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Chapter Text

OPERATION: HIGURE  “NIGHTFALL”

MISSION REPORT

Akatsuki member profile: Hoshigaki Kisame

Alias: Kirigakure no Kaijin -- Monster of the Mist

Origin: Kirigakure

Partner: Uchiha Itachi

Combat: Wielder of Samehada.  Known predilection for suiton ninjutsu, kenjutsu.  Large chakra reserves.   

Notes: Apparent seniority over all members except leader “Pain” and his partner.

Motivation: Unknown

Current location: Akatsuki satellite base, Shimo no Kuni

Observations: Akatsuki appears to assign mission teams as set pairs, with reorganization occurring only in the case of extreme incompatibility or loss/gain of a member.  This is logical given that most members are independently capable of defeating squads comprised entirely of jounin or Anbu-level shinobi.  Fully attended organization meetings appear rare or nonexistent thus far.   Mission pairs may not have frequent or consistent contact with other mission pairs.  

END REPORT

Deep Cover Operative, Codename: Ikiryou “Spirit that leaves its body”

D.C.O. Ikiryou

The fulcrum was earth.  Earth -- strong and solid, the base on which everything else must be built, around which all else would orbit.  By definition, it was massive and inexorable.  The pull intensified; the target zone balanced; the strength fortified.  There was a new creation taking shape beneath Neji’s hands, even as his mind calculated and considered and recalculated as he worked.

“What’s that?” Temari leaned over the side of the battered couch to peer down at the seal Neji was inking painstakingly onto a piece of paper the size of the door.  

“It will be a gravity magnifying seal,” answered Neji absently, setting down an amplifier in mincing brushstrokes.  “Theoretically, it will entrap a target long enough for me to incapacitate them, assuming the seal itself is not strong enough to do so.”

Temari hummed thoughtfully, looking over his work.  She had watched him work with seals enough that she would be able to identify elements of his seal, but Neji had been studying sealing for one year now and that had taught him that no matter how well one might be able to pick a seal apart, learning to design one was altogether a much more challenging task.  “That looks complicated and I hate to disturb you,” she said after a moment, “but we’re up.”

Neji suppressed a scowl.  “What does he want now?”

Temari snorted.  “What do you think?  The usual.  Come on, you have five minutes to wrap this up and get out the door.”

Neji would not be able to finish this seal in five minutes.  He clicked his tongue in annoyance and stood, returning his brush and ink to their shelf on the rickety bookcase and relocating the paper with the half-finished seal to the table.  “Let us finish quickly,” he said.  “I have no intention of lingering over that task any longer than I must.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Temari agreed with a humorless smile.  “I’ll do the talking; you always sound like you’re at high court.  Just stand behind me and look menacing and break some stuff.”

“I speak properly,” Neji corrected, but in this case he was happy to allow her to bear the majority of the responsibility.   His tanto was already in place, its hilt protruding over his shoulder, so he slid his shades down over his eyes and nodded at Temari.   

He would admit that of the two of them, she appeared much more intimidating by far.  She still had half a head of height over him, her hair on the sides were shorn close to her skull and dyed brown, and she wore her massive tessen slung diagonally across her back. She stepped with confidence just shy of a swagger, which became more pronounced as they left the small house at the border between the woods and the town and made their way towards the town center

Neji concentrated his chakra with a handseal, activating his Byakugan with a tiny surge and cycling from heat-sight to chakra-sight to through-sight in rapid succession before letting them all layer on top of his normal vision.  "Who is the target?" Neji asked.

"Nakamuto," answered Temari.  "One-seventy-five centimetres, sixty-two kilos, slight build.  Black hair, brown eyes, owns the rooms above his grocery store two blocks west of the town square.  Lives with wife and two kids, aged five and seven."

Neji cast out his vision, combing through the buildings and their occupants.  "Nakamuto Produce," he read the sign out loud.

"That's the one," Temari confirmed.  "Who's in the area?"

"Five patrons, two employees in the store.  Target is alone in the upstairs apartment," Neji reported, letting everything except the through-sight fade.  

Temari hummed confirmation.  "Let me know if that changes," she said, and turned them west.  

They were not being subtle; their job was entirely the opposite.   Neji’s range of vision allowed him to watch the civilian townspeople without turning his head, to see the hunched shoulders and nervous eyes and hands clutching their possessions with white-knuckled grips.  The town reminded him of the Lower City back in Kiri, back when the burden of war stole the roundness from the peoples' faces and left their clothes threadbare and their livelihoods in shambles, but smaller and shabbier and far more sparsely populated.  The Kiri Civil War was already one year gone, but its memory had never stopped haunting anyone, least of all Neji.  

A man carrying a sack of rice swerved out of their way, knocking into the corner of a store in his haste to avoid them, and a mother tugged her young son back behind her as they passed.  The light chatter of the villagers going about their day faded to uneasy whispers as Neji and Temari passed.  

Temari strode into Nakamuto Produce with Neji shadowing and dozens of prickling stares on their backs.  "Hey!" she barked, and the store customers and employees all snapped around with wide eyes.  "Everyone out," she ordered. "Now!"

Neji crossed his arms over his chest, as Temari somehow managed to loom over the tiny exodus despite being the shortest person in the building save Neji himself.  "The target has not changed position," he reported, once the store had emptied.  "He is in a room to the right of the entrance."

Temari squared her shoulders, turning resolutely for the staircase at the back of the store.  "Copy that," she said, both grim and resigned.  

Their footsteps thumped deliberately up the stairs and down the short hallway.  Neji stopped three paces back as Temari strode forward and, in one sharp movement, kicked the door clean off its hinges.  It flew inwards, the wood splintered around where the hinges and the door jamb had been attached, and crashed to the floor.  "Nakamuto!" Temari called, with a hint of a drawl and a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.  "Come out and this doesn't have to get messy."

Neji's job was to play the guard, so he planted himself in the doorway, watched the target dither in the room as his heart palpitated frantically, and kept a portion of his attention on the wary crowd amassing a little ways from the storefront.  

Temari stalked forwards, kicking in the door to the room in which Nakamuto was cowering.  "Nakamuto," she purred, reaching up.  She snapped her tessen up over her shoulder, half-unfurling as it went, and brought it down in a flash to bowl over and pin the target to the floor when he tried to make a run for it.  Temari leaned down as the man stared up at her with wild eyes, frozen still but for his heaving chest in his panic.  "The food you're providing to the bridge builders?" Temari said, drumming her fingers on the papery membrane of her battle fan.  "Stop.  Or the next visit I pay you won't be so nice." 

Nakamuto didn't answer.  Temari didn't wait for him to.  She swept the fan back up and into its harness easily, leaving the man on the floor as she sauntered back in Neji's direction.  Neji turned to lead the way back down the hall, and at the doorway, Temari paused to toss over her shoulder as if it were an afterthought, "Gatou sends his regards.  And warns you to stay the hell out of his business."

After nearly three weeks of this mission, Neji did not hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.  He rammed his shoulder against the nearest shelf and with a groan it toppled over.  Aluminum cans and boxes of nonperishable foods crashed to the ground in a cacophony of clanging, and Neji strode through the mess, scattering the fallen food as he went.  On the opposite side of the store, Temari swept her tessen languidly and sent another rack of packaged foods flying, then kicked over a display of dried fruits.

Neji didn't unsheathe his tanto; no true shinobi or swordsman would ruin the blade in that way, particularly when one's sensei was a Swordsman of the Mist.  Instead he drew an old, chipped kunai, flipping it in his hand and dragging it through a cardboard crate full of carrots.  They went rolling down in his wake as the cardboard tore, scattering among the ears of corn and piles of potatoes that he similarly liberated as he zigzagged back towards the entrance.  Temari batted a dozen pounds of leafy vegetable greens to the floor and swung her fan back over her back as she glanced dismissively over her shoulder at the destruction they had wrecked.  "We're done here," she said.  "Let's get out of this place."

Nakamuto was still huddled on his apartment floor, and the crowd of spectators outside had grown in both size and unease.  Nevertheless, Neji saw no need to keep his doujutsu active and cut the chakra flow to his eyes, and the world around him faded back into its meagre dimensions.  He could tell without seeing that Temari was glaring as she strode outside, and the assembled crowd collectively shrank back.  "Get lost," she snapped, and they scattered.  

She kept up the glower until they were well out of the town center, retreating back to the corner where their own living quarters were located.  Then she sighed, her expression darkening into an irritated scowl.  "This mission cannot end soon enough," she muttered under her breath, loosening her stride to something more natural.  

"I concur," Neji agreed.  Kirigakure's Inner Village may not have been a safe, welcoming environment, but at least they were not strictly villains there.  

The upsides to this mission, of which were few and far between and thus far outweighed by the downsides, included ample time to study, train, and for Neji, work on his seals.  As though hearing his thoughts, Temari glanced over at him and said, "You want to go back to your seal or are you up for a spar?" 

Neji wanted to go back to his seal but there was an itch in his blood that told him his concentration would be shot until he worked it out.  "Spar," he answered shortly, annoyed at his own insufficiencies.  

"All right," said Temari.  "I'll write up the missive and meet you out back when it's sent." 

Instead of following her into their small, shack-like house, Neji diverted to the woods behind their temporary lodgings, and in the small clearing about a kilometre out, began his stretches.

Hyuuga was part of Neji's identity.  It was his blood, his breeding, his past and his future.  He carried the Byakugan and wore a seal that would bind him to his Clan until death.  But even though Hinata-sama had never been far away nor separated from him for more than a month at a time, their clan was very, very distant.  He had not set foot in their clan compound for four years, had not learned the Jyuuken from a Clansman in the same amount of time, and Neji was very aware that his skill in their style was severely lacking.  His Jyuuken instruction now consisted of Shisui-sensei using his own doujutsu to perform what he had witnessed a Hyuuga teammate do during battle, and he, Neji, and Hinata-sama attempting to decipher exactly what had been done.  Needless to say, Jyuuken instruction made up a small fraction of his overall combat training. 

Hyuuga, then, was part of Neji's identity, but not its entirety.  His warm-ups concluded, he drew his tanto and moved into the beginning stance for an easy kata.  He had taken up the blade for practicality, because they'd had precious few weapons after the Fall and he and Sai were the only ones with enough basic training to learn to wield it effectively, but now Neji's combat repertoire revolved around his swordsmanship.  

Temari arrived just as Neji finished a more advanced kata, setting down her tessen and starting her own exercises.  "All out or taijutsu and weapons only?" she asked, contorting her back as she bent backwards to touch the ground with her fingers.  

"Perhaps just taijutsu and weapons this time," Neji suggested.  A ninjutsu-inclusive match with Temari invariably included assault by long-range fuuton, for which Neji had yet to come up with a truly reliable counter and was happy to leave that puzzle for another time.  

Temari shrugged, an arrogantly careless gesture as though it mattered little to her that he had requested she refrain from her strongest attacks.  It set his teeth on edge and she knew it, a smirk just shy of meanspirited hovering at the corners of her mouth as he activated his Byakugan and slid into his opening stance.

When Neji and Temari sparred, or any time they fought anyone, really, it was with a raw ferocity that the rest of the pack lacked -- even Gaara with his casual bloodlust or Naruto with his animalistic stamina.  Theirs was resentment, something to prove, born high but never high enough, fated to be leashed by those born right that made Neji's blows brutally graceful and Temari's gracefully brutal.

Haku understood most of all the pack and Zabuza-sensei had known nothing more than clawing his way to the top, so maybe Fate had chosen them as a team because of this.  But Haku didn't have the same ambition that burned in their veins and Zabuza-sensei had no sympathy for those born with any privilege at all, so in the end it was still just him and Temari and their bitter hunger.  They had never spoken of it out loud and likely would continue to do so, but in this, there was no pretending between the two of them.  

Neji sprang, tanto drawn and slashing between one second and the next to break the expectant stillness between them.  Temari lunged to meet him, snapping her furled fan out in a blow that would have hurled him clean across the clearing and through a tree or three if he hadn’t leapt up in time, twisting backwards over the solid guard to land in a crouch and lash out at her unprotected legs on her backswing.  Temari let the momentum of her tessen carry her off her feet, out of the way of Neji’s striking blade.

She was smirking as she landed, the bared teeth of a cat who hunted for the thrill of the kill.   But Neji wasn’t an unwary songbird and he pounced again before she had both feet under her.  Temari’s tessen was too heavy for her to bring around in time to block; instead, her left hand came up with a curved kunai from her holster, deflecting Neji’s blade bare millimetres from her arm as she wrestled the battle-fan between them.  She lobbed the kunai at him and he jerked back as the blade hissed past his face, and his falter gave her enough time to regain her stance with the tessen half-unfurled at her side.  

"Come on," she baited, ice-cold eyes over a sharp-edged smile.  "I thought you wanted a real fight."

She saw the restless malcontent he kept bundled down deep because she carried it too, and playing pet shinobi to a lowlife civilian criminal like Gatou only cultivated those smouldering embers further.  She didn't need to hide it here, now, and neither did he.  He took a sharp breath that bit into his lungs and flipped his tanto around to a backhanded grip.  Temari had less than a second to raise a mocking eyebrow before he leapt.  

The tessen swung up to block his path once again, far too fast for something that unwieldy, and he swatted it aside with his empty hand swathed in chakra as he drove the tip of his tanto at the unprotected juncture between her shoulder and her neck.  She eeled out of the way and his blade struck only air, and he ducked a high kick then backpedaled to avoid the tessen that slammed after him.

She wielded her battle-fan like a club and a vaulting pole in turns, planting it in the dirt and lashing out with both feet.  He flitted left, twisting to avoid the tessen that chased his retreat, and leapt tanto first to bring the blade down two-handed onto the fan's guard.  He bore down with his weight but she surged up to meet him, a silent challenge in her narrowed eyes, and they both knew he had yet to beat her in a contest of strength.  She was stronger, but he was faster, and he didn't need to hit hard to do damage.  He slipped sideways and as her tessen rushed past him close enough to ruffle his hair, reached out with his bare hand and managed to brush his fingers against her shoulder, sending a bolt of chakra into the tenketsu there as he fell.  

The heavy guard of the battle-fan smashed into his side in the next moment, and he exhaled in a huff as it knocked the breath from his lungs and sent him tumbling away.  He landed in a roll, popping up a few meters away with his tanto swept back and ready to strike.  Temari grinned at him, the annoyance in her eyes a there-and-gone flash as her left arm hung limp at her side.  “All right,” she allowed.  “I’ll give you that one.”  She flicked the wrist of her unimpaired arm and the tessen unfolded to its full breadth.

Neji eyed it and her warily, his ribs aching.  The folded fan was a blunt object.  Opened, it was a club and a blade and unpredictable in its movements in the way it caught the air currents.  Temari smiled an invitation and a dare and waited.  Neji gathered his chakra at his free hand.  

A tiny black shape scurried through the clearing between them, capturing Neji's attention before it vanished into the undergrowth.  

"Ah, damn," muttered Temari, glancing up to meet his eyes.  "I didn't put the paper out."  In an instant the two of them flung themselves into separate shunshin back towards their temporary base.  

Neji hit the ground out of his shunshin first, skidding into the clearing and taking the steps to the back door in a single bound, but Temari stumbled a landing onto the porch and bolted through the door before him.  

Neji caught the tiny shape in his field of vision some two dozen meters into the treeline, and snapped, "Five seconds." He didn't need to turn his head to catch the scroll Temari hurled in his direction.  He shoved his chakra into the paper and yanked the scroll open just in time for the ink rat to hurl itself at him and splatter against its surface.  

Temari sighed, slumping against the battered couch, as Neji scowled down at the characters forming in the ink.  “Perhaps he should design a jutsu where the message does not self-destruct if not immediately received,” he muttered.

“At least he’s making his own fuinjutsu, and they work,” Temari pointed out, ignoring Neji’s glare.  “What’s it say?”

The cipher was one of Sai’s older ones, half-hidden in the ink waterfall scene they were painted into.  “Message acknowledged,” Neji read out loud.  “Shichi and Kyuu deployed for cleanup.”

“We rushed back for that?” Temari asked dryly but with no real accusation.  Her arm was still dangling nervelessly at her side.

“Shall I?” Neji offered, nodding towards it.

“Please,” said Temari, a wry twist at her mouth.  She hissed softly as Neji jabbed the blocked tenketsu with a jolt of chakra, flexing her fingers as her control returned.   “Your ribs okay?  I caught you pretty hard that time.”

“Fine,” answered Neji, watching critically until Temari’s chakra pathways regained their uninterrupted flow.  His ribs did still ache, but it was pain easily dismissed from mind.  He could see bruising under the skin, but no fractures in the bone.  

Temari didn’t press, turning away to glance out the window before turning back.  “Too late for another go.  I’ll start dinner,” she said, already halfway to the tiny kitchen.  “Keep an eye out for Sensei and Haku.”

Adrenaline still buzzed through Neji’s veins from the spar and the abrupt flight through the forest, but now it was less a distraction and more a bright energy channeling his focus.  He deactivated his Byakugan, shifted his shades back up to the top of his head, and went to retrieve his gravity seal.  He set out the ink and dipped in his brush and set it to the paper once more.

Three-three-three -- a nine-pointed seal would mean stability and strength both.  But that was too simplistic.  He had to consider the elements in terms of exponents, in triangular numbers, each component not just as it was but how it would interact with the rest.  Five in five in five for a dodecahedron flattened out, a platonic solid once activated and expanded to three dimensions.  That would give him balance and amplification and a limited range.  Earth elementals didn't like prime numbers, though.  They responded to the seal, but sluggishly, and Neji needed earth as the keystone.  

Perhaps eight in eight, then, still a small enough base number that symmetry would not be difficult.   But eight was two cubed, and Neji didn't know the effect that might have on the seal.  That wouldn't do.   He set his brush down; the design had become too tangled to have even a hope of working.

He stared blankly down at the mess the seal had become and mechanically shifted the paper, beginning again in a blank spot of white: earth, the fulcrum, the base on which everything else must be built.  

Frustration built on the edge of his mind as he worked, but he pushed it down impatiently.  A gravity seal was hardly the most complex concept he could attempt, and his end goal was a thousand times more complicated than this task. 

A prickle at the edges of his senses drew him out of his focus after he had stopped and restarted twice more, and he could smell frying vegetables from the kitchen.  There was scarce a blank corner anywhere on his paper now, and when he blinked away the phantom ink splattered over the walls from staring too intensely.  He activated his Byakugan and sent his sight rushing outwards.  "Sensei and Ichika are inbound," he raised his voice to alert Temari, blinking away his doujutsu once again.  "They are alone, unrushed, and uninjured.  ETA five minutes."

"Copy that," Temari called back absently.  She added something to her concoction that made the oil crackle loudly and a heavy, spicy scent drift into the air.  She had grown up in the desert, and though Neji would have thought she and others from Kaze no Kuni would try to avoid excessive heat wherever possible, Temari liked her food to have an almost unbearable bite.  She insisted that all of Suna was just the same, and Gaara at the least ate it comfortably enough.  

The front door blew open with a bang as Neji set his brush down.  "I'm going to throw his pathetic ass off the docks," Zabuza-sensei growled, stumping past with Kubikiribocho slung conspicuously over his back.  "I'll wring his neck, that cringing little rat bastard."

Haku, drifting tolerantly in his wake, hummed.  He gave Neji a greeting smile as he followed Zabuza-sensei past.  As ever, he was completely unruffled, his haori and hakama pristine. 

"What happened?" Temari called, poking her head out of the kitchenette.  She didn’t have as many flyaways now, but a few strands of her hair still plastered themselves to her forehead, and a heat-blush colored high on her cheekbones. 

Zabuza-sensei grumbled inarticulately without breaking stride.  "Gatou asked us to 'stand guard' at a business meeting," Haku answered for them both.  "His associates were unarmed civilians.  It wasn't much of a challenge."

“Who the fuck hires bingo-book missing-nin as arm candy?” snarled Zabuza-sensei.  “You hire a missing-nin when you want someone dead, not for decoration.   What a godsdamned waste.”

"Aww, Sensei," Temari said mock-sympathetically.  "He didn't let you maim anyone, huh?  I thought we were supposed to be desperate, down-on-their-luck sellswords, not prima donna high caste snobs."

"Watch it.  Three hours of wind sprints if you don’t shut your mouth, princess," Zabuza-sensei threatened, jabbing a finger in her direction, and she gave him a mostly serious salute and mimed zipping her mouth shut.  He turned on his heel to pin his glare on Neji instead.   "Hey.  Punk."  Neji bristled instinctively.  "You hold up that shopkeeper or whatever?"

"Yes," Neji answered.  "Team Genbu are engaged in cleanup."

"Good for them," muttered Zabuza-sensei.  "I'm taking a fucking nap.  Yell if something attacks, otherwise don't bother me."  He stalked off to his bedroom, his shoulders still tense with annoyance.  

Haku perched on the battered couch and explained, somewhat unnecessarily, "Zabuza-san is feeling underappreciated.”

“He going to be out for dinner?” Temari asked, unimpressed.  “I’m making maqluba. Upside-Down.”

“I have never known Zabuza-san to intentionally skip a meal,” Haku agreed.  “Do you need any help?”

“Nah, I’m fine, thanks,” said Temari, whisking back into the kitchen.  “It’s nearly done.  You can just wash up.  Nishiki, can you do a quick check on Genbu again?”

“Aa, thank you,” Haku said, managing to drag himself off the couch in a fluid movement.  His smile muted just a little with the strain of his day in Gatou’s company  

“Hai,” said Neji, rising with nearly as much grace.  “I will be outside for a few minutes.”

Neji hadn’t realized how overwhelming the spices’ fragrance were until he stepped outside into the crisp air of the cooling spring night.  He stood for a moment on the back porch, tasting the earthy, grassy breeze from the forest, then leapt lightly up to the roof of their house.  The roof tiles were still warm as he sat. 

Neji closed his eyes and let his Byakugan bring the world into being behind his eyelids.  A nearly absolute range of sight was useless unless one learned how to see and not merely look.  Neji vaguely remembered learning drills to adjust to the wider visual field, to pick out small details from the influx of information, to push and expand the limits of his eyes.  He knew only the basics so he drilled those relentlessly; he should have learned more, but there was no one to teach him.  Hana-ha had no other Hyuuga save himself and Hinata-sama for the same reason that there had never been any Hyuuga nuke-nin -- traitors from their Clan were all too easily subdued and executed.  

Now, as he sat straight-backed at the edge of the roof, he let his observation follow the path he and Temari had taken into town.  The inhabitants had resumed their typical flow after the disturbance of the afternoon, albeit at a lessened number in deference to the setting sun.  The children didn't stray far from their homes in this town for good reason, and even the street children kept their heads low.  Twelve boys and girls between the ages of five and sixteen had vanished in the past three months.

Nakamuto Produce had closed its doors since Neji and Temari's visit as the darkness of dusk fell, but there were nearly a dozen people still inside the store, as well as Nakamuto himself, all working together to right the shelves and chase down the scattered vegetables and tidy the aisles.  One young man had wrapped a blanket and an arm around Nakamuto's shoulders, sitting on the floor next to him as each nursed a mug of tea.  

Two of the volunteers were noticeably shorter than the rest.  Neji was fairly certain that the heiress to the noble Hyuuga Clan should never have been put to such menial labor, and doubted that a jinchuuriki and scion of Sunagakure's most famous clan would likewise never have been expected to do the same.  Neither, under normal circumstances, would have been chosen for undercover work as well, but now that was simply reality.  

After years of chin-length hair, Hinata-sama had chosen to grow hers out.  It now fell loose past her shoulders, colored an unremarkable brown lighter than Neji’s own natural hair.  Strands drifted in front of her eyes as she stacked dented cans back onto their shelves.  

Next to her, Gaara handed Hinata-sama fallen cans from the ground, his expression equal parts lazy, indulgent, and amused, as though humoring a quirk of hers for his own curiosity.  Perhaps he was.  As volatile as the jinchuuriki had proven to be in the past, however, Neji was fairly certain that he would not intentionally injure Hinata-sama if only because of the same sort of vague fondness he had for her as one might have for an entertaining pet.  The closest he had come to intentionally injuring any of the pack was the first time Gaara and Haku had sparred, though broken bones were an infrequent if not uncommon side effect of serious matches with him.  

Neji widened his focus to the rest of the store and combed through patiently until he found a spider on the wall that was a little too round, a little too dark for any species in this region.  From the first spotted it was easy to find a second, then a third rattling its way down the street outside.  At the end of the spidery trail, Sai sat cross-legged in a butcher's cold storage basement and frowned down at a sheet of paper.  Like Neji's, it bore a seal; Sai was Neji's partner in learning sealing though they each concentrated in different areas. 

Sai drew his seals as animals, as landscape panoramas, as the spiralling cosmos far beyond the skies, giving them meaning within their framework with an eloquent artistry Neji could appreciate but not emulate.  Neji had only begun delving into sealwork, but the designs he favored could be called simple if elegant.  Sai's seal expanded effortlessly under his brush, twisting outwards as the stabilizers connected the elements seamlessly, conduction sequences matched from power source to effector in the form of inky feathers.   

Neji watched Sai work until he felt the old bitterness, the envy, rising in him again, and turned his focus back to the grocery.  Pride was an ugly master and like the seal on his forehead one whose control he had yet to breach.  Neji had never in his life been first until his only two years in the Academy, until Byakugan training, when even the Main family acknowledged his potential if only behind his back and closed doors, and even after the Fall, he had always been good -- but not the best.  

As it stood, Neji of all Yorozoku was redundant.  Hinata-sama had his same eyes and fire-nature, even if her range and skill couldn’t match his yet.  Sai wielded both tanto and seals.  Haku was both faster and stronger than him.  Temari could best him in physical strength and ninjutsu.  Sakura had the greatest success in her pursuit of iryou-jutsu, Sasuke in bladed combat.  The jinchuuriki were jinchuuriki: once they reached their full potential, they could raze whole platoons of jounin.  Comparatively, Neji knew just how high a bird with clipped wings could hope to reach.

It...itched.  Neji strove for serenity in and out of combat, but could never attain it, and it burned all the worse because he knew why.  He was lacking.  And until he won that final piece to make him whole, he would always fall short.  

Zabuza-sensei took Haku with him when he went to meet Gatou because Haku had a much cooler head, and also for no better reason than he liked Haku more than he did the other two.  This Neji did not resent; it was a fact.  To be trained by one of the greatest shinobi to come out of the Mist was an honor; to be trained by him and a Konohan legend and a shinobi as strong as Uchiha Shisui was nearly unthinkable when Neji considered the big picture.  These circumstances had been luck, both good and bad, but Neji would not dare disappoint any of the sensei or be disappointed by them in turn.  

Except for Uchiha Itachi.

Zabuza-sensei and Haku performed most of the interfacing with their client, which Neji did not mind, though that often meant that he and Temari were assigned to patrol the edges of the town and its surrounding forest for Gatou's potential rivals or anyone else he had not yet quashed in his quest to assume control over the island nation. 

Gatou was ruthless enough to make a shinobi, even if he were far too civilian-soft and incapable of moulding chakra.  He also possessed the paranoia of one; in three weeks, the greatest threat Neji and Temari had confronted was a rather large bear.  Otherwise, Gatou’s mercenaries had warded just about all other comers out of the region.      

Nevertheless, after Neji set out breakfast for Zabuza-sensei and Haku, the sunrise only just beginning to light up the sky beyond the waves a rosy pink, he collected his equipment for the first patrol of the day.  Temari, already armed, leaned against the counter in the kitchenette and wolfed down her own share.  Neji didn’t need much time to check over the pouches of the padded vest he wore over his shirt, reaffirming the locations of each prepared seal he had stored away.  He snagged his hitai-ate from the desk, soundless so as not to wake Haku in his bedroll, and tied it one-handed around his bicep with practiced movements.  His tanto and its harness went on last, and then Neji slid his wraparounds down over his eyes and slipped back out to join Temari.

She set her dishes and chopsticks into the sink as he approached and raised an eyebrow.  Neji nodded, and followed as she turned towards the door and exited into the clearing behind the house.  

Nature did not care if the people of Nami were ever so slowly starving, if the manmade famine was drawing near the horizon, if the humans in one area or another were subjugated.  A flock of tiny starlings swooped overhead, weaving here and there in abrupt swerves before darting high above the trees and into the misty sea fog.  An army of ants tunnelled industriously through the packed earth beneath their feet as Neji and Temari walked single file into the forest towards the coast.  Leaves still sprouted from trees and roots still reached laboriously towards sources of water.

Temari stepped up the pace, and Neji lengthened his stride to match, darting over gnarled roots and low shrubbery as his eyes watched a hundred things at once behind their opaque glass.  "Dip," she warned absently, and Neji registered the word in time to draw his focus back in and notice where the ground fell sharply away.  He leapt across easily and cast his gaze back out, past the coastline and into the glittering water beyond.

Staring into the ocean, however, unnerved and disoriented him both if he looked too deeply, so as they approached he gave the depths only a cursory examination before returning his focus to solid ground.  Nami, as an island, ensconced itself on three sides with open water, the fourth a wide strait which connected it to the mainland.   Since Gatou had gained control of the ports, his primary concern was incursion by ship.  This had yet to happen. 

Today, however, at the outcropping of the island at which the strait was narrowest, Neji spotted at the very edges of his range five flickering flames in his chakra-sight.  He blinked, through that did nothing to impair his vision, and said, "Hold," stopping short.

Temari wheeled around and trotted back to join him, her eyes bright and attentive.  "What's up?"

"Five approaching from the mainland," reported Neji.  "Allow me a moment to attempt identification."  He let the chakra-sight fade, leaving only his through-sight, and examined their faces.  "Civilian, advanced in age, male," he noted aloud, frowning.  The man looked oddly familiar, as though Neji had met him before.  He trawled through his memories.

"An old man, coming to Wave, with four companions," Temari mused aloud, and the connection clicked in Neji's mind.

"It is the master bridge builder who departed two weeks prior, the one Gatou requested that we detain," Neji realized, giving the old man a closer scrutiny.  ‘Requested’ was perhaps a poor choice of words for the spitting tantrum their client had thrown when he realized that the old man had left town.  "I assume that his trip to acquire security for himself and the rest of the construction crews has succeeded."

"Why, who'd he bring?" Temari asked warily, turning in the same direction as Neji though she could not possibly see what he did. 

"He is accompanied by four shinobi," Neji answered.  "One adult, three children, all with developed chakra systems, bearing Konohan hitai-ate.  I cannot make out further details at this time."

Temari frowned, drumming her fingers against the guard of her battle-fan.  "We'll check it out," she decided.  "Let's get a little closer."

Neji took the lead, breaking the treeline and leaping unhesitatingly for the water glistening beyond.  The seabreeze clung salt-sticky to Neji's face and splattered his choppy hair with droplets as he hit the surface of the water.  A thick fog had settled over the strait, but Neji and Temari both had plenty of experience fighting on water in the mist, and this had not been laden with chakra that would make it more difficult to see even with the Byakugan. 

Open water turned into a peaty bog and then back into solid ground.  He guided them away from the beaten path and instead they took to the forest, Neji setting a course that would intercept the little group of shinobi and bridge builder before they could reach the strait.  

The shinobi in the lead wore a standard Konohan flak jacket over chuunin-jounin blues, with a shock of dark hair and a trimmed beard.   The white sash at his waist was emblazoned with the kanji for fire, and a lit cigarette dangled at the corner of his mouth.  There were three children around Neji's age with him, two male -- of whom one wore a short jacket with a distinctive clan symbol, the other a white motsuke robe with black sleeves -- and one female, who carried a large scroll on her back.  All four of them wore hitai-ate with the familiar leaf swirl imprinted into the metal: a Konoha jounin and his genin team. 

One of the genin looked very familiar, but Neji had never personally interacted with him even when he did live in Konoha.  Rather, the shade of his hair, the languidly focused slant of his eyes, and even the hitai-ate tied around his arm all reminded him of another, very prominent member of Hanabi-ha.  

Neji shelved his attention on the genin and instead observed the jounin.  He dredged up his recollection of the Konoha section of a recent bingo book as Temari eyed him expectantly.  "The squad leader is Sarutobi Asuma, jounin, son of the late Sandaime Hokage and former Guardian of the Fire Temple.  I do not recognize two of the genin, but from the clan symbol on the jacket of the boy in the front, he must be the Last Nara.  The one called Shikamaru."

"The commander's son," Temari said thoughtfully, squinting through the trees.  "I can see the family resemblance.  Well, it doesn't change the mission, so let's go say hi.  Maybe warn them off, if we're lucky."

Neji doubted that fate would be so kind to them, but drew his tanto nonetheless.  

"Fuuton: Menimienai Kizu," intoned Temari.  Invisible Scar.  Her hands flashed through the handseals with surety, and as the chakra gathered at her hands, she shoved them outwards towards the Konohan team.  With a high pitched whistle, the fuuton blasted through the trees.  

The jounin reacted instantly, grabbing the bridge builder by the arm and yanking him backwards out of range, and the fuuton carved a deep gouge in the road where they’d been standing.  His genin leapt instantly to flank him, one raising clawlike chakra blades before him, other with hands folded into the rat seal for a jutsu, the last with a kunai in either hand.  Neji narrowed his eyes.  That wasn’t the reaction of a peacetime genin team to an unknown threat on a routine mission; that was the learned response of shinobi who had fought in war.  

“Hey there,” said Temari, baring her teeth in an unwelcoming smile as she sashayed out from the shadows of the trees.  Neji followed her silently.  “You’re a little ways out of your territory.  You can turn right around now -- leave the old man, though.”

“Ha,” scoffed the kunoichi, glaring as she crossed her arms across her chest.  Coincidentally, or more likely not, this positioned her hands close to the scrolls at her waist.  Neji marked her with interest.

“Nami is not a Mizu territory,” pointed out the boy in the motsuke.  “You don’t have any more right than we do to be here.”

“Doesn’t Konoha have too much greed already?” Temari shot back.  “Go home and don’t meddle in others’ business.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” said the Konoha kunoichi, her hand drifting lower towards her scrolls. "You're outnumbered."

“Tenten is right, kunoichi-san,” the jounin Sarutobi finally intervened.  Smoke wafted in lazy clouds as he exhaled.  “We have a mission, and leaving our client in your hands isn’t part of it.”  

“Those are the mercenaries Gatou hired!” the old bridge builder hissed in a voice probably meant to be quiet.  

Sarutobi raised an eyebrow as he puffed on his cigarette, his expression more surprised than perturbed.  “Really?  Aren’t you kids a bit young to be nuke-nin?”

“Not everyone wants to pay the cost Kirigakure demands of the descendants of the shinobi who fought its founding and lost,” said Temari, her lip curling.  “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories -- what it takes to be a shinobi in the Bloody Mist.”

“The Academy graduation exam where candidates were required to kill another to graduate,” said the commander’s son, his eyes hooded but sharp.  “That ended nearly ten years ago on the orders of the Yondaime Mizukage.”

“Look who knows their international history,” Temari said mockingly.  “That was only the tip of the iceberg -- ”

Neji moved as soon as the Nara’s shadow twitched.  At his warning flare of chakra, Temari jumped into a kawarimi as Neji bounded backwards out of range, using her as cover.  “Back!  Watch the ground!” he snapped, as the shadow elongated and shot towards them both. 

"Hm,” said Temari judgmentally, frowning at them once she had managed a safe distance.  “That definitely wasn’t polite.”

"Sorry," said the other kunoichi Tenten, half reflexive and half ironic.  "You know how it is."

"Look, kids," said Sarutobi, watching them with a hand in his pocket.  He hadn't moved during the Nara's assault, his arms still loose and relaxed though Neji doubted he wouldn’t be ready to attack without a second’s notice.   “You’re outmatched here.  Do the smart thing and walk away.”

“Troublesome,” muttered Nara, his shadow snaking away back to its usual form.  “The surest way to eliminate this problem is by eliminating them, Asuma-sensei.”

Neji stiffened.  Temari scowled.  Sarutobi, for a second, looked very tired.  “This isn’t a wartime mission,” the jounin said.  "These two aren't our enemies for certain -- fighting isn't necessary."

"If they're not the only shinobi Gatou has hired here, taking them out while we have them outnumbered is strategically sound," Nara pointed out. 

"Gatou was not supposed to have hired any shinobi," the other boy said under his breath, and the bridge builder shrank under his narrow-eyed glare.  

"A-ah," stammered the old man.

"Stand down, Sora," Sarutobi ordered lazily.  "Tazuna-san, we'll be having words about that later."

"Right," said the bridge builder meekly.  

"You could just give him to us," Temari suggested, voice bright.  "We won't hurt him, promise."

Tenten snorted.  "Promises from a nuke-nin?  Please."

"Hey," said Temari, smiling with too many teeth.  "I don't like your tone."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you broke your Village vows and threw away your honor," Tenten shot back.  

Temari had done no such thing, of course, having never actually graduated the Academy or taken the shinobi vows to her Kage, but the way this Konohan genin was looking at them was very familiar.  Like those similar eyes in Kiri, Temari bristled under their presumption as Neji hissed a wordless warning to her.  They couldn't hope to take on even a single jounin, with or without a genin team. 

"Reiha," Neji prompted when she did not relax.  They should retreat and regroup -- find Zabuza-sensei and Haku at least if a battle was inevitable.  But once the Konoha team and their client were across the strait, they'd be in Gatou's territory, having breached his perimeter, and Neji couldn't imagine that he'd be pleased about that.

Temari didn't respond but she had gone still, assessing the other team.  Her eyes sharpened, and Neji knew she would not give the signal to retreat. 

"Asuma-sensei," Nara said. 

Sarutobi, his mouth flattened to a frown, said, "Fine."

That was the only warning they received.

Tenten leapt straight up in the air as Sora charged, a thick scroll edged with deep burgundy in her hands. She snapped it open to bare a row of identical seals that burned blue with chakra as she cried, "Kaifuujutsu: Shuriken!"  A barrage of shuriken hissed down towards Temari and Neji, far above her teammates' heads.  

With a growl, Temari swung her tessen, unleashing a powerful gust that turned the airborne weapons back on the Konoha team.  "We need space," she said, her battle-fan swept out low behind her.

"Understood.  Wildflower," Neji warned.  He reached behind to his back pouch, and drew and hurled a kunai in one smooth motion straight at Sora in the midst of the deflected shuriken.  The other boy battered it aside with one hand sheathed in clawed chakra blades, sending it flying into the trees.  It struck a solid trunk and the seal wrapped around its handle exploded in a spectacular blast of pale flames.  The ground rattled threateningly as the world abruptly muted; Neji could feel the vibrations in his bones.  

Neji may have tweaked the amplifier on a design the captain had given him to study.  Slightly. 

The explosion knocked Sora off course and off his feet.  He stumbled and caught Temari's upswing, which sent him careening ungracefully into the trees before he found his footing.  Tenten, having ducked and crouched when faced with a cloud of her own shuriken, unsealed a truly massive battle-axe from yet another scroll and charged through the smoke with it upraised.  

"Point me," Temari shouted urgently, her voice muffled and barely audible, her eyes combing the wall of smoke as she backed up slowly. 

Neji drew his tanto in a backhanded grip in one hand gathered chakra in the other.  "Genin-1 minus five, ten and closing," Neji snapped tersely, tracking Tenten, the closest, as she came at them just to the left of dead center.  "Genin-2 minus thirty, fifteen and advancing."  Sora, a little further left and further away.  "Genin-3 twenty, twenty and stationary.  Target and jounin three, zero, twenty-five and stationary." Shikamaru, to the right and staying back.  The bridge builder and Sarutobi, behind Shikamaru, but nearly straight ahead from Neji and Temari.

"Copy that," said Temari.  "Duck."

Neji threw himself behind her as the iron guard of her tessen hurtled overhead and smashed against the haft of Tenten's falling battleaxe.  The other kunoichi didn't falter, her rejoiner just as fierce as she disengaged and swung again.  Neji slipped around Temari’s unguarded side in time to parry Sora's clawed strike with his tanto, twisting with the entire weight of his body to redirect the other boy from his collision course with Temari.  

Neji jerked away in time to evade the wind chakra blades that sprouted from the metal claw tips and shredded the very air.  He whirled easily from the next slash, relying on footwork instead of his tanto to steer him clear as Sora pounced forward, not trusting the steel of his blade to withstand this new assault.  "This one is wind," he observed to Temari as he struck at Sora's unguarded shoulder and danced away again when he failed to make contact.   

"Mine," Temari demanded and slid past without waiting for a response, snapping her tessen shut and swinging her grip to the middle of the guard like a bo staff.  Sora’s wind-blades skittered off with a shriek and she knocked him away with a blow that caught just below his sternum.  

Neji didn’t protest the trade, spinning to slap away the flat of Tenten’s battleaxe with his empty hand and scything his tanto towards her neck.  She let the battleaxe be knocked out of her grip and it hurtled harmlessly out of the way but she replaced it with a pair of senbon twice as quickly to deflect his tanto.  She whipped them both at him in the next breath, and only years of sparring with Haku lent him the speed to strike one from the air and twist away from the other.   

He swept her legs out from under her and she hit the ground with a grunt, immediately launching herself away as he pounced.  His chakra-laden fingertips just grazed the outside of her knee and she huffed in surprise as it collapsed under her, a fast kawarimi saving her when Neji struck again with his tanto.    

If it hadn’t been apparent from their jounin sensei and the quality of their weapons and clothes, the skill and autonomy Tenten and Sora displayed clearly marked them as Command Corps genin, chosen for talent and leadership potential as future team captains.  Neji and Temari, at this moment, might have an edge over the two -- but they were only two, and neither Nara nor Sarutobi had joined the battle.  

“Cyclone,” Neji bit out over his shoulder to Temari, watching Tenten warily as the kunoichi drew a scroll from her waist.  “We are beyond the floodwall.”  

“I know,” Temari snapped in response, whipping open her battle-fan to blast Sora off his feet and send him flying back towards the rest of his team.  Leading the Konoha team straight to their base was out of the question; she said, “Cyclone, butterfly, then minnow -- ”

“Ground!” Neji interrupted, as across the battlefield Nara darted forward abruptly, his shadow shooting out in front of him.  Tenten and Sora converged in on his path ahead of him and blocked him from view, Tenten with a kama and dragging one sluggish leg and Sora with his chakra-claws.  “Genin-3 ten, fifteen and advancing.  Shadow will make contact in three seconds.”

“Cyclone, butterfly!” Temari ordered, and Neji whirled and stepped into a shunshin back in the direction of the strait as Temari snarled, “Fuusajin no Jutsu!” and swung her unfurled tessen at the three charging genin.  

The fuuton never connected.

The rush and blur of chakra-aided speed died abruptly as Neji was yanked out of the shunshin, and he would have choked if his entire body hadn’t been paralyzed.  He strained against the invisible binds, and only because he could see through his own skull could he fully appreciate the horror of his shadow and Temari’s bound fast to Nara -- who by Neji’s estimation, should still have been out of range -- by thin black lines.  

Neji, however, hadn’t factored Sora and Tenten into the equation.  Nara’s shadow curved through his teammates’ shadows, lengthening and quickening the reach of his own.

Nara sighed, tipping his head up to stare at the sky, and Neji mirrored him involuntarily.  “Tenten, seal them,” he directed, returning to a neutral position.

"Right," said Tenten crisply, drawing another scroll from her belt.   Neji’s instincts warred between interest in a presumably new seal and extreme aversion to being sealed.  Veins in Temari’s neck bulged as she strained against the jutsu, and Neji redoubled his own efforts to break free when he saw Nara's tiny grimace of concentration deepen.

But Tenten was only a couple steps away, and Neji didn't recognize the type of seal in her hands.  Helpless fury and fear burned in his veins, constricting around his heart as she stopped in front of him first.  She brandished the seal, her eyes grim and firm.  Neji glared her down, invisible behind his shades, and wound his chakra in tight just below his skin at his tenketsu, a last desperate defense in which he had little confidence.

"Suiton: Bakusui Shōha."

The massive tidal wave reared up and crashed down in the same heartbeat, swallowing them all whole and ripping them away from each other.  Neji found his limbs responding to his command once again, Nara's stranglehold swept away by the swirling currents.   The water tossed him to and fro in a swirl of twigs and leafy debris, but a war and a year in Mizu no Kuni made surviving unexpected land-to-water transitions a fact of life.  He propelled himself to the surface, and leapt out of the water to land lightly on top.  Temari hailed herself up effortlessly a meter away, unhindered by her massive tessen.

The impressive glower on Zabuza-sensei's face did not diminish Neji's relief at his appearance, despite the unspoken promise of later consequences.  The suiton ebbed away beneath their feet to just a dozen centimetres deep, and revealed a trio of sodden Konohan genin opposite them plus a jounin now sans his cigarette and armed with a pair of trench knives.  Zabuza-sensei transferred his scrutiny to them.  

“I thought you squirrelly treelickers liked to play fair.”  Zabuza-sensei threw insults like those at Shisui-sensei all the time, and to a lesser extent, the captain, but the malice that tainted his voice now, ugly and grotesque in his mouth, rendered the words unfamiliar to Neji.  He crossed his arms over his chest, the hilt of Kubikiribocho protruding conspicuously over his shoulder.

Tenten, though thoroughly waterlogged and appearing slightly groggy, locked her eyes on the massive blade covetously. 

"Mission's a mission.  I didn't think the Demon of the Mist would care," Sarutobi drawled, but despite his blase tone, his eyes were focussed and wary.  "Looks like Shikamaru was right to be concerned about backup."

Zabuza-sensei scowled thunderously.  “Turn back, Leaf, unless you and your little rats want to die with the old geezer.”  

“That won’t happen,” said Sarutobi, raising his trench knives before him.  They ignited in a flash of chakra, a faint hum to betray the razor-sharp blades.

Zabuza-sensei glared back, unimpressed.  "Yeah?" he growled.  "Kirigakure no Jutsu."  

The fog billowed in, fast and thick, rising from the ground and sweeping from between the trees from the strait to submerge them all in an unearthly grey glow.  Some of the tension melted out of Neji’s shoulders with the familiar cover, keeping his sight focussed on both the Konoha team and his own.

“Fuuton: Toppa!”  Neji slipped sideways out of the path of Sora’s jutsu, which whirled past without touching him.  It stirred the mist but didn’t dissipate it, the heavy blanket still settled over the road and surrounding forest.

