tanuki had become. She was regal. She was the size of a small mountain, her fur the color of starlight, a mane of spiritual blue fire wreathing her neck. She was the Wolf Shard of the shattered domain, trying to establish a new home in these woods.
Mikazuki bowed falsely. A courtier's bow to a queen he intended to depose.
She didn't notice the falseness. Or perhaps she ignored it.
"Mikazuki," she rumbled. Her voice was the sound of leaves rustling in a storm. "You smell of the desert. You smell of ash."
"I smell of the end, Ginga," Mikazuki replied softly.
They spoke briefly. No words were wasted.
She knew the Gate was gone. She knew Sajura was dead.
She knew who had sent him.
"If I live," Ginga said, looking toward the village where Mikazuki's dog had run, "The Shadow will come here. He will burn this forest to kill me. And he will kill the pups who hide in the village."
She lowered her massive head.
"But if I die... the magic fades. The pups become flesh. They will survive."
She offered her life. To protect her kin.
Slowly... Mikazuki thought, his heart breaking behind his stoic mask.
He drew his blade. It was not a weapon of war, but of mercy.
Gently...
He walked to her. He pressed his forehead against her giant, wet nose.
"I am sorry, Ginga."
The blade slipped between her ribs.
This is how a life is taken.
Not by malice, but through love.
Ginga let out a long, shuddering sigh. The blue fire around her neck flickered and died. The massive spiritual pressure that defined the Wolf Domain evaporated, leaving only the quiet, natural chakra of the woods. The threat was gone. The target was removed. The pack was safe.
"I'm... sorry..."
Mikazuki reversed the grip on his shorter blade.
Thwip.
The blade slipped between his own ribs.
Final Shot:
The sun fully dipped behind the horizon. The moon emerged from behind the clouds, casting a spotlight through the canopy.
Mikazuki lay peaceful, his body leaning against the cooling form of Ginga. His silver hair mixed with her silver fur, indistinguishable in the moonlight.
Around them, out of the shadows of the trees, wolves of various smaller sizes and ages—the ancestors of the Akamaru line, the Kuromaru line, the Grey Wolf line—crept forward.
They sat in a circle around the fallen Prince and the Mother.
They threw their heads back.
HOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
They howled mournfully.
They were no longer spirits of the Mirage. They were just dogs now. But they remembered.
And somewhere in the desert, a raccoon-dog sneezed, looked at the moon, and felt a sudden, crushing loneliness.