Zabuza-sensei’s disembodied laugh echoed through the mist.  “You’re going to have to huff and puff a lot more to blow this away,” he mocked, stalking forward.  "Princess, punk, grab the old man."

“Fall back and guard the client,” Sarutobi ordered his team, his eyes darting back and forth without any real expectation of seeing an oncoming attack.  

None of them protested.  Tenten had replaced her seals with a naginata, which she spun in her hands as easily as she had the battleaxe as she backed up to the old civilian.  Nara’s eyes closed, his hands coming up to fold in a curious seal.  Sora’s chakra surged within his system, a strangely familiar hint of orange tainting the typical blue.

Temari flipped her tessen back over her shoulder into its harness and drew a pair of kunai.  Point me, she mouthed silently, trusting him to see it.  Neji drew up next to her and pointed.  He held up three fingers, then flashed 2-5.  Twenty-five metres.  When Temari nodded, he left her behind, slinking forward through the mist.

Zabuza-sensei circled around the tense Sarutobi on the opposite side, a clone splitting off from him as he skulked straight for the bridge builder.  He paused for a breathless moment.  He pounced.

Kubikiribocho whistled through the air, and Sora cried out wordlessly as he leapt directly into its path and caught the massive blade on his chakra claws less than arm's length from the client.  The force drove him backwards, his heels digging a furrow into the dirt, as the client skittered away with a yelp. Sarutobi whirled as Tenten sprang to help her teammate, just as the combined weight of Zabuza-sensei and his sword forced Sora to his knees.  Her naginata sliced down for Zabuza-sensei's unprotected shoulder and Sarutobi hurled one of his trench knives from the right.

Zabuza-sensei's mizu bunshin rose up out of the fog behind him with blade upraised, and Sarutobi twisted in time to deflect the falling sword with his other knife.  Zabuza-sensei twisted Kubikiribocho to flick Tenten's naginata blade away while sidestepping the trench knife, and Sora rolled out of range as soon as Zabuza-sensei lifted the pressure, the breath rattling in his lungs just a little too fast to be controlled. 

Temari hurled a kunai aided with wind chakra just over Zabuza-sensei's rising blade, and Tenten ducked Temari's kunai nearly into the sharp edge of Kubikiribocho, but her body jerked away unnaturally at the last second with the help of the shadow threaded into hers.  Neji sprang the last steps and Tenten whirled to bat his tanto away from her chest.  Neji darted away before Nara could catch him in the grasp of his shadows, melting back into the fog.  

Zabuza-sensei's clone collapsed into a puddle of water as Sarutobi's knife slammed between its eyes.  Zabuza-sensei materialized behind him and growled, "Heard the bounty on your head's worth a pretty penny, Sarutobi.  More than this contract pays."

"Better shinobi than you have tried and failed to win that bounty," Sarutobi replied, and raised his knife and lunged at Zabuza-sensei in the same movement.

"That explosive tag earlier," said Tenten conversationally, eyes still straining into the mist.  Behind her, Nara made a terse tch.  "That wasn't a standard design, was it?"

"No," agreed Neji, and slashed at her grip on the naginata's hilt, spinning into her range only to be parried by the kunai she drew with her free hand.  He retreated once again at the threatening shadow bulging in his direction. 

"That's what I thought," said Tenten, a mixture of triumphant and curious.  "Got anything else like that up your sleeve?"

"Are you asking the enemy for seals to study?" Sora demanded.  His hands clenched and unclenched sporadically, the light glinting off his claws.

"I don't see why not," Tenten said, swiping blindly into the mist as Neji slipped closer.  "There aren't many shinobi in Konoha who specialize in fuinjutsu, and none of them really try to develop new seals." 

"The greatest fuinjutsu masters were all in Uzushiogakure," Neji said, and this time he traded three blows with Tenten, back and forth, before jumping back.  "And I believe you know what happened to them."

"Your Village slaughtered them," answered Sora, taking two steps forward, before thinking better of leaving their client unguarded when another of Temari's kunai hissed past and he only barely managed to deflect it.  He backed up again, warily, head tilted slightly with his nose in the air as if to sniff out Neji and Temari.  A spirit-animal summoner?  Few others had a keen enough sense of smell to track by scent, and he saw no nin-animal companion.

"Kiri slaughters all those she feels threatens her," responded Neji icily.  "Even her own.  You will find that the survivors of those massacres are particularly disinclined to the Yondaime's administration."  He paused.  "But was Konoha not a sworn ally to Uzushio?  Surely you hold some of their lost secrets."

"Why," Tenten challenged.  "You interested?"

"Yes," Neji said simply.  He sidled around her, his footsteps sure and silent.

Temari sighed deeply from behind.  "Not the time, Nishiki," she warned, more than aware of both his academic interest in sealing and frustration at the lack of access thereof in Kiri or Hana-ha.

"I agree with the nuke-nin," muttered Nara.

Neji lunged, an overhanded blow with a backhanded grip.  Tenten whirled and caught the tanto on the haft of her naginata, too slow to meet blade to blade.  Neji lashed out in a low, sweeping kick, letting both weapons whistle harmlessly overhead, narrowly avoided impalement by naginata, and rolled out of range.  He sprang back into the fog once again, lurking just beyond reach in its cover.

"There's two kinds of swordsman who like to use reverse grips," Tenten noted, eyes sharp as she watched his silhouette.  "The total amateurs and the experts."

"Which do you believe me to be?" Neji asked, intrigued despite himself.

Tenten's mouth crooked up in a challenging smile.  "I guess we'll have to find out."

A pair of kunai hissed through the fog, courtesy of Temari, and Nara drew his own kunai barely in time to knock each away.  In the same moment, Neji pounced, grabbing the haft of the naginata with his free hand and forcing it down.  He lashed out for her shoulder with the tanto in the other hand.  

She twisted the naginata in his grip up to parry, but in doing so braced her weight on the knee which Neji had disabled earlier.  It folded under her and she huffed in surprise.  

"Fuuton: Kyuukouka Tori!"   Temari's jutsu rained down in a flock of translucent birds.  

The bridge-builder yelped as Nara's shadow caught his and his legs propelled him out of the target zone without his own input. He and Nara crouched, mirrored, the former with terror-stricken eyes and the latter with wary, calculating ones. 

"Fuuton: Shouheki," Sora snapped, throwing up his hands and gritting his teeth as Temari's attack battered against his defensive barrier.

Neji pounced in the same moment, his blade slicing at Tenten hard and fast from the side while her teammates were otherwise occupied.  She turned faster than he expected, and he twisted so the flat of the naginata struck him along the temple instead of the edge.  He hissed, turning with the blow even as his vision whited out, and crouched and lashed out in a low kick.  She hit the ground with a surprised grunt as he darted back into the cover of the fog.

Movement drew his attention as Zabuza-sensei clashed with Sarutobi on the other side of the road, metal and wind shrieking as they collided blade against blade.  But a fissure of alarm buzzed through Neji’s now-throbbing head as Zabuza-sensei swung Kubikiribocho.  Sarutobi turned lightning-fast, one trench knife braced against the massive blade as he let it push him backwards and the other scything for Zabuza-sensei’s neck.

Zabuza-sensei snarled under his bandages; Neji knew he could tell that the angle was bad.

A flash of light glinted off metal as a pair of senbon hissed through the air.  But Kubikiribocho was inexorable and took Zabuza with it into the path of Sarutobi's knife even as it forced Sarutobi into the trajectory of the senbon.  

Sarutobi hit the ground with a soft thump, the ends of two senbon sprouting from his neck.  Zabuza-sensei stumbled backwards, one hand clamped over the spray of blood at his throat, the other still gripping Kubikiribocho by the hilt.

Tenten muffled a sound of alarm and leapt forward, Sora hot on her heels.

Neji was already moving, sprinting for Zabuza-sensei with his eyes fixated on the potentially mortal wound and just enough awareness to know that Temari had reacted just as fast as he had.  She reached Zabuza-sensei faster; her fan snapped open in front of them, a physical barricade between them and the Konoha team.  Neji skidded to a stop, already reaching for the wound in Zabuza-sensei's throat, galvanized by the fact that he didn't even try to bat Neji away.  Instead, he clutched a hand at his throat and let Neji pry away Kubikiribocho to swing onto his own back, annoyance and resignation and fire all at once even as he choked.  Neji ripped the sleeve off his shirt and quite firmly shoved it into the wound to staunch the bleeding with one hand, hooking the other under Zabuza-sensei's arm to drag him bodily backwards.  

On the other side of the road, Sora ground out, "He's not breathing!" as Tenten said grimly, "If those senbon went through tenketsu, Asuma-sensei might still be alive."

Haku had not abandoned his position in the trees, though the agitation of his chakra betrayed his anxiety.  "Come after us and your sensei dies for sure," Temari spat at the other team, her chakra churning threateningly at her hands as she backed up without turning.  "What's the damage?" she hissed at Neji

The hot blood pulsating beneath Neji's fingers told him that something significant had been sliced open, but closer examination with his doujutsu told him more.  Neji glanced up sharply, ice shooting into his throat.  "Artery," he said, his voice unintentionally terse. 

"Shit," Temari swore.  "I can't shunshin him out without ripping it open more."

"Watch your godsdamned language, princess," Zabuza-sensei scolded.  It came out more of a gurgle than a growl.

"Do not speak," Neji warned, clamping his hand down harder as crimson spurted between his fingers.  "You are losing blood too quickly."

"We need to move," Temari said in an undertone, glancing over Neji's shoulder at the Konoha team still clustered over Sarutobi.  They, too, made no move to attack.  The client hovered a little ways behind them, but again, neither of the two teams was in a position to make a move with each of their commanding officer incapacitated.  "Sensei, you've had worse, but we have to get you clear before we can get you medical attention."

Zabuza-sensei rolled his eyes expressively, somewhat undermined by the fact that he was bleeding out on them both.  Get a move on.  

Temari bent and scooped Zabuza-sensei up across her shoulders without so much as a stagger, and Neji followed them up, keeping his grip firm over the nicked artery.  Zabuza-sensei grunted, mingled pain and surprise, as Temari led a fast retreat towards the strait.  

"No pursuit," Neji reported, matching his pace to hers.  "Ichika is scouting ahead."  Even so, Haku doubled back twice before they reached the water until Zabuza-sensei, upon catching a glimpse of him from his own limited field of vision, jabbed a bloodied hand signal at him -- go. 

Haku was gone in a blink with a rush of frigid air, and Neji tracked him to their temporary base at the edge of the town, where he threw a sheet of plastic over the table, rushing to boil water and retrieve the basic first aid kit from the bedroom.  He flung open the door for them as they reached the yard and helped Temari lower Zabuza-sensei to the table.  Sensei’s eyes were unfocussed now, his skin paled to an unnatural pallor.  

"What's the worst injury?" Haku asked as Temari backed away, his hands hovering uncertainly over Zabuza-sensei's chest.

"Nicked artery in the throat," Neji said shortly, looking up without lifting his hand.  "Can you handle that?"

Haku bit his lip, a minute tremble in his fingers and his eyes a little too wide as he stared down at the blood-splattered Zabuza-sensei.  Zabuza-sensei narrowed his eyes, and the emotion wiped abruptly from Haku's face.  "Yes," he said, resolute. 

"I'll cover our tracks," Temari said, hovering at the edges of the room.  The drying blood smeared on her cheek gave her face a feral cast as she fled out the front door.  "Back soon."

Green chakra flickered weakly at Haku's fingertips, sparking white every now and then until the glow stabilized.  He took a deep breath that was completely steady and said to Neji, "Let go."

Neji peeled his fingers and the makeshift bandage away and stepped back.  "Some of the muscle is severed as well, but the major vessels and the trachea are intact."

The blood bubbled up sluggishly until Haku pressed down, his eyes half closing in concentration.  "We might have to do a blood transfusion," Haku said absently.  

"You can do that," Neji said, a request for confirmation more than a statement.  He watched the vein wall knit together slowly under Haku's ministrations.

"Hai, it was one of the first things we learned," Haku agreed.  "Juuta-san believed it was a skill I would most definitely need to use.  I can't imagine why."

Zabuza-sensei scraped together enough energy to glare at Haku.

"Normally saline would be used, but we don't have that," Haku continued, ignoring Zabuza-sensei.  "Zabuza-san is type A.  You and I and Reiha-san are all type O blood, so we are all possible donors."

"Use mine," Neji said.  "Your iryou-jutsu cannot be risked and Reiha is not here at present.  You will need her combat skills in the event that we are tracked."

Haku didn't answer, his attention entirely on stemming the blood bubbling between his fingers.  His chakra flickered white for a moment before fading back to green, and Zabuza-sensei hissed wordlessly.  "It won't make it worse," Haku reassured, his voice still distant.  "Cold should cause vasoconstriction and slow bleeding, and in its natural state, my chakra doesn't have any -- any sharp edges."

It sounded as though it had been recited verbatim from a textbook or a lecture, up until the hitch in Haku's breath.  Neji tightened the tie of his hitai-ate around his bicep, curling his fingers into a fist, relaxing, then flexing again so that the veins in the crook of his arm bulged, and left Haku to his work.

Neji dumped out the contents of the first aid kit onto the kitchen counter.  Haku had put this one together, based on one he had seen the captain carry and lessons taught either by the captain, Shisui-sensei, or Shizune-sensei.  He didn't know exactly what he was looking for as he sifted through the plastic packages but came up with a piece of tubing before Haku whisked to his side.  "Sit on the table, please," Haku said, taking the tubing in bloodied hands and picking through the rest of the supplies.

Neji eased himself up onto the table next to Zabuza-sensei's arm.  Haku reached over, half his attention on the rather sizeable needle he peeled the wrapping away from.  "That is a large needle," Neji noted aloud before he could stop himself and immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut.

Haku paused, alcohol pad in one hand and the needle in the other.  He looked down at the needle, then at Neji.  "Nishiki-san," he said.  "Are you afraid of needles?"

"No," Neji retorted immediately, letting go with hands he hadn't realized had been gripping his pants.  "I have used senbon before.  I have been impaled by senbon before."  The needle in Haku's hand, large as it was, was much smaller than a senbon.  

Haku moved forward again and Neji held back a bodily flinch.  "You're sure?" Haku pressed, clearly doubtful.

Then again, there was a big difference between being struck by senbon during combat or in training and willingly allowing himself to be impaled so that his blood could be drained.  "Yes," Neji gritted out, and cast his focus as far out and away as it could go.  He caught sight of Temari and narrowed in on her almost desperately, monitoring the levels of chakra surging in her system as she zigzagged steadily through the trees.

Unfortunately, having the Byakugan meant that Neji could do that and still watch Haku swab his arm and insert the needle with brisk efficiency, and he shuddered despite himself at the slide of cold metal beneath his skin.  Haku taped the needle to his arm and then it wasn't so bad as long as Neji didn't move and ignored the feeling of the needle in his vein.  He deactivated his Byakugan, let the slow drain of his chakra peter out.  

Zabuza-sensei had closed his eyes.  Haku paused, staring blankly at him until he cracked open an eyelid and raised an eyebrow meaningfully.  Haku jolted.  "Oxygen," he said, a crease forming between his eyes.  "I will need to check the oxygen levels."  He examined Zabuza-sensei’s face closely and pronounced with some uncertainty, “The oxygen levels are...not critical.”

“He is still bleeding,” Neji felt compelled to point out.

“Yes,” Haku agreed, the creases at the corners of his eyes relaxing as he turned around to the med pack. “The artery is now closed.  I’ll suture the skin now.”  

“No numbing drugs,” Zabuza-sensei grated out, giving Haku’s back a narrow-eyed glare.  Haku, a bottle of clear liquid in one hand and a syringe in the other, very obviously considered disobeying.  “Haku,” warned Zabuza-sensei in a particularly dangerous tone.  “You know that shit doesn’t work right on me.”  Haku bit his lip, set down the anesthetic, and reached for the needle and thread instead.

Neji had just as little desire to watch Haku impale Zabuza-sensei with needles as he had Neji, so he pictured his current sealing project in his mind’s eye and tried to convince himself he couldn’t hear the snick of needle through skin.

The front door opened.  Neji flinched, reaching instinctively for his tanto as Haku whirled.

"Are you serious," Shisui-sensei snapped, storming to the table with a one-eyed glare for Zabuza-sensei.  Temari sidled in behind him, sliding in next to Neji.  "Quit picking fights that get you half-killed."  He snapped his fingers, green chakra sparking to life as he examined Haku's work critically. 

Zabuza-sensei glowered right back, then shifted his glare to Neji and Temari pointedly. 

Ah.  True. 

Shisui-sensei deliberately turned his back on Zabuza-sensei and mostly addressed Haku, "I'm going to move him upstairs.  It looks like he's stable and I brought a bag of proper saline for a transfusion."

Neji had the needle out of his arm and a comfortable distance away before he finished the sentence.  Haku hurried to extract the other end from Zabuza-sensei's arm, and Zabuza-sensei silently and very begrudgingly assented to being carried upstairs.  

Neji did not follow, nor did Temari.  Neither of them had more medical training than the very basics of first aid, and after stopping the blood transfusion his remaining usefulness had greatly stagnanted.  A handseal under the table, a pulse of chakra, and a blink, and Zabuza-sensei's room revealed itself to Neji's sight.  

Haku hovered just outside the doorway as Shisui gently dumped Zabuza-sensei on the bed; the sensei must have wanted a conversation deemed too private for Haku to have left Zabuza-sensei's side.  Technically then Neji also should not be privy to its contents, but Neji had been eavesdropping on confidential conversations since he first learned how to lip-read four years ago and therefore felt had very little compunction against doing so now.

Shisui-sensei had a hand wreathed in green over Zabuza-sensei's neck and a dark scowl on his face as he bit out the words.  You're not indestructible, Z.  I'm not a medic-nin.  None of the kids are anywhere near medic-nin status at this point, except maybe Gogo.  Any of us make one tiny mistake and you end up with a heart attack or blood cancer and none of us can fix that.

Zabuza-sensei, as ever, was unimpressed, even with foreign blood in his system and a recently halfway-healed wound in his throat.   I'm fine, leave it alone.

Shisui-sensei did not leave it alone, and his scowl deepened.  I'm serious.  You can't keep picking fights like you don't care if you come out the other end, because someday you won't!

Zabuza-sensei rolled his eyes and shifted like he would have rolled onto his side if Shisui-sensei hadn't grabbed his shoulder.   Fuck off, Konoha, some barrel scum hack isn't going to off me.

That was the son of the Sandaime Hokage and one of the Fire Guardians; he's not exactly a no-name jounin.  You're going to get pulled from the field if you keep this up.

Zabuza snorted dismissively.  You don't outrank me, you can't do shit.

I don't outrank you.

Zabuza-sensei's lips peeled back in a snarl. Fuck you, you're not going to rat me out to fucking Hatake.  We're not genin.

Shisui mugged down at him.   Try me.

Zabuza-sensei snarled something back, but Neji was distracted by the three figures well inside the edge of his range of his conveniently active doujutsu.  He took a second, closer scrutiny, and sighed silently.  "Client incoming!" Neji called though the house, and upstairs, Shisui-sensei froze.  Temari groaned audibly.  

This isn't over, Shisui-sensei told Zabuza-sensei, jabbing an accusatory finger before darting out of the room and down the stairs without waiting for a response.  Haku immediately replaced him, slipping into Zabuza-sensei's room and taking up a vigilant post against the wall.  Neji deactivated his doujutsu quickly, just as Shisui-sensei said, "That's my cue, kids," as he blew through the kitchen, breezy as though he hadn't just been arguing heatedly with their hot-headed primary sensei.  "Be good.  Watch yourselves.  Regular channels if you need to contact us."

"Hai," said Temari, throwing up a casual salute, and Neji nodded.

"Make sure your idiot sensei doesn't hurt himself any more than he already has," Shisui-sensei added, and then whisked out the back door.

"Well," said Temari, planting her hands on her hips.  "Let's make our guest feel welcome."

Neji had a pack of kunai arrayed neatly on the table in front of him and his tanto on a whetstone when the front door flung open and bounced off the far wall.  Neji slid his blade across the whetstone with a drawn out screech, not bothering to look up as Gatou and the two ronin stumped into the house.  Temari, her chair tipped back precariously and her feet propped up on the edge of the table across from Neji, paged through a book idly, her tessen leaned against the counter within easy reach.  "Shouldn't you knock?" Temari mused aloud, raising lazy eyes that drifted back down to the pages of her book.

"I hired you," Gatou snapped.  "Where's that useless layabout?"

Neji paused to exchange a glance with Temari before resuming his work.  "I don't know if you're paying us enough to get to ignore basic manners, client-san," said Temari thoughtfully.  Neji gave his tanto an especially deliberate drag along the whetstone.  "We shinobi can be…jumpy.  It's for your own safety."

Gatou puffed up like a mating pigeon.  His ex-samurai guards bristled on either side of him, hands drifting to their swords as though they genuinely believed the long blades would be effective in cramped close-quarters combat.  Perhaps they did.

"Where," Gatou gritted out, "is Momochi?"

Temari tapped a finger against her chin, tipping her head to the side as she considered him.  "Upstairs," she said flippantly, turning back to her book.

Gatou stormed past but stopped at the base of the stairs to jab a finger at Temari.  "Mouthing off after letting those Konoha ninja into my country?" he sneered.  "Screw up again and docking your pay's the least I'll do!"

"Yare, yare," Temari muttered under her breath as the trio stomped up to the second floor.  "Tiny ball of hot air in a trashy suit.  He’d be more intimidating if he were taller than two squirrels in a kimono."

"Are you certain?" Neji asked, dry.  "The Sandaime Tsuchikage inspires fear despite his short stature.  And the Suna Anbu hunters have never failed to regard Shichino with extreme caution."

Temari hummed.  "I'll allow that," she decided.  "Otouto was much shorter the last time a hunter found us.  Our esteemed client-san must just be an unimpressive little rat-man."

That was not the sort of statement that warranted a response, so Neji didn't bother with one.  He set down his tanto and reached for the kunai instead; the shortsword didn't actually need sharpening, but looked more intimidating than the smaller throwing knives, which could use some work to keep their edges.

Temari set her book down.  "I'll be right back," she said, with the type of innocence that was completely belied by the sparkle in her eye, and sauntered off towards the front door.  Neji had a vague idea of what she might be planning but the benefit of advising a different course of action was unlikely to outweigh the effort.  Neji had perhaps gained a slight affinity for petty retaliation from prolonged exposure to Naruto.  

Gatou was the only one talking.  His tirade spilled out into the kitchen, and Neji imagined Zabuza-sensei was growing irritated with the client.  Neji's whetstone rasped against the kunai blade once, twice, and then he traded the kunai for the next.  He couldn't hear what Temari was doing outside, but he did catch the faint rumbling tones of Zabuza-sensei's growl as he responded to Gatou curtly.  The burgeoning crime lord did not like the reply.

Gatou's shouts echoed from upstairs, muffled and indistinct, until a sudden scuffle of sandals against the wood cut off the words abruptly.  Haku had executed his bodyguard routine, and as he could be quite intimidating on those occasions he chose to be, Neji was completely unsurprised when he saw Gatou and his ronin sellswords clattering back down the stairs with faces a fascinating combination of bone white and blotchy red, and perhaps more alacrity than they had ascended with.  “The old man dies in six days or I’ll have your head!” Gatou hollered up the stairs before whirling with a huff.

Temari slid back into her seat seamlessly, book in her hand and feet up as though she had never left.  Neji set down his kunai and picked up his tanto instead.

Gatou stormed past silently without so much as a glance, but the guard called Waraji glared at the two of them as he stalked past.  Neji ignored them.  Temari waved her fingers at them cheerfully.  

"Take care, client-san," Temari called, just on the edge of mocking as the door slammed shut behind them.  The smile on her face melted into a malicious sweetness as she added, "and watch your step!"

Neji activated his Byakugan in time to watch the wooden step collapse under Gatou's feet, sending the man crashing face first into the ground with a loud thud.  He scrambled upright, undignified, and his furious curses drifted faintly through the door. 

"Oh, no," said Temari unrepentantly.  "Little man must have fallen.  Poor thing."

Tampering with the step was hardly the most destructive thing Temari could have done, so Neji supposed he should be grateful she had reined in her vicious streak.  Nevertheless, he glanced askance at her over his blade.  She rolled her eyes in reply.

"Relax, I'll put it back," she drawled.  "I just loosened a few screws, nothing on Rokumaru's level."  

Naruto probably could run the man out of town with pranks alone.  It was quite unfortunate that their mission deemed such an action counterintuitive at this time; it would probably make all of their lives much easier, particularly those of the townspeople  As it was, Neji’s team would need to regroup and recalculate to counter the new variable in play: the Konoha team. 

“I’m fine, quit hovering.” Zabuza-sensei sounded like he was gargling gravel.  As he did not appear to be fine, Haku did not quit hovering.

“Juuta-san directed that you remain in bed for today for a reason,” replied Haku, unruffled by Zabuza-sensei’s palpable irritation.  Temari and Neji, on either side of the doorway, exchanged glances.

“He’s a vindictive little bastard, is the reason,” was Zabuza-sensei’s opinion.

Haku was not moved by this argument, nor by Zabuza-sensei's glare  "Juuta-san has had the most advanced iryou-jutsu training of anyone on this mission," he said.  "I'll defer to his judgement as to what's best for your health."

"What's best for my health is getting that mousy Konoha team out of the way," Zabuza-sensei snapped. 

That was true, but made more complicated by the active missions in place in Nami, Zabuza-sensei's injuries, and the presence of Sarutobi Asuma.  Hanabi-ha had a blanket order to avoid killing Konoha shinobi, which Zabuza-sensei had the rank to bypass when he judged necessary.  But as Sarutobi in particular was on the Hana-ha Do Not Kill Ever Unless Absolutely Unavoidable And/Or By Accident And Even Then You Better Have A Damn Good Excuse shortlist, as Zabuza-sensei described it, and Zabuza-sensei's primary form of problem-solving was to slaughter his way through it, the solution here would require rather more finesse.  Haku's temporary death stunt was unlikely to work a second time, but had bought them perhaps a week to recover and strategize.

"We will prepare," Haku said, resolute.  "You will recuperate, Zabuza-san."  He set his shoulders; on this he would not back down, not even in the face of Zabuza-sensei's ire.

Zabuza-sensei's glower drifted to Neji and Temari, the easier targets who had more or less spectated for the last ten minutes.  Neji straightened instinctively.  "You two.  Don't you fucking dare go pick fights again," he ordered.  "You fought that team once already.  Figure out how you're going to beat them the second time around.  Understand?"

"Hai, Sensei," said Temari, uncharacteristically subdued, and Neji echoed her.

"Get out of here," Zabuza-sensei growled, and turned his scowl back on Haku.

Neji followed Temari out the door and down the stairs wordlessly.  Temari paused only long enough to snag her tessen before heading out the back door. 

The sky was clear with only hints of clouds, but nagging tension worried at Neji as he followed Temari towards the treeline.  "He is not incorrect," Neji pointed out, an edge in his voice.

"What?" said Temari deliberately, slanting a sharp glance at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"Choosing to confront the enemy team obviously invited counterattack," he said.  "A verbal warning was the most we should have attempted."

“Yeah, easy to say after it's already happened,” Temari snapped.  

"Common sense is not difficult," Neji sniped back.

Temari whirled to face him.  "When the situation got out of hand, I did call a retreat." 

"Your judgment is flawed," Neji said coolly.  "The situation escalated beyond control long before when you perceived it to.  Zabuza-sensei is incapacitated because of your actions and was nearly killed."

"Don't you pin that on me," Temari snarled, but her eyes were the slightest bit wild and Neji knew with cold, vicious satisfaction that he had struck true.  Creatures like her fought hardest when backed into a corner.

"Do not deny your responsibility," Neji fired back.

“Fine," Temari snapped.  "You want to make the calls?  You going to challenge me for team leader?”

Neji paused, pushing away from the insidious, heady spite that swarmed over his thoughts.  Temari, too, seemed to realize how close to actual blows they had come, rearing back abruptly to eye him silently with her jaw clenched and chest heaving.

Team Suzaku ran a little different than the other Hanabi-ha teams. 

Zabuza-sensei was truly of Kiri, born and bred and raised on strength; he expected the same of his team.  Temari made the calls for their team among the three genin because she had the ambition to do so and the strength to back up her claim, and so long as neither Neji nor Haku chose not to challenge her, Zabuza-sensei accepted that claim.

He would also accept the change in status quo, if Neji really challenged her and won.  But it would be more than just Team Suzaku that Temari would surrender, because she was the de facto leader of Yorozoku.  One could not give up authority over the lesser and keep that of the greater.

Neji and Sai had been in charge of the runaways, before the Sand siblings came along, before they became the pack, before Neji had found himself trailing behind the other two on his team.  After Temari, Neji had not been leader of much at all but not for lack of desire.  Temari couldn’t not know, what with the way she calculated her every word and watched those around her for their reactions, couldn’t have missed the resentment and ambition though Neji hid it well.  He wanted to be a leader, wanted to be acknowledged for his strength and prowess and cunning, to be the one who supported the rest the way the captain led and supported the Team Seiryuu that was already made up of the strongest Hana-ha had to offer.

But he didn’t want this.

“No,” said Neji as the anger simmered back down to a low burn, meeting the guarded fire in her eyes with his own steady gaze.  “I want you to do better.”

Temari huffed.  "Don't we all," she deflected, still not settled but no longer belligerent.  She turned, and their short journey to the training clearing resumed.

"All right.  What do we know about the other team?" she asked once they had settled at the base of a crooked oak.  

"Nara has great dexterity with his shadow jutsu, which he is able to use to bind opponents," Neji said.  The leafy cover of the trees trickled dappled sunlight over them.  "However, he is limited in range by the quantity or perhaps the intensity of the shadows.  He is able to use others' shadows to extend the range of his own without affecting them adversely."

"He can bind multiple opponents at once," Temari added.  "But it looks like it's a greater strain on him, and fighting his control could break the jutsu."

"It is far better not to be caught in the first place," Neji pointed out.  "I am not an ideal match for him, as my combat is primarily close-range.  Ichika is best suited to defeat him."

"Sure," Temari allowed.  "But we should all have a contingency in case it's unavoidable.  Even if it's just you getting away so Ichika or I can handle him.  You have any ideas for that?"

"Expelling bursts of chakra from my tenketsu could potentially disrupt the shadow binding, but I did not have the chance to attempt it last time."  Neji examined his hands.  "It does not need me to have control over my physical movements, though it may require a higher level of chakra control than I currently possess."

"That won't work for me, then," Temari said with no trace of bitterness.  "Your chakra control's a lot better than mine."

"You are able to engage more effectively in long-range combat," Neji pointed out.  "Vigilance and a distance fuuton are likely the only defense you will need."

Temari grimaced.  "And endurance.  They're going to keep pressing me to expend chakra and if I can't keep up we're both in danger.  Your ideal match is the girl, since that other kid -- Sora -- is probably easier for me to handle with his wind affinity.  It looks like she's big on weapons and sealing."

It did not bode well for Neji that the only member of the Konoha team he apparently had a chance of defeating was Tenten.  "Yes," he agreed grudgingly.  

"Ideally," said Temari after a pause, a wry twist at the corner of her mouth. "Ichika gets them all in that crazy mirror bowl of his and keeps them tidy until Zabuza-sensei finishes dealing with the jounin."

“Ichika is intended to be the failsafe,” Neji countered.  It was optimistic to assume each of the other team had already shown the full extent of their abilities.

Temari scowled.  “Yeah, but even if we two can handle any two of them, they got the drop on us with three.  We’re going to need him anyways.  In a three-on-three, I’ll mark Sora.”

'Wait for our third teammate to save us,' was by no means a comprehensive plan.  "I will prepare to use both paper seals and contact seals in combat," Neji informed her.  His seals had the greatest combat potential in a fight like this, even if they were still short range.

Temari raised her eyebrow skeptically.  “You’ve never tried contact sealing in combat and this is our first major mission since the war ended.  You sure that's what you want to focus on?”

"It will work," Neji insisted, forcing the annoyance out of his voice.  

Temari shrugged.  "All right," she said.  "Just remember that you're going to have to justify yourself to Sensei later."

Neji grimaced. "I am aware of that," he gritted out.  

Temari eyed him.  “Thinking about changing your mind?”

“No,” he said, short.

“Good for you,” said Temari in that unconsciously condescending tone that never failed to prick at Neji’s temper.  "So we'll just both work on our own things this week and maybe do a session or two of team drills."

Neji agreed.

"Here's the thing," said Temari when he turned to move away.  "We shouldn't be out alone when we know there's an enemy team in the area, even if they will be out of commission for at least a couple of days."

Neji agreed with more reluctance.  

"But I really need to work on endurance and the easiest way to accomplish that is distance running, with some handicaps."

Neji still agreed but did not like where this was going. 

"Run with me," said Temari.  "It'll be good training for you, too."

Neji did not agree.  

"I cannot work on my seals while running," he pointed out, which he thought was quite a valid argument.

Temari, as was her wont, was unfazed.  "You said you wanted to work on your chakra control to expel chakra from any individual tenketsu in case Nara catches you again.  You can work on that while running."

Unfortunately, she had a point.  Neji closed his eyes and resisted the urge to sigh.

"Look, as a bonus, you get to see me suffer," Temari added.  "You'll enjoy that."

That was also true, he supposed.  "Fine," he said.  "No more than an hour.  I do still need to work on sealing."

"Great," said Temari brightly.  "We'll go fast, it'll be fun.  I just have to swing by the house again and grab some weights."

It was not fun.  

Neji did not use weights on this occasion, but he still struggled to balance his exercises with the fast pace Temari set, even though she was carrying her own weight twice over and changing her hair color with a new henge every two minutes.  Still, half an hour in, Temari's breath rasped audibly in her throat, her footfalls no longer as light as they were.

Not many ventured into these woods, particularly after Team Suzaku had taken the mission and moved in at its edge.  The civilians and mercenaries alike did not leave the town save to the docks just behind its edges. The shadows were quiet and unassuming but Neji kept one eye on their surroundings as they wove through the forest and one eye on the tenketsu in his forearm.  

Chakra control was much like muscle control in that the hands and the mouth, which were most dexterous, were also easiest with which to manipulate chakra, and the feet were a distant third.  Neji had no trouble with producing a burst of chakra from each tenketsu in his hands, but as he moved down his wrist, it required more and more concentration for weaker and weaker results.  

The most obvious solution was to push more and more chakra through to achieve the same results, but Neji knew from his earliest training sessions with his father that overloading his tenketsu was the easiest way to burn out parts of his chakra system.  The Clan warned overambitious children of the members who had prematurely ended their careers the same way.  Therefore, the only method with which Neji could improve was continuous, repetitive practice.  

They had rounded the island once and were halfway through a second lap before Neji remembered himself enough to send his sight back to the base for a check in, and immediately experienced simultaneous alarm and not having done so earlier and relief at having remembered to. 

An ice sculpture, forming the kanji fuyu -- winter -- twinkled in the light on the kitchen table, around which Gatou’s chief henchmen lounged stiffly.  Haku sat in a chair next to Zabuza’s bedside upstairs, seeming at ease, but a network of tiny ice mirrors allowed him to keep a close watch on the unwelcome visitors.

“Reiha,” Neji called, slowing to a jog and then a walk.  Temari turned, footfalls thumping as she broke her stride.  She had never sweat easily but now her hair was plastered to her face. “Ichika is calling us back.  Gatou’s men are at the base.”

Temari’s eyebrows drew down sharply.  “What?  Why didn’t you say so earlier?” 

“I am not aware of every single thing that occurs on this island at any given moment,” Neji retorted stiffly.  

Temari plastered a light henge over herself, wiping away any appearance of exertion.  “Let’s go.”

They let themselves into Zabuza-sensei's room by window.  Zabuza-sensei's eyes were closed, but the annoyed crease between his eyebrows told Neji that he was still in fact awake and more than likely not enjoying this. 

Haku waved his fingers at them, not moving from his seat.  He gestured towards the stairs with a long-suffering air.

They, what, want? Temari signed at Haku.

Haku rolled his eyes delicately and signed, You, mission.  

Temari raised her eyebrows.

Haku smiled with absolutely no emotion and gave her a nod.

Temari gave him an ironic salute and jerked his head towards the door.  Neji sighed silently and stole into the hallway after her to their bedroom.  She took the weights off one by one, setting them down on the side table noiselessly.  Neji swiped the bandana off his head and used it to mop the excess sweat off the rest of his face.  He tossed it into the used clothing basket and retrieved a fresh one, tying it into its customary place over the seal.  He glanced at Temari, who swung her tessen up over her shoulder and nodded.

He eased open the window, sliding out and clinging to the wall outside with his feet.  Temari closed it after them and followed him down to the ground.  She rolled back her shoulders, strolled around him to the front of the house, and shoved the door open. 

The two ronin jumped, whirling around with their hands dropping to the hilts of their swords.  Temari gave them an unimpressed stare for their efforts and said, “Well?”

Zouri narrowed his eyes in affront.  “Oi, brat,” Waraji snapped. “Who the hell do you think you are?  Where’ve you been?”

“I’m a ninja,” drawled Temari.  “I do ninja things.  And I don’t answer to you.”

Waraji’s face turned red.  “Why you -- ”

“You do today,” Zouri interrupted.  “Gatou has a job for you and you signed a contract to work for him”

Temari sighed and glanced at Neji.  Neji grimaced.  “All right, fine,” Temari grumbled.   “What’s the job?”

Waraji fished a crumpled-up paper out of one of his pants pockets and slapped it down on the table.  A roughly sketched man's face stared out, the name stenciled roughly at the bottom. “Name’s Kaiza.  Fisherman.  Son-in-law of that old bridge builder.  Making a lot of trouble for Gatou down on the docks.  Take care of him.”

“Take him out,” Zouri clarified.  “And make an example of him.”

"Yeah, boss man wants you to make him an example," Waraji said.  "Cut of his arms or something poetic like that."  

Neji did not consider cutting off someone's arms to be poetic.

"You don't need shinobi skills for something like that," Temari pointedly out, crossing her arms.  "Taking out the trash?  That's scut work."

"You're kids.  Greener than grass," Waraji dismissed.  "What, afraid to get bled on?  Ain't no such thing as a free meal, so get off your asses and earn your keep."

"Take care," Neji warned.  "You have seen what our teammate is capable of.  Why should we be any different?"

This had apparently not occurred to the ronin, who exchanged an uneasy glance.  

"We'll take the job," Temari said arily, examining her fingernails.  "Off the fisherman, sure, may as well break the monotony.  Now, get out of our house."  She glanced at them from beneath half-lidded eyelids.  "Or I'll remove you."

The threat, vague as it was, worked with the help of Temari's eerily cold eyes.  Zouri's hand drifted again to the hilt of his sword as he stood slowly.  Neji stepped out of the way and watched the pair make a hasty retreat back out of their base and down the road towards the town center.

"Well," said Temari, turning to face Neji.  "Our first hit.  Let's go."

Neji and Temari needed visibility for this mission, not stealth, so they did nothing to hide their appearances or their intentions as they tracked through the town center down to the docks.  Like the other fishermen, their quarry was there, and as they approached, stood as though to greet them.  One of the other fishermen grabbed him by the arm in warning and he stopped.

"Kaiza," Temari drawled, her voice carrying across the docks.  "Congratulations. You've gotten on Gatou's bad side one too many times.  He's sent us to kill you."

Kaiza's eyes darted past Temari to the end of the dock, and Neji stepped forward to block his line of sight to freedom.  The man’s jaw set.  “You don’t have to do this,” Kaiza said, raising both hands placatingly.

“You just try and take him,” one of the other fishermen threatened, stepping forward with a boning knife clutched in his hand.

“You cannot stop us,” said Neji, as at the same time Kaiza blurted, “For gods’ sake, Yoiru, they’re kids!”

Temari smiled.  Though it was entirely without malice, it was also devoid of friendliness.  “You should listen to your friend, Kaiza.  We’re young, but we’ve fought in a war.  We’re already killers.”

Kaiza knew that, Neji could see the understanding in his eyes, the edges of fear that caused his pupils to tremble.  But there was something else there as well -- sorrow, regret, determination.

Kaiza was one of those idealistic types then, that looked at child soldiers and saw not only soldiers, but the children they had been.  He was the type of man uselessly saddened by the harsh realities that forged someone young and soft into one bitter and sharp, one who saw futures that could be when he looked at this -- the future that was.  He was the type of man that challenged tyrants like Gatou for the sake of dreams of a better life.  

He was the type of man that died a cruel death.

“Nishiki,” Temari said, glancing back at Neji.

Neji dipped his head, reaching back for his tanto and drawing it free of its sheath with a drawn-out hiss.  “Hai.”

Temari swept her battle-fan out before her, only just cracked open, and unleashed a relatively gentle burst of wind that nevertheless had the fishermen staggering for support.  Neji took the opening to lead the charge, the flat of his tanto flush against his forearm in a reverse grip.

He ducked the weighted net that flew at his head, parried a thin knife easily.  He grabbed the knife’s owner by the wrist and tossed him over his shoulder lightly, and the man landed in the water with a splash and a garbled yelp.  Neji turned and ducked in one smooth motion, evading a laughably slow haymaker and shoving that man over the edge as well.  There were a dozen fishermen, but they were untrained civilians.  It was not much of what Neji would call a fight. 

Temari strolled past him as he fended off the fishermen, straight for Kaiza, who, as brave and foolish as he was, stood his ground with his fists at his side and his jaw set.  “No one has to get hurt,” Temari told him, “except you.” 

“You’re just children,” Kaiza said softly, tense but making no move to attack.

Neji darted across the pier to intercept a man charging at Temari, slamming the flat of his palm into the side of his head and helping him to the ground by sweeping out his legs from under him.

Temari raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.  “Are we?” she asked sweetly, as Neji scored a thin line across another’s collarbone and sent him tumbling into the water with a splash.

“You have someone to protect, don’t you, and that’s why you took this job?” Kaiza asked earnestly.  “I do, too.  You don’t have to do this; I know Gatou put you up to it, but he only has as much power as you give him.  Help us, and he won’t have power over you anymore.”

“This only ends one way,” said Temari, “and you’re not going to like it.”

She pounced. 

Kaiza’s waterlogged compatriots raised a ragged cry of dismay and alarm as Temari dragged the man off the edge of the dock, out onto the surface of the water.  Neji shrugged off a clumsy attempt at a headlock, dunked a man who had mostly managed to clamber back up onto the docks into the water once again, and followed after Temari over the waves.

Kaiza gripped Temari’s wrists for balance, his feet sinking below the waves as he twisted away.  “Let go of me,” he demanded, teetering in her grip.

“Gah,” muttered Temari, blinking as the saltwater from his thrashing splashed in her eyes.  “Do something about that, will you?”  

Neji touched two chakra-laden fingertips to the tenketsu at Kaiza's neck and with a quiet gasp of surprise and alarm, the man's left arm and leg went slack.  Kaiza struggled, yanking with his right arm but unable to pull away from Temari's iron grip, until Neji repeated the same to the other side and he was all but paralyzed.  

Temari clamped her hands to Kaiza’s jaw firmly, keeping his mouth shut as he cried out in protest.  “Hey!” she called, grabbing the attention of the scattered fishermen on the docks.  A few were swimming towards them now, slicing through the water with ease but ungainly as land-creatures couldn't help but to be.  They would not reach their friend in time.  “This is Gatou’s decree.  Stand against him and pay the price.” 

"Suiton: Suikoudan no Jutsu," Neji intoned.  

Water was not Neji's strongest affinity, but it was Zabuza-sensei's, and Zabuza-sensei had been quite adamant that his students all learn suiton ninjutsu -- even Temari, for whom water was neither her primary nor her secondary nature.   For Neji, water did not come as easily as fire, but still he dragged and shaped it to his will even as it trickled from his grasp.

Objectively, Neji's execution of the jutsu was poor.  Rather than a legend-sized monster, Neji's shark more greatly resembled a much smaller one commonly found in these very waters.  In this case, his shortcomings still served him well.  

"Watch what happens to your hero," Neji announced grimly, and the shark launched itself from the waves, mouth agape to bare rows of jagged teeth, and swallowed the limp Kaiza whole.

Chapter Text

“We should inform Gatou that his request has been fulfilled,” said Neji.  The setting sun spilled through the trees and glimmered off the ocean, setting the waves aflame.  "He will expect a report of some sort."

"He'll have heard by now," Temari said dismissively.  "No way he didn't with the commotion we made."  Even still, she shoved her way to her feet nevertheless, brushing off her hands and adjusting the way the tessen sat in its harness.  "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Gatou's headquarters used to be a relatively upscale dining establishment, the type of place townspeople would go to celebrate special occasions.  When he first arrived in Nami, Gatou had tricked the couple who built the place out of the ownership and taken the entire block for his own.  Now, the only ones the restaurant served were Gatou and his people.  

Iron-reinforced doors guarded thresholds carved wood used to adorn.  Withered stems sprouted from bare dirt from which flowers had bloomed before.  No one had seen fit to restore chipped paint or wash away collected dirt, and as such the entire residence gathered about it an aura of disrepair and disreputability. 

Temari grimaced as she pounded a fist against the door.  She pulled a disgusted face, giving the part of her hand that had made contact with the door a deeply suspicious scrutiny.  "Gross," she muttered.  "It's sticky."

Neji looked on politely and made no attempt to touch the door.  

"Identify yourself," a muffled voice demanded from the other side.  "State your business."

Temari sighed.  "I'm Reiha, he's Nishiki.  Gatou hired us to kill a man."

There was a disbelieving pause.  The thump of several locks being undone followed, and then the heavy door swung open with a tortured creak.  The unwashed-appearing man on the other side squinted at them, did a double-take, and then leered at Temari.  "Aren't you a doll?" he crooned. 

Temari smiled sweetly and lunged, forcing the door further open.  She had the man on the ground, curled up and choking, in two hits.  "Out of the way, gutter trash," she ordered, kicking him to the side and striding past.

"You would be wise not to antagonize any shinobi you meet," Neji advised the hapless mercenary as he stepped over the man.  The rest of the mercenaries watched warily from shadowed hallways and made no move to intervene.  

Neji caught up to Temari in the antechamber and found her scowling, arms crossed over her chest as she glowered at the guard fidgeting in front of the doors to Gatou's office.  "This one wants us to wait," she growled, with just enough venom that the guard flinched.

"Hm," said Neji, clasping his hands before him forebodingly. 

Fortunately for the guard's nerves and unfortunately for Temari's predilection for playing with her food, the door opened and Waraji lumbered out.  He grimaced at the two of them and said, with clear reluctance.  "Come in."

Gatou lounged in a massive, black, leather chair, swivelling back and forth idly.  He leaned forward as Temari and Neji walked in, steepling his hands on the edge of his desk.  "Tell me the good news," he ordered, a smile that Neji had no choice but to describe as slimy playing at his mouth. 

"Kaiza is dead.  The fishermen's revolt is broken," Temari announced, settling back on her heels easily.  "Job's done."

Gatou nodded absently, smile widening, but Zouri stepped forward.  "Do you have proof of death?"

“Didn't you go check?” Temari asked languidly.  “There was blood in the water.”

“There was no body,” Zouri said stoutly.  “Blood doesn’t mean dead.”

Temari rolled her eyes.  “You want to see the shark, then?  It’s got half a million teeth; no man could survive that, let alone a civilian.   Nishiki -- ”

“No,” Gatou interrupted, just fast enough to be on the edge of hasty, and Neji paused, hands still folded into the first seal.  “That won’t be necessary.”  

Temari smiled with all the teeth of that jutsu.  “Sure thing.” She knew as well as Neji that his capability of producing the jutsu without a nearby source of water was questionable. 

Gatou raised his voice.  "Juuta!"

Shisui-sensei's dishevelled head popped up from behind a rickety desk on the side of the room.  He blinked his single eye owlishly, focusing on Neji and Temari with no sign of recognition.  "Hai?"

"Make sure these two get a good meal before they go," Gatou ordered.  To Temari and Neji he said, “One of the boys will run you the next task when it’s time.”

“Of course,” Shisui-sensei agreed, scrambling upright with little grace, nearly sending a stack of papers to the floor.  He smiled at them insincerely and said, “This way, shinobi-san.”

Neji certainly did not mind removing himself from Gatou’s presence as soon as possible.  He followed Shisui-sensei and Temari out the door and up the stairs to the main dining room of the former restaurant.  The curved glass wall on the far side overlooked the docks and the bay, and at this time, thin blinds had been pulled down so occupants would not be blinded by the glare of the sun’s rays against the water.  

Shisui-sensei paused by the kitchen doors and knocked sharply three times.  Lumbering footsteps preceded the bald man who stuck his bandana-covered head out and gave them all a dull once-over.  “Yes?”

Shisui-sensei drew himself up and said in the stuffiest, snottiest voice Neji had ever heard him use, “Gatou wants you to make them dinner.  The five-course seafood set will do.”

The man gave Shisui-sensei a surly glare and droned, “Coming right up,” before beating a swift retreat for the kitchen. 

Shisui-sensei turned back to Temari and Neji, and Neji attempted to affect the appearance of one who had not been caught staring.  “Right this way.  Sit,” Shisui-sensei said with that same smarmy tone, but his eye was twinkling at them in the unsaid joke.  His smile melted into a crooked, more genuine one as they took seats around a table.  "How're you two holding up?" he asked, just above a murmur. 

"Good," answered Temari with a sideways glance at Neji.  "We're getting some concentrated training in, getting ready for round two with the Konoha team."

Shisui-sensei frowned.  "Hopefully that won't be necessary," he said.  "Sarutobi Asuma is one of the Leaf's most prominent close-combat specialists.  His genin team won't be an easy match, either.  They probably saw action in the skirmishes with Kumogakure before the fighting died down."

"We're being careful," Temari promised.  "You know how much longer you'll need?"

"Just a few more days," said Shisui-sensei.  "Genbu are helping out on the ground, but there's just one more major branch I need to crack.  I'm in nearly everything."

"Gatou trusts you," Neji observed.

"I know that if I ever quit being shinobi I'll have a successful retirement career as a smuggling mogul," Shisui-sensei said.  "I am so valuable to this man.  His business is like ten times more efficient now after he hired me."

Temari and Neji exchanged glances.  "Ah?  That's good?" Temari said.

Shisui-sensei's eye twinkled, warm. "Almost there," he reassured.  "Just hold tight and stay vigilant, and I'll see you tonight."

Zabuza-sensei, as yet out of commission while recovering from his most recent close brush with death, would not be accompanying Neji and Temari that night.  Instead, Shisui-sensei waited for them at the edge of the trees at the clearing outside their base.  He had changed out of the slightly-too-large civilian shirt and pants, back in his slick, Kiri-style armor and half-mask, and he carried himself with a grace his undercover persona had lacked.  

“Hey, kids,” Shisui-sensei said.  “Ichika coming?”

“Yeah, he’s just checking Sensei’s wound for infection again,” said Temari.  “He said he’ll only be a minute.”

Neji cleared his throat lightly.  “Are Shichino, Hachikou, and Kyuushi-sama well?”  The words, though well-rehearsed in the confines of his mind, still emerged stilted from his mouth.

“Aa, don’t worry about them,” Shisui-sensei reassured.  “They’re undercover, have made quite a few friends, and reported on some very interesting findings.”

“Good,” said Neji, for lack of any better response.  

Haku burst out of the back door, pausing to shut it gently before hurrying to join them and mercifully saving Neji from further conversation.  “Sorry,” Haku panted, just barely out of breath.  “Zabuza-san was being...contrary.”

“When is he not?” said Shisui-sensei, amused.  “Come on, let’s go.  I don’t want to be late.”

Tardiness would affect very little, because they had a captive audience.  In the woods, a few klicks north of the training ground Neji and Temari had used earlier that day, there was a dead, hollowed tree that in fact concealed the entrance to an underground cave. 

No one had thought to use this cave because it had not been found.  Even if it had, careful engineering would be required to reach the floor at the entrance, some dozen metres below the level of the forest floor.  It had been empty before Neji’s and Shisui-sensei’s teams had arrived in Nami and discovered its existence with the assistance of their Byakugan.

Now, its occupants numbered three.

Shisui-sensei dropped down into the cave first, just barely scraping the narrow sides of the tunnel before landing below noiselessly.  Temari followed next, then Haku, and finally Neji, leaping into the darkness and watching the world reorient around him as he fell.  He landed in a crouch, padding after his team and Shisui-sensei as they moved deeper into the cave.

The yellow glow of electric lanterns flickered dimly ahead of them, and as they drew closer, their soft light bathed the cold rock walls around them, throwing jagged rocks into sharp relief.  The tunnel ended in a larger room, boasting a row of cots, a table and chairs, a crate of food to the side, and little else.  A man and a woman sat at the table, and the man started in surprise as the shinobi melted out of the darkness.  

“Ah, shinobi-san,” the man said weakly, clutching ineffectually at his heart.  “You were so quiet.”  

“My apologies,” said Shisui-sensei.  “I didn’t mean to startle you, Fumitaka-san.  Or you, Madoka-san.”

The woman snorted.  “I wasn’t startled, don’t you worry your pretty little head.  Fumitaka here’s just a little skittish, is all.”

“I am not,” Fumitaka blustered, slinking down in his seat. 

“I see,” Shisui-sensei said.  “How is the new one doing?”

“Hasn’t made a peep,” Madoka said, tossing a glance over her shoulder to the prone figure swaddled in blankets on the nearest cot.  “Knocked him out good, whatever you gave him.”

“He should be coming around soon,” interjected Haku.  “That concoction should only last five or six hours.”

"He's not going to be happy," Madoka warned.  "A real fighter, that one.  Not just a bitter old nagger like me."

"Madoka-san," said Shisui-sensei patiently.  "You are twenty-five.  You're not old."

"Well, ain't you a charmer," drawled Madoka with a wink.  

"Please stop," groaned Fumitaka, covering his face with his hands.  "You're so embarrassing, Madoka, I swear to gods."

"He is waking," Neji warned as movement stirred at the corner of his eye.

"Ah, excellent," said Shisui-sensei.  "Let's all stay calm, please, and try not to overwhelm him."  By unspoken agreement, Team Suzaku stayed near the table with Madoka and Fumitaka as Shisui-sensei approached the waking man himself.  

First a hand reached up to rub his face, then sticky eyelids peeled themselves open reluctantly.  Then realization hit and the man sat bolt upright, hands fisted in the blankets bunched at his waist.  His breaths heaved in fast gasps, audible in the echo of the cavern walls.

"Hello, Kaiza-san," said Shisui-sensei carefully.  "I imagine you have a lot of questions right now."

Kaiza's wild eyes fixed on Shisui-sensei's face.  "Juuta," he uttered, face turning white.  "Gatou's right-hand man."

"Let me introduce myself properly," said Shisui-sensei, keeping his tone light and even.  "My name is Juuta, and I'm the leader of one of the two Kiri shinobi teams sent to Nami to eliminate Gatou and his criminal enterprises." 

A long silence followed.  Madoka and Fumitaka, having gone through the same situation and explanation, looked on gleefully and sympathetically respectively.  When Kaiza looked behind himself for help and found none forthcoming, he swallowed, blinked several times, and turned back to Shisui-sensei.

"You -- what?" Kaiza tried at last.

"I'm undercover with Gatou's organization," Shisui-sensei explained patiently.  "Perhaps you recognize Reiha, Ichika, and Nishiki?"

If at all possible, the blood drained entirely out of Kaiza's face as he looked past Shisui-sensei to the three of them.  "You -- you attacked me, you killed me!  Or -- or not?" he hesitated, confusion writing itself across his face.  "I -- wait.  Madoka, Fumitaka, is that you?  Aren't you supposed to be dead?  Or -- or are you shinobi too?"

Madoka coughed a laugh.  "Gods, no," she said.  "Gatou put a kill order on us first, remember?  These folks faked our deaths and here we are."

"We're very cloak-and-dagger," Shisui-sensei explained apologetically.  "It's for your safety and that of my teams as well."

"Right," agreed Kaiza faintly.  

Temari held up a hand.  "Sorry about the rough treatment," she said.  "We had to put on a show for Gatou."

"That's all right," said Kaiza.  The man still looked as though the gentlest breeze from Temari's tessen would bowl him right over.  "Thanks for not killing me."

"You'll have to stay here for the time being, I'm afraid," said Shisui-sensei.  "We'll provide supplies like food and water, but it's too dangerous for you to wander around outside."

"No way," argued Kaiza, abruptly fiery.  "I'm not afraid of Gatou, and I'm not abandoning my family or my people."

"Save it, Kaiza," said Madoka, resigned.  "I've had this argument with 'em more times than Fumitaka's torn his nets on the coral reef."

"Hey," muttered Fumitaka, glumly offended.  “Blasted things keep growing.  S’not my fault.”

“I’m not saying you can never see your family again,” Shisui-sensei soothed.  “Until we remove Gatou, everyone has to believe you’re dead.”

“‘Remove’ him?” Kaiza demanded.  “Just ‘remove’ him, then, what are you waiting for?  Every day he’s in Nami he tightens the stranglehold he has over the entire island.  We’re willing to fight!”

“Yes,” said Shisui-sensei.  “I know.  But once Gatou is gone, there will be another.  There will always be a next scavenger, and then a next.  They’ll use the scaffolding Gatou has forged to build their own empires, and Nami will suffer for it.”

“We won’t back down without a fight,” Kaiza insisted.  “Let them try!”

“Me’n Nishiki alone could have killed you,” Temari pointed out bluntly.  “If we hadn’t been plants, you’d’ve been drawn and quartered before the sun came up.  You’ve got a kid and a family; what’d you think would happen to them if you died?”

Kaiza twitched as the blow struck true.

“Kaiza-san,” Haku interjected softly.  “Your people are not fighters, and they shouldn’t have to be.”

“Help us, then,” Kaiza said, his eyes wide and earnest.  “You’re fighters.”

“Gods’ sakes, Kaiza,” groaned Madoka.  “That’s what they’ve been saying they’re doing.”

Kaiza’s hopeful expression immediately melted into contemplation, then wariness.  "You're getting something out of this, aren't you?” he directed at Shisui-sensei, squinting at him in the dark.  "You, or whoever you really work for."

“I’d like to think I’d help even if I weren’t getting something out of it,” said Shisui-sensei, dry as the desert, “but yes, in this case, this mission was ordered by a superior with an ulterior motive.”

Kaiza’s skepticism did not diminish in the face of his fellow faked-death cohort’s lack of suspicion.  “There’s a Konoha team here,” he said.  “They’ll help us if you don’t, so: what are you getting out of this?”

“You, I, and that Konoha team all know that you don’t have the money to pay for a mission of this scale,” said Shisui-sensei.  “You could pay for a midrange C-rank at best.  But any contact with enemy shinobi of jounin rank raises the mission rating to a high B at least, or more likely an A-rank -- especially if the client knows beforehand that the opposition has hired shinobi.  Konoha probably knew this when you first submitted the request, but they still accepted the mission.  Do you know why?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” added Temari, an ironic smile twisting the corner of her mouth.  “It wasn’t out of the goodness of their hearts.”

Kaiza’s eyebrows furrowed, and he glanced back at Shisui-sensei.  “They knew we couldn’t pay,” he repeated.  

Shisui-sensei nodded minutely to Neji, who straightened slightly.  “Nami represents underdeveloped economic potential, particularly in terms of trade and its geographic location,” he explained.  “After preemptively accepting a mission they know should pay more than the face value, the Konoha team will demand recompense, such as economic sanctions that will siphon off your profit when the market begins to recover.  Konoha is here to support their own interests by manipulating the situation to their advantage.”

“They’ll bleed you dry,” agreed Shisui-sensei.  “That bridge Tazuna-san wishes to build?  Konoha will let you foot the cost while they reap the benefits.  The price you’ll pay for overthrowing one dictator is fealty to another, much larger, entirely legal empire that will be much, much harder to unseat.”

Madoka sighed and stared at the ceiling.  Fumitaka patted her consolingly and offered her a bit of dried seasoned fish.

“Fine,” said Kaiza, and though his tone now bit harder than it had before, no one commented.  “What do you want?”

“Five days,” answered Shisui-sensei.  “I need five days to uproot the rest of what Gatou’s planted here.  Once he’s out of the picture and Nami is secure, the teams and I will withdraw.  My superiors will send a diplomatic envoy to draft a trade treaty with you.”  

Five days was also the remaining time before deadline Gatou had given Zabuza-sensei to eliminate the bridge builder, but there was no need to share that information with the civilians.  

“That’s exactly what you said Konoha wants,” Kaiza countered.  “If you’re trying to take advantage of us too, you may as well -- ”

“No,” Shisui-sensei interrupted.  “There is no debt between us.  Our negotiators will meet on even ground, and I think you’ll find that you can reach terms that we both find favorable.  What I am asking of you now is five days.  Nothing more.”

Kaiza searched his face for a long moment, and Shisui met his scrutiny steadily.  “Okay,” Kaiza said at last, and then repeated a little more quietly, “Okay.”

“And another one falls,” Madoka sighed, slumping against a longsuffering Fumitaka.  “That’s a silver tongue you got there, Juuta-san.  What else it do?”

“Madoka, no,” Fumitaka ordered, slapping a hand over her mouth desperately.  “Apologies, shinobi-san.  I would say she’s been dropped on her head too many times as a child but I don’t think any amount of brain damage could have caused whatever went wrong with her.”

Madoka’s yowl of affront came out muffled.  “Ah,” said Shisui-sensei vaguely, and conspicuously changed the subject with, “Someone will come by tomorrow with fresh supplies.  I know you must be getting tired of eating rehydrated food all the time.”

“Beats eating dirt,” opined Madoka, shoving Fumitaka away bodily.  “Thanks for dropping by, though.  I was wanting a new friend.”  She beamed at Kaiza, who returned her smile readily, if a little bemusedly. 

“Five days,” Shisui-sensei promised.  “Five days, and then it’ll be over.”

For the civilians, it was five days of waiting.  For Team Genbu, it was five days of patient prowling.  For Team Suzaku, it was five days of watchful, grueling training.    

As training was, to each, a fluid concept, Neji did not consider the time spent hunched over paper and ink indoors a waste.  The particulars of his gravity seal evaded him still, and though his window of time for preparation narrowed rapidly, he still sectioned off part of his day to wrestle with it.  He who created a seal understood it more fully than any he might use that had been created by another, and understanding was the key to contact sealing.  For Neji to be able to place a seal on another surface to object without ink as a conduit, he needed absolute control and absolute understanding. 

The gravity seal was an ambitious choice for Neji’s second seal design.  His first, under the captain’s limited guidance, had been a simple chakra-to-light conversion that had been functional if not particularly elegant.  

Movement flickered at the edges of his vision and Neji glanced up sharply.  Zabuza-sensei raised a sardonic eyebrow at him as he sat down on the opposite side of the table, setting a mug of tea in front of himself with a thunk.  Neji eyed him warily, but he seemed content to glower into the depths of his cup, his chin tucked in close to the thick bandage wrapped around his throat.  Neji turned back to his seal after another moment’s hesitation with renewed resolve. 

Perhaps he could use a three-point focal point instead of a single rooting element?   That could compensate for a combination of conceptual components for gravity -- earth, and perhaps pull and power.  Perhaps he didn’t need earth at all.  But the elements were traditional fulcrum choices, and Neji hesitated to break into the unconventional.  Furthermore, two by itself was a dangerous number in sealing -- balanced but precarious, wont to sway to one side or the other without moderation.  If he eliminated earth, he would be left with pull and power.

No.  Neji lifted his brush from the paper, abruptly ending the smooth trails of ink across paper, and rested his chin on folded hands, staring down critically at the design that had spiralled out of control.  He needed to begin anew.  

The paper jerked beneath his elbows, and Neji instinctively leaned back as Zabuza-sensei tugged the paper away.  “The hell is this?” Zabuza-sensei demanded, squinting down at the ink.  “You got three days until round two and you’re in here scribbling?” 

Neji’s spine straightened of its own accord.  “My combat specialties are limited in range,” he defended.  “This seal will be both an effective offense and defense once it is completed.”

Zabuza-sensei scoffed, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest.  “All right, punk,” he said, both amused and patronizing.  “What’s your plan?”

Neji paused, taking the split-second to organize his thoughts in preparation for complete annihilation by Zabuza-sensei’s ruthless criticism.  “My ideal match is the girl, who specializes in mixed weaponry and distance sealing.  Based on the abilities she has displayed so far, I am more than capable of disabling her with my current skillset.”

“Getting cocky, punk?” Zabuza-sensei drawled, tipping his head to the side lazily.  A warning.  A threat.

“No, sir,” answered Neji stiffly.  "I outpace her in raw speed and have trained in countering a variety of weapons and styles.  She had not shown any inclination for elemental ninjutsu in the last battle, but I am prepared to evade and counter in kind, if necessary."

"Underestimate her and get your ass kicked twice," Zabuza-sensei said, which was the closest to acceptance Neji would be getting from him.  "And you're going to hurt a lot more when I'm done with you than when she is."

“Hai,” said Neji, resisting the urge to pull the seal back towards him. 

Zabuza-sensei grunted dismissively.  “Tell me you have a plan to deal with the other two,” he said.  I dare you not to have one, was what he meant. 

Neji, quite aware that this was the point where his strategy gained the tensile strength of wet straw, paused again.  “The wind-user -- ”

The front door opened and shut, and Haku’s nearly-silent footsteps announced his arrival as he leaned around the doorway.  His hair was loose around his shoulders, and instead of his distinctively Kiri battle-dress or furred cloak, he wore a yukata of gauzy, rose-colored fabric.  “Zabuza-san,” he greeted. “Nishiki-kun." 

Temari followed him into the room, slinging her tessen against the counter and sprawling in a chair.  “It’s so damn cold,” she complained, bundling her cloak tight around her shoulders.  “Thought it was supposed to be spring already.”

“Watch your godsdamned language,” Zabuza-sensei snapped at her.  

"Yessir, Sensei, sir," said Temari with enough gravitas that Zabuza-sensei only glared at her instead of punting her through the nearest wall.  "Watching my language, sir."

"I made contact with the Konoha team," Haku announced, taking the final seat at the table and folding his hands neatly into his sleeves.  

"Who the hell told you to do that?" Zabuza-sensei growled with no real bite. 

Accordingly, Haku ignored him and continued, "Jounin Sarutobi is still recovering.  He's not doing anything too strenuous.  It looks like that team only has the most basic first aid training, but none of them were injured very badly in the last battle."

"And?" Zabuza-sensei prompted impatiently, unimpressed. 

"The bridge-builder seems to have insisted on continuing planning sessions at the workshop in town, so Nara had been acting as his guard while the other two train."  Very little fazed Haku, least of all Zabuza-sensei's snappishness.  "Tenten is drilling speed and I believe working on a combination with one of her sealing scrolls.  Sora is also focussing on speed as well as his fuuton ninjutsu."  He paused, contemplative.  "They're hiding something of their abilities," Haku added, a slight frown darkening his eyes.  "But I couldn't get anything more without raising suspicion, even with their guards down." 

Zabuza-sensei grunted.  "What else?"

"A counterattack," said Haku.  "Tenten said, 'Don't worry, the threat to your town will be gone by the end of the week.'  I didn't get specifics, but as soon as Sarutobi recovers, they'll launch a preemptive strike to drive us out of Nami."

"Seeking out an apparent threat to the entire island and defeating an enemy jounin makes them look good," Temari noted.  "It's the politics, isn't it?"

"Yeah.  Bloody politics," Zabuza-sensei muttered.  A kunai appeared in his hand as though from thin air and he jabbed it in Neji's direction.  "You, go do something you already know you can use in combat," he ordered.  "Run around.  Make more seals that you already have.  Drill with your blade.  You don't get this -- " he tapped the sealing paper, " -- back until you can beat any of them without this."

"Hai," said Neji, biting down a scowl.  

Neji's battle ability relied not only on his combat skills, but the time he took to prepare for battle.  His blade needed to be cleaned and sharpened, the hilt well-wrapped and smooth.  He had seals inked on paper, waiting for chakra activation, that had to be drawn or maintained.  For a battle like this, that he anticipated, he required even more extensive preparations.  

First: the ink. 

Neji laid out his inkstone and his case of ink sticks.  He had four types of ink at present, each suited for a different form of sealing; for this seal, he chose one of pine soot with a smooth texture.  

He uncapped a bottle of shochu and left it on the table to the side next to a folded cloth towel.  Besides the solidified ink, he needed a solvent -- usually water, though oil and alcohol both could be used.  But the most potent seals were comprised of that which conducted chakra, and this particular seal needed something a little stronger than any of those.  

He drew a kunai from his holster and rinsed the tip with shochu, then channelled fire-chakra into the blade so the alcohol evaporated from the blade.  A quick slash to his forearm just below the crook of his elbow had dark crimson welling up from the tiny incision, and he held his arm over the inkstone to catch the blood that dripped.  

Blood conducted life itself, and was the strongest and most fickle of all solvents.  

When the trickle slowed, he took up the ink stick, grinding it into the viscous liquid until the ink that formed was thick and dark and potent.  He reopened the cut twice until he was satisfied with the ink he created.  

Second: the medium.

He stripped off his shirt, folding it neatly atop his fuuton, and shifted everything he could easily move out into the hall.  He knelt in the center of the open floor, took up his brush and dipped it into the ink.  

The first mark went on his forearm -- the fulcrum, that which would remain after the seal was completed and compacted down to a hundredth of its initial size.  From there he worked steadily, painting the spokes across the floor and up there walls, and they stretched outwards and served as the framework of the seal.  

Elements for stability, elements for power, elements for direction -- Neji worked with his Byakugan active and part of his attention on the reference seal on the kitchen table downstairs.  Sealwork was delicate and tedious and did not need the disturbance of a certain teammate scaling the side of the house to the window of this room.

Temari poked her head in as he paused.  "Hey, Nishiki, I, -- oh, shit, sorry," she said.  

Zabuza-sensei would have her head if he heard her talking like that.  "I am somewhat preoccupied," he said, grasping after his mental map of the seal.  

"Right," said Temari.  "I'll head back out. Come down when you're done."

"Hai," Neji agreed, barely cognizant of the window sliding shut once more.

The second teammate was much more persistent and therefore much more disruptive.  With Temari, he could snap at her and expect to be snapped back at.  Haku, on the other hand, was so painfully polite and unruffled that one could not help but to be just as polite.  Even if he were to be rude to Haku, Haku would take it in stride and unwittingly heap a mountain of guilt on him, which made the entire situation a hundred times more irritating than any initial distraction.

"I hope I'm not bothering you," Haku said, entirely sincere.

Neji took a deep breath so as not to grind his teeth and said, "Not at all."  It was almost the truth.

Only, sealwork was theory as much as execution, as much as intent and visualization as skill.  Visualization was impossible without concentration, and even Haku's gentle observation prickled at his hackles.  His hand faltered over the stretch of wall he had been working on and he took a steadying breath, bracing his brush hand with the other wrist.

"I'll go," said Haku suddenly, rising to his feet.  "I am disturbing you."

"No," Neji said belatedly as his brain caught up to the words.  "No, it is not -- "

"No, it's my fault," Haku said, just a hint of a smile on his face.  "Come down when you're ready for dinner, Nishiki-kun." 

And then he left, making Neji, who could not go after him for fear of disturbing his yet unfinished seal, feel like he had committed some grave sin.  He glowered aimlessly towards the wall and wrestled his thoughts back under his control.  

The ink.  The design.  The vision.  Neji sank back into the seal with a deep breath.

When he finally descended the stairs to dinner, his left arm was entirely swathed in bandages to cover the seals, two along his forearm and one just above his elbow, and he'd wrapped his left leg too, less to stabilize the knee and ankle and more to disguise the fact that he'd covered up three seals on his arm.  He was also approximately one and a half hours late to dinner, so the only one left in the kitchen downstairs was Haku.

"I'll reheat the soup," Haku said upon noticing him.  

"There is no need," Neji started, but Haku was already standing and moving towards the stove.

"I don't mind," Haku reassured.  "Take a seat.  Zabuza-san and Reiha-san are getting in some late training." 

Neji may have been slightly depleted of chakra, which was why he conceded to sit and watch slightly uselessly as Haku flicked the burner on and stirred the contents of the pot.  There were books scattered across the table, and a notebook with Haku’s neat, precise handwriting at his abandoned seat.  

Elemental Affinity and its Effect On Healing Recipients, the closest book was entitled.  Another had, Herbs in Nami no Kuni: Medicinal Properties emblazoned across the cover.  A third rather ominously simply read, Tendons.  

“How are your studies?” Neji asked politely.  

A fleeting grimace passed over Haku’s face, gone in a blink.  “Well enough, I suppose,” he said evasively.  Neji waited, and after a moment, Haku sighed.  “It’s more of the same.  I don’t understand iryou-jutsu nearly as quickly as I do any other ninjutsu.”

“You have the Hyoton,” Neji pointed out.  “The ice release is a formidable kekkei-genkai.  It is no surprise that combat jutsu comes second nature to you.”

Haku blinked, fast enough to call a flinch.  “The soup is hot,” he said, turning off the stove and ladling out a bowl.  “Be careful.”

Neji accepted the bowl, slightly mystified, and said, “Thank you.”

The end of the mission began with one of Zabuza-sensei's somewhat questionable pep talks.

"Gatou wants the bridge builder dead, and until Konoha gets what he wants out of him, we get to do what Gatou wants."  Zabuza-sensei's disgruntled glower spoke volumes of just what he thought of that indignity.  "The Konoha team will counterattack tonight if we don't act, so we’re going to keep them busy and keep them defensive.  Here's lesson number fuck-if-I-know: it's a hell of a lot harder to fight a battle and try not to kill your enemy than it is to kill them."

Neji exchanged a glance with Temari, who shrugged dismissively.  

"Hey," Zabuza-sensei snapped transferring his glare to her.  "Don't take this lightly.  Every battle is a fight to the death, even if it doesn't make it that far."

"Sensei, we understand," Temari placated, tipping her chin up to meet his eyes.  "I don't take any fights lightly."

"Good," said Zabuza-sensei with a grim smile.  "Because you're with me on point, princess.  Let's move out."

Neji was not the first, not the face.  He was a sensor and a scout -- the support, as much to be protected as to himself attack.  

Zabuza-sensei hefted Kubikiribocho to his shoulder with ease as his foot hit the hard-packed dirt of the road into town. Temari fell in at his shoulder, just a step back, the pronounced swagger back in her saunter.  Neji followed in their wake, well clear of the ranges of their swings should they need to draw their weapons unexpectedly.  Haku slipped into step beside him, his expression icing over to cover his face as well as the porcelain hunter-nin mask that followed.

The crowds parted before them, a hushed silence following them as they passed through the marketplace.  Perhaps they looked to these townspeople, who had never seen a real battle, that they were going to war.  But war was silent attacks, lightning strikes on clear days or in the depths of endless clouds.  War was uneasy anticipation and adrenaline highs and terror and euphoria singing at once.  War was an ambush in the night, a looming warship bearing down on a picturesque island, stone walls crumbling into rivers of lava.  

This was not war, but this too was a way shinobi battled -- to win the eyes and minds of their onlookers.  

The old master bridge-builder lived in a house on the far edge of town, in the shadow of the woods.  It was a simple thing but spacious, carefully designed and precisely built to shelter three generations under its roof.  Here was the Konoha nins' base camp, and the old man's sanctuary.

Neji cast his vision out, searching and marking each target on the map in his mind's eye.  "Sarutobi is in the kitchen with the client's daughter and grandson.  First floor, window and back door access.  Nara is upstairs with the client.  Second floor, window access.  Tenten and Sora are in the woods behind the house.  Three kilometres south-southwest."

Zabuza-sensei's chakra swelled, and a bank of mist rose and billowed out into the road before them like a harbinger.  It swept between the trees, choked the air in impenetrable white, and Neji sank into its cold embrace with a deep breath.

The Konoha team noticed very quickly.

The chakra signatures of the two in the woods spiked in alarm, flaring as they raced back towards the house.  The two in the house herded the civilians into the same downstairs room -- defensible, with access to egress -- and drifted towards the windows, chakra coiled and ready.  The absent genin charged in through the back door to join the rest of the team, and upon reunion their agitation faded into ready watchfulness 

The mist parted on either side of Zabuza-sensei as he prowled forward, taking his time to reach the front lawn.  He stopped, giving Kubikiribocho an experimental swing before propping it up with the blade tip down in the grass.  "Hey!  I'm here for a rematch," he called out, flashing a pointy-toothed smile only Neji could truly appreciate.  "Come on out and I'll leave the civilians alone."

A pause.  Then, "Pah, yeah right," Tenten shouted back.  "Why should we trust you or your honor?"

"Gods, those melodramatic Leaf pricks," Zabuza-sensei muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.   "Who the fuck raised these disrespectful whelps?  On my sword, all right?" he snarled.  "Come out and fight and the civilians go unharmed as long as they stay put, I swear on my blade.  You have thirty seconds."

Evidently, this was an acceptable deal.  “The four shinobi have exited to the rear of the house,” Neji reported.

Zabuza-sensei rolled his shoulders and hefted Kubikiribocho once again.  “You three.  Don’t overcommit,” he ordered.  “Fight to disable and fight to survive.  Got it?”

“Hai,” Neji said, in unison with Haku and Temari.  

Haku slipped off first -- his ability to navigate blind was second only to Zabuza-sensei.  Zabuza-sensei prowled after him, completely noiseless.

Temari stayed close to Neji’s elbow as he padded forward.  She did not rely on him, per say, but her battle would be easier with him to point her in its direction. 

Zabuza-sensei came down into the midst of the Konoha team like a cat among a flock of starlings.  Sora cried out in alarm, and Sarutobi whirled to block the broadsword with his knives upraised.  His heels dug furrows in the bridge-builder’s lawn from the strength of Zabuza-sensei’s blow.  

Nara’s shadow struck at Zabuza-sensei’s, snakelike, but Haku intervened, an ice mirror crystalizing in the air in front of the Nara in time for Haku to hurl a senbon at the younger shinobi’s face.  Nara twisted away, but the senbon still caught him in the shoulder as his shadow retreated.  “The fourth team member,” he noted, scrutinizing Haku's image in the mirror.  He paused and added, “Troublesome.”

“Well met, shinobi-san,” Haku greeted, ever polite, and hurled another three senbon at him in quick succession.

Neji pointed silently next to Temari’s face and flashed seven, meters, in sign before splitting off.  She signalled that she had met her quarry in battle with a shriek of fuuton.

Instead of one of the myriad of more eclectic weapons in her arsenal, Tenten had a simple katana drawn at her side, her stance reminiscent of the samurai from Tetsu with her eyes half-closed.  An interesting choice, particularly if she had expected to meet Neji in combat.  She wore a bracer, too, wrapped around her left forearm.   

“You choose a katana to counter a tanto,” Neji noted, circling her slowly.   

Tenten’s eyes opened slightly.  She couldn't see him nor did she attempt to track his movements.  "All of my weapons masteries and you still chose your tanto," she replied.  "If you wanted to hit me fast and retreat like last time, you should have picked something with more reach."

"I look forward to your rejoinders," Neji said, and struck.  

She caught his blade on hers easily, then snapped hers up in an elegant riposte.  He slipped sideways out of its arc, whirling back to slash at her hip.  She parried neatly, eyes narrowed in concentration, and took advantage of her longer sword to press the attack.  Neji ducked what he could, deflected what he couldn’t, and skipped back two steps.  Instead of melting back into the fog, however, he surged forward once more with a backhanded strike for her midriff.  

Nara had his hands full with Haku; Neji didn’t fear his shadow now.

Tenten didn’t meet his rush; instead, she flipped backwards out of range, one hand disappearing behind her.  She snapped her wrist out and a scroll unfurled, a row of seals glowing on the otherwise untarnished paper that was his only warning.

Bunshin.  Kawarimi.  He emerged from the substitution a couple meters behind Tenten in time to watch a flurry of arrows impale his clone from head to toe.  He took her moment of distraction to hurl a trio of kunai but she whipped around with another bloodied scroll in hand.  

Three of the kunai that burst from the seals deflected his precisely, and they clattered to the ground harmlessly.  The remainder hissed past him trailing thin wire.  He twisted but the wires crossed around him like a shrinking net.  “Kai!” Tenten snapped before he could trigger another substitution, and lightning leapt from the largest seal in the center of her scroll. 

The electricity danced across the wire and Neji’s breath caught in his throat as white-hot pain ripped through his body, his muscles seizing as he dropped.  Tenten’s scroll snapped shut with a flutter of paper, and Neji’s vision faded back in.  “That was a new technique,” Neji observed, attempting to gather his limbs beneath him.  They trembled and skittered jerkily when he tried to move.  

Tenten beamed, her katana twirling idly in her hand once again.  “Not bad, right?  I’ve been working on that one for a while.  Turns out seals behave better when they’re more attuned to you.”

Attuned to the user.

The pieces clicked in Neji’s mind.  The fulcrum of his gravity seal was not earth, because his was fire.  If he channeled the pull that fire had -- to ningen, to the first humans who had tamed it, to insects who danced closer only to fall prey to its heat and hunger, the way it dragged in fuel to feed its flame -- and if he then linked that fire to the earth element, he could make it work.  

The design bloomed before him in his mind’s eye, dizzyingly elegant, and when he slammed his hand onto the ground, burned itself into the dirt around him in a great spiderweb with him at the center.  “Fuin!” he snapped as his chakra swept into the seal and lit it up in dazzling blue. 

Tenten hit the ground with a winded grunt, slammed down by the effects of his seal.  Neji, too, likewise, found himself dragged down, and belatedly realized he had not factored in excluding himself into its design.  

"Well," said Tenten, after five seconds of fruitless struggle.  "I'm kind of impressed, I guess.  You might have forgotten an element, though."

"Perhaps," Neji ground out.  There was a reason one generally tested new seals or jutsu in training rather than in battle.  

A mirror crackled into existence just beyond the edge of the seal.  Haku leaned out, announced, “I’m initiating containment protocols.  Thank you for incapacitating her,” and dragged Tenten into the ice with him to her indignant yelp. 

Neji broke his seal’s power and sat up.   

“Tenten?  Shikamaru?  What is this?” spat Sora somewhere to his far left.

“Hijutsu: Makyou Hyoushou,” Haku intoned.  

“I don’t know,” said Tenten from where she’d landed in a crouch next to him, “but I don’t like this.”

Nara, very distinctly and somewhat pained from the senbon that peppered him like hedgehog spikes, grunted, “Troublesome.”

It was time for, as Temari put it, Haku’s ‘crazy mirror bowl.’  

On still-trembling legs, Neji made his way to where Temari was watching the outside of the dome with vague interest.  Her shirt had three large clawmarks tearing through the cloth at her shoulder, and beneath, broken skin leaked dark crimson down her side.  There was a thin slice along her cheekbone as well, blood smeared where she wiped it away impatiently, and too-neat snips in her sleeves.

“You are wounded,” Neji noticed.  

Temari hummed.  “Nothing major,” she assured him. 

Haku’s senbon barrage began with the high-pitched hiss of the air freezing in their wake.  Neji, having been on the receiving end in training countless times, watched with some sympathy as Tenten cried out and Sora threw himself over his teammates to take the brunt of the attack. 

“How’s Zabuza-sensei?” 

Neji eyed Zabuza-sensei, who was roughly twenty meters away and bodily blocking a concerned Sarutobi from rushing to his team’s assistance.  “Your opponent is me,” Zabuza-sensei growled, the words drifting through the mist.

“Fine,” answered Neji.

"Right," said Temari, yanking up her shirt by the hem.  "Help me tie this up in case Ichika misses one."

"This will be a patch job," Neji warned, unwrapping his own arm for the bandages.  "Have you clean cloth?"

Temari winced, dragging her arm from the damaged sleeve and hiking the shirt up to her neck.  "No," she said shortly.  "Just make do, stop the bleeding.  Ichika can deal with it if it gets infected; he'll love the practice."

Neji grimaced, but the other option was to raid the house for clean cloth, and he had a feeling nobody would take that move very well.  He tore off the bottom half of Temari’s sleeve, glaring at her when she made a dismayed noise, and pressed it against the worst wound.  “Hold that there,” he said, and began the process of mummifying her shoulder and upper chest. 

“Hurry,” was all she said, bracing against her furled tessen.

Anyone in the pack could tie a halfway decent pressure bandage, even Naruto.  Neji’s work on Temari, while somewhat crooked, would hold for her to return to battle.  He tied it off, prodding experimentally to ensure it was sufficiently tight.

“Ow.  Yeah, it’s good,” said Temari.  “Thanks -- ” she trailed off, her head snapping up and around toward Haku and the Konoha genin as a faint frown darkened her eyes. 

The faintest tang of sour-bitter-foul tainted the air and cloyed at the lining of his throat.  The hackles rose on the back of his neck, dread coalescing at the edges of his mind.  “Something is wrong,” Neji muttered.  

Temari shrugged back into her tattered shirt at speed. 

The inside of Haku’s ice dome was scattered with senbon, both whole and broken.  Sora, still on his feet, swayed defiantly despite the senbon protruding from every part of his body, wind-blade-claws raised and a snarl on his face.  He had been struck twice as many times as Nara, three times as many as Tenten, but despite the waning strength of their teammate, neither Nara nor Tenten looked defeated.  Rather, their eyes met the other’s with grim expectancy.  

Sora’s eyes drifted closed, and the feeling of wrongness surged again.  Neji activated chakra-sight with a burst of chakra, layered it on top of his through-sight.  A strange miasma was beginning to bleed into the other genin’s system, tainting the blue to a poisonous amber.  

Haku launched another burst of attacks, darting from mirror to mirror too fast for the eye to follow, raining senbon down on Sora with renewed urgency.  He paused for a moment, chakra flickering weakly, a frozen image copied on every surface.

Sora staggered, catching himself on the ground with one hand.  Then he growled, low and inhuman.  His chakra seethed.  Slowly, the senbon forced its way out of his body one by one, falling to the ground with tiny plinks.

Sora recovered his feet and pounced.  His face contorted in a snarl and that strange chakra surged in his system and suddenly Neji realized what had been so familiar about it.  "Jinchuuriki," Neji hissed as Sora's skin bulged into spikes on his face and the burgeoning cloak pressed him down to all fours.

“Get the fuck out of my way!”  It was Zabuza-sensei’s turn to panic -- or rather, express his displeasure at Team Suzaku facing a combatant they had not prepared for.

“What was that you said earlier?” Sarutobi drawled, scoring him above the collarbone with a wind-blade that splattered his shirt with blood and turning him away with a powerful fuuton.  “‘Your opponent is me.’”

The jinchuuriki charged.

“Shit!” Temari spat as Sora rammed straight through the closest mirror and sent shards of broken ice flying.  Crimson cloaked him now, bubbling over his skin and giving claws to blunt fingers.  

“Bakuhogeki: Kai!” snapped Neji, swiping a bloodied finger along the seal on the inside of his wrist, and a phoenix crafted of golden flames ripped its way free, diving at Sora. "Nejire Shoumi: Kai!"  This time, a net of glowing chakra strings erupted out of his second seal.

“That won’t stop him,” said Temari with all the confidence of a kunoichi with one jinchuuriki birth brother and one jinchuuriki adopted brother.

“I know,” Neji said, watching Sora shrug off both of the attacks like it was a particularly irritating seagull and a stray piece of yarn respectively.  “I will handle him.”

“I’ll get Ichika clear,” Temari said.  “We’ll keep the other two out of it.  You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yes,” Neji said grimly, sheathing his tanto.  There was no other acceptable option.  

Temari bolted for Haku’s shattered dome, where shadows reared like snakes out of the ground to strike.  The ice-mirror jutsu took too much chakra to sustain for long; Haku’s chakra flickered as the mirrors crumbled around him, but still he leapt nimbly away from Nara’s assault. 

Neji had an entirely different repertoire of seals from Sai, but they each always carried a copy of one particular seal that Neji fished out of his inside pocket.  It was mere paper and ink, but Neji could feel the weight of its power in his hand.  The design was not his, was not even that of the captain, and when Neji had asked where he had acquired it, the captain had merely said, Anything can be bought for a cost, with a particular gravitas that Neji had elected not to further prod.

Sora snarled, wild and uncontrolled, and Neji braced himself.  One tail.  It slunk out behind the jinchuuriki as the bijuu cloak turned his eyes malevolent gold.  The instant Sora sprang, Neji threw himself sideways, and the reaching claws scored lines of burnt earth where he had stood.  The instant his foot touched the ground, he pivoted and lunged again as red-gold chakra sizzled a hair's breadth away.

Thank the gods he had been on the speed-based team.  

Only instinct kept him alive, split-second decisions that whisked him out of Sora's reach, and he could only dodge as the air sizzled where the jinchuuriki’s claws burned.  He never stopped watching Sora -- from behind him through his own skull, from below when he crouched and ducked, even as he twisted away from reaching claws that scalded his arm when he strayed too close.

He watched Sora, and he learned.  

Sora caught him a glancing blow in the side before he could substitute; from that he learned the way Sora shifted his weight when he was going to pounce.  Sora whirled and kicked him into a tree when he tried to slip out of the way of a thundering charge; from that, he learned to read the way Sora shoulders tensed, to know when he was being baited.  Not all bijuu took hunting animal forms, but all possessed the instincts of shrewd predators.

He could not retreat forever -- Sora would catch him long before any jinchuuriki tired, and already, the breath rasped desperately in Neji's throat.  He did not need to strike a killing blow.  With what he wielded, a touch would suffice. 

Sora turned again, impossibly quick, his right arm swollen and knobbled and grotesque, wreathed in the chakra of his bijuu.  Neji threw himself backwards, and as his foot touched down, channelled chakra to send him flipping over Sora's head.  A single claw that reached up scored a line of fire down his leg, and Neji clenched his teeth to force down the pained bark. 

But now Sora was off-balance, having twisted around too far, and no creature in a fight willingly exposed its belly.  He turned, and in that moment Neji seized his chance.  He plunged down, gritting his teeth as the corrosive chakra scorched his skin raw, and spat, “Fuin!” the instant the paper touched Sora’s forehead.  He poured his chakra into the seal, and the world spun around him as the rush left him dizzy and trembling.  A split-second of contact -- then, Neji hit the ground with a thump that knocked the air out of his lungs and sent frissions of pain shooting up his shoulder.  He blinked, groggily, shoving himself upright.

Sora lay motionless under him, the chakra cloak abruptly and completely extinguished.  His limbs were tangled up and limp, and the glow from the used seal on his forehead just beginning to fade.  Neji drew his tanto with trembling hands and staggered forward.

“That’s far enough,” drawled Nara.

Neji froze, the tip of his tanto pressed against the hollow of the unconscious jinchuuriki’s throat.  Slowly, he turned.

Temari glared venomously at Nara, a trickle of blood dripping from the shadow-blade pricking under her chin.  Her tessen lay at her feet, out of reach with the dark tendrils trapping her arms to her sides.  Nara’s shirt hung off his shoulders in tatters, but despite the blood soaking the cloth his eyes and hands were steady and cool.

Haku, wan and frail, held one hand up with the palm facing Nara in a gesture more threatening than the Konoha nin realized, the other in Tenten’s direction.  "Harm her," he warned, frigid, "and you will be dead before you take another breath.

Nara's eyes drifted past Haku and Tenten to Neji.  "You," he said.  "Step away."

Neji did not move.  "After you," he invited.  “I kill this one, and Konoha will lose a bijuu for at least half a decade.  Kiri would be willing to pay the price of one genin for a prize such as that.”

Temari huffed a laugh, and blood dripped where the shadow cut deeper.  Nara’s eyes narrowed.  “And would you?” he asked.

“No,” answered Neji honestly.  "But you have more to lose."

Nara paused, watching Sora's prone body thoughtfully.

"Shikamaru," Tenten said tersely, with an undercurrent of urgent anger, her katana poised but with no real intent.  

Nara ignored her.  

Did the Leaf still turn out shinobi soft and malleable as Zabuza-sensei said?  That believed their enemy would, as they would, save a teammate rather than eliminate a threat?  Because Nara's eyes were pure calculation.  

Zabuza-sensei and Sarutobi sprang apart, both bleeding in non-vital areas, but this time they did not immediately reengage.  Zabuza-sensei prowled warily as Sarutobi circled, and his eyes, when he diverted his attention to the standoff across the road, narrowed with displeasure.

Sarutobi, equally unhappy but unwilling to take his eyes off Zabuza-sensei, warned, “Shikamaru.”

Shikamaru did not respond.  In the prolonged silence, the deliberate footsteps echoed.  Neji cast his vision out as he might a fishing line, but there was no need.

Shisui-sensei stepped out of the woods.  His half-mask covered his missing eye, his leopard-mask worn on his shoulder like a pauldron.  “Momochi and team," he greeted, as though he had happened across them in the marketplace rather than strolling through their scarred battlefield.  "Konoha shinobi.  Well met."

Sarutobi did not agree.  “Kiri,” he said, his eyes flicking over warily.  He did not lower his knives.  “Are you here for Momochi?”

“I am,” Shisui-sensei said, “but not in the way you’d like.”

Sarutobi stayed blank-faced, but he was outnumbered with one genin down and all good shinobi recognized when a battle was lost.  "Two jounin on the same mission," he noted.  "This must be important."

Zabuza-sensei snorted.  "Don't be so full of yourself," he muttered.

"We're actually on two different missions," Shisui-sensei countered easily.  "I just happened to be in the area."

"Hey.  Punk." Zabuza-sensei snapped his fingers at Neji.  "Stand down.  You too, kid."

Neji rose, taking a step back from Sora and flipping his tanto back up into its sheath.  Haku lowered his hands.  The threat he posed was no longer prominent, but it was still present. 

Sarutobi assessed the battlefield with grim resignation.  "Shikamaru," he prompted, and though Nara's eyes narrowed, his shadow uncoiled, melting back to puddle at his feet.  Temari stepped away, rolling her shoulders as she did, and she flashed a smirk at Nara.

"This mission is over," Shisui-sensei said.  "Go home, Leaf."

Tenten hissed a curse as the front door flung open and the old bridge builder tripped out onto the remains of the front lawn.  “You can’t leave!” he cried.  “Gatou will kill us all!”

“Gatou is dead,” Shisui-sensei said bluntly.  “I killed him ten minutes ago.”

The old man paused, visibly thrown.  He rounded on Zabuza-sensei, then, jabbing an accusatory finger at him.  "You killed our people for him!"

"I did shit," dismissed Zabuza-sensei.  Like ghosts Gaara, Sai, and Hinata-sama melted out of the woods to flank Shisui-sensei as Zabuza-sensei let his mist fall.  They wore shinobi attire once more instead of battered civilian clothes, bone-masks over their faces and draped in furred cloaks, red-and-black banded Kirigakure hitai-ate wrapped prominently around their upper arms.  

"That was exciting," Madoka said dryly, wandering out of the trees in their wake.  "Oi, Tazuna-san.  These ones aren't bad after all."

Chalk-white, the bridge-builder's mouth gaped open as he sputtered. "M-Madoka -- "

"So get this," Madoka continued, unfazed.  "They were actually undercover.  None of those shinobi killed any of us."

Neji slipped sideways to join Temari, and Haku met them as the Konoha team closed ranks behind them. 

The bridge-builder's eyes drifted past Madoka and widened. With a muffled shriek, his daughter pushed out of the house past him, sprinting across the grass with her skirts held up so as not to trip herself.  Kaiza, laughing, met her halfway, sweeping her up off her feet and swinging her around in a joyous circle.

Madoka strolled around their tearful reunion and grabbed the bridge-builder by the arm as the old man swayed.  "In you come, Tazuna-san," she said briskly, guiding him back indoors.  "Why don't we take a seat?  Fumitaka!"

"I'm coming," grumbled Fumitaka, ambling out of the treeline.  "Much appreciated, shinobi-san," he added to Shisui-sensei before following the others into the house.  

"Two separate missions," Sarutobi mused, watching both Yorozoku teams with renewed wariness.  Tenten had Sora's arm draped across her shoulders, and Nara stood apart with a slight frown at the bridge-builder's house.

Shisui-sensei shrugged elegantly.  "Time for you all to move on," he said with just enough of an edge to make it a threat.  "See you around, Konoha-nin."

Both teams had one last night in Nami; given no further need to deny affiliation with each other, all eight of them retired to Team Suzaku's base as Team Genbu's base had been a musty, abandoned basement.

"Congratulations," Shisui-sensei told Neji, cradling one of his burned arms in green-glowing hands.  “I heard about your gravity seal.  No shinobi has accomplished contact sealing in battle since the Yondaime Hokage."

"It was imperfect," Neji admitted, biting back a wince.  The bijuu’s chakra had burned the last of the seals he had prepared right off his arm, leaving only scorched skin and angry blisters. "I will need to train more if I am to truly use it in battle."

Shisui-sensei paused to give him a pointed look.  "You also accumulated both the greatest number of and the most severe injuries in that fight.  I'm sure I taught you better than that."

Shisui-sensei had been Team Suzaku's primary sensei for only one picturesque winter, when they had run with the wolves in the snow.  But while he had drilled them relentlessly in speed-based exercises, the one thing he had emphasized to Neji, physically the weakest of the three, had been, Don't get hit.  

Neji looked away.  "I was...overconfident," he admitted.  "The kunoichi took me by surprise, and I was…singularly unprepared for the possibility of a jinchuuriki."

Shisui-sensei hummed.  "That is interesting, isn't it?  Konoha shouldn't have a bijuu anymore."  The iryou-chakra flickered in his hands at his distraction, and he frowned, steadying it once more.  "You did well, though," he went on, approval unexpectedly coloring his words.  "Any jinchuuriki in beast mode, properly trained, can take down a squad of jounin."

Neji quashed the strange pride rising in his chest. "I do not believe this one had full control of himself or his strength," he said instead.  "Shichino could have matched him in full-frontal combat without losing himself."

"Danzou won't have any seal masters left in Konoha," Shisui said. "Training a jinchuuriki to harness its bijuu is dangerous without one.  Rokumaru-kun has already had quite a few scares, and he is nowhere near the control he'll need in combat.  Of course, your Kakashi-sensei isn't exactly a seal master himself; his sensei and his sensei's sensei were, but he makes things work."  

Exactly who the captain's sensei or sensei's sensei had never actually been revealed to the pack.  It was one of those subjects that even the sensei danced around with caution.  

"There.  It'll itch like crazy while it peels but don't pick at it," Shisui-sensei warned, standing.  "Ichika-kun will have some aloe vera for you."

"Hai," agreed Neji, standing gingerly.  The wound in his leg had been stitched and bandaged, and with the burns mostly alleviated, he was as close to fighting fit as he could get without actual rest.  

"Come on.  Dinner," prompted Shisui-sensei, and zipped shut the first aid kit.  "Shichino-kun and Hachikou-kun have been practicing, I think.  I hope," he amended under his breath.  

Neji almost grimaced again, but the combination of Gaara and Sai cooking was at least preferable to Naruto and Sakura cooking.  It was, of course, overly optimistic to hope that Gaara's chronic over-seasoning would balance out Sai's aggressively bland dishes.  He snagged a shirt from Temari's things and followed Shisui-sensei.

"Look, it's stopped."  Zabuza-sensei's growl drifted out of the next room as they passed.  "No more blood, all right, hotshot?  Quit your hovering.  Yes, it's tight.  No, the stitches don't bloody hurt.  Oh, for shit’s -- I’m not yelling at you, don’t give me that look.”

Neji paused, torn, but Shisui-sensei dropped a hand on his shoulder.  “Kyuushi-chan has it handled,” he said.  Of all the pack, Neji was sure that Hinata-sama was least equipped to 'handle' Zabuza-sensei, but let himself be guided downstairs anyways.   

Temari and Haku sat together on the floor of the living room when they descended, surrounded by bloodied cloth, bowls of tainted water, and the remains of Temari's shirt.  Haku, a pinched look between his eyes, said tersely, “Reiha-san, I would prefer not to practice cleaning an infected wound.”  

“Ichika,” Temari returned, the glint in her eyes playful despite her pallor, “you can’t master what you don’t practice.”

Haku's lips pressed together tightly.  “You could have lost your entire arm.”

“Fortunately, I’ve got you,” said Temari.  She winced theatrically as Haku rebandaged her shoulder with movements more rough than they had been before.

Shisui-sensei patted Neji’s shoulder absently as he moved away, into the kitchen.  Neji tossed Temari’s balled up shirt to her, but Haku caught it out of the air without turning before she could reach for it. “Do not,” said Haku severely, “use that arm.”

“You know I can’t refuse when you ask so nicely,” Temari said cheerfully, taking the shirt from him.  She leaned around Haku.  “Thanks, Nishiki.  Hachikou’s making fish soup we’re pretty sure will taste like nothing, Shichino’s making some sort of curry that already feels like an attack on the sinuses, and we figure that if we mix them together we’ll get something decent.”

“I see,” said Neji bleakly, though he was honestly too drained to care what he ate so long as it was still warm.  He reached down to join Haku in collecting scraps of bloodied bandage.  

“Ah, Nishiki,” Haku said, pausing to frown at Neji’s arms.  Shisui-sensei had accelerated the healing enough that they were cracked and peeling rather than violently leaking blisters. 

“They are chakra burns,” Neji explained.  “From the jinchuuriki’s shroud.  Juuta-sensei said you would have something to assist with the discomfort.”  The uncertainty on his face was unfamiliar; Neji wondered if Haku had decided to learn iryou-jutsu because Zabuza-sensei had wanted him to.

Haku wavered, and Temari plucked the bandages from his hands and wadded them up with her ruined shirt.  “I got cleanup, get him taken care of,” she said. 

"Aloe vera for burns," Haku murmured after another second’s hesitation.  "It's in the kitchen."

Entering the kitchen meant full exposure to Gaara's various concoctions.  Neji sneezed four times in quick succession.  

Sai ignored the intrusion, too occupied in rendering his radishes into uniform cubes, but Gaara lifted his head to regard them with apathetic affront.  

"Sorry," apologized Haku.  "We'll get out of your way.  We just need to grab the aloe from the fridge."

Gaara blinked twice and his attention drifted once again to the oven, at which he stared intently.  Inside were two racks of trays -- the top, carrots liberally coated in a pungent mixture of enough herbs to be considered breading, the bottom of which appeared to contain plain, chopped potatoes.  

Neji breathed in shallowly, eyes watering, and as soon Haku turned around with the aloe, beat a swift retreat to the living room.  "That was fish soup?"

"And curry," Haku reminded him.  And then, optimistically, "At least it'll be warm."

Neji could handle his spice just fine, but there was a point at which one was being eaten by the food instead of the other way around and Gaara liked to venture as close to that line as he could.  

Haku sliced out the translucent inside of the aloe into a clean bowl with neat flicks of his knife as Neji perched on the arm of the couch.  Temari wandered back down the stairs once the spiky leaf was just a husk, leaning over to watch as Haku switched tools to a pestle.  The gel-like aloe gradually gained the consistency of okayu -- mostly liquid, but also still lumpy with pulp and pieces of the flesh.  Neji eyed Haku dubiously as he reached into the bowl with two fingers but didn't move as he slopped a bit of the mess onto Neji's arm.  

Neji hissed involuntarily; the relief was instant.  Haku froze, his eyes darting up to Neji’s face.  “Did that hurt?” he asked, hushed, with a fraction of the confidence he wore on the battlefield.

“No.  The opposite,” Neji said, and Haku breathed a silent sigh of relief.  

“Smells...green,” was Temari’s opinion.  She stole some on the tip of her finger and stuck it in her mouth.  “We’ve got this in the desert too.  It’s edible, right?”

“Yes,” Haku said a little dryly, barely distracted from plastering the mash on Neji’s arms.  “It’s edible.”

Haku had just finished wrapping Neji’s arms and the aloe in fresh bandages when Sai leaned around the doorframe.  "Dinner is ready," he announced.

"Great," said Shisui-sensei cheerfully, materializing from seemingly nowhere but more likely one of the upstairs rooms.  "Smells good, Shichino-kun, Hachikou-kun.  Thank you."  He looked and sounded completely genuine.

Gaara shrank in on himself to preen.  Sai presented the closest expression he had to a genuine smile.  

In the interest of an edible final product, Neji combined a little bit of everything into one bowl and ended up with what resembled a fish-chicken stew that, with rice added, could have passed as a single, cohesive dish.  The overpowering smell of the curry, muted by the fish soup, no longer burned in his nose but smelled savory, if spicy.

The two cooking-duty members of Team Genbu had claimed the table by virtue of being able to tolerate the ambient spices in the air of the kitchen.  Haku and Temari, having retrieved their own portions, immediately retreated back to the living room.

Hinata-sama drifted down the stairs as Neji emerged, her scrubbed hands twisting together anxiously.  Wordlessly, Neji handed his bowl to her, ignored her stuttered thanks, and went to get himself another.

"You've got to stop doing that," Temari said as he joined her and Haku sitting cross-legged in the living room.  "You just make everyone uncomfortable. 

"I cannot eat until Hinata-sama has begun eating," Neji said stiffly.  "Clan rules dictate -- "

“Screw your clan,” Temari retorted.

Neji was suddenly very cognizant of the blood pulsing in his veins, the low hum of his chakra.  Every member of the pack knew better than to so much as insinuate about his Clan.  “Take that back,” he said softly. 

Temari tipped her chin up challengingly.  “Why?” she said, her dismissive tone belied by the keen glint in her eyes.  “Screw.  Your clan.  They're not here.  You don't need to follow their rules."

Neji drew his tanto lightning-fast and had the flat of the blade braced against his bandaged forearm as he pointed it at Temari.  "Do not," he warned, "malign my Clan."

Haku sighed delicately and leaned back, taking his bowl with him. 

They were both heady from chakra loss and blood loss, a little too wild and a little too mean.  Temari flashed a smile full of sharp edges at him.  "Why are you clinging to that?  You think you'll just go back to Konohagakure and everything will be as it was?  You think you can fall back in line and be a good little drone like that's all you're capable of?"

"I," Neji spat, "left my Village to fulfill my duty, not because my Village wasn't paying enough attention to me."

That snapped her temper -- it was designed to -- but Neji's judgment was shot and his strength even more so and he could not brace himself against the tessen that snapped open and slammed down in the same movement.  He rolled out of the way, came up in a crouch, and lunged for Temari blade-first, just barely cognizant of Haku rescuing their forgotten bowls out of the corner of his eye.

"Break anything and it comes out of your pay!" Zabuza-sensei snapped from the other room, but didn't bother coming to break them up.  He believed in letting them fight things out among themselves.

Temari's tessen flared and Neji caught it full in the chest, going down with a grunt and jarring every injury he had collected that day.  His head cracked against the floorboards and Temari was on him before he could catch his breath, the edge of her tessen pressed high up against his collarbone.  "Yield," growled Temari, her eyes nearly slits. 

Neji pushed up experimentally but Temari didn't move and his resentment had all but simmered down once more as the echoes of the earlier fight sapped his energy.  "Fine," he gritted out.  She kept him there for another second, just to prove she could, and then furled her tessen, stepping back. 

Neji shifted to sitting and sheathed his tanto, accepting the bowl Haku handed back to him. "I apologise," he bit out, ignoring the throb of the burns on his arms and the sharp tug of the stitches in his calf.  "The things I said are untrue."

"That's not what you believe," Temari countered as Haku gave her back her bowl.  

"Both of you," Haku interjected, gentle but in a tone that was not to be ignored, "went too far."

Temari sighed through her nose.  "Yeah," she admitted. "Look, Nishiki -- Kyuushi-chan doesn't expect you to follow Clan etiquette out here -- have you asked her if that's what she wants?"

"What Kyuushi-sama wants," Neji gritted out, "does not matter.  She is as bound to the laws of our Clan as I am.  Her duty is not the same as mine, but she has a responsibility to fulfill nonetheless."

"You resent her for that," Haku said quietly -- too observant, too knowing.  They had skirted this topic for nearly three years without broaching it, and Neji was not quite sure why it had come up so inexorably tonight.

"That is not my place," said Neji, and hoped the words did not sound as hollow as he felt.

"Nishiki," said Temari, a hint of impatience in her posture.  "I'm telling you this straight -- we're still Yorozoku.  We're still a pack.  We all need to be able to trust each other.  And if you don't drop this Clan etiquette I-can't-do-shit-without-her-permission thing with Kyuushi-chan, it's going to affect the pack dynamics.  So: stop."

"You don't need to stop, exactly," Haku corrected, apologetic enough that Temari didn't turn on him for contradicting her.  "If you believe in living as your Clan traditions dictates, that is your choice.  However, your actions punish Kyuushi-chan while doing so which serves no purpose.  She didn't choose the circumstances of her birth, either."

It was not for them to understand, and Neji's resentment of that was only fleeting.  Haku might, in a way, because he was Zabuza-sensei’s before he was of Team Suzaku, or Yorozoku, or Hanabi-ha.  Neji belonged to Hinata-sama -- hers to command, hers to torture and kill if she so wished -- and that much was set in stone from the day she was born, reinforced the day the seal was branded on his forehead and seared into his chakra system.  That neither of them chose their lives would never alter their reality.

A good leader is strong, Neji, his father had told him, the skin of his forehead around his seal still red and inflamed from its activation two days prior.  His eyes were bitter but his voice calm, controlled.  A good leader shows no weakness, even in his own family.  A good leader cannot waver.  A house must have order within before others will acknowledge its strength.  

Neji was Hyuuga and the Hyuuga were strong.  He needed Hinata-sama to be strong.  She was supposed to be the best of all of them.  If she was not strong, how could a Branch member be strong?  She was supposed to use him as a weapon, as a shield, as a hobbled hunting hawk.  That was his duty and hers.

She didn't want to.  That burned most of all.  He could not escape his fate; it rankled that she would try to elude hers.

Willingly, unquestioningly, grudgingly, Neji would die for her.  

Unfortunately, he was quite sure that she would die for him as well.

Haku was watching him knowingly, Temari with a facade of studied disinterest.  Temari would meddle given every chance, but Haku...Haku only intervened when he felt something great was at stake.

"Suzaku, on me," Zabuza-sensei snapped, jarring Neji out of his thoughts as he stalked past with every expectation of being obeyed.  Temari raised her eyebrows and mouthed, Here we go, with resigned exasperation.  

Neji already knew how the next twenty minutes would go.

Zabuza-sensei would reprimand Temari for being captured, Haku for letting it happen, and Neji for not seeing it coming.  He would berate all of them for allowing themselves to be injured, for being too slow or too sloppy or too weak to end the battle cleanly.  And at the very end, he would throw in an offhanded, At least you didn't die, with enough grudging pride to be the closest he ever came to outright praise. 

They were held to higher standards than the rest of the pack -- Zabuza-sensei held them to higher standards; they had more responsibilities and expectations.  They always needed to be faster, stronger, smarter, more controlled.  

Team Suzaku wasn't like the other Yorozoku teams.  They were the oldest, the protectors, the ones who grew up fighting because there was no other choice.  They'd been truly blooded in the Kiri Civil War, from start to end, and they more than anything else needed to be the pillars on which the rest of the pack leaned as they grew into their own battles.

Sometimes that pressure suffocated him and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and breathe and let the world slide past without him.

But most days, it was a weight Neji bore proudly. 

Chapter Text

OPERATION: HIGURE

MISSION REPORT

Akatsuki member profile: Akasuna no Sasori

Alias: Kugutsu Butai no Tensai Zōkeishi

Origin: Sunagakure

Partner: Deidara

Combat: Puppetry; chakra strings; poisons.   Possesses puppets with the physical bodies and abilities of deceased shinobi, including that of the Sandaime Kazekage.

Notes: Apparent senior member.  Recruited around the same time as Kisame. 

Motivation: Immortality.  Sense of isolation.

Current location: Akatsuki satellite base, Shimo no Kuni

Observations: Member induction is either through willing recruitment (Kisame) or defeat of prospective members in trials of combat (Sasori).  Animosity between members, including mission partners, remains an avenue of gathering information about each shinobi.  Information may also be acquired via psychoanalysis of the subject as well as the source of the information in concert with the observer’s own judgement regarding testimony credibility.  

END REPORT

D.C.O. Ikiryou

If Zabuza never had to fight Sarutobi Asuma ever again, he would be over the fucking moon. Kubikiribocho was one of the greatest swords ever forged, but even its edge was no match for the other jounin’s wind-blades and a solid foot of steel had been sheared right off the tip in their last match.  Zabuza’d picked it up, after, not entirely sure if he could stick it back on the rest of the blade with blood like it was fucking superglue or if the self-regenerating thing only worked on the part attached to the hilt.  

“You’re going to give Shizune-sensei a conniption if you keep cutting yourself open, Z,” Shisui said, from where he was sprawled on the top of the two bunks.  For some reason, given every opportunity, the ex-Konoha nin always chose the highest perch.

“I can cut you open instead,” Zabuza muttered, glaring at him before turning back to his battered sword.

“You do that, and Shizune-sensei will hate you,” pointed out Shisui cheerfully.  “I’m her favorite student.”

“Not by choice,” Zabuza retorted.  "She knows you're only still learning iryou because the witch told you to."

“And she loves me anyways,” Shisui defended.  "Plus, I tell her all the times you ignore medical advice and she loves me more by comparison."

What a brat.  "What, do you expect me to bleed a goat instead?" Zabuza snapped, glowering at the jagged break in his blade.  "Get me a fucking goat, then."

Shisui made a face and rolled over.  “Vegetables have iron.  Can’t you just chop a salad or something?”

Unbe-fucking-lievable.  “You really want me to cut up food with this, Konoha?  After everything else that's been on this blade?"

“No,” said Shisui glumly.  

Something thumped against the adjoining wall, which rattled alarmingly.  Zabuza and Shisui both glanced at the wall, and then at each other.  Shisui promptly dragged his blanket up to cover his face.  “Not it,” he said, voice muffled.

Zabuza tossed down the sword shard.  “You’re not even doing anything!” he growled, outraged.

“Before the twelve hour mark, they’re your kids,” Shisui returned promptly.  “This was your idea.”

Zabuza’s train of thought had been, A bunch of war-tested genin probably won’t cause much trouble when they’re supposed to be sleeping.  Zabuza’s train of thought had been wrong. 

Another thud.  Zabuza gritted his teeth.

“My team are angels, anyways,” Shisui pointed out offhandedly.  “This is probably your ones’ doing.”

“Your team are the opposite of angels,” Zabuza snapped, shoving to his feet with bad grace.  “They’ve just conned you to think otherwise.”

“They’re growing up so well,” Shisui agreed dreamily.  He flapped a hand to wave goodbye at Zabuza, because he was an asshole.

The ship roiled comfortingly under Zabuza’s feet as he stalked the short distance to the next door down the corridor. He pounded his fist against the door and shoved it open with his shoulder.  "Whatever you're doing, cut it out," he snarled.

He was met by four innocent stares and two sets of covered eyes.  The wall between their room and his and Shisui's was dripping ink, which should have been a dead giveaway.  

Did he think Sai actually had anything to do with this?  Not really; he was about as stick-in-the-mud as they came.  But considering his other options for interrogation on Team Genbu were the jinchuuriki, who was generally unimpressed by intimidation, and the Hyuuga princess, who started crying the second he so much as looked at her funny, the kid who'd probably already had interrogation resistance training was still his best bet.

He switched his glare to Sai.  "Dollface," he growled.  "Explain."

Sai's face achieved truly stonelike blankness.  "What would you like me to explain, Sensei?"

Zabuza rolled his eyes.  "Don't play coy with me.  Tell me why the fuck this entire wall is now covered in your ink."

"This ink does not belong to me," Sai said immediately.

Zabuza glowered at him.  "Try again."

Sai took a moment to recalibrate.  "This ink no longer belongs to me," he hedged.  

Zabuza crossed his arms.  "Tell me why this ink is on this wall."

"It was put there," Sai answered. 

Was anyone else finding this painful?  Zabuza sure was.  "You have one more chance to tell me whose fault this is or all of you are doing two hours of ice runs instead of one."

"It was my fault," said Sai immediately.  

"Wrong," growled Zabuza.  "You want to make that three hours?"

"Zabuza-san," Haku interjected.  

"No," Zabuza said.  "You shut your mouth.  Princess, you explain."

A shifty squint very briefly crossed Temari’s face.  "We were collaborating on seal designs for Nishiki," she said.  "Hachikou thought he could try an animated animal one, like the kind he does.  And Nishiki...hasn't quite gotten the technique down.  The animals don't exactly do what he wants them to."

Zabuza resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall.  "And?"

"He made centipedes, but ah... Shichino hates centipedes."

A small dark shape skittered across the floor as if on cue, and Gaara threw himself backwards, slamming his back into the wall with a thud.  

Temari swooped down with her tessen, scooped the thing up, and sent it hurtling away.  Hinata's hiogi flashed through the air, impaling the centipede mid-flight and causing it to erupt in a burst of ink all over the already-splattered wall.  Or it would have, except Zabuza was standing there, and only a fast bunshin-shunshin combo saved him from the impromptu shower.  As it was, he watched the bunshin take the brunt of the unintentional assault full in the face.

Hinata squeaked in dismay and covered her face.  Haku said under his breath, very distinctly, "Uh oh."

Zabuza let them sweat it out for another moment before dispelling the bunshin.  "How many of those did you make?" he demanded, relishing the guilty relief that replaced the horror in the genins' eyes.  

"Three more, Sensei," answered Neji, his short hair dishevelled and spattered with ink.  

Great gods.  Who had he fucked over in a past life to have been inflicted by these tiny monsters?  "Just take care of them and clean this up," Zabuza snapped, jabbing a finger at the wall.  "And for fuck's sake, keep it down.  It's hard enough to sleep without you lot stampeding all over."

"Hai," said Temari, like she was a perfect little genin who could do no wrong.  Zabuza sneered at her.  She wasn't fooling anyone with that act.

“Wake anyone up and the next time you get to sleep is in two days,” Zabuza threatened, and stomped out of the room, back to the quarters he shared with Shisui.  He slammed the door shut behind him, which was a little vindictive since he knew Shisui wouldn’t be able to sleep through that.  "Hellspawn, all of them,” he muttered.  

"At least the captain's team aren't here," Shisui said drowsily, amused.  "You'd have to repaint the whole ship."

He snorted.  Yeah, that was comforting.  One winter of the Terrible Three had been enough for him; how Hatake put up with them on a daily basis was a mystery and a credit to his forbearance or whatever.  

“Don’t worry,” Shisui added, already halfway back to unconsciousness.  “You’ll see ‘em again soon.”

Exactly what he was afraid of.

The skyline of Lower City harbour came into view little by little as the Hoteimaru drew closer to shore, some of it painfully familiar, other parts all but alien.  War had changed the structure of the city, but a year's worth of rebuilding had done just as much.

The seabreeze, sharp and sticky, hadn't changed, though.  It caught the loose cloth of Zabuza's hitai-ate, ruffled the tips of Temari's short-cropped hair and picked up the ends of Haku's.  

"Are we going to the Hole?" Temari asked as she and the other two followed Zabuza down the main thoroughfare into the market district.  "Please tell me we're going to the Hole.  I will murder for one of their grilled sandwiches right now."

"Shut your yapping or maybe we won't," muttered Zabuza, but honestly he wasn't feeling much different from the Sand princess.  Long journeys overseas did that to a man.  And kids, apparently. 

The place in question, which had been named simply the "Hole-In-The-Wall Diner" by its owners, had unfortunately been flattened, and then some, by stray jutsu during the civil war.  As Kiri's civilians were the hardy type, its proprietors had renovated the building, renamed it the "Hole-In-The-Ground Diner," and opened it back up for business.

Haku wrinkled his nose, but Zabuza knew he liked their food -- it was the ambience he had a problem with.  Neji, on the other hand, straight up thought the place was a shithole but wouldn't say it out loud because his fancy Clan upbringing forbade it.  He called it things like uncouth or a rubbish heap instead.  But hey, at least they were friendly here.

From the outside, the place looked like someone had dumped a bunch of concrete on a condemned house, which wasn't too far from what really happened.  Zabuza shoved the door open with his shoulder -- the hinges were a bit stiff, even though they were more or less new -- and caught it when it bounced off the inside wall.  "Hey, you old fart," he called, pitching his voice to carry over the burgeoning bar fight in the corner and the table of drunks bawling out sea shanties on the opposite side.  The drunks were surprisingly good singers.  "Get me a fucking table for four!"

"Fuck off and find your own table!" came the irritated response immediately. 

See?  Friendly.  

The Hole was halfway in the sewers, always too loud to hear yourself think because of the echoes, and smelled like the unholy offspring of stomach acid and vodka.  Temari, for whatever godsforsaken reason, loved this sort of place.  "I'll grab a table, she volunteered.  "C'mon, Nishiki."

"How you can stomach any of this I will never understand," muttered Neji, but followed.  

The Hole was the sort of place where you had to defend your table from scavengers because there weren't enough flat surfaces in the joint for everyone to put their food or drink down.  Fortunately, three in the afternoon was too late for the lunch crowd and too early for the nightlife, so the only real competitors were the day drinkers, who were too sloshed to fight back anyways.  

"It's barely even sticky," Haku noted, mildly impressed, when Temari waved them over to a crooked thing with one leg propped up by bricks.  

Neji glared at the table's surface with dull resentment.  "Your standards are far lower here than at any other establishment."

"Right?" Temari agreed cheerfully.

"Everyone know what you want?" cut in Zabuza.  

"I would want water if I did not believe it would be dipped straight from the sewage," muttered Neji.

"There is no point in ordering," Haku pointed out.  "The cook never actually makes us what we choose."

That was true.  Zabuza twisted around to squint at the bar.  "Hey, you old bat!" he shouted over the din.  "Give us our fucking food!"

The barkeep whipped around to jab a finger at him.  "You think you're royalty, you piece of shit?"

Food orders placed.  

When Zabuza was a genin and then a chuunin, this place had been one of the few that didn't treat him like crap for being low caste.  Well -- they did, but they treated everyone like crap. Equally.  If the Yondaime had ever thought to set foot in this hovel, he'd have been called a waste of fucking air like all the rest of them.  Fortunately for the restaurant owners' necks, he hadn't.

The surly teen who worked as the place's only busser brought them water before slinking off wordlessly.  The glasses were smudged, and Haku eyed his warily; Zabuza was only about fifty-six percent sure the water hadn't come out of the fish tank.

"Perhaps if I heat the water to a boil, it will be safe to drink," said Neji in a tone that said that he wouldn't drink that water even if it were boiled a hundred times.

"You'd just explode the glass," Temari pointed out.  "But at least you'd put this cup out of its misery."

Haku tapped his glass, and little spikes of ice formed in the water each time his finger touched the side.

It took a ridiculous amount of time for their food to come out, considering that they were the only ones actually there for the food.  Neji, sunglasses firmly over his eyes and not just because he was a dick, probably saw the barkeep coming with the food but still jumped when the pie in its cast iron skillet crashed down on the table in front of him.

"Poultry pot pie," droned the barkeep, which could mean anything from chicken to goose to pigeon or all of the above.  Next was a platter with a stack of sandwiches alongside a bowl of soup.  "Not for you.  Her," snapped the barkeep at Haku, who was closest even if he hadn't so much as twitched forward.

"I love your sandwiches," Temari told the barkeep very seriously.

"Your mama never cook you food?" he sneered in reply, offloading a dish of melted cheese ringed by battered and fried things for Haku.

"Pretty sure all our mothers are dead," said Temari offhandedly, stealing a prawn from Haku and popping it into her mouth.

Zabuza's plate was a deep-fried slab of beef on top of a giant waffle, topped with mashed potatoes and gravy.  "The fuck is this?" he demanded, scowling.  

"Eat it or starve," snarled the barkeep, stomping back to his domain.

"These sandwiches are to kill for," Temari enthused, dunking the entire corner of her sandwich in her soup and shoving the mess in her mouth.  "No, killing is easy.  To die for."

Neji poked suspiciously at his pie.  "Continue eating and you may yet perish."

"This might actually give me a heart attack," agreed Haku, skimming a bit of cheese onto his fried eggplant.  He paused to frown at something else on his plate.  "Is that deep-fried butter?"

"They're trying to fatten you up, bless them," said Temari, mischief glimmering in her eyes.  "You're too skinny."

"I'm only a little underweight," Haku protested.  "Eating this is hardly going to help."

Pause.  Haku, underweight?  Zabuza glowered at his apprentice, who ignored him studiously.  Underweight was bad.  Underweight was weak.  Underweight meant not enough muscle and not enough energy.  

Zabuza eyed him suspiciously but let it slide for the moment.  Kid was eating now, wasn't he?  He shelved the thought with a note to mention it to Shisui and also to yell at Haku later.

Shisui's team had beaten his to the Inner City because they'd stopped to eat at a food stall instead of some slow-ass dump of a bar.  Shisui crossed his arms over his chest disapprovingly when they trailed in.  "You took them to that bar, didn't you?"

"What?  They're shinobi," Zabuza said dismissively.  "They're legally adults.  They can go where they like, alcohol or no."

"We did not go 'where we liked,'" said the Hyuuga brat under his breath.

"Yes, we did," retorted Temari.

"The food was decent, at least," Haku volunteered.  "And none of us drank."

"Thank the gods for small mercies," was Shisui's opinion.

Zabuza rolled his eyes.  "All right, you three, scram.  Training tomorrow, don't forget whoever's on cooking duty, and for fuck's sake, no more centipedes.  Got it?" 

"Yes," said Neji fervently, beating a fast retreat for the door.  

"They were so good for training, though, Sensei," Temari said, wide-eyed and innocent, before ducking out after Neji.

Haku hesitated.  "Zabuza-san," he hedged, folding his hands into his sleeves.  

Ah, that reminded him.  "Konoha," he growled.  "Kid said he's underweight.  That true?"

The distress on Haku's face appeared and vanished in a blink.  

"According to Senju-sama, not by much," reassured Shisui, which was comforting.  Not.

Zabuza eyed the kid critically.  Haku'd gained a little height and honestly he thought the kid had gained weight too.  "The fuck is he underweight for?"

"Z," said Shisui with enough patience that Zabuza was tempted to impale him, "Has Ichika-kun ever, for more than, say, a year at a time, had a decently balanced and portioned diet?"

No.  Haku knew hunger before Zabuza even picked him up, and two mouths to feed on shitty mission pay and fluctuating food prices based on birth status meant that sometimes, they both went to bed with hollow stomachs.  And afterwards, on the run -- before the Orochimaru shitstorm -- and after he'd joined up with Hatake, there was always food, but not enough.  

"All the kids are underweight," Shisui said.  "They're gaining it back now, since we're in peacetime."

They were in peacetime now, yeah, but Hana-ha's endgame was another war.  In six months, they'd be back to starvation mode.  

Gods damn it.

Zabuza whirled to jab a finger at Haku.  "Eat," he ordered.  "Protein and shit.  Vegetables."

Haku widened his eyes innocently.  "I always eat, Zabuza-san."

“Don’t pick on him, Z,” scolded Shisui, and Haku nodded pitiful agreement.

Haku liked to pretend he’d been an angel until the Konoha pack corrupted him, but he’d been an insolent whelp since day one, when Zabuza’d found him next to a dumpster and stared at him for a long time before finally demanding, ‘The fuck are you doing, sitting in the trash?’ and having stared right back at him, without missing a beat and polite as anything, the kid said, ‘I’m having a sit-down, shinobi-san.’  

Didn’t even cower.  A fucking sit-down.  What the fuck even. 

“Off you go,” said Shisui, turning to Haku.

Haku turned mournful eyes on Shisui.  Zabuza rolled his eyes.  “Scram, kid.  Can’t you tell when you’re not wanted?”  Crocodile tears had never worked on him.

"It's not you, Ichika-kun," Shisui interjected sheepishly.  "I actually need to steal Zabuza for a bit.  The captain's going to be expecting a report."

“Ah,” said Haku, perking up.  “In that case, I will leave you to your business.”  Zabuza watched him practically float off, probably gloating that Zabuza would be tied up in bureaucratic nonsense while he got to go romp in the training grounds or whatever with the rest of the kids.  Nobody really survived Kiri without at least a little sadism.

Ugh.  

With Tsunade and Shikaku and half of their little rebellion which Zabuza was regretfully a member of having taken up residence on the base in Uzushio, Hatake, who was technically the highest ranking member on the Main Island, inherited their top-level offices in the Old Academy.  This benefited Zabuza only because now Hatake didn't keep him up all fucking night with the light on, reading reports.  

"Taichou," greeted Shisui cheerfully, drifting through the doors.  "We're back, nobody's dead.  Where's Urushi?  Thought he'd be around."

Zabuza stumped into the office after him.  Hatake, seated by himself at the head of the conference table whose surface was completely covered by papers, stared up at them stonily.  "Welcome back," he said in the most insincere voice possible, which was probably him still trying for sincerity.  "Urushi is watching the kids.  Rokumaru 'found' a bucket of paint."

Kiri did not just have random buckets of paint lying around for the fox-brat to find.  There was a fatherhood joke here somewhere, but it didn't really work when Zabuza had his own genin team.

Hatake shuffled the papers directly in front of him into a messy pile with a suppressed sigh.  "Report," he ordered.

"Hai," said Shisui easily, falling into something like parade rest.  "Team Genbu's mission objective was to uncover the smuggling routes Gatou used to move products over country lines, particularly in and out of Hi no Kuni.  My team and I infiltrated the town and Gatou's organization respectively.  The written report will contain the details obtained from the mission.  Mission success; no major injuries sustained."

"Good," said Hatake.  "Momochi?"

His report was going to sound disastrous by comparison.  Fucking infiltration teams and their tidy little missions.   "Team Suzaku.  Mission objective was to establish direct trade between Nami and the base in Uzushio.  Team went undercover as mercenaries in Gatou's organization to subvert his decisions and executions, which would build gratitude from the more influential anti-Gatou locals."  Now for the fun part.  "Mission was complicated by the arrival of a genin team from Konoha, led by fucking Sarutobi Asuma and the last fucking Nara."

Kakashi's eye sharpened.  "Tell me you didn't kill them."

Zabuza rolled his eyes.  "Yeah, they're swimming with the fishes -- of course I didn't kill them.  Got my throat sliced open for my trouble.  Oh, did I mention they had a jinchuuriki?"

That bit definitely caught the shifty bastard's attention.  "Konoha shouldn't have a jinchuuriki."

"Whoop-dee-fucking-doo, tell Konoha that," growled Zabuza.  "I know what a jinchuuriki feels like.  Thing had the chakra shroud and everything."

Kakashi frowned.  "Did you retreat?"

Zabuza huffed a laugh.  "Yeah, the first time, to our base.  Haku got Sarutobi good, so both teams spent about a week licking our wounds."  Shisui cleared his throat meaningfully, and Zabuza amended, "Fine.  Konoha licked my wounds.  Happy?"

"That's disgusting and unsanitary," said Shisui, straight-faced.  "I would never."

"Anyways," growled Zabuza.  "Long story short, we fought to a stalemate that my team had the upper hand in -- " Shisui muffled a snort, which Zabuza ignored " -- and then Konoha here brought his team over and intimidated the Leaf team into leaving.  Villagers we saved and hid away were grateful.  Bridge-builder's scrapping the bridge for now and making more ships instead.  We stopped off at Uzushio and got someone good at talking to go over and set up a trade treaty or whatever.  Mission success.  Major injuries…" he trailed off.  Fuck.  There were a lot.  "I'll write them in the report," he muttered at last.  

Hatake blinked.  "Good work," he said.  "Get me your reports in three days' time."

"Three days, Taichou?" Shisui asked suspiciously.  "That's...generous of you."

"It's not," Hatake reassured.  "There's a massive backlog of work that piled up while you were gone.  You too, Momochi," he added before Zabuza could get properly gleeful at Shisui's misery.

Fucking paperwork.

"I'll send some of the genin over to Mei's assistant to see when they can get you in her schedule for a debrief," added Hatake.  "Akino, get my three here.  Watch out for paint balloons."  The blue-eyed pointy-eared mutt that always looked like everyone was beneath him slithered out from under the table, ignoring everyone else in the room, and took a swan dive out the open window.  

"Any updates on Konohagakure's movements while we were gone?" Zabuza asked, dropping into the closest chair.  "Reasons why they're sending the likes of Sarutobi to a Village-less country?"

"They're continuing their holding pattern," answered Hatake.  "Seven months now with nothing more than minor skirmishes since they've occupied Shimo no Kuni.  It looks like they're turning to strengthen economic prospects instead of pushing over the border to Kaminari with the snowmelt."

"Operatives have been reporting increases in the number of missions Konoha takes in the borderline minor countries," Shisui agreed.  "Kumo's all but pushed out, so Konoha's regrouping and reinforcing its gains."  

"At this point, it's unlikely Danzou will march on Kumo," Hatake agreed.  "Sarutobi in Nami suggests that he's migrating his front line fighters away from the battlefront."

"Gave him a stacked genin team," Zabuza grunted.  "Jumpy things. Pretty sure he's taken them to war with him."

Shisui pulled a face.  He had opinions about younglings fighting in unnecessary wars when they could be tucked away somewhere safe instead.  

"We need to figure out which bijuu Danzou managed to get his hands on," Hatake said.  "A war-tested jinchuuriki, even one not yet properly trained, is a serious threat."

"I'll send out feelers," Shisui agreed.

Zabuza crossed his arms across his chest.  "If we're gonna hit Konoha, we should do it when their forces are still spread thin."  Now, for example.

Hatake managed to look utterly neutral and quietly shifty at the same time.  "There will be heavy losses if we use a direct attack," he said evasively.  "There's a plan in the works that'll be most successful if Konoha feels secure in their position."

That was more ominous than it had any right to be.  Zabuza shot him a deeply suspicious glare and was promptly ignored.

"All right, enough about that,," said Shisui, planting his hands on his hips and surveying the paper-cluttered table surface like some kind of paperwork-aficionado psychopath.  "Which of these is mine?"

With Zabuza's and Shisui's teams back in Kirigakure, the old routine for training the assorted whelps returned with them.    Zabuza minded only the part that meant he had to get up early to run a rotating set of three brats through their paces.

Training the fox-brat was fun because he had a kind of feral instinct that none of the others had.  The civilian girl had strength that was bottled up, that she let free in careful increments; the sand princess had that cold viciousness that all the most cunning shinobi hoarded; but the fox-brat?  Raw, untamed power.  

Not that the kid himself was bloodthirsty -- far from, actually.  But the way he moved -- crouching low, nearly on all fours, the way his hands curled into claws when he wasn't thinking about them, the fluid grace when he shifted and the way his eyes sharpened when they locked on his prey -- that wasn't something that could be taught.  So long as he kept his mouth shut when he fought, it wasn't hard to picture the predatory monster he could become.

"Rah!  Rah! Raaah!  Take that!"

Which was impossible, actually, because the brat never shut his trap.  Zabuza'd had to quit yelling if you have breath to talk you're not working hard enough at him seven months ago because he'd gotten sick of hearing himself say it so many times.  Zabuza had acquired either godly amounts of patience or an aneurysm since then.

Naruto’s face split into a grin, like he had a sixth sense for Naruto-induced distress, but his eyes were trained on Temari as he regained his footing and prowled around in her a wide arc.  Temari, for her part, bared her teeth in an answering smirk and stood her ground, tensed to spring.  Ash blonde flashed behind Temari as Sakura, her bleached-to-death hair wracked up in a ponytail, lunged at her fist-first.

Delicate little civilian wisp like Sakura -- obviously she was the dodge-and-weave type, yeah?  To go with her medic-ninjutsu?  Nope.  Not anymore.  Sakura was now secretary-treasurer of the How To Hit Things Hard class. 

Temari whirled, deflecting the punch to the ground instead of absorbing the blow, and the packed dirt dented and cracked where Sakura landed.  Naruto took the opening to pounce, though ruined any intended surprise by cackling like a hyena as he did.  Temari pivoted to throw him over her shoulder, but stumbled when Sakura whipped around in a low kick.  All three tumbled into the dirt in a flail of limbs -- Temari forced an armbar on Naruto before Sakura dropped an axe kick that would have broken bones if Temari hadn't shoved Naruto away and flipped backwards onto her feet.

Of these three, Temari had started out so far ahead that she may as well have been beating off squirrels with a stick instead of sparring properly with them.  She was still the best of them two and a half years later, but her lead had narrowed.  

The genin faced off: Temari on one side, Sakura and Naruto on the other.  Naruto hadn't bothered to stand properly, squatting on his haunches instead with one hand braced against the ground.  Sakura took a wide stance beside him, hands clenched tightly into fists.  

"C'mon," drawled Temari, crossing her arms when neither moved.  "Tired already?"

It was literally impossible for Naruto to be tired unless he'd just woken up.  Zabuza'd seen him go seventy-two hours straight without sleep, though admittedly he'd been manic and questionably sane at that point.  "Never," Naruto shot back, and charged.  "Rah!" 

Temari rushed to meet him only to flip neatly over his head when he lunged, landing low and spinning to scythe Sakura's legs out from under her as she followed up Naruto's attack.  Sakura leapt the attack lightly, used the momentum to launch her own kick, and struck a glancing blow to Temari's shoulder before the other girl could dodge.   Temari threw herself backwards with the momentum and whirled to pounce at Naruto as Sakura gave chase.  

Tch.  "Girl, brat, quit working around each other and start working with each other!" Zabuza barked.  "There's two of you and one of her."  The fighting paused as the genin watched each other warily. "Hey, princess, you just gonna stand there and let them plan?"

He was supposed to be teaching, yeah?  Zabuza pointed out the weakness -- either they fixed it fast or their opponent took advantage of it.  That was teaching.  

Naruto and Sakura locked eyes as Temari threw herself into a twisting kick, and mutual unspoken agreement sent the pair skittering apart, well clear from where she landed.  Undeterred, she leapt after Naruto with fist upraised and he only just managed to block with both his forearms crossed before him.  

"Princess, your left flank is wide open when you attack like that," Zabuza drawled as Sakura darted forward.  

Temari leapt up, planted two feet in Naruto's chest to help her vault backwards over Sakura's head, and Sakura swerved to avoid colliding with her teammate as Naruto went down with a winded oof.  

"Get up," Zabuza snapped, and Naruto scrambled back to his feet as Sakura deflected Temari's next lunge by throwing herself bodily at the older girl.  Temari ducked and tossed her over her shoulder with barely a pause.  "The fuck kind of tactic was that, girl?" Zabuza demanded of Sakura as Temari locked her eyes on Naruto.

Naruto crouched nearly to all fours before he sprang to meet her, fist swinging out in a wide haymaker.  Temari had an answering punch for him, ruined by Sakura kicking her legs out from under her.  Temari's fist went high; Naruto's caught her shoulder and sent her stumbling backwards.

Sakura took advantage of her interrupted balance and caught her in a headlock from behind, dragging Temari backwards.  "Aha!" Naruto cheered, throwing his entire bodyweight on top of them both and sending all three to the ground in a flurry of flailing limbs and muffled complaints.

Zabuza suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.  "Hey, break it up," he called, annoyance giving the words a bite.  "On your feet, brats, give me a real fight."  He unbuckled Kubikiribocho, swung it off to the side, out of the way, and took a deliberate step forward.

Temari detangled herself from the other two at speed, popping back up on her feet.  Naruto scrambled to follow, crouching low with an anticipatory grin with one hand braced against the ground, and Sakura staggered upright with sweaty hair plastered in her face and eyes alight with the challenge.

Unholy little terrors, all of them.  He was almost proud.

Unfortunately for his plans of an afternoon swatting gnats, a familiar silhouette loped out of the undergrowth, a scroll clamped lightly between pointed canines, and Zabuza pulled up short to scowl at Akino.  "Hold that thought," he told his genin, and reached out to take the missive from the ninken.

He skimmed the words and grimaced.  Mei just so happened to have an empty slot in her schedule, would he and Juuta like to debrief at this time?  No.  But there was a note scribbled on the paper from Hatake that said, yes, you will, Momochi, so in conclusion, he had no choice.  He eyed Akino.  "You wanna take over here?" he asked the ninken.

Ice blue eyes blinked up at him, vaguely dismissive, and Akino sat down.  Affirmative, then.

"All right, bratlings," Zabuza growled, raising his voice.  "Akino's sparring you three til the end of session.  Don't disappoint me."

"I would never," Temari demurred, and Naruto cackled. 

Zabuza was so freaking tired.  He stared at them dully, turned on his heel, and left them to become someone else's problem.  

Spring in Kiri sucked because the sun liked to pretend it was winter in the mornings and summer in the afternoons and a sticky film of sweat had built up on Zabuza’s skin over the past hours he’d been outside.  He stuck to the trees as long as he could, avoiding the sun as he wove his way through the training grounds.  He rolled his shoulders absently, grimacing when the heavy material of his flak jacket rubbed against his skin.  Maybe he should just go without.

Deliberately loud footsteps announced Shisui’s approach long before he hopped up to sling an arm around Zabuza’s shoulders.  “Hey, Z!” he said, cheerful.  “How were yours this time?”

Zabuza did his best to hurl Shisui into the nearest tree but he was a slippery devil and detached himself before Zabuza could get a good grip on him.  “Terrible,” he snapped, glowering as Shisui skittered out of reach. 

Shisui snorted, slowing to a leisurely saunter.  “You don’t mean that,” he dismissed.  “Mine’re doing great.  Nishiki-kun and Kyuushi-chan do the exact same kata but with different styles, it’s really beautiful to watch.”

Translation: the white-eyes boy was too aggressive in his movements and the girl too tentative.  “And the kid?”

Shisui gave him a look that was equal parts disappointment and disapproval.  “Z,” he said reproachfully.  “They’re all doing fine.”

How Shisui had survived so much and still retained his optimism, Zabuza had no clue.  He should’ve been more jaded than even Hatake, but nope, war atop betrayal atop torture and he still had that undying belief that everything would work out just fine.  Must be nice to be young and idealistic.  “You got your part of the report down?” he asked, because he had no patience for changing the subject delicately.  

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” said Shisui, and instantly his entire bearing shifted.  His face smoothed until it was as blank as the half-mask that covered his ruined eye, and his easy saunter he reined in to a hunter’s lightfooted prowl.  “Just don’t pick a fight with Mei’s guards.  It’s hell on Taichou’s blood pressure.”

Zabuza snorted, slowing to match Shisui’s pace as they reached the edge of the city.  “No promises if they pick a fight with me first.”

Shisui broke character long enough to send him an exasperated glance, and Zabuza smirked in response, kept up the expression with a colder edge as they made their way for the Tower.  

A year had made a noticeable difference to heal the rift between former loyalist and former rebel, but resentment and antagonism still simmered just below the surface.  Or on the surface.  Zabuza watched a burgeoning bar fight out of the corner of his eye before a tokujo skidded out of a shunsin to break them up.  Kirigakure was the Hidden Village most hostile to its own shinobi, and the recent scars of a civil war definitely didn’t help.

A woman in a full kimono caught his eye from where she lounged on the patio of a small cafe.  She caught his eye and smiled, the curve of her mouth visibly under the gauzy veil shielding her lower face, the same maroon as the hair spilling loose down her shoulders.  Zabuza grinned back, full of teeth and threat, and very obviously didn’t acknowledge the Anbu perched on the opposite rooftop. 

The Hanabi-ha shinobi had named her Kuramitsuha after the Rain-bringer, but Zabuza knew her as Fuyumi, heiress to the Hiiragi Clan, one of the strongest kunoichi to decline a sword in Kiri.  Highborn, of course, and like many like her, too valuable to kill for all that she had chosen the losing side.  She, like them, languished under guard instead of running missions. 

Mei could talk about reunification all she wanted, but her shinobi would never trust one who had killed their own, let alone massacred outpost after outpost single-handedly.

“You know her?” Shisui asked, his voice quiet enough not to be heard by anyone else. 

Zabuza snorted.  “No,” he said, and stumped ahead into the Mizukage’s Tower. 

Twenty minutes of security checks and hovering in Mei’s waiting room later, Ao opened the door to the Mizukage’s office with an automatic glower the second he spotted Zabuza.  “Come in,” he ground out. 

“Finally,” Zabuza drawled, and shouldered his way in after Shisui.

"Juuta-san," Mei greeted, a small smile curling at the edge of her lips.  It widened into a smirk as she added, "Momochi."

"Mizukage-sama," acknowledged Shisui, inclining his head.

"Terumi," Zabuza returned, crossing his arms.

Standing next to Mei's desk, Ao stiffened in offense, but Mei huffed a laugh and said, "Relax, Ao.  We're among friends." Only half of what she'd said rang false.  To Shisui, she said, "You've completed your mission, then?"

"We have.  Gen-Han, led by Juuta: our mission objective was to eliminate smuggling mongul Gatou from Nami no Kuni," said Shisui.  "I have his head sealed in a scroll, as requested."

"Su-Han, Momochi.  Deter foreign interests in Nami," Zabuza added.  "Mission success -- warned off a Konoha team, prevented a bridge from being built on terms favorable to Hi no Kuni."

Shisui set the black-edged scroll on the desk before Mei; Mei picked it up and passed it to Ao.  Ao unsealed it immediately, catching the gently decaying head midair in one hand as it materialized in a puff of smoke.  Zabuza twitched at the smell and wondered how far back he could get away with leaning.  "This is Gatou," Ao confirmed grimly, and mercifully resealed the thing before they could inhale too many dead person spores.  

"Well," Mei said, steepling her fingers.  "Mission successes indeed, it appears.  Come back tomorrow to collect your cut of the pay."

Zabuza grunted.  Shisui said, "Very well, Mizukage-sama."

Mei glanced at Shisui from under her eyelashes.  "Polite as well as fearsome," she purred.  "I like that."  Her eyes slid sideways to Zabuza when he rolled his.  "Aren't you going to call me by my title, too, Zabuza?"

Zabuza snorted.  "You don't pay me enough for that."

Mei leaned back, lounging bonelessly in her seat.  "And if I did?"

"You'd be a corrupt Kage for misusing funds and I'd start a revolt to kick you out," Zabuza retorted.

Mei laughed, low and throaty.  "Get out of here, Momochi.  Juuta-san, always a pleasure."

There were some connections that remained even against one's intentions -- even in Kiri, where such things were liabilities at best.  Life debts, even paid, were potent in a Village where saving the life of another without gain was about as rare as an albino sea lion.  

Which was why Zabuza would never be rid of the skinny grey-haired bastard and also why he and Mei, six hours after his and Shisui’s debrief, were sharing two six-packs of shitty beer and a pile of shittier takeout in a shithole apartment that Mei technically owned but hadn’t lived in since she became Mizukage.  

“Come on,” complained Mei, rolling her eyes.  With her hair braided messily to the side and dressed down in a loose shirt and sweats, she looked a lot more like the Mei from the Academy than the military leader of the bloodiest shinobi village.  “Your people don’t want mine poking holes in their cover story.  You could at least give it a peek.”

“You need a hell of a lot more alcohol if you’re gonna try and convince me to go there,” Zabuza retorted.  “Better food, too.”

“Gods, you’re such a primadonna now,” said Mei without venom.  “We never had chow this good before we made chuunin.”

It was overcooked noodles swimming in oil and spices, and exactly the kind of minimal-nutrition flavor-overload she and he had both craved -- and indulged in -- as preteens.  “Uh huh,” said Zabuza.  “And you’re the fucking ‘kage and you’re still eating this crap like it’s that snail thing the high-caste snobs like.”  He pointed her chopsticks at her.  “You’re gonna get fat and slow, Terumi.”

She spat a gob of lava at him for that; he leaned back to watch it sail past harmlessly and land on the floor with a sizzle.  He turned back, unimpressed.  “This is why you never get your housing deposits back,” he growled.  “How many carpets they had to replace in the Tower from your piss-poor habits?”

Mei wiped the molten residue from her lips with the pad of her thumb.  “The carpets were replaced because they were old and worn out,” she said primly.  She paused, eyeing him thoughtfully.  "I'll throw in a bottle fifteen-year-old single malt if you go," she offered offhandedly. 

This again.  Zabuza rolled his eyes.  "Mei, there's a reason the cover story works.  Because nobody wants to go to the North, especially after whatever happened to those poor bastards."

"There was one scouting party that did go before the fighting, and they didn't find any signs of foul play," Mei pointed out.  "It's not for certain that something bad happened to them."

"Sure," said Zabuza, faux-serious.  "Every single shinobi and civilian in all three of the northern outposts just decided to get up and walk away across the ocean to the mainland.  And set their empty ships adrift to get beached some thousand kilometres away on half a dozen different islands.  Makes sense, if you're a jellyfish with half a brain."

Mei scowled, tossing down her box of noodles and digging in the plastic bag.  Looking for something with more meat, probably.   "If there is a threat up there, I need to know," she insisted.  "And I could send scouts north freely if my shinobi didn't believe that you lot all came from there."

Unfortunately true.  "You coulda told 'em what Hanabi-ha really is instead of mixing in lies."

"No," said Mei.  "Kiri is still too fragile for Shimura Danzou to find out I've been harbouring his traitors.  A scandal like this and Kiri will be plunged into civil war again -- easy pickings for Konoha.  Though technically, I haven't lied.  No one knew much about the North."

Not even the earliest of the conquerors had bothered spending more time than it took to establish dominance and a policy of salutary neglect in the north before turning tail back to warmer waters.  What had happened during the war was this: the northern outposts stopped sending their monthly tithe of supplies and young shinobi, but Kirigakure was embroiled in too much unrest to be bothered to do anything about it.  Mei'd told her forces that she would seek an alliance from the northern outposts, sent a scouting party to find them all absent a single living soul, and instead allied with Hana-ha.  The arriving ex-Konohan forces had pretty much just declined to correct assumptions as to the whereabouts of their origins when they did work with members of the Hanran.  So now, even though they wore Kiri hitai-ate with the red stripe to mark them as Hana-ha, the rest of the Kiri shinobi still assumed they had been stationed at the distant northern outposts before the war and the offing of the Yondaime.

Cue Shisui, who capitalized on the misunderstanding with gusto as he built up his fake only-half-masked-instead-of-fully-masked persona.

Zabuza grunted.  "Careful, you might not survive the blowback if the upper caste gets their claws into it before you're ready."

"The upper caste can suck a dick," muttered Mei, jabbing her chopsticks into a box of stir fried beef and greens.  "Zabuza, give me something here.  If there's something out there, it's going to affect your people too, not just Kiri."

Fuck.  "Fuck," he said aloud.  "I'll think about it, all right?"

"And run it by Hatake," prompted Mei.

"Yes, fine, all right," Zabuza snapped, and snatched and drained half his bottle in one go.  "No fucking promises, you hear me?"

Mei raised an eyebrow.  "Promises, from you?" she purred.  "I would never dream of it."

"Hey.  Speaking of promises," said Zabuza meaningfully.

The scowl reappeared on Mei’s face in a flash.  “I know you’re not going to lecture me on adoption, Zabuza.  You have your apprentice and now I have mine.”

“I never adopted Haku,” Zabuza growled.  “I gave him the choice of being my apprentice.  And it wasn’t political.”

Mei huffed a laugh.  “Did you offer to adopt him?” she asked, dry.  “You’d probably make his year, kid hangs onto your every word.  Unless you have plans to marry and beget a whelp of your own?”

“We’re talking about Asagao right now,” Zabuza said impatiently.   “You know.  The girl you sealed a bijuu into her, renamed after a flower that means willful promise, and have under armed guard around the clock.”

“She is a willful thing,” Mei sighed.  “Perhaps I should have given her the name Buruuberu instead.”

Zabuza rolled his eyes.  “Naming a redhead after a bluebell isn’t going to make her grateful to you for basically taking her prisoner and locking her away in your tower.”

A smile curved at the edge of Mei’s mouth, even if her eyes were troubled.  You know your Hanakotoba surprisingly well,” she teased.

Zabuza grunted.  “Side effect of having Haku as an apprentice,” he grumbled.  “Look, you obviously don’t have a maternal instinct.  Quit it!” he snapped as she spat another glob of lava at him.  “You know I’m right.  Can you just fucking listen for once?”

Mei slouched back in her chair, the mulish look in her eye reminiscent of the one she’d had fifteen years ago as a fiery midget Academy rebel.  “Akagama named her Hakaiko.  Child of destruction.  I wasn’t going to keep calling her that.”

Yeah, that was about as bad as whatever the fuck Gaara’s parents had been thinking.  But that was getting off-track; why the fuck was Zabuza giving the parenting talk?  “Mei,” he said with exaggerated patience.  “You took away her name, stole her from the only home she knew, and control every second of her life.  If you wanted her to hate you, you’re doing a damn good job.”

“She’s a jinchuuriki,” Mei protested.  “I can’t just let her run wild.”

“She’s your fucking ward now, because you adopted her,” Zabuza snapped.  “Your apprentice, as good as your heir, and she’s a kunoichi -- so train her to fight.  Treat her like that instead of some fucking doll that you take out to look at every so often when you remember.  You don’t trust her; guess fucking what?  She doesn’t trust you either!”

Mei regarded him with hooded eyes, and Zabuza wondered if she would try to disembowel him.  “Ugh,” she said at last, politely ignoring his twitch.  “When did you get so old?” 

Zabuza glared.  

“Fine,” said Mei.  “When’s the playdate?”

“Oh, no,” warned Zabuza.  “Fuck no.  You only get one favor from me: asking Hatake about the North or asking Hatake about your pet jinchuuriki mingling with our kids.  Pick one.”

“How sickeningly domestic,” Mei purred.

“By the way,” added Zabuza.  “There’s only one right answer.”

Hatake, once informed, said with a resigned air, "Terumi wants what?"

"Nope.  No," said Shisui.  "Not happening.  Not with mine.  Shichino is barely stable without throwing in a wild-card jinchuuriki." 

Zabuza slumped against the wall and wondered why he couldn’t have left things well enough alone. 

“This benefits mostly her,” Uzuki pointed out, fingers tapping absently on her vambrace.  “What does Hana-ha stand to gain?”

Zabuza sighed heavily: here went nothing.  "She'll let us use the fourth level catacombs for training, unsupervised, whenever we want."

Hatake went completely still.  "Is this confirmation that she knows?"  It was more a statement than a question.

Fucking this again.  "Mei's not a godsdamned idiot," groused Zabuza, rolling his eyes.  "She knows we have the white-eyes princess, probably the spare too.  We had the last confirmed living Uchiha, so it's not like it's a huge stretch to assume we have his little brother.  That's three of the Lost Four; I wonder where the last one is.  Can't possibly have anything to do with the genin the Hana-ha leadership guards so cautiously.  Oh, but sure, the catacomb's for you, Hatake, to do shit like cut lightning in half without turning the village into ash, not train jinchuuriki."

That got him a droll look from Hatake.  "She's using the offer to confirm that we have him."

Zabuza shrugged.  "So what, she knows we have a jinchuuriki?  Surprise, we have two.  She's not in a position to make a move on us anyways."

"Well," said Shisui after a pause.  "It's...convenient.  We do need a place to train jinchuuriki.”   No jinchuuriki reached the full potential of their powers until they learned to channel their bijuu.

"How stable is the girl's seal?” Hatake asked, thoughtful.  

Zabuza shrugged.  “Hasn’t lost control yet, also hasn’t really trained yet.”

“Emiri and I will not join,” said Uzuki.  “I would rather limit her exposure to Kiri nin.”

Hatake nodded decisively.  "Momochi, your team will do it."

What a bloody surprise.  "My team is not the fucking guinea pigs or leftovers," Zabuza growled.  Hatake cleared his throat, which he ignored. "Just because I don't have any fucking heirs -- "

"I will be there too," Hatake interrupted loudly.  "Your team is going because you have no jinchuuriki.  I'll be going in case Mei's jinchuu -- "

"Asagao," Zabuza snapped.

" -- Asagao loses control of the Sanbi," he continued smoothly.  "Uzuki, watch my team for this."

"They're going to try to figure out what you're doing," Shisui warned, kicking his heels as he perched on the table.

"Yes," said Hatake bleakly.  "I know."

 Time for a fucking playdate.

Zabuza's team, shockingly, took it fairly well -- all things considered.  Temari propped her hands on her hips.  "Sensei, what?"

Zabuza tried not to sigh and failed.  "You're going to make nice with the Sanbi jinchuuriki."

Temari and Haku exchanged glances.  "And the captain believed this an acceptable idea?” said Neji, folding his arms in close to his body. 

Zabuza scoffed.  "Of course not.  That's why you three are doing it and not his lot."

Temari frowned.  Neji scowled.

"What favor did he bargain for?" Haku asked.  

"Fourth level catacomb training site."

A thoughtful pause.

"That makes sense, then," said Temari.  "Shichino and Rokumaru haven't been able to properly train without risking blowing their covers."

The princess held grudges doggedly, but apparently not against Hatake.  "Forgivingness is a terrible trait to pick up," Zabuza snapped at her.

"Uh huh," said Temari.  "My brother's a jinchuuriki and Nishiki's always got a suppression seal, it can't be that bad.  When do we meet her?"

Mei wanted the initial encounter to be in a controlled setting, which was why she ushered Zabuza, his genin, and a masked Hatake into her own living room.  "Asagao is upstairs; she will join us momentarily," she said.  "Hatake-san, I was surprised to see you join us."

"I take the safety of this team seriously," Hatake said, and if it was a lie Zabuza couldn't tell.  "I have knowledge of sealing in case things get out of hand."

"I'm sure they won't," said Mei with just a little too much heat.  She turned to Zabuza's team.  "Make yourselves comfortable."

Temari smiled her thanks and went back to investigating the bookshelves, Neji shadowing her closely.  Haku opted to drift closer to where Zabuza was keeping an eye on the backyard. 

"The renovations of the northeastern housing district look to be going well," Hatake noted.  "I haven't seen what the Village looked like before the war, but I'd go out on a limb and say it looks better now."

"Haven't you?" Mei said dryly, though it was more amused than anything.

Hatake shrugged languidly.  "Allegedly," he said placidly.

Asagao emerged from the doorway at the top of the stairs, a pair of masked Anbu at her back.  The girl was sullen-faced, tangled hair the color of burnished flame tumbling past her elbows.  She stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs, narrowed eyes taking in the five strangers.  One of the guards at her shoulder cleared his throat, and when she didn't move, nudged her forward forcefully.

"For fuck's sake, Terumi," growled Zabuza under his breath. 

"Guards, leave us," Mei said sharply.  "We will have words later."  Asagao turned fast when the two shinobi at her back disappeared, but after a long moment, continued down the stairs warily.  

"Asagao-chan," Mei smiled, holding out her hand.  Hesitantly, the girl took a few more steps until she was within arm's reach.  "This is...Raijuu-san.  He and Zabuza have come to visit us for dinner."

For dinner?  That was news.  

Asagao ducked her head in a bow without meeting their eyes.  "And that is Zabuza's genin team," Mei continued, though her cheer was already beginning to crack.  

Zabuza exchanged a glance with Haku.  "Hello, Asagao-chan," Haku greeted carefully.  "My name is Haku.  Would you like to join us?"

Asagao looked at him, shot a glance at Mei, and blinked back towards Haku.  Finally, she nodded, padding over to Haku as he stepped away from Zabuza’s side, towards Temari and Neji.  Zabuza watched them go with narrowed eyes, but couldn’t detect any hostility or volatility from the tiny preteen warhead. 

Zabuza sidled over to the other adults for lack of better company.  "You," he informed Mei, "are a shit parent."

Mei blew out a frustrated huff.  "What do you or I know about parents?" she snapped under her breath.  

"The girl has no fucking idea what you want from her.  If she's going to be your daughter, treat her like your daughter," Zabuza shot back.  "If your apprentice, like your apprentice.  If a weapon, then like a weapon.  Haku knows where he stands with me; you and that girl are a fucking mess."

"What he is suggesting," interjected Hatake diplomatically before Mei could spit acid at Zabuza's face, "is that perhaps you could sit down with Asagao-chan and let her know exactly what her role here is." 

Mei narrowed her eyes, but after a moment grudgingly relented with, "Perhaps."

Well.  So the skinny bastard could be helpful sometimes after all.  Mei's hackles were up, but she did take Hatake seriously because apparently he had a reputation for competence, whereas Mei had seen Zabuza drunk out of his skull losing a fight against a painted wooden starfish. 

Speaking of drunk.  "Where's your booze?" he asked Mei.  Mei pursed her lips, shooting a glance at Asagao and Zabuza's lot, and Zabuza rolled his eyes.  "They're fine.  Haku and the princess've got it under control."

Mei raised her eyebrows.  "And your other genin?"

"The punk's here 'cause I'm trying to socialize him," Zabuza muttered.  "Your alcohol, Terumi."

"That is what civilian housewives do when they collect their progeny under one roof," Kakashi offered, dry.  "Drink and confide in each other."

Zabuza could smell Mei's fucking interest as she eyed Hatake from beneath her lashes.  "Confide," she purred, drawing the word out.  "I can't say I'm not interested.  Shall we?" 

Zabuza exchanged a glance with Hatake.  Hatake, wordlessly, turned to follow Mei as she sashayed towards the dining room.  Zabuza rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt and snapped his fingers at Haku.  "Hey, kid," he said, when Haku looked up.  "Keep things frosty.  Princess, limit the destruction.  Punk -- " he paused, frowned, " -- don't make any enemies.  Am I clear?"

"Hai, Sensei," said Temari cheerfully as Neji did so with a scowl.  Haku merely nodded, holding a moment's eye contact with a tiny smile that was a hell of a lot more reassuring than the glint in Temari’s eyes.  Zabuza glared just for good measure and went to find Mei and Hatake, and more importantly, the booze. 

Straight sake was Mei's poison of choice.  "Hatake-san, I never took you for the type to pick up a genin team," she mused aloud as she set out a trio of glasses.  

"Our youngest members are our future," Hatake said wisely, like he hadn't only taken on his team after their last sensei went fucking batshit and deserted, leaving Hatake as the last available jounin who knew their true identities.  "The matter of their training is taken very seriously."

Mei flicked her eyes towards Zabuza as she poured out the sake.  "You gave this one two more of them," she noted, playful.  She nudged a glass towards Zabuza and offered another to Hatake.

"Aa," said Hatake, accepting the glass.  "Haku is an exceptional young shinobi.  They say the student is only as good as the sensei teaches."

Oh, now he tried to flatter Zabuza.  It wasn’t working.  

Much. 

Mei huffed a laugh.  "It might be better to say that Haku turned out well in spite of Zabuza."

Zabuza shrugged, let the jab slide off because frankly he hadn't thought he'd be able to keep Haku alive for more than a week when he'd first acquired him.  Turned out he didn’t need much more than regular feeding and watering.  "He's a good kid.  Useful."  Which was honestly more than he could say about Hatake’s whelps, or Mei’s.

Speaking of which -- he thought Mei only had the one brat, but a blue-haired kid around Temari’s age wearing the dopiest glasses he had ever seen on a shinobi leaned around the corner and said hesitantly, “Um, Mizukage-sama…”

“What the hell, another one?” was Zabuza’s first reaction, and a pretty reasonable one all things considered.  

The kid shrank back a little, and Mei glared poison at Zabuza.  “You have three genin,” she pointed out.  “Chojuro is a chuunin.  He’s been helping me with Asagao-chan and around the Tower.”

The blue-haired shrimp jumped a little and bowed jerkily, baring the hilt of the katana slung over his back.  “H-hajimemashite,” he stammered.  “Er...yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”

Uh huh.  Nice to meet you too, kid.

“Chojuro,” Hatake greeted with his usual blankness.  Chojuro smiled tentatively in response, and pointed teeth flashed in his mouth.  

Interesting.

“Did you need something, Chojuro?” Mei asked.

Chojuro looked very briefly starstruck.  Mei waited patiently.  “Oh, uh -- dinner’s ready, Mizukage-sama.”

Mei smiled, predatory.  Hatake may have panicked slightly behind his mask, but who could really tell with him?  “Excellent.  Thank you, Chojuro,” Mei purred.  “I’ll get the children.”

Um, nope.  If there was something on fire in the other room -- less likely than if it had been the Terrible Three -- Zabuza was going to have to cover it up.  “Don’t bother,” he grumbled.  He shoved his chair away from the table and hauled himself to his feet.  “Just get the food ready.”

Mei looked at him oddly, probably aware of his intentions, but didn’t protest as he stalked back into the other room.  

All four brats were huddled on the ground in a corner, necks bent and studying something intently.  As he watched, their heads rose in unison and dropped again, following the trajectories of several small and somewhat shiny somethings -- ice pebbles.  Asagao's hand snaked out and snatched them out of the air.  Her startled laugh was high and clear and unexpected by herself as much as everyone else.  

"Nice, Asagao-chan," said Temari cheerfully.  "That was all ten!"  Neji opened his mouth, caught Temari's warning look, and shut it again.

Haku looked over their heads, a pleased tilt to his mouth, and acknowledged, "Zabuza-san."

The other three turned to face him.  The cautious contentment on Asagao's face shuttered, and she set the ice pebbles down silently on the floor.  Tch.  Wasn't she supposed to be tough, jinchuuriki and all that?  She didn't have the fox-brat's feral edge or the tanuki-brat's eerie stare.  Maybe her whatever-it-was had yet to surface.

"Kid.  Other kids," said Zabuza gruffly.  "Chow time.  Let's go."

Zabuza's team tended to actually listen to him, which he could forever lord over Kakashi, whose team squirmed into every loophole they could get their paws on, and Shisui, whose team was as distant and scattered as a pack of cats on catnip.  All three of Zabuza's genin stood up at the same time, leaving Asagao to follow just a beat behind.  

"What's for dinner?" Temari asked cheerfully.

Zabuza shrugged.  "Whatever your little friend usually eats," was his guess.  

"What do you normally eat, Asagao-chan?" asked Haku, brushing a careful, telegraphed hand against her shoulder.

The girl shrugged, strands of hair falling in front of her face as she tipped her head forward.  She mumbled something under her breath.

"Hmm?" Temari prompted.

"Rice," Neji supplied, tucking his arms in close.

Fair.

"Is that it?" asked Temari, exchanging a glance with Haku, who shrugged.

Not every bratling was as low maintenance as Haku -- Mei really wasn't winning anyone's favor here with rice and, knowing her, cubed supplement bars.   Which Zabuza may or may not have fed to Haku in the past because he figured that if it had nutrition then it was food, and that had been his handlers' philosophy.  Hey, learning curve, right?  

There was a large, traditional spread waiting for them on the table in the dining room as Mei made small talk with Hatake and Chojuro perched awkwardly on the edge of his seat.  "You made the chuunin cook for you?" Zabuza drawled.  "Thank the gods.  We won't die horribly today."

Chojuro blushed and ducked his head.  Mei gave Zabuza a particularly saccharine smile that meant she was envisioning his evisceration.  "Come sit down, Asagao-chan," she invited warmly, gesturing at the empty seat next to Chojuro.  “We will eat with your new friends.  Chojuro made all your favorites.”

Hatake appeared faintly pained.  Zabuza bit back a grimace and was proud that his team looked only slightly bewildered.  

Mei'd been a kid when she'd made genin, even if she'd taken longer than both Zabuza and Hatake -- shouldn't she know better than to handle her jinchuuriki like a live exploding tag one day and coddle her like a civilian toddler the next?  That was how you raised a thing that held loyalty to nothing but itself.  Pick one, for fuck's sake.  Or better yet, neither.

Sure enough, the little animation in Asagao's expression vanished in a blink, and robotically, she took a seat.  Mei frowned, morphing it into a smile when Asagao glanced in her direction.  Zabuza tried not to sprain his eyeballs. 

Dinner was a farce -- slow and painful, where the only good part about it was the free food, reluctantly, but mostly watching the Kiri nin try to watch Hatake eating under his mask.  Zabuza herded his brats back to the base thrilled to be done with it all and then joined the other token adults to spill the details.  

"How was the child?" Uzuki asked without looking up from the oiled cloth she ran carefully down the length of her blade.

Zabuza grunted.  "Wilting daisy.  Mei knows fuck all about bratlings and the bratling's been fed loyalist propaganda so you can see where that's going."

"Timid?" Shisui said doubtfully.  "She was a bit of a spitfire when I met her.  Stabbed my bunshin in the back when I was extracting her and the other candidates from the Rishiri Islands base."

"She is insecure and in a potentially hostile environment where she doesn't know what's expected of her," Hatake pointed out.  "Withdrawing is a strategic decision on her part.  She'll be better if Terumi is clear with her expectations of her."

"Well," said Shisui.  "Did she like your kids, Z?"

Zabuza shrugged.  "Yeah," he said.  "Her socialization skill shit or whatever is worse than the punk's.  Least he'll talk to people outside of eating dinner."

"Kids don't really play the same with kids older than them, though," mused Shisui aloud.  

"I might take Team Byakko next time," the captain said after a moment.  

Pause.  No.  Bad idea.  Go back.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Zabuza demanded. 

"Socialization," Hatake said blandly.  

"It would be good for Rokumaru and Shichino to have a peer, even if they don't tell her who they are or where they’re from," said Uzuki.

Zabuza crossed his arms.  "The fox-brat will blow his cover faster than a winter squall the second he hears her surname," he pointed out.  "He'll give up his name and his bijuu and the midget's, in case you were fine with that first part."

"Not as fast as you calling them the 'fox-brat' and ‘tanuki-brat,’" Shisui muttered under his breath.

Zabuza charitably ignored him to press his point.  "The jinchuuriki-girl squeals, it'll be to Mei.  You trust Mei enough to show all your cards?"

"We'll worry about that later," Hatake decided, which meant that he’d made up his mind already. 

Fuck this bullshit.  Zabuza needed a good fight against someone who wasn't freaking annoying.  "Uzuki.  You and me.  Training ground in ten minutes."

Uzuki smiled.

Zabuza was pure power, crashing and cutting and crushing.  Uzuki was light on her feet, her steps leading her deftly through the motions as she wove and struck and spun aside.  Zabuza fought like a waterfall crashing onto rocks -- Uzuki flowed like a stream in its winding route, and for all that her style would never suit Zabuza himself, he admitted it beautiful to watch.  

Shinobi like Hatake and Shisui used their blades like tools, which wasn't inaccurate, but Zabuza and Uzuki, who grew up wielding the sword?  They were different.  Zabuza could make any blade -- any weapon, really -- work for him, but the first time he took up Kubikiribocho in his own hands, he knew that no sword would ever compare.  It was part of him now, the way Kisame always bragged that Samehada responded to unspoken commands and straight up cuddled him in his fucking sleep.  Point being, he had a connection to his sword.

Uzuki, he suspected, had a connection to every sword she picked up.  There was absolutely nothing remarkable about the blade she twirled in one hand as she looped around him -- mass-produced, plain hilt, single-edged.  Standard issue Konoha make.  But the way she held it -- light and sure and unconscious -- it may as well have been the best-forged blade in existence. 

Uzuki pounced for him, her katana a flash of light reflecting from the sunlight streaming through the leaves overhead.  Zabuza met her attack head on, Kubikiribocho swiping in a wide arch in her direction, and Uzuki redirected her momentum just enough that the broadsword struck her blade glancingly instead of full-force.  She rebounded off the ground, one hand braced against the ground as she sent her katana slipping up under his guard.  Zabuza jerked to the side and the tip barely brushed his flak jacket. 

Kubikiribocho reached the top of his swing and then it was gravity giving him a boost as Zabuza slammed the blade down on her, designed to cleave shoulder to hip.  Uzuki, too fast to be caught, flipped neatly over the blade and sprang as soon as her feet hit the ground.  

Zabuza huffed a laugh, bared his teeth in a grin and yanked Kubikiribocho up to shield himself with the flat of the blade milliseconds before Uzuki collided with the other side.  She was tricky, this one, and her sword bit into Zabuza’s shoulder when he shoved her back bodily with a sweep of Kubikiribocho.  

She skidded backwards and landed in a crouch, but instead of attacking again she just stood.  “First blood,” she said, utterly serene despite the light that danced in her eyes.  “My win.”

Zabuza brushed away the blood trickling from the cut.  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, tolerant.  They both knew he could brush off a hundred papercuts like that and still smash her like a fly.  

Her mouth twitched up in a smile that said she knew what he was thinking but that she had some things up her own sleeve.  She was easy company, always down for a good fight, and quietly enigmatic.

Zabuza didn’t believe in fate or destiny and was trying his damndest to beat it out of his punk of a genin, but sometimes things like Uzuki came up that seemed awfully convenient.  She’d been on Hatake’s team in Anbu, replacing Uchiha Itachi when he got promoted to captain.  Three years later, she showed up again to rejoin Hatake’s team, replacing -- yet again -- Uchiha Itachi.  She wasn’t a hard-hitter but was strong enough, trusted enough to fill the vacant unit captain spot, brought in the last white-eyes as a victory after a bitter betrayal and loss, like the gods knew they needed a fucking win.  

But that was just coincidence, right?

Chapter Text

Between his team of brats and long-term Hana-ha planning and whatever bullshit Shisui or Mei dragged him into, Zabuza seldom saw the unit that he was nominally in charge of; that's what he had a Second for.  Said Second, Nishigawa, was a jounin with the very strange affliction of enjoying anything to do with logistics.  Obviously, he was from Konoha, and Zabuza reckoned they had something in the water that turned out especially bizarre shinobi.  For example: Shisui, a fucking maniac. 

Unfortunately, if there was a problem and Zabuza ignored it, the problem would come and find him instead.  

Zabuza was supposed to meet his team after their dinner break for a training session before he got stuck in another Command meeting.  First, they were late.  Then, they did not show up.  In twenty minutes, Zabuza went from annoyed to pissed to grudgingly concerned and right back around to pissed again.  His team didn't pull shit like this, not like Genbu, who got distracted by a patch of godsdamned sunlight or a grift, or like Byakko, who set things on fire and painted caricatures on others and generally vandalized the city which he didn't entirely disapprove of even though he was supposed to.

No, his team were proper little soldiers of questionable mental stability.  

The first, most obvious place to check was the library base.  It was empty of even Uzuki and the littlest white-eyes, probably because they all did their team drills at this time.  Zabuza let the outside door slam behind him with bad grace and stalked across to the opposite door.  

The Kiri low caste barracks had been grim, quiet but not silent.  He remembered the Old Academy as a place charged with fear and bloodlust in equal amounts.  The Old Academy now was like neither -- ignorant of their housing's predecessors, the Konohan insurgents had moved right in with one small hitch when a nosy chuunin had unsealed the arena and given about a third of everyone present a heart attack.  

The difference was that in general, they were too damned nice.

They didn’t even sharpen their weapons in their own barrack rooms.  They gathered in the hallways to do it in little clusters and gossiped like fishwives.  They moved all their makeshift bunkbeds and futons into one room so they could do something more playful than sparring but definitely more aggressive than civilian playing in the others.  They wandered the hallways alone or in pairs in search of someone just to socialize with.

A pair of shinobi with blue tokubetsu chuunin armbands threw up salutes that looked a lot more like waves before they turned the corner, unaffected by the scowl plastered across Zabuza's face.  A jounin with a purposeful poise and a battleaxe slung across her back nodded at him and acknowledged, "Captain," without breaking stride.  A kunoichi from his unit greeted him with a smile and a friendly, "Evening, sir," as he passed.  

Acting friendly to a commanding officer?  Showing your teeth to a superior?  Fastest way to get your ass beat in Kiri.

Konoha nin were just unreasonably nice to each other for no good reason -- even between superiors and subordinates.  Hell, Hatake twitched every time Zabuza called him 'sir,' which was fucking hilarious and most of the reason why he did it.  But unjustifiable goodwill went both ways, right? 

He stopped abruptly and turned around.  "Hey," he said, and the kunoichi paused, surprised but unfathomably willing to help.  He tried to remember her name -- Koto-something?  Kato...Katu...fuck it.  Not important.  "You seen three kids around?"  Zabuza held his hand roughly at his abdomen.  "Yay tall, scrappy-looking girl, punk who never smiles, kid with a blueish haori?"

Kotu-something dimpled.  "Oh, your genin team?" she said.  

Zabuza grimaced.  “Yeah.  Them.”  Affectionately nicknamed the Cold Triad by Shisui because apparently one name wasn’t enough.

Kuto-something tapped her fingers against her arm thoughtfully.  “You know, I think I have,” she mused aloud.  “I saw them hanging out with Yakuu-chan’s team around here earlier.  They’ve gone into town for a break, probably.”

Zabuza crossed his arms.  “Were they forgetting a little thing like the standing order against going into the Inner Village city unauthorized?” 

“Ah,” said Kota-something.  “Sir, you know that nobody actually follows that order?”

Yeah, he knew that.  “Where in the city did they go?”

“Somewhere to eat?” Kouta-something hazarded. 

Well, not much other reason to go into the city, but Zabuza tried not to snap at her because he wasn’t that much of an asshole all the time.  So he said, “Thanks...Kotobu,” as he turned on his heel for the nearest exit.

The pleased expression that appeared on Kotobu’s face told him that he’d remembered her surname, so that was one thing today that’d gone right.  

Zabuza took the stairs up to the third floor three steps at a time because two was for short losers like Shisui, and strode down the long hallway to the office that had been Senju’s and was now Hatake’s.  Hatake wasn’t there but he wasn’t looking for Hatake.  

Both occupants glared at him with narrowed eyes for the interruption.  

“Hey,” said Zabuza.  “Looking for my three gnats.  Can you sniff ‘em out?” He was met by a matching set of unimpressed stares.  Zabuza sighed.  "There's a whole, plucked duck in it for whoever does it." 

If the words came out snappish, Urushi didn't seem to mind.  The ninken yawned, languid, before closing his jaw with a snap and brushing his nose against Akino's ear before hopping off his chair. Akino, front paws still braced against the table and the map on its surface, bared his teeth at the other dog in a half-hearted snarl.  Not a serious warning, so Zabuza and Urushi ignored it and booked it out the nearest window.  It wouldn’t have taken long for Zabuza to track his team down himself -- he was just not in the mood, and usually at least one of the hounds were game.  

"All right," Zabuza muttered as the wolflike ninken trotted ahead of him.  "Let's cut the crap.  We both know you don't want a plucked duck."

Urushi neither turned nor paused, but his pricked ears swivelled around on his skull.

"You want a chase," said Zabuza matter-of-factly.  "You want a hunt and everything that comes with it.  You want to track your prey, to stalk and kill it in your own jaws, to feel the terror that becomes fight that becomes surrender.  You want to sink your teeth in its throat and feel the give of bone under your jaws and watch the life drain out of its body.  You’re a predator, ain’t you?”

Urushi swung his head around then, a glint in his eye and his tongue lolling out of  his mouth in a playful smile.  Zabuza gave him an answering smirk.  “Stick around to put my three through their paces and I’ll get one of those fancy fat ducks that never leave the middle of the lake and toss it into the forest for you.  Deal?”

The ninken panted a laugh at him and picked up his pace.  Of all Hatake’s ninken, Urushi was the wildest, the most wolflike, the easiest to understand.  Dogs had ulterior motive; wolves were pure instinct.   The deal was made.

Urushi took a predictable path, winding his way through the outskirts of the city towards the northeastern dining district.  The evening crowd was out -- teams of shinobi heading to and from the Mizukage Tower, children on their way home from school, families and couples wandering along the streets, drawn in by the rich smells that drifted on the wind.

And there were eyes.  They prickled, raised the hairs on the back of his neck and made him wish for Kubikiribocho singing through the air, the familiar, heavy grip in his hand.  Urushi paused then, took the time to shake out his pelt from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail.  He glanced up at Zabuza and tilted his head in brief calculation before snuffling along the ground to pick up the scent once again.  The civilians and shinobi alike gave the two of them a wide berth and a wary look.

The stares were not for the shaggy-furred ninja dog, as impressive as he was; they were for him.  Zabuza was the not-so-proud owner of the 'Most Universally Hated' title in Kiri.  The former loyalists detested him for his admittedly prominent role in overthrowing the Yondaime, the former rebels resented him for essentially sidestepping the caste system as a member of the Hana Division, and everyone still hated his guts for his Academy graduation -- which, fine, he'd give them that last one.  

Zabuza didn’t give it that much thought.  Anyone who tried to off him would get a nasty surprise and provide a donation to Kubikiribocho’s still-broken blade.  He figured that as more time passed since the end of the civil war, the animosity’d simmer down.  If it didn’t, well, it wasn’t like he’d be in Kirigakure much longer than it took Hana-ha leadership to finish putting together the little puzzle pieces of the next phase of their plan. 

Urushi paused in front of an alley that used to be a dumpling stall before someone burned it and the flower stall behind it down, and when the owners couldn’t pay to have them rebuilt, nobody bothered doing anything with the land.   Zabuza eyed it dubiously and said, “Here?” 

He didn’t really doubt the ninken’s senses, though.  Halfway down the alley, Urushi reared up, set his paws delicately one above the other on the doorframe, and twisted around to grip the doorknob with his teeth.   The chaos that spilled out carried hints of Temari’s high, furious voice snapping over the din, and Zabuza felt his temper rising instinctively.  

Urushi bumped his muzzle against Zabuza’s thigh.  “Yeah, I know,” Zabuza muttered.  “I’m not going to fucking murder anyone in public.”  Zabuza shouldered his way in.

It wasn’t a bar that they entered, which was vexing because a bar fight Zabuza could understand, but some random restaurant?  His brats should know better than that.  They were supposed to have manners, damn it.

He strode through the empty hallway to the dining room and took in the situation at a glance.  The hallway had been empty of the waitstaff because the waitstaff were all in the dining room in the middle of the not-quite food fight.  Temari was in the corner half-shielding a stone-faced Haku with her body with Neji right beside her.  On his other side, a Hana-ha chuunin shouted down another shinobi wearing a chuunin's blue armband across a table that had been cleared of its contents the fastest way.  Their teams squared off behind them, and others in small clusters in the entire restaurant.  The only person not involved was a wide-eyed fourish-year-old girl who chewed the bread clutched in her hand and watched with interest. 

Zabuza did a quick check to make sure he was the highest ranked person present -- he was, the next highest was some idiot tokubetsu jounin across the room, took a deep breath, and bellowed, "Everybody sit down and shut up!"

This was summarily ignored by everyone present, which hurt his pride and also licked at his temper.  He growled under his breath.  "Hey," he said, glancing down at Urushi.  The ninken had his ears pinned flat in displeasure.  "You mind?"

Urushi huffed, threw his head back, and unleashed a long, eerie howl with just a hint of sakki thrown in for good measure, enough to send a warning chill down even Zabuza’s spine.

All movement stilled, save the turn of every persons' heads towards Urushi and Zabuza and the girl, who dipped her bread in her soup without breaking eye contact and stuck it in her mouth.  Damn, who raised this kid?  Nerves of steel.  Zabuza should send them a fucking congratulatory fruit basket for a job well done. 

Haku pressed his lips together, and did not move, but Zabuza could read the guilt in his eyes clearly from across the room.  Temari, who had snapped around the moment Urushi's howl hit the air, looked fiercely triumphant at his appearance until it was gradually replaced by dawning horror.  Silently, her mouth formed the words, oh, shit.   He sneered at her.  Yeah, that’s right, princess, think again.  

Zabuza turned to glare down the rest of the restaurant’s occupants.  “What,” he said deliberately, “the hell is going on here?”  Beside him, Urushi licked his chops, flashing just a hint of his fangs. 

For a moment, nobody moved.  The tokubetsu jounin proved his bravery but also his idiocy by pushing his way forward and blustering, “None of your business,” into the dead quiet. 

An easy target.  Zabuza loved when they did that for him. 

“Hey,” said Zabuza, friendly-like.  “And who do you think you are?”

The tokubetsu jounin crossed his arms across his chest.  “Watanuki Morikuni.” 

Ah.  A Clan ponce.  Appropriately arrogant and all that.  “Watanuki Morikuni,” he repeated.  “All right, Watanuki Morikuni, what the hell did you let happen here?”

“Nothing happened here,” Watanuki snapped, immediate and defensive.  “Stay out of our business, traitor trash.”

It was like these little bastards thought he was easy or something.  Zabuza gave him a smile full of teeth and veiled threat.  "How the fuck did someone as undisciplined as you made it past genin?  The only reason you're not a bloody smear on the floor is because you've caused this restaurant enough inconvenience today.  Shut up!" he snapped with a touch of killing intent when Watanuki opened his mouth again.  Zabuza let his gaze sweep away from him, across the room.  “Reiha, Nishiki, and Haku.  Front and center.”  Silently, Temari, Haku, and Neji detangled themselves from the furniture and picked their way across the restaurant. 

“Sensei,” said Temari, her voice small.  Haku looked at his feet.  Neji seemed to believe that if he stayed completely still, Zabuza wouldn't notice him.

Zabuza regarded her with all due disgruntlement.  “Reiha.  Report.”

She twisted her hands behind her, clasping them securely behind her back.  "Yes, sir," she said.  "Ichika, Nishiki, and I entered this restaurant at approximately -- " she turned ever so slightly to the side as Neji flashed the sign for nine " -- ninety minutes ago in the company of Hana-ha chuunin Yakuu and her team," continued Temari.  "We waited for half an hour to be seated even though there were empty tables because Ruzuki-san arrived just after us and requested to be seated first.  And so did the next three groups of shinobi."

Zabuza was putting the heat on his team, so he didn't let himself turn to glare at either the offending chuunin or the nearest of the wait staff.  Temari got the full force instead, which sucked for her.  Unfortunately, she knew him a little too well and there was something like sharp triumph in her eyes as she added, "One of the other tables diverted our food orders to themselves, and when Ichika asked them to stop, Ruzuki-san at that table told him to, quote, 'sit down and take it, you fucking whore, or I'll cut your tongue out,' which Yakuu interpreted as a threat of serious bodily harm and confronted him."

It took a significant effort to keep his sakki down.  Yeah, Zabuza'd gotten way too lax around his brats if Temari knew how to wind him up like this.  He glowered at her.  "And?"

"Watanuki-san threw a cup of water at her, told her to cool off, and made derogatory remarks concerning her heritage," answered Temari promptly, probably thinking she was hiding the victorious gleam in her eye by looking down.

If Zabuza heard any more of this his blood would literally boil in his veins, and one such experience was more than enough.  “Well,” said Zabuza, turning back to Watanuki after breathing out some of the urge to kill someone.  “That sounded pretty fucking clear.  Your shinobi picked a fight with mine.  You didn't stop them and instead escalated it.  The fault is yours -- what a shame.”

“They’re lies,” Watanuki snapped.  "We did no such thing.  I was attacked, unprovoked -- "

“My genin know better than to try to lie to me.  I gave you a chance to explain,” Zabuza cut in, scathing.  Which had been unreasonably magnanimous of him, now that he thought about it.  Downright generous.  He was spending too much time around the tree-huggers and their feel-good everybody matters bullshit.  "All of you get to report for disciplinary action.  I hope you know that all the shit you trashed comes out of your next paycheck."

"You don't give us orders," Watanuki snapped.  "You're Hana Division, you're not in our command structure and we're not in yours."

“Fine,” drawled Zabuza.  “Who’s your commanding officer?  I’ll pass along my recommendation to them.”

The tokubetsu jounin scowled.  Any recommendation Zabuza suggested was likely to be doubled by Watanuki’s superior, just to prove a point for the embarrassment of having one's subordinates reprimanded by another officer. 

Zabuza raised an eyebrow.  “Your commanding officer, tokubetsu jounin.”

“Michishio Yuusei,” Watanuki muttered unwillingly.  

Oh gods, not that fucking bastard.  He was going to be incandescent when he found out Zabuza intervened with his shinobi.

Haku didn't react but Temari and Neji both perked up eagerly like sharks who tasted blood in the water.  That was an appropriate reaction, to be reinforced at a time when he wasn't reprimanding them for getting into an unsanctioned fight. 

Zabuza glanced down at Urushi.  "Two ducks if you run a message to Michishio," he muttered out of the corner of his mouth.  Urushi flicked his ear dismissively, like batting away a fly.  Fuck.  Zabuza really didn't want to deal with the smug asshole in person.  "Three," he bargained. 

Urushi's mouth curled in a silent snarl.  Which, understandable. If inconvenient.  

Fine.  Whatever.  He'd deal with it later.  “Chuunin Yakuu,” he snapped.  "You and your team, report to jounin Nishigawa immediately.  Tokubetsu jounin Watanuki Morikuni, write a report of all involved personnel who are not from Hana-ha and deliver it to Michishio.  Su-Han, on me."

Zabuza turned on his heel, ready to collect his deviant genin and spend the rest of the evening making them regret their decisions, but unfortunately, he had excellent hearing and what the tokujo muttered was frankly impossible for him not to hear.  He stopped, even as the temperature of the room dropped from uncomfortably warm to shy of freezing in the span of a heartbeat. 

The problem with picking up a team of brats was that the brats picked up all of his bad habits.  If said brats had a tendency to get into petty fights, guess who the fuck they learned that from?

Exactly.

There was a hum in the back of his head, loud enough to make him focus, quiet enough not to distract him.  It sang like a siren's lure, made his hand itch for his sword, crave the splatter of warm blood on his face.  He pushed back the fierce bloodlust of his sire's berserker breeding, reached for control as he swivelled back around.  It was with his dam's cold clarity that he growled, "Watanuki Morikuni, Village law says I can take satisfaction from you for that insult."

Watanuki tipped his chin up with a smirk.  "You're Hana-ha now, you can't do shit to me."

Was this some bullshit Michishio fed his shinobi -- that they didn't need to be afraid of any consequences when they messed with Hana-ha shinobi?  Zabuza considered the pros and cons of proving otherwise right there and then.  Pros: extremely satisfying; satiate the bloodlust; show Kiri shinobi why nobody messed with him.  Cons: Hatake would probably kick his ass for disrupting the peace or endangering the treaty or whatever; Senju would probably punt him through a volcano for the same reason and because she was a bitter old bint; his three ducklings would learn more inappropriate ways to deal with this kind of situation.  

Regretfully, waiting would have to do.

Zabuza stalked forwards, prowling on soundless feet until he was level with the tokujo.  The tokujo glared, but Zabuza towered over him until his eyes flickered, just for a second.  Zabuza smiled, baring pointed teeth, and growled low, "You think you're above Village law when even Senzaki Ao folded?  See you soon, Watanuki Morikuni."  He snapped his fingers at his genin and shoved his way past the tokujo and out the front door.

The air outside was brisk enough to sweep away most of his restless aggression, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still furious.  "I," he snarled, "have no idea what the fuck the three of you were thinking."

"Zabuza-sensei," Temari began, contrite but nowhere near enough.

"Did I ask to be your sensei?" Zabuza snapped.  "Fuck no.  Did I want a genin team?  Also no.  Did I teach you anyways?  For some fucking reason, yes."  Kind of.  Where was he going with this?  He'd had a point.  

"Zabuza-san," said Haku, capitalizing on his hesitation.  "We're very sorry.  We didn't mean to end up in a confrontation like that."

"Neither did we intend to be late for practice," Neji added.  "We value your instruction."

“You’re a better teacher than every sensei I ever had in Sunagakure,” promised Temari. “I’d take you over any of them any day.”

Zabuza sneered.  Like he was going to let some vapid flattery sway him.

“You taught me everything I know,” was Haku’s quiet, painfully sincere contribution.

Fuck.  Yes, he was.

“If you lot were grateful, you wouldn’t stir up a shitstorm in the city,” Zabuza snapped, without as much venom as he intended.  Urushi panted a laugh, loping easily at his side.  He glared at the ninken, for lack of a closer target.  “Who the fuck do you think has to clean up after you?”

"Sorry, Sensei," and "Sorry, Zabuza-san," and "I apologise, Sensei," the genin chorused.  

By the time the posts staking out their training ground came into view, the training session was just under an hour underway.  Zabuza'd planned to spend it kicking the genin up and down the training ground while telling them everything they were doing wrong, but considering the mess they'd made him, it'd be too much of a reward.  "Ice runs," he barked, turning abruptly to face the genin.  "From now until I tell you to stop."

"Ice runs?" Temari said, trading wary glances with Neji.  "This is our team session, Sensei, not taijutsu and endurance training."

"Your teamwork is fine," Zabuza spat.  "It's your discipline that has a problem.  Get."

They went. 

Ice runs were a time-honored, universally hated exercise that involved running up an icy mountain carrying a large rock.  Good for building character.  Good for building endurance.  Good for making someone regret every life decision that led to that point in time when the sweat literally froze on their body.  Gods knew Zabuza had done more than his fair share of them until he made jounin. 

Well, he'd been a little shit.  Maybe not more than his fair share.

He glanced down at Urushi.  The large ninken still stood at his side, ears pricked as he watched Zabuza's three vanish into the trees.  "Shit," Zabuza said.  "Not much training here for you.  Called you out for nothing."  He paused, considering.  "You wanna harry 'em up and down?"

Urushi snorted and shifted his shoulders, a wolf's shrug.  "Could do with a run, huh?" Zabuza said.   "Hey -- you and your brothers up for a hunt later?  No killing, light maiming."  Urushi's tail swished back and forth slowly, jaws parting in a grin.  "Good," said Zabuza.  "I've got some prey in mind."

With a huffed chuckle, Urushi rose to his paws and shook out his pelt.  He flicked his ears, breaking into first a trot and then a smooth, easy run, and vanished into the trees after the genin. Within moments there was a high, surprised yelp in the distance, a heavy thud, and an amused bark.

Worth the time to make Haku catch a duck from the lake, that one.

After an hour and a half, Zabuza took mercy on his team, mostly because he was dead bored of watching them slog up and down the mountainside.  

“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he growled, surveying them in the dying sun.  Temari was covered in tiny ice crystals that glimmered as she shivered.  Haku swayed slightly on his feet, though he didn’t seem to notice.  Neji’s hair stuck out at all angles, hopelessly windblown.  Urushi, snowmelt flecking his thick pelt, swished his tail from side to side cheerfully.  None of them took it upon themselves to reply, which was fine.  The sun was all but set and the night wind wrapped chilling fingers around Zabuza.  He squinted up at the moon and said, “You have twenty minutes to catch Urushi before I catch you.  Go.”  

Haku whirled before the last word had left his mouth and sent a pair of senbon hissing through the air at the ninken.  Urushi was faster, whisking away in a flash of fur and charging back into the trees.  Neji gave chase as Haku darted after the dog, but Temari unfurled her tessen as she swung it off her back and unleashed a scythe of wind at Zabuza instead.

Zabuza reached for his chakra, and a quick bunshin-kawarimi combo put him out of range as the fuuton ripped through the air.  His hand found Kubikiribocho's hilt instinctively and he lunged to meet Temari as she pressed her attack.  Her tessen’s guard smashed down on the flat of Kubikiribocho’s blade with enough brute force to make him grudgingly proud of her growth from puny little sand princess with all bark and no bite to puny little sand princess with lots of bark and a little bite.  Whatever pride bullshit didn’t stop him from kicking her full in the chest and sending her flying, because that was what being a sensei was all about.  

Her tessen flashed open and caught the air, bearing her up into the sky with the assistance of a wheezed fuuton.  Zabuza eyed her for a moment, but she seemed content to keep her distance for the moment as she recovered.

All right.  Fine.  Zabuza would just knock her out of the sky real quick and go after the others. 

He inhaled, sent a blast of wind hurtling up at her -- nothing fancy, just a big old thing with a lot of push and not much else.  It sent her bobbing violently but wasn’t enough to bring her down.

Whatever, let her stay up there.  He turned back towards the forest where the other two and the ninken had gone, only to be met by a flurry of ice daggers.  He twisted away and landed in a low crouch as Temari seized the moment of distraction and crashed down nearly on top of him. 

See?  Teamwork was fine.   

He warded Temari away with a swipe of Kubikiribocho, charged Haku because that was exactly what his apprentice wouldn’t want.  Haku leapt backwards into the ice mirror that formed midair, and with a wink of light from a distant matching mirror, vanished.  

Zabuza pulled up short to slam into the mirror shoulder-first instead of face-first, and as it shattered under the force, swung his blade around to meet Temari’s tessen as she took advantage of Haku’s escape to go for his back.   

Again, fine, a decent team play or whatever but Zabuza wasn't feeling particularly generous today.  He grabbed for her as she vaulted over his shoulder, missed the first try and lunged a second time.  He shrugged off her retaliating blow, let the guard of her tessen leave the beginnings of a bruise above his ribs, and caught hold of her arm just above the hitai-ate before she could slither out of his grasp.

She choked, the air knocked out of her lungs as he slammed her against the ground and pressed her down with Kubikiribocho's blade against her collarbone.  "Caught you," he growled, batting aside her battle-fan when she made a kitten's swipe with it.  "Stand down; you're out."

"H-hai," Temari gritted out, annoyance flashing in her eyes as he relented and stood.  He spun Kubikiribocho in his grip and left her behind to pick herself up.  

Two left to go.  

When the now-defunct eugenics program bred Zabuza, they were trying to create the ultimate predator.  Unfortunately but also fortunately, they did a damn good job and Zabuza could hear like a fucking bat when he wanted to and navigate both blind and deaf when he didn't, and Hatake could probably relate, but one of the bigger downsides was that loud noises gave him a hellish migraine for hours, even if it was more annoying than debilitating. 

Anyways, Haku he'd obviously taught to navigate sightless, and the white-eyes kid had known some already from when he used to pretend to be blind, so he wasn't exactly bullying them when he sent out a thick fog rolling into the trees. He was testing their preparedness.  Yeah.  This was important stuff.

The mist was of his chakra, of him, so he could feel everything that it touched.  Haku and Neji, their chakra signatures a vague blur; Akino, a smaller blip moving fast in the depths of the forest.  Easygoing Shiba would probably have let the genin catch him at the end, like he was playing with pups, but Urushi was too competitive for that, too wild.  His instincts came in handy because let the fledgling hunters win too many times and they thought they were hot shit.

Zabuza went after the easiest target first, cloaking himself in his mist and strolling unhurriedly through the trees.  He didn't need sight when he could sense movement in the air currents, when he could feel the path Neji took as he slipped through the undergrowth.  Neji knew he was there; he could tell from the tension in the boy's step.  "Hide better," Zabuza growled, letting the words bounce through the mist. 

There was the faintest whisper of steel as Neji drew his blade rather than respond.  He didn't run; his pulse didn't pick up -- he was prepared to fight.  That meant --

"Give up on the mission already?" Zabuza drawled.  Urushi's chakra was still flitting on the far side of the training ground, but Haku's -- bundled tight below his skin -- now perched some two dozen meters to the northwest.  "You can't catch the target if you're not trying to catch it."

Haku responded with senbon rather than words, and Zabuza twisted to let them slide harmlessly into muscle.  Neji was intended to be to be the distraction, but he and Haku had both misjudged -- Haku was a distraction; Neji was his target.  Zabuza drew a kunai, slung Kubikiribocho over his shoulder to protect his back, and lunged towards Neji.  

The hiss of metal through air prompted him to jerk to the right, and senbon deflected off Kubikiribocho's hilt as Neji leapt out of his hiding place, blade raised in his favored backhanded grip.  He ducked Zabuza's overhead slash and snapped his own blade forward in a fluid strike that only barely missed when Zabuza caught the genin’s hand in his own.  Zabuza brought his kunai up, only to have Neji yanked from his grasp and into an ice mirror.  

Zabuza glowered at the two of his genin temporarily safe in their little ice shield. After a flicker of light, he was glowering at only Haku, his apprentice having deposited Neji in the vicinity of Urushi.  He'd taught them this bait-and-switch.  The most annoying part about teaching genin had to be when they used the things he taught against him.  Proper little hellions; he was almost proud.  "Fine," Zabuza snapped, flipping his kunai in his grip.  "You will come out of there."

Haku took the threat for what it was and fled the mirror a hairsbreadth before Zabuza slammed his kunai into its surface.  It shuddered but didn't so much as crack, but Haku was playing it safe because as history had taught them, getting forcibly ejected when a mirror broke hurt like hell.  He landed in a crouch, senbon between his fingers like claws, and launched them at Zabuza's face as he whirled.  

Zabuza cut them out of the air as he stormed forward, and Haku hopped backwards neatly as more senbon dropped down out of his sleeves to replace the ones he'd used, and his hand snapped up to deflect Zabuza's kunai.  Haku struck lightning-fast for Zabuza's unprotected ribs, letting the senbon be ripped from his grasp as Zabuza jerked away.  All three caught nothing but muscle and one scraped bone, but Zabuza ignored their icy sting to bring his kunai down in a vicious slash at Haku's shoulder.

Haku was faster than Neji and slipperier than Temari and flitted out of reach, hurling a trio of senbon to cover his retreat.  Zabuza blocked them with his arm as he pounced.  Haku's face was stone-smooth, his eyes calculating and intent across he eeled under Zabuza's reach and stabbed another set of senbon into his hip.  Zabuza's leg buckled, but he grabbed for Haku's ankle as he went down.  Haku tried a shunshin; Zabuza dragged him to the ground and made sure it failed.  "Out," he growled, pressing the hooked tip of his kunai between the vertebrae of Haku's spine.  He could feel the prick of senbon against his upper arm, but those would be disabling, not lethal.

Haku let out a soft huff, the tension leaving his face as he relaxed.  "Hai," he acknowledged, and Zabuza sheathed his kunai and shoved himself upright. He glanced up at the rising moon -- ten minutes left, but Zabuza wasn't feeling in the mood to hunt down the white-eyes.  Maybe he'd just let Urushi wear him out.  "Zabuza-san," Haku added, reaching up.  "May I…?"

Ah.  "I got it," Zabuza grumbled, plucking the senbon from his flesh like feathers off a chicken.  Haku winced, just a faint twitch of his eyebrows that disappeared at Zabuza's warning glare.  Kid was picking up bad habits from the sappy Leaf lot, and nothing soft survived in the Mist.  He flicked the blood off the tips and flipped them back to Haku.  "You're getting sloppy, kid."

Haku ducked his head, wiping off the senbon and sliding them away wordlessly.  

Zabuza's ire rose again like a cresting wave.  "What were you thinking?" he asked, not quite a snarl but none too gentle.  "You of all people know better than to let your emotions control your actions.  Fastest way to get yourself fucked up here, don't forget that."

"Hai," Haku said softly, not lifting his head.  "I know.  I'm sorry."

"Look," said Zabuza.  "I know the princess has got a temper.  It's your job to cool her off, all right?  One year here and she still doesn't understand how fucking close she's walking the line, but you do.  Don't be sorry, be better."

"Hai," agreed Haku, his voice still steady as anything.  Decent apprentice, useful kid, raw potential.  Be a shame if anything spoiled him now.

Zabuza squinted at the edge of his kunai in the moonlight.  Was that a nick in the edge?  That was a nick.  "You had Konoha again for rotation this afternoon," Zabuza said.  "What kinda bullcrap he putting in your head now?"

Haku shot him a glance that was a little too mild to call reproving.  "Today was the iryou-jutsu session with Kyuushi-chan and Gogo-chan," he said.  "Juuta-san taught us some about the nervous system and sensation receptors."

That may as well have been an entirely alien language for almost he could tell.  Zabuza raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.  "You learn anything useful or not?"

In answer, Haku reached for Zabuza's arm with his own bare hand, and out of tolerant curiosity, Zabuza let him.  Haku's finger brushed Zabuza's skin, and even that slight contact sent a stab of pain into his arm.  "Ow.  What the fuck," Zabuza snapped, glaring.

Haku blinked back at him, faux-innocent.  "We learned how to suppress or trigger the pain sensors in the arm, Zabuza-san," he explained with wounded sincerity.  

"Stick a senbon in them and it'll hurt the same," Zabuza retorted.  "And you can already do that.  What's the point of learning this?"

“Surgery without anesthesia,” answered Haku promptly.  “Not now, but when I have greater control.”  Zabuza waited.  “Checking for nerve damage,” Haku tried next.  Zabuza waited.  Haku sighed almost imperceptibly and said, “Disabling the receptors on an enemy can cause them to underestimate the amount of damage they’ve taken in the battle.”

Okay, fine.  That did seem useful.  "Whatever," he grunted.  "Carry on, then."  Kid was oddly enamoured with learning iryou, but as long as that shit was useful on the battlefield, Zabuza didn't care.

Zabuza turned away so he wouldn’t have to lecture Haku on his tiny, pleased smile.  In the distance Urushi howled, as from above the moon’s cold, pale light filtered down from where it rose far beyond the skies.  “Get your teammates,” he muttered.  “Early day tomorrow.”

His team sorted, Zabuza left his gremlins with the rest of them to do pre-sleeping things like wash up or puppy pile and went to go take care of the other unfortunate bastards under his command.  

His Second had been assigned or had assigned himself to one of the larger student rooms, a single, though given the paperwork that crowded every available space, he probably had even less room than the triples or the quins, septs, or octs down the hallway.  Zabuza knocked but didn't bother waiting for an answer before pushing his way in.  A precarious tower of scrolls swayed as he opened the doors, and the air movement picked up the corners of the papers on the desk.

"Captain," said Nishigawa, blinking at him owlishly with a faint air of resignation.  "Hi.  How can I help you?"

"You can help me by telling me why shinobi from this unit are taking unauthorized trips into the Inner Village city," Zabuza growled.

"Errr," said jounin Nishigawa.  "That is, I -- uhh…"

So this is what it felt like to want to punt someone through the wall.  "Tell me," Zabuza gritted out, "why my damn shinobi are going out and picking fights in the village."

"Well, er," Nishigawa hedged.  "They're not -- they're not picking fights, sir."

"Yeah?" Zabuza shot back, unimpressed.  "Then why'd I just pull chuunin Yakuu and her team out of a restaurant where they were two breaths away from a bar brawl with Kiri's?"

"They won't pick fights, Taichou," Nishigawa insisted.  "But -- they, they do have a right to self-defense.  Sir," he added, when he realized his opinion might be controversial.

Oh gods.  Zabuza's Second was complicit.   That meant it was Zabuza's fault for not noticing that it was happening.  Oh shit.  Fuck.  "Their right to self defense is the right to stay where they're supposed to and not need to defend themselves," he snapped, which he recognized wasn't much of an argument.  Zabuza inhaled sharply because the other options were pinching the bridge of his nose, which was undignified, or punching a hole in the wall, which was a pain in the ass to deal with afterwards.  He should demote this punk, kick him back down to chuunin, if not genin.  But if he sacked Nishigawa, Zabuza would have to do all the work his Second did, and frankly Zabuza had no idea what the fuck the jounin did that kept his unit running smoothly. 

The unpleasant conclusion: Zabuza couldn't afford to fire him over a relatively small incident like this.

Nishigawa had clearly done the calculations himself, because he didn't flinch as Zabuza's glower darkened, nor did his pulse change.  "Their, uh, their actions were justified this time, sir," the other jounin said, his eyes steady despite the hesitancy in his voice.  "That there was an incident is regrettable, but -- but not the fault of our men."

The tree huggers had a hell of a lot of loyalty to each other, that was for sure.  "You keep this unit out of the city," Zabuza snapped.  "Enforce the ban.  Next time, you get to deal with Hatake and Terumi, you understand." 

"Yes, sir," Nishigawa said neutrally, like he wasn't obviously relieved he wasn't going to get chewed out more.  Yet.   He was getting away light this time only because Zabuza wanted to get his next unpleasant meeting over with as soon as humanly possible.  

"No one sets a fucking toe out of line," Zabuza warned Nishigawa, slamming his palm down on a tiny piece of uncovered table surface.  "They do, it's coming out of your hide."

"Yes, sir," Nishigawa repeated.  "I understand, sir."

Cheers.  Zabuza gave him a parting glower and swept out of Nishigawa's quarters. 

Hatake, leaning over the spread of documents in his office when Zabuza shouldered his way in, was wearing his I'm-just-a-normal-jounin disguise, which was basically the Kiri uniform with his red-banded hitai-ate tied around one bicep and commander's crimson armband wrapped around the other, plus a banana flattening his hair and an eyepatch, neither of which were particularly uncommon in Mizu no Kuni.  

Hatake didn't look up at Zabuza's abrupt entrance but said, "Urushi had a fun evening."

Zabuza grunted.  "Two of my teams almost ended up in a fight in the Inner Village this afternoon," he said.   No need to beat around the bush.  "Fault's with Kiri this time.  Some of Michishio's shinobi."

"There was a ban on Hana-ha shinobi going into the city," Hatake pointed out, as if he didn't also know that nobody actually followed that rule.

Still, Zabuza rolled his eyes and said obligingly, "Nobody actually follows that rule."

"Shocking," said Hatake, dry.

"Village law says I can take satisfaction from the shinobi who provoked the incident," Zabuza drawled.  "And I'm gonna."

"No," said Hatake, dashing Zabuza's burgeoning plans of having the shinobi in question hunted down by a pack of ninken and assorted human brats in the dead of night.

"I'm not gonna kill them," said Zabuza, rolling his eyes.  "Just make sure they don't mess with mine again."

"No," Hatake repeated.  

"I don't know what kind of warm and fuzzy touchy-feely shi -- stuff you got going on in Konoha," Zabuza said with as much patience as he could muster, "but in Kiri, the second you show weakness is the second you get attacked."

"So you've mentioned.  Repeatedly," said the ungrateful bastard.  Screw Zabuza for trying to be helpful, then.

Still.  He persisted.  “Not taking satisfaction is showing weakness,” Zabuza explained slowly.

“Momochi,” said Hatake.  “Your shinobi weren’t supposed to be in the city to begin with.  Technically, it’s your shinobis’ fault, and even if the Kiri-nin didn’t know, Terumi does.”

Hmph.  If Hatake wouldn’t sign off, Zabuza would go straight to the source.

So: “Some of Michishio’s unit are tryin’ to pick fights in the city,” Zabuza said to Mei during Jinchuuriki Playdate Number Two.  “Let me have them to let the brats hunt for sport.”

Mei gave him a side-eye.  “No,” she said.

“It’s for their own good,” drawled Zabuza.  “They think they can get away with that they’ll keep doin’ it.”

"The hunting game won't be used as a form of punishment anymore," said Mei, eyeing the sake bottle wistfully.  "And especially not on those shinobi."

Zabuza's lips peeled back in a soundless snarl.  "Why not?" he growled.  "It's just a training exercise.  I've been the fucking prey before and I'm alive and fine."

The stocks had been taken down.  The gallows had been dismantled.  The whipping posts had been burned.  That much was part of the sweeping changes Mei had brought to bear on Kirigakure once she secured her seat of power.  But pesky things like classism still needed correction, and Zabuza didn't see what was wrong with a little ice-cold payback. 

Mei crossed her arms.  "So you're okay with the hunting game."

Zabuza shrugged.  "Yeah, sure.  Builds character, whatever." Some people needed a good scare to quit being assholes or acknowledge their wrongs, and the hunting games were ruthless.  There was just something about being weaponless and hunted that stirred up an old, visceral terror, and as a punishment they were pretty effective -- especially with the knowledge that the hunters often had an actual grudge against the prey. 

"So you'd be okay with your genin being the prey for an exercise with some of my shinobi," Mei said. 

His instinctive answer wasn’t yes.  Neither was his thought-out answer.

Zabuza...wasn't.  Inexplicably, improbably, he'd toss Kubikiribocho into the deepest trench of the ocean before he let that happen.

What was he supposed to say?  That his genin had already grown up running and hunted, that they didn't need to feel that visceral fear because they'd lived it so many days of their lives already?  Haku, whose clan and mother had been slaughtered, who wielded a power so many feared; Temari, who stole a jinchuuriki from her own village and deserted; Neji, whose charge was the most coveted and most vulnerable doujutsu-bearing heiress in the Elemental Lands.

"Exactly," said Mei when he let the silence stretch too long.  "There's no me and them as Mizukage, Zabuza.  They're all mine to lead and protect.  There's politics, yes, but it's my duty to understand why the hatred exists and dismantle it so that we stand united."

Once upon a time, Mei had been a little girl with a mind and a tongue too sharp for her own good.  Once upon a time, she’d needed someone a little bit bigger and a little bit meaner to ward away the sharks she disturbed.  Now, she was not only meaner than the sharks, but she worried about their feelings.

"Oh gods," Zabuza blurted with dawning horror.  "Did the Leaf empathy bullshit rub off on you?"

Mei hawked up a glob of molten lava at him for that.  "I haven't gone soft," she spat, sneering.  "I'm not the one who's gotten fat and slow after spending so much time with the treefuckers."

"This is muscle!" Zabuza snapped, clapping a hand to his stomach.  

Mei raised a sardonic eyebrow.  "Yes, and I'm a samurai."

"No, you're just an old biddy trying to con a man into marrying her," Zabuza snipped.  "Ow, fuck!"  He brushed the bits of lava off before they could give him more than a surface burn.  This was why they had kekkei-genkai purges, Mei.

“You should watch your tongue, old friend,” Mei said, leaning back.

“I’ll watch fuck all, you hag,” Zabuza retorted.  

"You won't mind if I tell Hatake what you asked me today, then," purred Mei, honey-sweet and poisonous.

Fuck.  Mei could never stand losing.  

The solid thunk of something embedding itself in the wall at speed interrupted them.  Zabuza was on his feet and storming into the next room before the sound had really registered.  He glowered on principle, and then with more irritation when he took in the water dripping out of the tiny hole in the wall from the rapidly melting projectile that had embedded itself there.  He turned around to glare at the suspects.  “Which of you did this?” he demanded.

Today’s lineup was both the Terrible Three and his Cold Triad because for some reason they were doing this instead of an actual team training session this rotation.  The kids had commandeered the dining table for a seven-person every-man-for-himself alkagi game using stones made from ice, individually patterned by Haku so the kids knew whose were whose.   When Mei and Zabuza had left the room, the brats had been playing peacefully, flicking their markers to knock away others’ like rule-following genin did.  Something had obviously changed in that time, because there were ice stones and patches of damp on pretty much every surface of the room, from the melt trickling down the glass of the cabinet in the back to the ice stone lodged in the lamp and a dark stain in the backing of the nearest chair.

Temari exchanged a glance with Neji.  Haku blinked, sheepish, and said, “Sorry, Zabuza-san.  I was too slow to melt it in time.”

Not an answer.  Zabuza switched his glare to the most likely culprits.  “Boy?  Girl?” 

Sasuke scoffed, involuntary.  Disrespectful, but honest.  “Not me, Sensei,” said Sakura, and cut her eyes sideways at their last teammate.

The Uzumaki brat beamed up at him from beneath his mop of hair dyed deep crimson and layers of bandages swathing the lower half of his face.  The genius plan for disguising the Uzumaki brat, who couldn’t keep his mouth shut to save his life: disguise him as a different Uzumaki brat and don’t let him talk.  There was mischief dancing in his eyes mirrored, cautiously, in Asagao’s eyes, because of course whatever troublemaking gene Naruto had obviously ran dominant in his family.

Not being able to talk equally obviously didn’t hamper his ability to cause chaos wherever he went.  “You put a hole.  In the Mizukage’s wall.  At whose house you are a guest,” Zabuza snarled.  “What the fuck.”

Naruto enthusiastically signed a jumble of, mistake, throw, hard, far, excited!!!  

Zabuza gave him the evil eye.  “For you,” he hissed, “extra bookwork.”  

Naruto gasped, eyes flying comically wide. 

Asagao slid suspicious eyes between Naruto and Zabuza.  Zabuza narrowed his eyes at her.  “You part of this?”

Still silent, the jinchuuriki shook her head slowly.  

“Well, then,” Zabuza grunted, and transferred his attention back to the motley group at large.  “Go clean up,” he ordered.  “Help Chojuro with dinner if you have nothing better to do.”

Mei, hovering in the doorway, smirked at him as the kids dispersed.  Whatever.  She was just jealous because she couldn't get her brat to do what she wanted.

It was after another disgustingly bright morning that he had spent on solo training when Zabuza finally went back to do the thing he should have done a long time ago but didn't because he didn't want to.  The Old Academy had two rooms large enough to gather more than a couple hundred people: the arena and the mess.  The arena wasn't an option given that it would make even hardened shinobi want to kill themselves, so it was the mess he stalked into that morning.

It was too early for the lunch crowd but late enough that breakfast wasn't being served anymore, and the scattered huddles of Hana-ha were talking more than eating, just shooting the shit over weapons maintenance or open books or packets of paperwork.  No one paid him any mind as he entered aside from a nod or a glance to assess his threat level.  Zabuza pasted a glower on his face and raised his voice.  "All of you lot not in Unit Fifteen: out.  Now!" he snapped, when the shinobi didn't move fast enough.

After a hasty shuffle, during which time Zabuza glared at the retreating shinobi, around a dozen still lingered in the room, hovering next to their vacated seats like they weren’t sure whether to stay or run for it.  Zabuza snapped his fingers and pointed to the space in front of him.  

“Sir,” greeted the highest ranking one among them, a kunoichi designated as a chuunin-in-charge, once they had assembled in a reluctant row.  Clearly she was taking one for the team.

“Briefing for Unit Fifteen,” Zabuza said.  No need for exposition.   “Here.  Thirty minutes from now.  Attendance is mandatory for all shinobi.”  Eyeballs flickered as the shinobi shot glances at each other.  Zabuza ignored them.  “You get to make sure everyone comes.  Got it?”

One of the genin stuck up his hand.  “Sir, I, uh -- I don’t think my C.O. will believe me?”

All right, fine.  Zabuza could spare a little patience for this.  “Explain.”

The genin flashed a sheepish smile.  “He’s a traditionalist.  Sir.”

Translation: the man didn’t believe anything that didn’t come from top-down command.  “You ever impersonated a superior officer?” Zabuza asked, squinting at him.

“No, sir?” said the genin hesitantly.

“Then you either don’t have a problem or it won’t be your problem anymore,” Zabuza growled.  “Any more questions?”

There were no more questions.  

“Dismissed,” said Zabuza, and jabbed a finger at one of the chuunin.  “Except you.  You stay here, keep anyone who isn’t Unit Fifteen out.”

His shinobi scattered.  Zabuza went to scare the living hell out of Nishigawa by barging into his office and snapping, “Unit briefing.  Eighteen minutes.  Mess hall.” before the man could so much as look up.

Nishigawa didn’t even blink, to his credit, but Zabuza could literally see his soul leaving his body as he replied, “Hai, Taichou.”

“Extra drills and sanitation duty for anyone who skips without a damn good excuse,” Zabuza added.  “Keep track of them.”

“Hai,” said Nishigawa again.

Zabuza turned on his heel and left.  Behind him, there was a panicked shuffle as Nishigawa probably searched for reports as to why exactly Zabuza was calling out the entire unit without looping him in.  There weren’t any. 

Well, a mild scare wouldn’t hurt him.  Gods knew Zabuza’s entire unit could use a good scare.

Next stop: the library base.  Shisui frowned at Zabuza from his place at the head of the little semicircle of tables when he barged in.  The assorted whelps all had pen and paper and textbooks out, and Shisui had a series of sentences scrawled out on the blackboard behind him.

Ugh.  Language lessons.

“If you thought today was your day to lecture, you’re an hour and forty-five minutes late,” said Shisui, an annoyed slant to his eyes despite the light tone.

Zabuza shrugged an apology.  “I need my three,” he said, abrupt.  “Anything they can’t make up later?”

“No,” said Shisui, though he was obviously displeased.  Zabuza’d have to make up for it later or else have the no-longer-a-teen sulk at him for the rest of the week.  Freaking Konohans with their squishy emotions all over the place.

“Great,” said Zabuza unenthusiastically.  “Suzaku, on your feet.  Unit briefing in the mess.”

Temari opened her mouth, but this time Haku flattened his mouth and Neji caught her eyes and shook his head very slightly.  His apprentice stood first, and as Zabuza turned back to the corridor, Haku, Neji, Temari, and the curious stares of the rest of the bratlings followed.

Twelve minutes before the briefing, about a scattered fourth of Zabuza's errant unit had assembled with an uneasy murmur that hushed abruptly when they noticed him.  Someone overachieving had pushed all the tables and benches to the sides of the room to make more floor space.  As his genin slipped off quietly to join the rest of the unit, Zabuza dragged one of the tables to the front of the room for the express purpose of perching on its edge and glowering at his shinobi as they trickled in. 

Nishigawa strode in blank-faced thirty seconds later, absolutely nothing in his carriage to suggest that he was in fact just as bewildered as the rest of the unit.  He nodded sharply to Zabuza.  Zabuza jerked his chin and Nishigawa took up a position to the side, facing the rest of the unit.  

The arrivals, as the time drew closer to the one Zabuza’d set, appeared increasingly more disheveled as they hurried in to take their spots.  Some wore shirts wrinkled by sleep, flak jackets thrown on top haphazardly; others were smeared in dirt or soaked in sweat, their sandals muddy from the training grounds.  Zabuza’s last jounin slid in three seconds until Zabuza’s mental countdown hit zero with feathers in his hair and what smelled like egg smeared on the shoulder of his flak jacket.  

Zabuza slid off the table soundlessly and prowled forward, and the shinobi closest to him stiffened as he neared.  He took his time, meandering through the rows of shinobi standing at attention until he reached the back of the room.  

He closed the doors.  He locked them.  Just as silently, he stalked back to the front.  

He could hear his men and women's breaths as he moved among them, their heartbeats.  He could hear them swallow, hear their joints creak as they shifted minutely on their feet.  He could taste their anxiety, their nervousness.  For good measure, he let his sakki roll out, licking at the air like cresting waves to paralyze or at least threaten the unwary.

"You," Zabuza said at last, "are shinobi.  You're soldiers.  You get orders and you follow them.  Am I wrong?"

Dead silence, except the shinobi whose hearts quickened like rabbits'.  Zabuza turned sharply on his heel to glare out at his unit.  "Am I," he repeated deliberately, "wrong?"

That got him the expected answer of, "No, sir," in reluctant chorus.

"Huh," said Zabuza.  "That's funny, because you all got orders not to go into the city without express permission of myself or jounin Nishigawa when you're not on missions."  He paused, and in case anyone had any doubt over what it was they were getting chewed out for today, said, "But for some reason, you all ignored those orders."

Guilt was an interesting scent -- like a mixture of fear and misery and disappointment all rolled into one.  Zabuza's nose wasn't that great, but that much he could pick up on. 

"You've all gotten complacent," Zabuza growled, pinning each shinobi with his glare.  "You forgot where we are?  What we're doing?  We're camped in the middle of enemy territory, for fuck's sake.  This is not your home.  Whatever bullshit you think you can get away with here, you can't.  You have a fucking mission, so remember that."

He turned slowly then, stalking towards Nishigawa.  "Maybe you're too used to leniency," he suggested, venom dripping through his tone as he loomed over his Second.  "Too used to soft commanders."

Nishigawa stared straight ahead, unflinching.  Zabuza got out of his face in favor of pacing in front of the rest of his jounin.  "Since you have so much extra energy to sneak out and pick fights, half pay and double drills for all of you for the next two weeks.  Hopefully you can find your fucking discipline by then.  Dismissed!" he barked.  "Not you, Nishigawa -- my office.  Now."

The unit parted for him like a school of minnows scattering in front of a shark.  Zabuza could feel the prickle of their stares, wary and resentful.  Nishigawa was a pretty well-liked guy, so Zabuza wasn't doing his own popularity any favors by calling him out into his office like an errant genin in front of the entire unit.

He’d shared his office with Hatake, but Hatake was now using an upstairs office so Zabuza had it to himself, mostly.  Hatake’d left some of his things behind that he came back for on occasion -- maps, message slips, ninken.  Today it was Akino sprawled on top of the sideboard, head resting on his forelegs as he nosed through a stack of requisition requests.  Ice blue eyes flickered up as Zabuza stumped into the office, Nishigawa trailing at his heels.  

Zabuza motioned Nishigawa to shut the door with a jerk of his chin.  "Nishigawa, dog," he introduced gruffly.  "Dog, jounin Nishigawa, Second of Unit Fifteen."

As part of his cover or strategic misdirection, Hatake was pretending that he summoned wolves, not dogs, and consequently toddled around Kiri with only his two most wolfish ninken while in disguise.  Urushi definitely could pass as a wolf, but Akino's appearance was just a little too delicate, a little too striking with the patches of gold and black and grey that dappled his coat.  Fortunately for him, Mizu no Kuni wasn't exactly known for its wolves so no one called him out for it.

Nishigawa gave Akino a stiff nod, which was returned regally before Akino turned back to his paperwork.  Zabuza stumped around to his desk, dropping down into his chair and leaning over to rummage through the bottom drawer.  He dredged up a half-empty bottle of bottom-shelf sake and a couple of glasses and said, "Anyone?  Dog?"

Akino's ears folded back in clear distaste but he didn't otherwise move -- all the ninken hated the smell of alcohol.  Nishigawa, still at attention, said, "No thank you, sir," while eyeing Zabuza the way one might eye a scorpion on one's bare hand.

Zabuza snorted and poured himself a measure.  "Relax," he drawled when Nishigawa stiffened.  "I'm not gonna chew you out."

Suspicion shaded the jounin's glance.  "You're not, sir?"

Zabuza shrugged, poured out a second glass and pushed it towards the other side.  "Nah.  Siddown.  Drink, if you want, or don't."

Very slowly, Nishigawa sat.  He didn't go for the sake.  "Sir?"

"Shinobi shouldn't be afraid of their C.O.s," said Zabuza, and tossed back the glass in one go.  "They should respect their C.O. and fear their C.O.'s C.O." He paused to get himself a refill.  "They see you getting dressed down too and they decide you're one of them.  They wanna protect you from the big bad captain."

"I -- ah," said Nishigawa, still staring at him like a live explosive tag.

"See, Hatake won't do anything to me," said Zabuza.  He was pretty sure.  A strong fifty-two percent sure.  "But I know for a fact that Senju'll cave my skull in if I step out of line.  You didn't do anything wrong this time."  He paused to reconsider and frowned.  "Well.  You did.  But that was a one-time thing."

He glared meaningfully at Nishigawa and Akino raised his head to pin the jounin with a piercing stare, and Nishigawa nodded rapid-fire under their combined glares.  

"I'm too fucking busy to rip you a new one, so just slink outta here like I did and we'll call it settled, this time."  Zabuza raised his glass meaningfully, and this time, Nishigawa took the other with visible trepidation. "Cheers," said Zabuza, baring pointed teeth. 

A bewildered Nishigawa showed himself out of the office two glasses of sake later, appearing somewhat shell-shocked so not all of Zabuza’s efforts had gone to waste.  When the door shut behind him, Akino lolled his head over to give Zabuza a droll stare.

"Don't look at me like that," Zabuza scowled.  "I’m fucking sick of this mess.  It's called saving time and energy."  Zabuza wasn’t trying to deal with his problems in person, if he could help it.

Akino rolled his eyes and went back to ignoring him.

The ninken didn’t usually spend much time in the library base, but when they did, it was in the room Hatake and Zabuza had sectioned off since they were contracted with Hatake.  Either they kept their distance or did the puppy-pile thing with Hatake, but they did not stick their cold, damp nose into the corner of Zabuza’s face and wake him up in the middle of the night -- or the early-ass morning, depending on who he asked.   

Urushi’s eyes, however, glinted in the darkness with urgency and something that looked suspiciously like worry.  Zabuza raised an eyebrow at the wolfish ninken as he stepped backwards, still watching Zabuza expectantly.  Zabuza glanced over at Hatake’s still sleeping form.  Urushi took a pace to the side to block his line of view.

Well, then.  Fine.

Zabuza slipped into his flak jacket, wrapped his holster into place, and followed Urushi out.  The hound picked up a brisk trot, his direction unerring, and not ten steps in Zabuza already knew they were going to the training grounds. “What’s with this?” he grumbled, but Urushi just swung his head around to give him that same stare and didn’t stop. 

Urushi only slowed deep in the training ground’s forest, where a break in the trees let moonlight spill into the clearing.  A figure hunched in the clearing, bandages trailing out on either side of him.  

Zabuza squinted and caught a glance of Neji’s profile before his attention redirected itself to what his wayward genin was dabbing at with a cloth -- blisters, glistening and raw, erupting from the skin on his arm.

“What,” growled Zabuza, stalking forward as Neji jumped, his injured arm curling in on himself protectively and his other arm jerking up to cover his eyes, “the fuck?"

Neji had taken to wearing bandages wrapped all up and down his right arm and leg since the last battle of the Nami mission.  Zabuza should have known that he had something to hide when he never stopped.

Neji’s shades, initially perched on top of his head, had fallen to the ground, and Neji’s eyes were hollow and exhausted.  “It will not heal,” he said at last, his shoulders bowed inwards as he slumped. A small bowl of aloe pulp or slime or whatever sat beside him, the cloth he had been using to dab it into his burns now discarded.

This close and uncovered, Zabuza could smell rot.  He crouched, reached out to grab Neji’s wrist roughly and pull the injured arm closer for a better look.  It must have hurt him, but Neji didn’t wince.  

"Twelve days," Zabuza growled. "It's been twelve days, so why the hell does that thing look like you got it yesterday?"

"Juuta-sensei did treat it after the battle," said Neji.  "Ichika advised that I use aloe to alleviate the itching as it continued to heal."

"This," said Zabuza, jabbing a finger at Neji's arm, "is not healed.  And Haku just told you to slap aloe on it?"

"He was -- confident," said Neji, his eyebrows knitting together, "that this would help."

It should have.  It would have, maybe, if these chakra burns weren't from a jinchuuriki, if bijuu-induced wounds didn't occasionally mutate with horrific side effects.

And damnit, Zabuza knew exactly why the kid didn't say anything.  

"Sit down and stay put," ordered Zabuza, dropping Neji's arm and glaring off into the distance.  A whole bunch of people who wouldn't want to be woken up were about to get woken up.

Lucky contestant number one: Uchiha Shisui.

"Nishiki-kun," he said in a voice still raspy from sleep, with that perfect touch of concern and disappointment that never failed to make the kids squirm.  "Why didn't you tell one of us?"

Neji, unsurprisingly, shifted a little bit and didn't answer.

"S'not healing," interjected Zabuza helpfully. 

"It's not," Shisui agreed grimly.

"Bijuu burns?" Zabuza suggested.

Shisui's mouth flattened into a thin line.  "Probably.  This is too far above my level.  He needs a proper iryou-nin."

Zabuza snorted.  "You don't want to take him to one of Kiri's hospitals.  Bunch of quacks."

Shisui sighed, deeply.  "You woke me up first so I would wake up Shizune-sensei, huh?"

Zabuza smiled at him, full of teeth.  "Punk's on my team; I'm staying with him.  You’re the favourite student."

Shisui rolled his eye.  "Fine," he said, and stalked off.

The next visitor wasn't Shizune, though, but Hatake, and Neji hunched in on himself even more at his approach.  Zabuza eyed Hatake sideways and said, "What're you doing here?  It's two in the morning and Konoha wasn't planning on getting you."

Hatake gave him a thousand-metre stare and said, "I know everything."

"Sounds depressing," muttered Zabuza.  "Oi, punk.  Lookit this.  Hatake got up for you, feeling special yet?"

"Sorry to disturb you.  Sir," Neji muttered.  "Sensei," he corrected himself.

Zabuza gave him a little shove to the head.  "Wrong answer."

"You're my student," Hatake said.  "I'm responsible for you."  

Zabuza bares his teeth.  "You've three, Hatake, back off of mine."

"I teach him sealing," pointed out Hatake.  "You think he'd pick you over me?"

To be fair, even he'd admit that anyone who picked Zabuza over Hatake was out of their damn mind, so he settled for glowering at the smug skinny bastard. 

"I just want to know why we are still out in the woods," Shizune's hushed voice drifted through the trees.  "Honestly, you should know better than that when we have perfectly fine medical facilities -- " she stopped short at the sight of them.  "Oh," she said, assessing them with quick glances.  "A briefing…?"

Zabuza shuffled over a step so he wasn't blocking her line of sight and watched her gaze zero in on Neji.  

"It's a sensitive matter," said Hatake.

Shizune, locked onto her target, wasn't listening.  “What happened to you?” she demanded, chakra gathering in visible wisps at her hands as she advanced. “How were you injured?”

Neji twitched backwards.  It didn’t do anything to stop Shizune’s advance.  “I did not -- it is not -- ”

“Bijuu chakra during the Nami mission a couple weeks back,” Shisui answered for him, since any words were probably drowned out by Shizune fussing over Neji or the diagnostic chakra pressed to his face.  “It was a burn.  I thought it was healed, but -- ”

“Bijuu chakra is corrosive, it won’t always respond to treatment like regular burns,” Shizune interrupted.  “Don’t you remember how much time all of you spent in the hospital after fighting the Sandaime Mizukage?”

Shisui exchanged a glance with Hatake.  “To be fair, we were unconscious for a lot of it,” Shisui tried.

Shizune, scenting blood, cut away the rest of the bandages on Neji’s arm and hissed at what she found.  “You were under extensive medical treatment for almost a week straight, which is ten times the attention the medics gave anyone else.”

“Sorry,” Shisui offered. 

“How extensive are his injuries?” cut in Hatake before Shisui could work Shizune up into a proper righteous rage.  

“How extensive?  There’s widespread, slow-moving necrosis eating right through the reticular layer into the muscle,” Shizune snapped.  “He needs surgery yesterday.  Better yet, a week ago.”

“We can get a private surgery suite cleared out in the Yubiwa Hospital in fifteen minutes,”  said Hatake, already turning away.  “Kuri should be on site.” 

Shizune’s undignified snort cut him short.  “No.  No,” she said.  “Don’t bother waking Kuri.  She can’t help -- this is beyond her scope.  Mine, too.”

“What?” Zabuza demanded.  “The f-- what does that mean?  You gonna let him die?”

Neji squinted at them, suspicion clear and growing in his eyes.  

“I’m saying Tsunade-sama needs to look at this herself,” Shizune said firmly.  “Three, four days after the initial injury I could have fixed it, but it’s too far gone now.”

Zabuza did not like the sound of too far gone.  Neither did Neji, from the look on his face.  

“Then he’ll go to Tsunade-hime,” said Hatake, unfazed.

“Okay,” said Shisui.  “What’s the game plan?  Z, you going with him?  The Hoteimaru’s still in the harbour -- she was supposed to take off evening tomorrow.”

Oh, hell no.  Neji was only a third of Zabuza’s genin, and Haku and Temari were the least of all his problems if he left abruptly.  Between Zabuza’s deviant unit and the lecture rotations for the bratlings and Mei’s jinchuuriki playdates, he had way too much to drop everything and shepherd this stubborn, insecure little white-eyes across the ocean to see the foul-tempered witch.

But that’d been what’d gotten him into this mess to begin with, wasn’t it?  Not giving his dumb, prideful, punk of a genin ennough attention?  

“Yeah,” Zabuza said.  “I’m taking him.  Anyone else hopping on the ship?”

“I will," said Hatake unexpectedly.  "I’m due for a meeting with Tsunade-hime."  And Nara, where their three massive, idiot brains would inevitably come up with their little plots to bring the known world crashing down around their ears.

Shisui made a face.  “Can’t leave Nekoko-chan to wrangle all the kids by herself,” he said.  “Don’t suppose you’re bringing any others with you?”

“No,” said Hatake.  What a relief.

His joy was Shisui’s misery.  Glum, Shisui said, “Z?  Take yours off my hands?”

Ha.  Zabuza glowered.  “No.  They’re still in trouble.  Make them help herd the bratlings.”

Shisui groaned dramatically.  “I hate you.  Not you, Taichou,” he added, because Uchiha Shisui was a lily-livered suckup who lived to make Zabuza’s life harder and Hatake had a mean one-eyed stare. 

“On your feet, punk,” Zabuza said, nudging Neji in the shoulderblade with his knee.  

“Ah!” interrupted Shizune sharply, throwing a hand out.  “Not until I get that cleaned and bandaged properly.”

Neji glanced up at Zabuza, who rolled his eyes and swept up Neji’s fallen sunglasses, dropping them down on the genin’s head as the medic-nin fussed over the damaged arm.  “I’m going to pack, since apparently we’re going on a trip.”

And, hey, guess who surfaced once Zabuza was clear of the others?  Yep.  Ninken Urushi, scenter of unhealed wounds and dodger of taking credit.  Zabuza eyed him sideways.  “Where’ve you been?” he muttered.  “Only come around when there’s something to find?”

Urushi panted a laugh at him, dropping into step for a few paces only to lope ahead and double back and do it all over again.  Freaking canines and their four legs. 

It was far too much to ask that all the kids could have stayed asleep throughout the whole fiasco and three of the sensei plus one of the bratlings sneaking out of the library base.  All of them, in fact, were awake and buzzing and only barely held in check by Uzuki’s past experience child-wrangling this particular lot.

She sat cross-legged on the table, utterly serene as Naruto vibrated and hissed questions at her like a boiling kettle.  Sasuke lurked behind him like a baby tiger flashing its tiny fangs, Sakura fluffed up indignantly at his side.  Hanabi, scowling and kicking her legs from her perch on the windowsill, tucked her face into Hinata’s shoulder grumpily as the older girl pet her hair absently.  The tanuki-brat perched on top of one of the bookshelves, apparently in his own world -- he reached out and tipped one of the books right off the shelf with a single finger.  Sai, sitting at the bottom of the shelf with a book open in his lap, reached out and caught it without looking and added it to the stack of similarly displaced books beside him.  Temari's fingers tapped impatiently on her arm as she paced, but she straightened when Zabuza shoved the door open and Urushi eeled in ahead of him.  “Sensei!”   

Zabuza held a hand up and levered her with a dark glower before the questions could stare.  Unfortunately, what worked on Zabuza’s relatively-well trained genin didn’t work at all with the Terrible Three. 

“Where is he?” Naruto demanded, immediately switching targets, bounding up to Zabuza like a hedgehog on a sugar high.  “What’d you do to him, bastard-sensei?”

Oi, the fuck?  Zabuza clamped down on his sakki before more than a little leaked out.  “You shut your mouth,” he snarled at the brat. “I know for a fact I can break every bone in your body and you’ll still be alive.”

“Yeah!” the fox-brat shot back, like it was a challenge.

Fortunately for his skeleton, he had two smarter teammates who were for some reason willing to rein him back when his idiocy ballooned.  “Shut up, idiot,” Sasuke hissed, eyeing Zabuza warily as Sakura bonked the blond over the head.  He snaked out an arm and dragged Naruto back into the huddle.

“All of you,” Zabuza said, “are going to be good little brats for Uzuki here and Konoha while Hatake and I take a trip.  And the punk, because he’s a fucking idiot.”  The last bit he said with enough vehemence that even Haku glanced askance at him.

The baby monsters gave each other the wary glances of proper little beasts who could sense danger in the air.  The glances eventually zeroed in on Haku, and by silent election, Haku said, “Zabuza-san, is everything all right?” 

Zabuza rolled his eyes.  “Don’t worry about it,” he muttered.  “Everyone’s intact, Hatake’s got some planning shit, the punk’s an idiot.  Routine trip.  What’s not going to be all right is you brats if you slack on your training.” 

“Shouldn’t we go with you, Sensei?” Temari wheedled.  “We’re your team.  We could have on-site training.”

“You think you’re getting a field trip after this shit you just pulled?”  said Zabuza, unimpressed.  “Think again, princess.”

“What about us?” Naruto piped up.  “We can go with Kakashi-sensei!”

“Yeah, you think Hatake’ll take you anywhere?”  Zabuza snorted.  “Keep dreaming, brat.”

“Enough,” Uzuki cut in, and the general unrest simmered down. “You’ve all had quite enough excitement tonight.  Back to bed, all of you.”

“Aw, Neko-sensei,” Sakura said mournfully.  “What about -- ”

“Bed,” Uzuki repeated.  “You all still have to get up just as early.”  The look she shot Zabuza was a lot more tolerant than the one he returned as Team Genbu trickled into the brats’ den.  Temari, after a longsuffering glance at Zabuza, herded Naruto and Sakura in after Sasuke.   

Haku took advantage of his being Zabuza’s favorite to drift over. “Zabuza-san,” he started.

“No, kid,” Zabuza said, and ignored the way Haku wilted. “You think Konoha can handle all of these hellions by himself?”

“Juuta-san has supervised all members of the Yorozoku before,” Haku pointed out.  “He did a good job then, and he will have Nekoko-san’s help now.”

“You’re all bigger and meaner now,” Zabuza said, dismissive.  “More disobedient.  That shit you three pulled in the city?  Congrats, you get to stop the other whelps from doing that now.  Go on, get.”

"Maybe I'm remembering Kiri apprenticeships wrong," Uzuki said thoughtfully as Haku drifted to the sleeping quarters with visible reluctance.  "I heard the apprentice follows the sensei everywhere."

"Not to the pisser," Zabuza muttered, scowling at Urushi's toothy grin.

"Is Ichika's a typical apprenticeship?" Uzuki pressed.

"I picked him up off the side of the road, took him when I went nuke-nin, and joined a rogue nation," snapped Zabuza.  "Any of that sound typical to you?"

"I think I'd like to offer an apprenticeship to Emiri-chan," said Uzuki, like she hadn't heard a thing he said.  

Ah.  Hence the questions. "You squirrels don't usually do those," Zabuza noted.  

"Only in rare cases," Uzuki agreed.  "Usually when there's a sole survivor of a genin team.  Or if you're...Kakashi-taichou."

Right.  Because not only was that fucker a remnant of an ancient clan, a child prodigy, and elite kid jounin, but he'd been the apprentice of the Yondaime Hokage.  Silver spoon after silver spoon marred with blood and rust, and now look at Konohagakure's pride -- kicking around Kirigakure with a price on his head so large a whale couldn't swallow it.

"So you wanna apprentice the runt," said Zabuza.  "You know you'll have to deal with her a long time after she makes chuunin or whatever?"

Uzuki's smile flashed with genuine fondness across her face.  "Yes, I know."

Zabuza eyed her dubiously.  "Don't she have a Clan with sticks up their asses and plans for her ten thousand meters long?" 

“The girl needs training now,” said Uzuki with the attitude of someone determined to ignore a fact until it came back to bite her in the ass.  “If there are any issues, they’ll be dealt with as they arise.”

It was unlikely for Zabuza to have to deal with the direct fallout, so he just shrugged.  He’d want to put as much distance between himself and Clanners as possible, but who was he to dash her dreams?  He wasn’t getting paid for that.  “She’s basically already your apprentice,” he pointed out.  “You feed her, water her, train her, and she followed you around for three years.  Taught her your own tricks, things you wouldn’t teach another kid.”  

“As you’ve done with Ichika,” Uzuki mused.  “Though, it sounds like you leave him other places pretty often.”

Zabuza squinted.  He did...sort of...somewhat frequently...have Haku wait behind for him.  That might have been one of the reasons the snake bastard’d managed to grab him.  And then the winter with the wolves, he’d kind of passed the kid off to Shisui until Shisui’d been recalled to the war effort.  And then when the kid got himself impaled aboard the Daikokumaru, though he’d dragged himself right back into the fight the second he found his feet. 

A guilt trip.  An intentional fucking guilt trip was what he was on.  Gods damn it. Haku was a weapon, nothing more.

It was like Kubikiribocho, right?  He wouldn’t leave Kubikiribocho behind.

“Reiha-san is not pleased to have been left behind,” Haku said, carefully neutral. 

Zabuza scowled at the horizon, eyes half-closed against the sting of the wind.  “Good for her.”  Having to stay and deal with the Terrible Three was her punishment for all the bullshit she instigated, which was a lot more than she pretended.  

“She is the only member of Su-Han you left behind, Zabuza-san,” Haku prodded.

“Yeah, you wanna go back and keep her company?” Zabuza snapped.

“No, thank you,” said Haku, serene, folding his hands neatly on the ship’s railing.  The seabreeze caught the ends of his hitai-ate and stirred wisps of his hair, and Zabuza gave him a good, hard look because it’d been a while since he’d gotten the kid by himself.

He’d grown.  He was like knee-height when Zabuza first picked him up, but now he was level with Zabuza’s shoulders, and Zabuza couldn't remember when that'd happened.  He was a hell of a lot more cleaned up, never lost the habit of a hunter-nin styled uniform after being drafted in, and still had the exact same eyes.  He wore senbon holsters under his sleeves and ice coursed through his blood under his skin and yeah, Zabuza could've done a lot worse than what Haku turned out to be.

"Zabuza-san, you're not staring at me, are you?" said Haku, turning to blink innocently at him.  "Juuta-san says to tell him if I catch men staring at me so he can beat them off with a stick."

What the fuck, Shisui.

"Beat them off yourself," Zabuza growled.  

"I didn't know I was allowed to get into fights," Haku said.  "Thank you for the clarification."

"Don't you dare," retorted Zabuza.  "You hunt them home and knife them in their sleep, you understand me?"

"Hai," agreed Haku, eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth.  He rubbed his fingers together absently, and with a tiny spark of chakra generated a very small snowball that grew in size with every movement.  "Why did you change your mind and decide to bring me to Uzushio?" he asked, the words so quiet the wind nearly carried them away.

He need his ego stoked or something?  He'd need to find someone other than Zabuza to do that for him.  "Your job is to follow me around and not ask questions."

“Hai,” Haku repeated, his tone somewhere in the range of melancholy and accepting.

A pointed muzzle nosed itself between them, and Urushi reared up to plant his forepaws on the ship’s railing.  Nearly upright even he dwarfed Haku.   The wind ruffled his fur, blowing it flat in patches, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth in the most puppyish expression Zabuza’d seen on the ninken.  

Haku smiled, eyes crinkling in genuine delight as he reached out almost unconsciously to run his fingers through Urushi’s ruff.  Urushi shied away from the contact, a full-body twitch, and Haku jerked back.  “Sorry,” he said, but Urushi nosed back under his hand, a rare invitation. 

"Someone’s in a good mood,” Zabuza muttered at the ninken as Haku rubbed a hand over the short, soft fur on Urushi’s head.  “Hey, how come you only -- fucking shit, Hatake, wear a fucking bell!"

Hatake stared back at him with absolutely no emotion.  Haku ducked his head to hide a smile.  “My wearing a bell wouldn’t help your lack of awareness,” said Hatake.  

Zabuza didn’t have a lack of awareness, the grey-haired bastard just had a freakish ability to sneak where he wasn’t wanted.  It was incredibly annoying unless it was happening to someone else, in which case it was hilarious.  “Thought you were staying below with that little punk.”

Hatake wrinkled his nose ever so slightly.  "He's the one you confined in his cabin.  There's no point in me staying down and breathing that air if I have other options."

Point.  The ship’s air was as close to toxic as you could get without actively dying.  

"Last time you left Kirigakure was six months ago," Zabuza noted.  "Get a little cabin fever or something?"

"Something," Hatake agreed, turning back to watch Kirigakure shrink behind them.  "It's Kiri."

As vague a statement as it was, Zabuza understood.  He'd felt that same itch when he left Mizu no Kuni as a nukenin, that haunting, harrowing sense that he wasn't home and couldn't go home, a deep-seated unsettlement from living in enemy territory that ate at his nerves and played havoc with his instincts.  Hatake had it a bit rougher, as a commander of a rogue army staying in a dubiously-allied Village.  Between Mei's maneuvering and the ex-loyalist remnants, it was a miracle he hadn't been assassinated yet. 

Uzushio, physically and politically more distant from the Village's power plays, was a welcome sight even with its shitty rebuilding.  

"Get the punk," Zabuza ordered out of the side of his mouth, and Haku slipped away immediately.  He eyed the docks warily, but aside from the usual rotation of teams, no one was there.  Specifically, Senju wasn't there.

"You can't avoid her when you're on her base," said Hatake, dry and amused. "It's your genin that you need her to treat."

Zabuza growled under his breath.  Punk wasn't an heir or a spare, just a branch kid.  He wouldn't do much damage to the cause if he just died instead.  "I shoulda stayed in Kiri.  She's gonna kick my ass through the ocean floor."

Hatake blinked back owlishly with all the entitlement of someone born on Senju Tsunade's good side. "She won't break anything she can't fix."

Yanagi Tsukimi sauntered across the deck to them, snapping off a smart salute to Hatake and beaming at Zabuza.  "Commander.  Momochi," she greeted.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Zabuza demanded, eyeing the three-cornered monstrosity on her head.

"I'm a captain," explained Yanagi the younger.  "This is my ship."  She pointed to her hat and its bright yellow feather.  "I'm the ship's captain."

"This is a loaner ship at best," Zabuza grumbled.  "And no one actually wears that shit."

Yanagi shrugged.  "I like it," she said, reaching up to bat at the feather with a finger.  "It's very high seas pirate chic."  

Hanabi-ha had actual children as its captains.

Hatake shifted slightly, and Yanagi straightened.  “Sorry, sir,” she said.  “I came over to report that we’ll be docking in about twenty minutes.”

Hatake nodded.  “Your unit?”

“The ones crewing this ship right now are thrilled to not be crewing this ship by this afternoon,” Yanagi answered ruefully.  “My Second says the rest are fine but in general also not thrilled for their turn on crew rotation.”

Rough luck for them.  “S’not like there’s a ton of you Hi no Kuni who can throw a decent suiton,” Zabuza pointed out.  “You’ve got what, forty percent of them transferred into your unit now?”

“Closer to fifty, unless they’re not reporting their chakra nature,” said Yanagi.  “I’ve got a little less than half the unit on the Hoteimaru at a time.”  She squinted up at the mizzenmast.  “Some of these guys have got the whole ‘ship’ thing down faster than others.”

Zabuza huffed a laugh.  “Yeah, what about you?  You get the ship thing down any?  Takes a decade to get to captain a warship, on average.”

Yanagi shrugged.  “What can I say?  I’m a genius.” 

She wasn’t wrong.  She’d picked up captaining a ship like most people picked up a new sword kata.  Born in the wrong country, this one.

“You make a better warship captain than Momochi would,” agreed Hatake unhelpfully.  “Good work, Yanagi.”

Konohans.  Every single person younger than Hatake fucking fawned over the man’s words and Yanagi -- seasoned Anbu captain or no -- was no different.  In Kiri, if you were an elite jounin, it was still a toss-up whether everyone loved you or hated your guts.  But one compliment from Hatake and Yanagi practically melted, tipping the brim of her ridiculous hat up and giving Hatake a close, silent scrutiny.  “Thank you, Commander,” she said, still eyeing him with a strange mix of disbelief and wariness.    

Zabuza scoffed.  He didn’t want to be a warship captain anyways.  They could all sink for all he cared.

Haku’s familiar chakra tickled at the edge of his senses, moments before he emerged from belowdeck with a helping hand up for Neji -- who, now that he was looking, he could see used his left arm to haul himself up.  “Hey,” he said to Yanagi.  “You met my genin?”

Yanagi perked up.  “You?  Have genin?” she demanded, far too gleeful for comfort.  “Besides the Yuki kid?”

Zabuza snapped his fingers at his wayward genin.  “You know Haku.  This dumbass punk is another one.  I’ve got a third grounded back at the Village for stirring up trouble.”

“Momochi,” said Yanagi, delighted.  “How did you manage to get genin that suit you so well?”

Zabuza bared his teeth at her.  “Wait until you get genin,” he threatened, which he recognized wasn’t much of a threat.  “Unholy terrors, the lot of them.”

Yanagi, still smiling, turned to Neji.  “Momochi must like you a lot,” she said, cheerfully undermining Zabuza’s authority and righteous ire.  

“Bullshit,” Zabuza snapped.  Hatake shot him a mild look that promised pain if he damaged team cohesion.  “He keeps up, I guess,” he amended grudgingly, giving both Hatake and the white-eyes kid a nasty glare.

The mischief dancing in Yanagi’s eyes closely, uncomfortably resembled Shisui at his most unsufferable, but she just said, “If you’ll excuse me, Commander, I’ll be overseeing the docking.”  She tipped her hat jauntily and strolled off.

“Give her genin, Hatake,” Zabuza said as soon as she was out of earshot.  “Oh, sorry,” he said, exaggerated, when Hatake gave him an exasperated look.  “I suggest you give her some genin, sir, it would be super beneficial.  And fun.”  

Hatake twitched and gave him a dull glare.  “She’s not getting genin because you think it’ll be amusing.”

“Because you think it’ll be amusing,” Zabuza suggested. 

“No,” said Hatake.  And then, “Look who’s waiting for us.”

Zabuza turned slowly, dread sinking down his spine at the sight of the lone woman in the medic-nin haori standing alone on the docks.  Then he blinked and the burgeoning heart attack slipped away.  “That Kurumi?” he asked, squinting.

“Aa,” said Hatake with studied innocence.  “Who did you think it would be?”

Skinny bastard had known exactly what he’d think.  

Kurumi didn’t wait for the Hoteimaru to dock before she was leaping up, running the rest of the way up the side of the ship and flipping neatly over the railing.  “The patient?” she said briskly, eyes locked on Neji, and didn’t even pause for confirmation as she reached out to take his arm.  

“Kurumi-sensei, thanks for coming,” said Hatake, and Kurumi blinked up, momentarily dazed.

“Oh, Commander,” she said.  “Momochi-taichou.  Hi.  Is this the patient?”

“This is definitely the dumbass,” Zabuza muttered.  “Name's Nishiki.  Thought he was 'too far gone' for anyone other than Senju to handle.”

“I’ll be taking care of prep before surgery,” Kurumi said briskly.  “Senju-sama mentioned that she'd like Hatake-taishou and Momochi-taichou to report in to her before she comes to the ward.”  To Neji, she said, “Come with me, please.”

“Hey,” Zabuza cut in.  “I’m jounin sensei.  I’m coming with.”

“Then come,” said Kurumi, impatient.  “It's no difference to me.  We’ve been waiting for you all night.”  She nudged Neji, herding him towards the gangplank. 

Zabuza shot Hatake a glance.  Hatake said, “She’ll be at the surgery.  You can’t avoid her forever,” but waved him on anyways.

“Haku,” said Zabuza, ignoring Hatake’s insinuation, and strode after Neji and the iryou-nin.

Uzushio, an outpost almost evenly split between Kiri-nin and Hana-ha shinobi, fostered nearly none of the animosity that hung over Kirigakure and the Lower City like a persistent fog.  This far out, caste didn’t matter because mostly the former Hanran ran the base on the Kiri side and no one bothered to reinforce social ranking.  That, and a healthy dose of casual Konohan friendliness kept the atmosphere relaxed -- to the bewilderment of newly arrived Kiri troops until they settled in. 

The outpost at Uzushio was, in short, the future Mei wanted for Kirigakure.  Which was ironic because it only worked because there were ex-Konoha-nin disguised as northern outpost Kiri-nin in the mix, and that peace would promptly evaporate if the Kiri shinobi found that out.

In keeping with status quo of the false peace, the four of them passed unremarked through the Kiri quarters.  Only months after the end of the civil war's end did rebuilding teams begin work on all but the most essential structures, and as a result, Uzushiogakure now stood as a hopeless mishmash of crumbling white stone and clay tile, utilitarian wood-and-canvas structures, and newer stone buildings that lacked the elegance of those that had stood there originally.  Teams had begun to clear away dead vines and fill in gaps in the streets, even as the scaffolds for new structures rose on either side.

The Hana-ha medical ward was a creature that combined elements of all three types of buildings -- its shell was that of the classic Uzushio sandstone, but patched up with planks of wood where war had scarred it, renovated again with new stone that didn’t quite match the shade of the original.  At least two teams perched on the roof, stacks of tile scattered around them, and on either side of the entrance a pair of shinobi stood guard.  They saluted smartly as Zabuza approached, but otherwise didn’t move from their posts.

“This is the medical ward,” Kurumi explained without slowing her stride.  “Senju-sama ensured it’s permanent, more or less, and well-outfitted even if it’s technically a field hospital.  Construction is still ongoing but does not endanger current or future patients.”

Zabuza hadn’t stepped foot in a Kiri hospital for going on four years, but they’d looked like this, he might not have minded so much.

“This is a hospital?” Haku breathed, something like wonder in his voice.

Kurumi paused then, turned to look back with a curious expression.  “Yes,” she said.  “It’s not much but this is a hospital.”

Zabuza expected fear and chaos and bloodstains and hopelessness, desperation and the scents of piss and blood and vomit and death, the curses of medics too overworked and undertrained to save their patients.  Those were the hospitals he knew.  Hospitals didn't have calm, spacious waiting rooms with comfortable if simple furniture and sunlight spilling in through wall-to-wall windows.  Hospitals didn't have neatly uniformed iryou-nin moving purposefully but unhurriedly through uncluttered halls and just-as-orderly triage rooms.  Hospitals didn't have an air of serenity with barely a whiff of blood or sickness or an expectant, hopeful calm. 

But this one did. 

"Surgery suite is all set up for you," Kurumi said, squeezing Neji lightly on the shoulder.  "Momochi-taichou, I'm afraid you won't be able to come any further.  Medical staff and patients only from here on."

Zabuza glanced at the double doors denoting the surgery wing, then at Neji.  "You'll be fine," he said gruffly, more a statement than a question."

Neji dipped his head.  "Hai," he said, quiet, and then even softer, "You will be here when it is done?"

Zabuza shrugged.  "I got nowhere better to be.  Go on, punk."

"He's in good hands," Kurumi assured him, and guided Neji forward with her hands on his shoulders.  

"Zabuza-san," said Haku, hushed, like his voice would break whatever peace was here if he were to speak too loudly.  "This place is beautiful."

"Yeah," agreed Zabuza, and stumped off to find one of the waiting rooms.  "Beats the slaughterhouse setup Kiri's got going on."

"It's a space designed for healing," Haku pressed, enthusiastic, and indulgently, Zabuza didn't tell him to shut up.  "There's a clear divide between treatment space and everywhere else but they've made a focus on keeping all the areas patient-friendly."  He reached out, brushed his fingers over an actual indoor tree as he passed.   "It's -- comfortable."

"Senju's the most famous iryou-nin in the Elemental Nations," Zabuza grunted.  "She has a chance to go all primadonna on her hospital, she'll take it."

Zabuza's sense of danger was finely tuned, so the moment the words left his mouth he knew he had made a mistake.  The hospital was so nice and Neji's impending surgery so distracting that Zabuza had entirely forgotten that he was also avoiding a very specific someone who could apparently appear where her name was spoken like some kind of ancient curse.

“If it isn’t Momochi,” an acrid voice bit out from behind him, freezing him in his tracks.

Zabuza took a deep breath and gritted his teeth.

Fuck. 

Chapter Text

OPERATION: HIGURE

MISSION REPORT

Akatsuki member profile: Kakuzu

Alias: Taki no Sangeki -- Scourge of Taki.  Also known for being an attempted assassin of the Shodaime Hokage.

Origin: Takigakure

Partner: Hidan

Combat: Kinjutsu stolen from Takigakure: Jiongu “Earth Grudge Fear”.  Able to use jutsu of fire, lightning, water, wind, and earth nature.  High degree of raw physical strength and taijutsu prowess.  Able to survive seemingly mortal wounds.    

Notes:  Akatsuki’s treasurer.  Previously killed four of his partners.  

Motivation: Money.  Killing others to gain strength.  

Current location: Akatsuki satellite base, Kawa no Kuni.

Observations: A large portion of Akatsuki’s funds appear to come from bounties posted by any of the Hidden Villages.  These targets may include nukenin or simply shinobi from a foreign village.  Assignments given to Akatsuki members often serve multiple purposes: to generate income for the organization; to establish the organization as a legitimate entity in the international community; and to collect and compile information.     

END REPORT

D.C.O. Ikiryou

Babysitting. 

Temari had spent her entire life sidelined for this express purpose; she knew how every stage of her career would have gone if she had stayed in Sunagakure.  Good enough to make genin?  That’s nice, you have to wait for your brothers so you can babysit them.  Good enough to make chuunin?  That’s nice, kunoichi make decent Academy teachers.  Good enough to make jounin?  That’s nice, you’ll be married off to keep an eye on some political target.

Screw that.  Temari was a front-line fighter and the leader of her team. 

The problem was that she was too damn good at babysitting, which was why she’d been left behind to watch the captain’s team while he, Zabuza-sensei, Haku, and Neji took a ship to the base on Uzushio.  What did mollify her was Zabuza-sensei's shifty, “This is what officers do.  Lead teams,” comment before taking off with the rest of her team.  He wasn’t subtle; she wasn’t dumb.  A year of peacetime was long enough that both Kiri and Hana-ha would go through a series of routine promotions before the next stage of the plan, and she was chuunin material. 

And right now, proving that meant herding the youngest kids through their chores and training. 

The den didn’t have any windows, but she knew when she woke that it would be barely light outside, that the sun would just barely be brushing the horizon between the mountain peaks.  The room was still dark as night, and the only thing her sleep-foggy eyes picked out in the gloom was Gaara’s stare.  “Morning, otouto,” she murmured.

For a moment his blank stare remained unchanged.  Then he blinked, twice, and shuffled around the rest of the sleeping pack towards her to tuck himself under her arm.  She let her hand drop down automatically to comb her fingers through his hair, and he buried his nose into her side.

Naruto snuffled beside them, rolling over with an aborted snore so he was sprawled out like a starfish with his arm thrown over Sakura’s midriff.  Temari tensed, but Sakura didn’t wake from little things like that anymore, unlike the nights when she had curled in on herself so tight it was a miracle she could fall asleep at all and flinched awake from the slightest disturbance.  She slept better now when she was next to her team, or failing that, other members of the pack. 

They each had their own bunks, as ramshackle as they were, but Team Byakko without fail piled on the floor with their blankets every night.  The other members of the pack joined them sometimes, didn’t others, and this morning Sai raised his head from his bunk to peer down at them.  “Reiha,” he rasped.

“Ohaiyo, Hachikou,” she said quietly.  “Wake Kyuushi-chan and the rest in twenty minutes, ne?  Shichino and I are going to make breakfast.”  

Gaara grumbled softly into her stomach and didn’t move.  “Hai,” Sai agreed, without any attempt to get up.  

Temari nudged Gaara, half-lifting him when he refused to shift his legs beneath him. “Come on,” she murmured.  “Come help and we can make falafel.”  

That was a bribe.  Temari had no compunctions against using bribes to get the kids to behave.  Gaara twisted to scrutinize her with one piercing eye.  “Fried.  Not baked,” he bargained. 

“Unhealthy,” Temari scolded, by which Gaara was unmoved.  “Fried,” she agreed.  “Come on.”

Temari had learned how to cook many foods in her childhood, but falafel, though it had been one of her and her brothers’ favorite foods, wasn’t one of them.  Since leaving Suna, she hadn’t eaten falafel until she tried to make it for herself just last year, after the war -- and Gaara was instantly smitten.

The things Gaara liked made up a rather short list: Naruto, her, lying down in warm places, sunlight, knocking things off of high places, personal contact but only if he initiated it, breaking things.  But of all the foods he’d tried, Suna-style or not, he hadn’t taken to anything quite like he had falafel.  He was difficult to motivate at best and a complete nightmare at worst, but for falafel, he was willing to do all manner of things, like get up early when it was cold. 

Having been rewarded for his help with the first batch of falafel to finish frying, Gaara retreated from the kitchen to lay half-on one of the tables and watched the steam drifting up from his plate with intense focus.  Temari brushed away the sweat beginning to dampen her forehead and dropped another unfried ball into her pot of oil, and turned back to the doorway in time to see Sai do his closest approximation of a stumble out to Gaara's table.  Gaara glanced up sharply with a silent warning until he registered who Sai was and that he wouldn't try to take his food. 

"More here," she called out to him, and he redirected his path to the kitchen.

"Do you need help, Reiha-neesan?" asked Hinata briskly as she followed Sai in.

Temari gave her a distracted up-and-down, checking her posture and expression.  "No thanks, Kyuushi-chan, the food's almost done.  Grab a plate and get yourself some fruit."  To Sai, she said, "The Terrible Three awake?"

"Yes," said Sai.  He paused, tilting his head in that birdlike way of his, and amended, "Shieru and Gogo are awake, so Rokumaru will be awake shortly."  For a bundle of limitless energy, Naruto slept like the dead.

"Great, thanks," said Temari.  That would give her enough time to finish frying the falafel.  "Grab the flatbread and sauce on your way out."

The outside door opened and shut, and the morning chill followed Shisui-sensei in.  "Shichino-kun, Hachikou-kun, Kyuushi-chan, good morning," he said cheerfully, and then stuck his head in the kitchen.  "Reiha-chan, early start?"

"Not really, Sensei," said Temari, flashing him a smile.  "Shichino helped with breakfast today."

Shisui hummed approval.  "And did my favorite fourteen-year-old student make some for her favorite sensei?"

"Your only fourteen-year-old student did save you some breakfast," Temari shot back, dry, and passed him a plate.  "The oranges you picked up yesterday are out on the table, and no, I'm not going to peel it for you."

Shisui-sensei clapped a hand to his chest.  "Ah, but Reiha-chan, the skin is so much thicker than apples!  One bite is nothing but rind.  Gogo-chan, good to see you awake."  

"Hi, nee-chan.  Hi, Juuta-sensei," Sakura yawned, dragging herself past Temari to get herself a glass of water.  "Sensei, did you know that orange peels actually have a lot of vitamins, fibre, and calcium in them?  You should try eating them."

Shisui regarded the back of her head gravely.  "Gogo-chan, sometimes the things that you learn upset me," he said, and took himself and his plate out to the tables.

Sakura beamed, her smile hidden behind the lip of her glass.  Temari exhaled a laugh and collected three plates.  “Yours is on the counter behind me, Gogo-chan,” she said over her shoulder, and carried the food out.  “Shieru-kun -- ” she tossed the plate gently, underhand, and Sasuke caught it even with his eyes half closed.  “I have Rokumaru’s.”

He muttered agreement, changing course to join Hinata and Gaara at their table.  Temari slid in next to Sai with a sigh and reached for the flatbread.  

“Nekoko and Emiri-chan will be in the Lower City until tomorrow night,” said Shisui-sensei.  “It was supposed to be Z’s turn to give the lecture today, but I’ll do it.”  He said it like he was put out about it, but the entire pack knew Shisui-sensei liked teaching a hell of a lot more than Zabuza-sensei did.  

“Food,” Naruto slurred, stumbling out of the den and making grabby hands at Sakura’s plate as she stepped out of the kitchen.  She wrinkled her nose and yanked her food out of his reach.

“Idiot,” Sasuke grumbled.  “Hey.  Here.” 

“M’not an idiot, idiot,” Naruto retorted, but stumbled towards the table instead.  Sakura sniffed and sat down on the opposite side of Shisui-sensei, where she was safe from Naruto’s murder of perfectly good food by way of dumping a bunch of yogurt sauce on it.  Temari watched and despaired silently, because she had long ago given up trying to get Naruto to appreciate food without an alarming overload of flavours. 

“Do you have other plans scheduled for today, Sensei?” Hinata asked, dipping her falafel in the sauce delicately with her chopsticks. 

Shisui-sensei's mouth twitched in a grimace.  “Got some reports to go through, a meeting later with some of the other captains, plans to draft -- you know the drill.”  Being a captain was a lot of work.  “I’ll see you all at 0900 for concentration sessions and 1300 for classroom teaching, but the rest of the time you listen to Reiha-chan, got it?”

“We always listen to Reiha-nee,” objected Naruto, a blatant lie.

Shisui-sensei ignored this.  “Remember -- stay out of the city,” he warned.  “I don’t have time to do damage control with Z and the captain away.”

It was Temari’s turn to grimace -- that warning was for her.  “I got it, Sensei,” she reassured him.  “We’ll stick to here or the training grounds.  You’re not doing Genbu’s team practice today?”

“No,” Shisui said with an apologetic glance at his three.  It went largely unnoticed due to Gaara’s single minded focus on his food, Sai’s preoccupation with the sauce dripping from Naruto’s plate onto the table, and Hinata’s careful balancing of her falafel ball.  “Maybe you can referee a three-on-three, Reiha-chan.”

“Yeah,” Temari agreed, contemplative.  

Shisui-sensei crinkled his eye in a smile and stood, taking a whole orange and his cleared plate with him.  “I’m off.  Be good, kids,” he said, whisking to drop off the later in the kitchen before taking off to his first schedule. 

“Hai,” said Temari, and the rest of the kids all echoed her like they weren’t little hell-raisers on the best days.  She checked the time reflexively as the door clicked shut behind him.  “We’re leaving for the training ground in forty minutes,” she told the others.  “Shieru and Rokumaru, you’re on dishes.”

Sasuke grunted, and Naruto mumbled something dismayed around his mouthful, but they knew the rules of breakfast dishes -- last ones up did them all. 

“Thank you for the food, Reiha-neesan,” said Hinata, flashing her a small smile before rising.  Sai followed her wordlessly, his plate scraped neatly clean of even sauce. Sakura murmured absent agreement, her attention already stolen by the book in her lap. 

They were good kids.  Sometimes, Temari wondered if this ever could have been her life in Sunagakure -- balancing a career with younger siblings or later, her own children.  At the same time, she didn’t want to deal with all the crap that came with being a parent, and/or housewifing.  Let Gaara have the kids; she’d just be the cool aunt.

Gaara, lazily content after savouring his breakfast, tapped Sakura’s empty water glass with a single finger until it tipped off the edge of the table and hit the ground with a thunk. 

On second thought, Gaara’s kids would be actively terrifying. 

Temari didn’t bother scolding him -- he’d take care of it himself, probably -- instead clearing her own dishes and heading back into the den for some last-minute training session planning.  Byakko and Genbu were two wildly different teams -- Zabuza-sensei had given them the Terrible Three and the Silent Trio nicknames for a reason.  Naruto and Sakura were both blunt-force type front-line fighters, with Sasuke as offensive mid-range and support.  Sai and Gaara were distance fighters, with Hinata as a close range support but also a distance scout with Sai.  Designing an exercise that didn’t clearly favour one team’s style over the other’s was difficult.  

There was also the bit where Gaara could smash everyone else into a bloody pulp without actually meaning to.  His offensive attacks didn’t need to be taught; they were instinctual. 

Byakko were strong; Genbu were sneaky.  The easiest solution was to organize a strategy and speed-based session.  Temari grabbed her tessen from where it leaned against the wall, the training equipment sack with the weighted balls, and her kunai holster and lugged it all out into the common area. 

The splashing and bickering from the kitchen told her that Naruto and Sasuke had set to the dishes.  Hinata and Gaara sat at one of the sunnier tables -- Hinata to clean her hiogi fans and Gaara to just sprawl in its warmth.  Sakura’d gotten too absorbed in her book to finish eating.  Sai had two textbooks, three scrolls, and a pile of paper with hand-scrawled abstract shapes spread out in front of him and a frown of concentration just like the one Neji got when he was neck-deep in mathematical theories. 

Temari dropped the sac of equipment on the table closest to the door and plopped down next to Sai.  “What’re you looking at?” she asked.  

“Design theory,” he answered without looking up.  “Circles and hexagons are particularly effective in both containment and transduction.  Incorporation of these elements tends to generate a product with more stability and power.”

Yeah.  Neji spouted the same kind of word soup when he talked about his own seals.  “Cool,” she said, just to watch the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly at the incongruity of the comment.  ‘ Cool’ referred to a temperature and was an illogical choice of word.   He was a little weird like that, but that was just Sai.

Sasuke stalked out of the kitchen, suds dripping from his hair.  He stopped in front of Sakura and her mostly-finished plate and ordered, “Eat.”

Sakura glanced up, distracted, then took the last three falafel balls from the plate and popped one in her mouth as her eyes drifted back to her book.  Sasuke snatched the empty plate and retreated to the kitchen to Naruto’s whines of, “Where’re you going -- oh.  Oi, why’d you splash me?” in the background.

Temari rifled through her kunai holster absently, checking the edges of each blade, and when the clock hit 0650, called out mostly in the direction of the kitchen, “Hey, get your gear, we’re leaving in five minutes!”  She rapped on the table in front of her gently when Sai didn’t stir. 

“Yes,” he said belatedly, scribbling one last note on his paper before scooping his things together. 

The air was clean and cold, as was normal for mornings in Kirigakure’s Inner Village in the springtime.  Temari shivered involuntarily despite the cloak wrapped around her shoulders.  Gaara’s eyes slit nearly shut in displeasure, and his cloak swamped him, he was huddled in so tightly. 

Naruto bounced on the balls of his feet as he walked, barely restraining himself from taking off like an overexcited puppy.  “What’re we gonna do?  What kind of training?  Fun training?  What kind of fun training?”  He could hold an entire conversation by himself.  Sakura obligingly bonked him over the head with her fist as Sasuke rolled his eyes with more resignation than actual annoyance.  

“Today,” Temari said when they finally hit the edge of the training ground, “we’re going to do basket-ball.  I’m the Holder.”

Team Genbu absorbed this information with complete calm and acceptance.  Team Byakko -- even Sasuke, a little bit -- lit up with excitement.  “I love basket-ball,” said Sakura, eyes bright. 

The game, first introduced to them by Shisui-sensei, had three main rules besides the standard no killing and no maiming rules: acquire a ball from the Holder -- in this case, Temari; score a point by depositing the ball in the opposing team’s goal; prevent the opposing team from scoring.  After the first few rather problematic rounds they had played, more rules proved necessary: no live blades; no destroying goals; no placing goals upside down; no moving the goals; no stealing from the stash of balls not in play; no removing scored balls to score in the opponents’ goal; and so on. 

Sai took their goal -- a small basket -- and Hinata and Gaara, ostensibly to strategize, but more likely so Sai could attempt to corral Gaara into an approximation of strategy.   Naruto snatched Byakko's goal, only to have Sakura swipe it out of his hand and pass it to Sasuke.  Sasuke retreated to the opposite woods at the fastest stride he could without going faster than a walk. 

"Gogo-chan!" Naruto complained, chasing after his teammates.

Temari seized the opportunity to stretch, bending over to tangle her fingers in grass still wet with dew.  She took her time warming up muscles still stiff and cold from inaction, then drew one of the balls out of the sack.  She tested its weight in her hand, tossing it in the air experimentally.  This one weighed about five kilos, substantial enough to give it heft without too much actual weight.

She drew back, hurled the ball up as hard as she could without chakra assistance, and shouted, "Ball!" 

The ball hurtled up through the mist still clinging to the trees, and after a silent count she sprang up after it.  The ball landed solidly in her hands with a thunk, and instinctively she tucked into a flip, her body curled around the ball as Sasuke shot through the air where her head would have been.  A tendril of sand reared up in front of her and she twisted, glancing off with her shoulder, as Sai took a running leap off the sand, his eyes fixed on the ball in her hand.

A kawarimi took her out of range ten meters to the east, where Sakura pounced on her.  Hinata melted out of the bushes as Sakura buried her fist in a tree trunk, a hairsbreadth too slow to catch Temari, and struck at Sakura's torso with all of her Kyuu persona's cold precision.  Sakura jerked backwards, and Temari took the distraction to run.  Naruto crash landed in the clearing just behind her with a whoop, and he launched himself into the trees to give chase, shadowing Temari's flight from above.  

Years of sparring with Gaara warned her just as the ground rumbled and rose up beneath her feet, and another substitution carried her clear before the sand could snag her feet.  She swerved to avoid a tree and slammed right into Sai, who wrenched the ball out of her hands in the split second when the breath escaped her lungs and took off through the trees to Naruto's dismayed squawk.  Temari sighed as she watched them vanish.  When she caught her breath, she brushed off her hands and trotted back to find the sack of equipment once again.  

She hefted another ball, this one lighter, and spun it in her hands thoughtfully.  She squinted into the distance, but the rest of the kids tussling over the first ball were hidden by the cover of the trees.  She tossed the ball up in the air and hollered, “Ball!”  

In the distance, the slightest rustle of footsteps changed direction.  She caught the ball, and as two figures came flying at her from the treeline, hurled it as high and far as she could in the opposite direction.  Sasuke skidded to a stop and abruptly reversed direction with a wordless sound of dismay, but Hinata was faster, her braided hair flying out behind her as she followed the ball’s trajectory.

Temari watched them go with mixed satisfaction and fondness and went back for another ball.  She hopped up on top of the boundary post with her ball, tossing it up and down in the air in one hand as she kicked her legs.  The birds were awake now, those smart enough to nest outside the training ground as well, and she watched them flit through the upper boughs of the trees. 

“Basket!” the distant shout drifted in from the northern half of the forest, drawing her attention back to the training ground.   It was Sai’s voice.  One point to Team Genbu. 

Whoever’d scored or been defending that basket would be joining Sasuke and Hinata’s chase.  She could just chuck the next one and let the kids squabble over it, but that was too easy -- this was supposed to be her training session too, after all.  She hopped off the post, sauntered forward with the ball in hand.  She lobbed the ball up in the air and called out, “Ball!” 

She snagged it out of the air, swinging the tessen off her back in the same movement, and swept herself up towards the sky on a massive gust of wind, out of reach of the snarling ink lion that leapt after her.  Naruto whooped, wild, and his chakra-enhanced pounce left a crater in the ground where he took off.  A swarm of black falcons peeled out of the forest after her, sharp-edged wings propelling them through the tangle of branches effortlessly.  

Temari snapped the tessen closed beneath her and threw herself into a shunshin just under Naruto's clawed hands, and he tore through the ink birds with a cry of dismay.  She landed in a slide as her sandals fought for traction in the loose dirt, slung her tessen back over her shoulder, and sprinted for the trees.  Byakko were strong and Genbu were sneaky, but Suzaku were speedy -- in a straight race, none of these six could catch her. 

But it wasn't a straight race, and Sakura exploded out of the undergrowth just as Temari hit the treeline.  Temari twisted, ducking Sakura’ punch and hurling the girl bodily over her shoulder into the ground before continuing her flight into the trees.  In the split second before her eyes adjusted from the sunlight to the shadows, a black inked snake struck for her ankles.  It snared itself around her ankles and she stumbled, hitting the ground with a thump and a grunt. 

Temari curled in herself, yanking the snake free and hurling it against the nearest tree, where it splattered apart in a pool of black.  She threw herself into a kawarimi just as the ground around her rose up in sandy jaws snapping shut around the space where she’d been.  

Gaara’s sakki stirred, just a little in response to his annoyance, and Temari caught her breath at its malice even as it ebbed.  It vanished soon enough, and Gaara with it as he slipped deeper into the forest, probably to stalk Hinata and Sasuke’s ongoing scuffle.  Sakura, smeared with dust, leapt down at her from the trees with a punch that left a crater in the ground.  

“Rokumaru, defend!” Sakura shouted behind her, and Naruto redirected his charge deeper into the grove after Gaara with an enthusiastic, “Rahhh!”   

Temari evaded the first punch and swung her furled tessen back around in her free hand like a club.  Sakura skidded backwards before it could connect, and instead it tore through the ink lion that reared out of the shadows with a silent roar.  The lion burst into a thousand droplets but a second leapt for her side left open on the upswing.  It barrelled into her and she let the force of momentum send her flying even as it knocked the air from her lungs.  She planted the tessen in the ground and used it to vault around abruptly in the opposite direction and crash into the lion feet-first, then snapped her tessen open with a flick of her wrist in time to catch Sakura against it when the younger girl sprang. 

Sakura hissed her frustration, hopping backwards only long enough to regain her footing before charging again.  Temari spun, furling her tessen with the movement, and narrowly avoided Sakura's punch as the tessen splashed through another ink lion.  But behind that lion sprang a smaller cat and a hawk in tandem, the hawk stretching out racking talons for her face as the cat latched onto the ball and wrenched.  Temari jerked back instinctively and the cat used her distraction to pry the ball out of her hand with sharp claws and flee.  

Sakura abandoned her immediately, sprinting after the quickly retreating cat.  Ruefully, Temari watched them go, swung her tessen back into her back,  and began the trek back to the equipment.

Three balls later -- both teams had scored two baskets apiece with two more balls contested, Temari looked up from her perch on the outside post on time to see Shisui-sensei step out of a shunshin.  "Reiha-chan," he greeted, voice light despite the weariness that darkened his face for just a moment.  "How's the session going?"

"Good," said Temari, shading her eyes with one hand to peer into the forest.  The sun had finally dispelled the morning mist, warning the air and wicking away the dewdrops in the grass.  "Everyone's gotten a good warmup, physically, except Hachikou.  No live blades means he's strongest at a distance in basket-ball."

"Ah, basket-ball," said Shisui with warm amusement.  He reached out to ruffle her hair; she scowled and ducked out of reach.

"Sensei," she complained, shaking out the short strands.  "It's all sweaty already."

He raised an eyebrow at her.  "From all this sitting around?"

Temari snorted.  "Well, I'm definitely sitting around for this one now," she said.  She tossed the ball up, shouted, "Ball!" in the general direction of the trees, and launched the ball into its depths. 

"Lazy," noted Shisui-sensei with zero sincerity.  "Thanks for taking team training today, Reiha-chan."

She glanced sideways at him and shrugged.  "Happy to.  What’s on the docket for concentration sessions today?  You’re the only sensei in the village right now."

Shisui-sensei hummed.  “Ninjutsu training all around, it’s close enough to what you’re all supposed to be doing already.  And, ah, Shichino-kun for specialized training.”

Temari straightened.  “We’re all going to the catacombs, then?” 

Shisui-sensei nodded absently.  “As soon as the kids are finished playing out there.”

“Basket!” Sakura’s triumphant voice drifted over the trees.

“So what’s Z got you working on?” Shisui-sensei asked.  “He’s not the sharpest with wind release.”

Temari huffed a laugh.  “He’s not bad,” she defended.  “He’s just -- really aligned with water.”

“Hey,” said Shisui-sensei, nudging her in the shoulder. “It’s been a while since I got a session with you since you’re not any of my rotations.  You got the kaminari hibana down?”

In answer, Temari flashed through the three seals, dragging the chakra up into her hands.  She flicked her fingers open and sparked a shower of lightning from her palms, throwing it up in front of her in a crackling wall that dissipated after just a few seconds.   “I guess so,” she said, as nonchalant as she could with mingled pride and relief.  

Shisui-sensei’s eye crinkled approvingly. “You’ve definitely got that secondary kaminari nature.  I’ll show you a little something today, huh?”

“Sounds good,” said Temari, cheerful.  “You going to have time for that?  You’ve got four kids to teach ninjutsu to, and then Shichino.” 

“Hey, none of that,” said Shisui-sensei.  “You’re one of the kids I’m teaching too.” 

Temari rolled her eyes.  “I’m not a kid, Sensei.  I’m the one helping you watch the kids.”

“Ah,” said Shisui-sensei with fake sincerity.  “I forgot.  You’re a teenager now.” 

“You’re twenty years old, Sensei, you’re barely not a teenager,” Temari pointed out.  “There was a couple months when we were both teenagers.”

“Yes,” Shisui-sensei said bleakly.  “That was a dark time.” 

Temari startled into a laugh mingled with amusement and incredulity.  

“Is it weird?” Shisui-sensei said suddenly.  “Calling me ‘Sensei’ when I’m only six years older than you?  That’s a one year difference compared to the gap between you and Shichino.” 

“No,” said Temari honestly.  “You’re a jounin and you’re my sensei.  Kar -- Karasu-sensei is only three years older than me.”

Shisui-sensei’s mouth thinned.  “That’s true,” he said.  

Temari bit back a grimace.  Itachi-sensei was a sore subject, even a year after his defection.  “Speaking of jounin,” she said, drumming her heels on the post pointedly.

“Oh, no,” Shisui-sensei warned, narrowing his eye at her.  “None of that.  What am I always telling you kids?”

“‘Promotions are twenty percent more responsibility and eighty percent more paperwork,’” Temari quoted dutifully.  “And that I should enjoy peacetime and having nothing to do but train and run D-ranks with my team.  But I can handle the paperwork and if that’s all that’s keeping me from chuunin rank -- ”

“Reiha-chan,” Shisui-sensei interrupted. “You know we’re in flux right now.  Thank you for taking on leadership with the rest of the kids, but right now let’s stay our course, hm?”

Pressing now wouldn't help her case.  “Yeah, okay,” Temari agreed, swallowing down her annoyance.  

“Basket!” called Hinata from the trees.  Immediately after, the trees rustled violently and then stilled.     

Shisui-sensei craned his neck.  “What’s the score?”

“Three-three,” answered Temari.  “Last ball’s in play.  You want to put in a bet?”

The rough breakdown of the teams: Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke were all fiercely competitive and scrappy.  Sai and Hinata would treat the exercise like they would a mission -- with all due seriousness.  Gaara, comparatively, would either put in just enough effort to be considered an active participant or a little too much effort, as fueled by Shukaku’s bloodrage. 

“Gambling is a vice,” Shisui-sensei said, shooting her a sideways glance.  “If Z’s teaching you these things I’ll kick his ass.”

“Oh, no,” said Temari, the hint of a smirk curling the corner of her mouth.  “Zabuza-sensei only teaches us how to win.  Or to cheat.”

“Well, in that case,” Shisui-sensei muttered, dry. 

Naruto howled, wild and triumphant, wordless along with Sakura’s victorious cry.  “Basket!” Naruto cheered.  

Temari cupped her hands around her mouth and raised her voice.  “Okay, that’s game, kids!  Grab your baskets and the balls and bring it in!” 

Naruto, the basket-goal uplifted in both hands, charged in first, mud smeared all over his clothes and sandals and a beaming smile plastered on his face.  “Reiha-nee!” he cried, unaware of the ball that toppled from his basket on a particularly bumpy step.  Sakura caught it before it hit the ground.  “Juuta-sensei, did you see?  I was super cool and I just went whoosh and Kyuushi-chan did that cool spinny thing and I -- ”

“Good job, Rokumaru-kun,” Shisui-sensei said indulgently.  “Put the equipment away, huh?  Gogo-chan, how’re you feeling?”

“Great,” said Sakura breathlessly, shambling to a halt beside her much more energetic teammate.  “I bruised my knuckles again and I fixed it!”  She brandished her hand, covered in dirt and the fading yellow of old bruises.  

“Nicely done,” said Shisui-sensei, approving.  “How about you, Shieru-kun?”

Sasuke shrugged a shoulder, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.  “All right,” he said.  

Team Genbu drifted in together, as usual, Sai leading with the basket and balls in hand and Hinata and Gaara trailing him.

"Juuta-sensei," Sai greeted, adding his equipment to the sack.

"Ohaiyou, Hachikou-kun," said Shisui-sensei cheerfully.  "Kyuushi-chan, Shichino-kun, okay there?"

Gaara jerked his head in a nod, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distance.  "Hai, thank you," said Hinata politely for them both.  Gaara looked completely unruffled, but strands of hair had come loose from Hinata's braid. 

"Fifteen minute break," Shisui-sensei announced.  "I'll take the equipment back to base and meet you back here.  Get some rest, get some water."  He hefted the sack easily in one hand, took a step, and vanished in a shunshin.  

The fourth level catacombs, buried under Kiri's detainment, Anbu, and classified storage levels, were fortified with layers upon layers of seals that drew on the energy of the island's molten core to resist damage.  Supposedly it had taken a sealmaster twenty years and five apprentices to craft and she had promptly died when it was done, so nobody knew how to replicate her work.  Given that this was Kiri, there was a pretty good chance the sitting Mizukage had ordered her killed to preserve the chamber's secrets.

Temari preferred sunlight over the pervasive darkness, and dry air to the unrelenting damp that suffused these cavernous rooms.  She didn't come down here often, fortunately, but with Shisui-sensei the only one of their sensei available, the rest of them had no choice.

"Hachikou-kun, what are you working on with the captain?" Shisui-sensei asked.  

"Remote delivery of the bijuu suppression seal," answered Sai.  "I am able to reproduce the seal that successfully subdued the Ichibi last year, but have yet to incorporate it into one of my own designs in a way that will work without myself in direct physical contact with the target."

"Right," said Shisui-sensei with barely a blink.  "You won't need guidance from me to work on that, yes?"

"Yes," Sai confirmed.  

"Go ahead and get started, then," Shisui-sensei said.  "Let's see -- katon for Kyuushi-chan, Gogo-chan, and Shieru-kun, raiton for Reiha-chan, meditation for Rokumaru-kun -- "

"Meditation for Rokumaru-kun?" Naruto demanded, outraged. 

“Yes,” Shisui-sensei said patiently.  “Meditation.  You need to get in touch with your chakra.  Sit,” he ordered, when Naruto opened his mouth to complain. “Firestarters, on me.  You know how this goes.”

“Handseals first,” recited Sakura.

Memorizing the sequence of the handseals was the first step.  Temari sat down crosslegged on the floor, resting her chin on her hands as she watched Shisui-sensei demonstrate the katon in slow motion, and a brush of movement alerted her as Gaara drifted over.  He draped his body, his arm over one shoulder and hooking his chin over her other shoulder.  “No,” he muttered drowsily. 

“No?” Temari parroted, reaching up to card her fingers through his hair.  He buried his nose in her neck and didn’t answer. 

Shadows draped the catacombs around them, and the torches in their brackets cast flickering lights on the walls.  Caves this deep should be cold and dank, but while this one was damp, it was almost unbearably warm.  

“Reiha-chan,” said Shisui-sensei.  “You’re up.  Shichino-kun, go over and meditate with Rokumaru-kun -- we’re going to start after I get your sister going.”

Gaara bared his teeth in a soundless snarl, but after a second, dragged himself off reluctantly to where Naruto was slumped crosslegged some ways away with his eyes screwed shut and a frown etched into his face. 

“What’ve you got for me?” Temari asked, brushing off her hands and pushing to her feet.

“A little something offensive,” Shisui-sensei said. “Short to mid-range, so you can use it as a blitz defense in a pinch.  It's called Raiton: Raigeki -- Lightning Strike.”

Sounded useful.   Temari mirrored the seals as he demonstrated.

"Raiton: Raigeki," Shisui-sensei murmured.  Tiger -- snake -- dog -- he threw his fist forward in a punch and lightning wreathed his hand and leapt forward in the same movement, scorching the wall.  “Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, as Temari blinked the starbursts out of her eyes.  “Once you get a handle on this jutsu, you’ll be able to modify it to your needs.”   He glanced sideways at her.  “You want me to go over theory with you  or you want to puzzle it out yourself?”

Temari didn’t hesitate.  “I can figure it out, Sensei,” she said. 

“Ask if you need a hint, you know that,” Shisui-sensei said, reaching out to ruffle her hair before turning towards the two jinchuuriki.  “Shichino-kun!  Ready to get started?”

Tiger, snake, dog.  Memorizing the handseals was easy enough; committing them to muscle memory, so that performing them took barely a second thought, took just a little bit longer.  She gathered her chakra, then, let it buzz up into her arms -- but lightning, not the slicing sharpness of the wind chakra that came so easily to her.  

Tiger for power, snake for speed, dog for control.  Temari thrust her fist out and the tiniest lightning bolt she had ever seen sparked into existence for a full half second.  It might have been cute if it hadn’t been so pathetic.  

Well, good start.  Not bad for a secondary affinity if she said so herself, but she could do better.  

A familiar sakki washed over her and she shivered, glancing over to Gaara.  His eyes glowed gold, barely slits, and the sickly amber-yellow glow of a chakra not his own seeped out to cover him in a thick film. 

“Good,” said Shisui-sensei, calm as anything even as the rest of the kids paused in their sessions.  Naruto had one eye cracked open, fixed on the other jinchuuriki.  “Are you with me, Shichino-kun?”

Gaara’s face contorted into an inhuman snarl, the Ichibi’s influence elongating his canines and darkening the shadows around his eyes.  His eyes darted back and forth, tracking every person in the darkened room.  

“Hey.  Gaara,” said Shisui-sensei, a little louder, a little more insistent.  “Eyes on me, Gaara.  Focus.  Do you have control of this?”

Gaara’s eyes snapped back to Shisui-sensei’s face.  After a long pause, he rasped, “Yes.”

“Good.  Good,” said Shisui-sensei, crinkling his eye without shutting it entirely.  “Let’s try some taijutsu forms.”  

Gaara was not a fan of taijutsu.  Shukaku-influenced Gaara didn’t like it any better.  The snarl on his face widened, sharpened, simmered.  “Taijutsu forms, Gaara,” Shisui-sensei said firmly, a hint of steel creeping into his tone.  “Now.  You gotta work on your short-range.  Naruto, meditate.” 

Because Shisui-sensei’s teacher voice worked on everything from stray cats to attention-deficient Narutos to mad bijuu, Gaara glared, resentment amplified by a hundred by golden eyes, and begrudgingly settled into a taijutsu kata.       

With no immediate crisis in sight, Temari drew her attention back to her jutsu.  Learning techniques and being able to use them on the battlefield were two different things entirely, and unlike some other, more hyperactive children, she had the patience to drill the jutsu until she understood them.

Tiger, snake, dog, punch.  Tiger, snake, dog, punch.  Raiton: Raigeki.   Lightning jumped to her fist, scorching the air around her hand.  Temari smiled.  

She lost herself in the rhythm of the jutsu, the occasional rumble of Gaara's sakki and the blooms of flame at the far end pushed to the back of her mind as she bent the lightning to her will again and again.

She was used to heat -- dry heat, an entirely different monster -- but half an hour of working with the raiton left her plastered in sweat with the hairs on her arms standing on end from the static.  She paused to take stock of her chakra reserves and decided it was time to join the katon kids on their break.  

"Hey, Shieru-kun," Temari said, dropping down next to where Sasuke was cycling through the stretches that meant he planned on adding some ill-advised acrobatics to the mix.  

Sasuke glanced up and eyed her damp hair judgmentally.  

Temari rolled her eyes.  "You don't look fresh yourself," she informed him, waving a hand to indicate his flushed face and the sticky-slick slide of his shorts against his legs.  

Sasuke ignored the comment.  "Raiton," he noted.

"Yeah, the Raigeki," said Temari.  "You know that one yet?"  His deepening frown meant he didn't.    "I can show you, but it's close range."

"Show me," said Sasuke, sitting up.  "I'll figure it out later." 

Temari made a face at his creepily glowing doujutsu but hauled herself to her feet.  Tiger, snake, fog, Raiton: Raigeki.  Lightning sparked outwards in a haze of ozone and died away, and she saw sparks where there were none when she turned back around to Sasuke.  "Got it?"

"Yeah," said Sasuke, with a hint of smugness, and wasn't quick enough to dodge when she reached over to ruffle his hair.  

 "That's useful," Temari said with a nod at his eyes, not for the first time.

"Yeah," he agreed.  His focus had drifted past her, and she followed it to where Naruto was either taking an angry nap or trying to find his inner self with a pickaxe.  "It's why I'm on his team," he added, the pinch between his eyes deepening.  

Temari glanced at him sideways.  "These teams were assigned two and a half years ago, before you activated that doujutsu."

"Rokumaru's going to be a juggernaut," Sasuke said.  Temari nodded.  They all knew that -- he was a jinchuuriki; it was inevitable.  "An advanced Sharingan can subdue a bijiuu.  The captain told me.  I'm backup.  Just in case he can't control it."

Temari nodded again.  Jinchuuriki ended up on teams with a handler or worked entirely solo to minimize the collateral damage.  "Juuta-sensei had Hachikou-kun marked as Shichino's handler as soon as he found out he could already do rudimentary sealing."

Sasuke didn't say anything to that, but the pensive frown didn't even twitch.  Temari picked back through his comments.  

Advanced Sharingan.  Bijuu.  The captain.  Backup.  

They weren't too different, she and Sasuke.  Born to a prominent shinobi clan and expected to do well but not extraordinary, but struggled to try and be extraordinary anyways.  They'd both fallen short so far; good but not exceptional.  Sasuke's bar had risen even higher before he could touch it.

"You're eleven years old," Temari pointed out.  "You've already activated your doujutsu -- it's a good start.  Nobody expects you to be wrestling bijuu now."

"My brother's Sharingan was completely matured by eleven," Sasuke said, and Temari held back a wince at the mention of Itachi-sensei.  "The advanced form by thirteen.  I need it.  The captain doesn't know if he can subdue the Kyuubi with only one Sharingan eye."

You're not responsible for holding back the Kyuubi, Temari wanted to say, but if Naruto failed then, as his teammate and maybe-future-handler, he kind of was.   "You have time," she said instead.  "Rokumaru-kun hasn't been able to find the seal in his mindscape a second time.  He won't be accidentally releasing his bijuu for a while."

"Its chakra's been leaking into Rokumaru's system," said Sasuke.  

Temari shot him a glance.  "It has?  Since when?"

Sasuke shrugged uncomfortably.  "Couple weeks."

"You didn't say anything?"

"Nishiki told me.  Said not to tell anyone yet."

"You just told me," she noted.

"Nishiki isn't here," Sasuke pointed out.    

Fair.  "Why didn't he want to tell anyone?" she asked.  

Sasuke shrugged again.  "Said it only happened once, and fast.  He wanted to be sure it was an issue, not just blowback from Wave."

Seeing threats when there were none.  Getting scalded by a jinchuuriki would do that.  "Okay, so we don't know that there's a problem.  Kyuushi-chan hasn't said anything," Temari reasoned.  "You have time.  The sensei aren't going anywhere, and they've got paper seals if their doujutsu don't work right.  Talk to Juuta-sensei," she suggested.  "He can tell you more about how the suppression thing works, right?"

Sasuke grimaced.  "Yeah," he said.  "But he does the thing when I mention it."

"Oh," said Temari with terrible understanding.  

Sasuke didn't say anything to that.  A glance told her that he wasn't entirely mollified.  

"Just train," she offered, brushing off her hands in preparation to do just that.  "That's all any of us can do right now."

It was hard, that afternoon after the midday break to wash up and eat lunch, not to watch Shisui-sensei with critical calculation.  He looked stable, not that robust kind of fragile Temari had caught glimpses of in the forests of Tetsu and during the war.  He looked good now -- content, competent, comfortable.  The same kind of confident ease that the captain always wore.

“It’s probably a good thing Z isn’t here to give this lecture,” Shisui-sensei said dryly, lowering the papers slightly.  “We’re going a bit deeper into the history of Kiri’s northern islands -- specifically, the clans that settled there.”  

Sakura huffed a laugh, and Naruto outright cackled.  Anything clan-related was guaranteed to send Zabuza-sensei into a ranting tailspin.  “Yeah, yeah.  Settle down,” Shisui-sensei tossed the packet down and picked up a paperback instead.  “Shieru-kun, give us a refresher.  Why are we treating the North as an independent entity?”

“The Northern Islands are isolated in both geography and culture,” Sasuke said, raising his voice just above a mutter.  “They’ve been part of Kiri since the founding conquests but may as well be an entirely different nation that just happens to also be ocean-based.”

“Correct,” said Shisui-sensei confirmed.  “Shichino-kun, what are some specific differences?”

A long pause.  “Cold,” said Gaara with a faint scowl. 

Shisui-sensei waited expectantly.  “Yes,” he allowed when Gaara didn’t say anything further.  “The North is much colder, and it stays at freezing temperatures nearly year round.  They’re self-sufficient in food, able to grow enough crops to support themselves with supplemental fishing, and also mine metals.  The metals were what made the North worth going to war over, and the ransom Kiri demanded for their defeat.  But this isn’t a review session,” he added when Sakura opened her mouth.  “It’s a clan history lesson.  Does anyone know the major clans of the North?”  

Sakura put her hand up.  “The Edatsuno, the Mizumoto, and the Tourou.”

“Correct again,” said Shisui-sensei.  “Are they considered noble clans, Gogo-chan?”

“No,” answered Sakura.  “They were on the losing side of the conquest, so Kiri would have considered them low caste.” 

“They would have considered themselves nobility anyways,” interjected Hinata, tapping on her notepad with silent fingertips. 

“You’re both right,” Shisui-sensei agreed without missing a beat.  “Those three clans ruled the North even during the Warring Clans Era, and they were able to forge an alliance even before the founding of Kirigakure.”   He glanced down at his book.  “This was written by authors here in the Inner Village, so -- remember that accuracy is not guaranteed.  “The Edatsuno were originally a nomadic clan, travelling with their herds of horses and moose.  They traded meat, pelts, and antlers of the moose and lived off either the land or other animals they hunted.”

Naruto stuck his hand up.  “What about the horses?” he said without waiting for Shisui-sensei’s acknowledgement.  “Do they eat the horses?” 

“Generally, no,” said Shisui-sensei.  “Rokumaru-kun, the point of raising your hand is to let me know you want to talk without actually talking.  Next clan is the Mizumoto.  They found coal and metal on the lands where they settled, and after several generations, they grew wealthy enough to not have to work in the mines themselves.  Of the three clans, they were the largest, strongest, and wealthiest in the North -- and consequently the one most decimated by the shinobi that would become the Shodaime Mizukage.”

Sai’s forehead pinched between his eyebrows, the break in his blank mask.  Shisui-sensei paused and nodded to him.  “If they were a great military threat, the Mizukage had the tactical option of eliminating the Mizumoto entirely, but he did not,” Sai observed.

“I’ll let you do the research in a bit, but short answer, Reiha-chan?” Shisui-sensei prompted.

“Short answer,” said Temari, “Kiri doesn’t want to fuck with the North.”

“Language,” Shisui-sensei reprimanded mildly.  “Expand on that.”

She blamed Zabuza-sensei's influence wholeheartedly.  “The North is inhospitable.  If they didn’t allow members of the ruling class to survive, then they would have to send some of their own shinobi and resources to replace the government,” Temari said.  “They don’t want to.  It’s less costly to allow the North to self-govern.”  

“Precisely,” said Shisui-sensei. “Moving on to the last clan: the Tourou.  They possessed a kekkei-genkai, considered one of the strongest doujutsu outside of Hi no Kuni, called the Tsukigan.  This clan started with farming and ended up as keepers of the temples, where they used their kekkei-genkai to guide others to sources of food, water, and missing livestock or children.  As a result, they wielded considerable influence in the North.”

“They’ve set themselves up as chosen by the gods,” surmised Sakura, eyes wide. “That’s incredible.”

“That’s exactly it,” said Shisui-sensei, crinkling his eye.  “Okay, kids -- I’ve given you the rundown.”  He closed his book and dropped it down on the stack next to him, giving it a pat.  “These are all books on these three clans.  By tomorrow, I’ll need an essay from each of you comparing and contrasting the clans and their impact on the socio-economic fabric of the North.” 

Naruto groaned, dropping his head down to the table with a thunk.  Sakura vibrated in anticipation.  Temari frowned, catching the first book Shisui-sensei tossed in her direction.  “Shisui-sensei, you used past tense.  For all of those clan descriptions.”  

Shisui-sensei paused, and Sai reached up automatically for a book that didn’t come.  “I used past tense because half a year before the Kiri Civil War, both the Hanran and the loyalists lost all communication with the North.  By the time anyone sent a ship, they found everything completely abandoned.  No people, no moose, no horses; no blood or other signs of a struggle.  All those people -- gone.”

“What?” demanded Sakura.  “What happened to them?”

“Nobody knows,” said Shisui-sensei, distributing the rest of the books.  “Nobody’s had the time or the manpower to investigate.”

"A bunch of people went missing and nobody looked for them?  That’s crazy!" Naruto glanced wildly around the room for support and got it in the form of his teammates.

"Not yet," agreed Shisui-sensei.  "Read and work on those essays until the evening break.  Remember the bias in these accounts and help each other out, but no copying."

The sensei were always busy -- half the time, even when they were all in-Village, they were absent for some meeting or holed up with a pile of paperwork.  One time, the pack had tried to figure out exactly how much work any of them had to do on a daily basis and at the end, Sakura was convinced that they never slept.  The pack was self-sufficient before they met the sensei, but with at least some dedicated teaching time, they had structured lessons to complement their individual training and study time.  

Temari opened her book to the first page.  When she’d been in the Academy, every assignment, every test, had been graded on a hard percentage scale.  She hadn’t seen anything wrong with that when she was a student -- she was always at the top of her class anyways -- but that didn’t really work with a class of six to fourteen-year-olds with very different levels of education.   

“Reiha-nee!” Naruto whined.

“No,” said Temari absently without taking her eyes off the book.  “Thirty minutes of just reading before you ask questions, remember?”  Else nobody else would ever get their essays done.

Naruto subsided to a vibrate, squinting at his own book.  Shisui-sensei had given him the one with pictures in it.  With any luck, he'd get distracted by them and forget he was going to ask her something.  

Temari hadn't learned this kind of writing in Suna -- this was analyst work, and she'd been determined not to sit behind a desk all day.  The written language of the book Shisui-sensei had given her was stilted and formal and extremely dry, and she found herself reading the same lines over and over, understanding the words but without any real comprehension.  

...soil is thin and rocky, devoid of many nutrients essential to support the growth of larger plants, and often frozen...  

...diet of the natives consisted largely of game animals, which they eventually tamed and domesticated as livestock.  With the short, tough grasses that sprinkle the tundra sparse, the natives continued a nomadic migratory pattern which mirrored that of the wild herds…

...for the first time a resource surplus that enabled some members of the society to, instead of cultivate or defend resources, explore alternative pursuits that would later prove integral to amassing greater power and influence in the North…

It was word soup.  Temari rubbed at the sore spot near her temple as she frowned, and right on cue, Naruto complained, "I don't get it."

Temari heroically resisted the very logical urge to defenestrate him.

Twenty-four hours in a day with the same kids, as much as she loved them, was too much for her to handle sometimes.  She needed a break.  They had their training ground, and the teams all rotated grocery shopping duty like they all cooked in shifts, but that was the only time they were supposed to go into the city.  Instead, Temari slipped out into the hallway connecting their library to the rest of the Old Academy.  It was safe enough -- they were all Hana-ha here.  More importantly, there were Hana-ha shinobi who were older than twelve and not one of her sensei.  

Their overall friendliness was still overwhelming at times, but Temari was a kunoichi.  She adapted.  

“Reiha-chan!” 

Temari turned to see an older girl waving at her from a knot of other shinobi.  She smiled, changing course to meet her.  “Kaoru!  How are you?”

“Me?” Kaoru reached out with one hand and Temari tangled their fingers together readily to let the other girl draw her closer.  “Never anything new with me, you know that.  What’s new with you is the real question.”  Kaoru, now seventeen, had been a thirteen-year-old genin before the Fall.  She belonged to Zabuza-sensei's unit now, was genin-in-charge of her team, and had never known a Temari -- or a Reiha, actually -- without short-cropped brown hair.

“Hey,” interrupted Kaoru’s teammate, tipping a small smile at her.  “What’re the rest of us, paintings on the wall?  Unimportant, no?”

“Of course not,” Temari laughed, twisting her hand away from Kaoru to clasp Hisakata’s.  “Hi to you too, Yori, Seimono.”

Yori flashed two fingers in a salute, and Seimono drawled, “Hey, Reiha.  Mingling with us peasants today?”

Temari snorted.  “Give it a rest, Seimono, I’m slumming it just as much as you.”

“Don’t bully her,” Kaoru scolded, tugging Temari back in with an arm around her shoulders.  “Reiha-chan, what’re you doing wandering around on your lonesome today?”

With a dramatic sigh, Temari sagged against her.  “My team left me,” she bemoaned.  “My sensei took my teammates and left me to watch the kids.” 

Seimono winced.  “Oof,” said Hisakata sympathetically.  “I hate kids.  Good thing you’re a teenager, no?” he added when Yori snorted. 

“They’re not that bad,” Temari defended.  “It just gets...noisy.”

“Noisy,” echoed Seimono, skeptical.

“Messy, no?” Hisakata added, wrinkling his nose.  “Demanding?  Fidgety?  Annoying?”

“No,” said Temari, knee-jerk, and then hesitated.  Messy: Naruto.  Demanding: Gaara.  Fidgety: Sakura.  Annoying: potentially all the kids but especially Naruto, again.  “Not always,” she amended. 

“Denial.  That’s a coping mechanism,” Seimono said with tired certainty.  “It’s okay, Reiha, we understand.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful kids,” Kaoru soothed when Temari huffed in offense.  She patted Temari’s hair.  “They and you are our youngest comrades.  Gotta protect you and all.”

Temari rolled her eyes.  She didn't need protection.

“You’re on break, no?” asked Hisakata.  “Not herding the children today?”

“Oh, I am still on herd duty,” Temari said, dry.  “But they can watch themselves for a couple hours.”

Seimono raised her eyebrow languidly.  “You trust them not to set the place on fire?” 

“Trust? No,” said Temari.  “Hope? Yes.”

“Your optimism is so adorable,” Kaoru said, a laugh in her voice. “You’re going to get back to a room full of smoke at this rate.”

“We’re of Fire, it’s inevitable,” Seimono agreed. 

Yori flapped a hand at them in an unspoken signal to shut up before they got caught violating the secrecy statute.    

"We were just gonna go grab some tea and dango," said Kaoru.  "You want in?"

Temari twisted to glance up at her.  "In the Inner Village?" she clarified.  "The Inner Village we've been banned from entering without express permission?"

Yori gestured in a very that's what I said manner, and Hisakata snorted.  "You sound like Yori," he observed.  "Look, your sensei's Momochi-taichou, and you said that he's away, no?  He doesn't have to know."

"Just a snack," added Seimono.  "Not tryna start another war out here.  One was enough for me, thanks."

"Nishigawa-san is super busy, he won't notice either," said Kaoru.  "And he's never minded us going before."

True.  Temari considered.  It was kind of her fault that Zabuza had called out the entire unit for going into the city without permission, and she wasn't going to be a dumbass about it this time.  She never made the same mistake twice.  Also, matcha mochi sounded pretty good after the day's training.  "I'm in," she said with a grin, and accepted Kaoru's enthusiastic high five and Hisakata's companionable slug to the shoulder.

"Pull any cool missions lately?" Temari asked as the group trooped for the southern exit.  "I never thought I'd miss D-ranks but I've got nothing to do but train til the rest of my team gets back."

Yori pulled a face.  Hisakata said, "Cool is not how I'd describe our missions."

"Terrible," Seimono suggested.  "Dreary.  Monotonous."

"Another standard fix-it job in the Outer City," Kaoru explained.  "Clearing rubble, patching up walls, painting.  Boring stuff like that."

“At least there’s like -- a result from that kind of mission,” Temari pointed out.  “Like, ‘wall with holes’ is now ‘wall without holes.’  You can see the difference.”

“I guess,” Seimono drawled.  She shoved the door open with the point of her shoulder and the cool breeze rushed into the hallway past them.  

Sunset came later these days, as the days drew warmer, but even the sight of the sun dipping below the mountain ridge paled to Temari’s memories of crimson rays spilling over endless golden sand.  Even so, she couldn’t disagree when Kaoru commented, “It’s pretty.”  Mist crept back in from the distant valleys, drawing back in towards the buildings of the Village, and the setting sun gave it all a warm, soft glow.  

“Too cold,” Hisakata argued.  “Spring should be warm, no?”

Kaoru shrugged.  “It’s warm enough.  Reiha-chan, Suikazura Cafe okay?  It’s close to base, if you’re worried about going in deeper.”

“I’m not worried,” Temari retorted.  “Isn’t Suikazura the one with the really good goma dango?”

“Oh, so you’re just interested in the goma dango.  Sure,” said Kaoru, and magnanimously shrugged off Temari’s scowl and mock-punch. 

They collected stares the further in they went.  Kiri shinobi didn’t act friendly on the streets -- they blustered, they clustered with others of their rank and status, they circled like vultures for any sign of weakness.  The Konoha-born exuded warmth to their own comrades of all ranks, until given reason not to, an attitude that frankly bewildered Temari of the mind-your-own-business-at-all-times Sand.  

Fights didn’t break out on the streets anymore, or at least not as often with Terumi Mei having cemented her position as the Godaime Mizukage, but the shinobi and civilians alike simmered with barely-lidded aggression and resentment.  Kaoru’s quick sidestep only just kept the front door of the Suikazura from slamming her in the face as a kunoichi in embroidered silk swept out, forcing the rest of the group to scatter to the sides to avoid being trampled. 

Seimono hissed her disgruntlement, and the shinobi who followed the first kunoichi gave her a glare that dripped disdain.  “Out of the way, gutter trash,” he drawled dismissively. 

The expression on Seimono’s face erased itself instantly.  Temari grabbed Kaoru by both biceps before the older girl could lunge, and Yori threw an arm out in front of Hisakata.  No fights.  No more fights.  No more fights.  Zabuza-sensei would kill her if she got into another fight so soon, while sneaking out in town, while he and the rest of the team were away.  As in, bleed her dry for Kubikiribocho and then use it to chop her into chum for the sharks, kill her.

“It’s not worth it,” Temari muttered into her ear urgently, tightening her grip when Kaoru tensed.  “Kaoru, come on.”  The older girl had a head of height on her, but Temari knew she wouldn’t break free.

Kaoru relaxed, deliberately, and knowing that she wouldn’t pick a fight, Temari let her go.  “I’m fine, Reiha-chan.  My team won’t be getting into brawls.” 

“As though a Northern whore could actually win a fight,” scoffed the third shinobi, who wore a sleeveless shirt and a sneer like it was a favorite hat.  He eyed Temari with clear disdain.  “Go back to breeding, bitch.”

Temari’s temper sparked in a flash, her chakra rising instinctively to the surface in a rush of cold air.  Calloused hands, slight build, katana sheathed at his waist -- he would be fast, but Temari knew she was fast enough to take him down before he could even draw his blade.  She could spit a crescent wind blade, take the bastard down before he knew she was attacking. 

Reason reasserted itself with the help of Kaoru’s hand, hovering just over Temari’s shoulder like she wanted to grab her but also didn’t want to startle her.  “It’s not worth it, you just said that,” she murmured under her breath.  “You know it’s not.”

Yeah.  Temari knew that.  

She reined her chakra in, let it lash in a controlled storm at her core.  She smiled, close-lipped because showing teeth was as good as provoking a fight in Kirigakure, and said, “Wouldn’t do us any good to show them up on their own turf, huh?”

The shinobi stopped short, shooting a dark glare at Temari, but his teammates were already halfway down the street.  He bared filed teeth at her with a derisive huff and growled, “Gutter trash would dirty my hands to take out.”  He whirled, stalked on after the rest of his team.

These Kiri nin were so proud of their lineages, but Temari's blood was bluer than any of theirs.  Four generations of her family had led Sunagakure since its advent, and these pompous pretenders wouldn't dare so much as look at her if they knew who she was.  

Kaoru patted her then, projecting the movement like she was wary of getting caught in a jutsu if Temari went as berserk as Gaara with the scent of blood in his nose.  “Reiha-chan, you like playing with fire.”

Temari sighed, shaking free of her thoughts.  “I do,” she agreed, staring after the shinobi with violent longing.  

“It’s in the nature, no?” Hisakata rasped, dry and amused.

Temari, a Suna-born pretending to be a Konoha-born pretending to be a Kiri-born kunoichi, said, “Yeah, guess so.” 

Yori frowned at all of them, jerking his hand to express his displeasure at having to stop a fight before it happened.  Letter of the law kind of guy, Yori.  

“Let’s just go in,” Seimono suggested, shading her eyes to check out the street.  “Can’t stand around forever.” 

Kaoru opened the door with a flourish.  “After you, Reiha-chan.”

A good shinobi was skilled, strategic, and never let emotion influence their actions.  Temari was self-aware enough to know that she wasn’t a good shinobi just yet, and was in fact dangerously prideful and vindictive -- not dangerous to her, but to her targets.  Her memory was as sharp as her fuuton and she’d had a mean streak long before Zabuza-sensei had happened along to hone it. 

“Hey, kids, gather round,” she said as she prowled into the library.  She produced a slightly squashed box of dango that she’d gotten as a bribe and set it down on the nearest table, one hand on its lid so a certain hyperactive food-motivated kid wouldn’t swipe it before she was ready. 

He could still smell it, of course, even with the box closed.  Naruto tumbled out of the sleeping den, already grabbing for it before Sasuke slide-tackled him neatly out of the way.  Sasuke didn’t do it because he wanted the dango -- he didn’t -- but because the job of restraining Naruto’s impulses was a hazard of being on a team with the jinchuuriki.  

“Sugar sugar sugar sugar -- ” Naruto chanted, struggling to wriggle out from under Sasuke with an arm still reaching for the box.

“Sit,” said Temari, pointing at the chairs opposite.  “Listen first, then dango.”

Hinata, watching from across the room, drifted closer and said, “D-did s-something happen, R-Reiha-nee?” 

Temari swapped the dango to her other side as Gaara peered out of the den, eyes locked on the box hungrily.  “Nothing happened, I just have a project for us,” she soothed absently as Gaara leaned on her shoulder, craning around for the box.  “Listen first, otouto.”

He glowered at her, with just a bite of that ancient resentment, and slunk off to slump next to the now-tussling Naruto-and-Sasuke tangle.  

Ink smudged high on Sai’s cheekbone caught Temari’s attention as he emerged from the far shelves, two books in hand to Sakura’s four as she trailed him.  “...would have to originate from somewhere that can make pine soot of that quality,” Sakura was saying.

Sai tipped his head slightly to the side.  “That is a logical conclusion,” he allowed.  “Another possibility is that the ink may be imported from a country without an official shinobi presence.”

“That for the essay on the North?” Temari asked. 

“No, actually, it’s a little side research,” Sakura said brightly.  “Hachikou was looking to see if maybe the Tourou Clan developed their own style of sealing at all, but then we ended up getting into the types of ink used by practitioners originating from Shimo, since the climate is the closest that we can judge -- ”  Temari raised an eyebrow, and Sakura flushed.  “It’s cool,” she finished weakly.

“Okay, just shelve that for a bit,” Temari said.  Ink research wasn’t her own interest, but whatever floated their boat.  “I’ve got a special project for us to work on.  A covert special project.”

Naruto froze, yelping muffled excitement.  Sasuke, one arm wrapped around Naruto’s throat in a chokehold and his other wrist caught between Naruto’s teeth, tried to jerk his trapped arm away and failed.  Gaara’s expression didn’t change, but his pupils dilated in anticipation of a prey to stalk and chase -- and kill, probably, but it wasn’t going to come to that this time.  She hoped.  Too messy, if satisfying.

“We’re not supposed to leave this base,” Sakura said slowly, eyes narrowing. 

“We won’t be leaving the base,” Temari assured them.  “Kyuushi-chan, you can see into the Village from here, can’t you?”

“Y-yes,” Hinata said, ducking her head instinctively. 

“Great,” said Temari, viciously cheerful.  “Here’s the project.”

Jinchuuriki were by nature weapons of mass destruction, deployed to turn the tides on battlefields and raze towns, and very rarely were there more than one in a single place.   Temari, having two in her sphere of influence, should absolutely not be using them to exact petty revenge on her enemies. 

But she was.

“This project cannot have been sanctioned by the sensei,” Sai noted once she had finished explaining.

“Nope,” Temari agreed.  “That’s why this is a covert project.  Dango’s here, grab a snack and let’s get to it.”  She hopped off the table as the vultures -- by which she meant mainly Naruto -- descended on the dessert box, and put some distance between herself and the food frenzy.

Really, she was just practicing her leadership skills.  Chuunin often led squads of up to seven genin, in the Guntai, the General Forces ranks, and needed to know how to best use the strengths of each member.  For example, book research was definitely Sakura’s forte.  Battle tactics were in Sasuke’s wheelhouse, and straight up chaos was Naruto’s soul food.  Gaara was a hunter, raw and instructive; Hinata saw best from afar; and Sai did his greatest work with ink and a brush in his hand instead of his blade.

They all had individual projects they worked on during independent study times, since they each learned different specialties and had different levels of education.  Temari's was a thesis on the Kirigakure sociopolitical structure with theories on its trajectory post-civil war.  Sai had been working on for nearly an entire year a detailed map of Kiri's Inner Village on translucent paper, with a different layer for each level super- or subterranean.  He spread the delicate sheets out around him now to blanket four tables, for the Covert Special Project, and regarded them thoughtfully.  They were incomplete -- not even halfway finished, because the thin line between observation and espionage held pretty damn serious consequences on all of Hana-ha if crossed. "I will not be able to acquire details on private clan compounds," he warned when Temari looked over his shoulder. 

"I know," Temari reassured.  "Target zone's gotta be public, anyways."

Gaara leapt lightly to the surface of one of the tables and knelt, and though he hadn't disturbed a single paper, Sai tensed inductively.  Gaara blinked at him, long and slow, and Sai relaxed.  "You have input on ingress to the target zone," Sai observed.  

Gaara didn't bother nodding.  He craned his entire body sideways to peer at the map closest to him.  Two silent breaths later his eyes flicked up to meet Sai's again and he pointed at the map.  Hidden, he signed with a jerk of his hand, like he'd forgotten he knew how to talk or something.  

Could that happen?  Could the bijuu's animalistic influence rob Gaara of more human behaviours?  

That might be a problem down the line.  Temari reminded herself to pull him aside some time soon to figure out what was going on with him.

Sai considered the spot Gaara has indicated.  "Yes," he said.  "There should be sufficient cover to avoid excessive collateral damage."

Temari flashed a grin at them both.  "Words I like to hear," she said, and clapped them each on the shoulder affectionately as she turned away.  

Something small and dark flew through the air as Sasuke hurled a stone at Naruto from across the room.  Naruto caught it without even looking and said, earnestly, “No, but with the thing then we won’t have to put that thing with the thing and do the thing -- ” he hurled the stone back.

“No,” said Sasuke with a scowl and caught the stone.  He jerked his chin empathetically.  “Then the one with the other thing won’t work.”  

They had a process.  The rock throwing thing was unfortunately part of it.  Their conversation was utterly incomprehensible to anyone except Sakura, but they did get results, so there wasn’t really anything Temari needed to do about it.  “Watch the windows,” she called over anyways, just to be safe, and ducked over to join Hinata near the bookshelves.  

She'd left her doujutsu exposed here in the safety of the library, and their unnatural blankness locked on Temari briefly before returning to the world nobody else could see.  

“You don’t have to start that yet,” Temari told her, drawing a notebook and pencil closer to her.  “It’s going to take me a bit to get their descriptions down.”

Hinata’s eyelashes fluttered when she blinked.  “Oh, I-I -- a-ano, I was j-just -- ”

“Oh, just getting the lay of the land?” said Temari.  “Good idea.”

“Y-yes,” said Hinata, and startled when Sakura thumped down a stack of books on the table beside her.

“Sorry, Kyuushi-chan,” Sakura said briskly, dropping into the open chair and pulling the stack towards her.  “Okay, I’ve got anthologies for most of the founding clans, so upper-caste except for the ones with kekkei-genkai, and then an index and a census from, like, nine years ago.  At least one of ‘em’s gotta be in a clan, right?”

“Definitely the kunoichi,” agreed Temari.  “No one else can afford to wear clothes like that after the war.  Let’s do her first -- let me see.”  She twirled her pencil in her hand.   “Slim build, age between sixteen and nineteen years old, about one-sixty centimeters and fifty to fifty-four kilos.  Light brown hair, long and worn up, dark blue eyes.  Medium tan skin.”  

“She’d be on the census as a student, then, right?” Sakura asked, most of her attention on the pages before her as she thumbed through the book.  “Most likely, at least.  I guess she could have already been a genin.”

“Could have,” said Temari, though she doubted it.  Geniuses looked like the captain or Ita -- Shisui-sensei did; that girl lacked the unconscious air of danger that hovered over them.  "I didn't see a clear clan symbol on her jacket, but it was light blue silk with a crane embroidered on the back.

Sakura's hand faltered ever so slightly on the page, but she said, "Okay, so we're looking for a kunoichi, likely part of a clan whose symbols might include light blue or cranes." 

"She's probably a ninjutsu specialist," Temari added.  "She didn't have a sword, just the standard kunai holster and pouch, and she carried herself like a frontline fighter."  With arrogance and confidence and a challenge in her posture, too delicate to get her hands dirty and calloused but too arrogant not to meet an attack head-on. 

"Clans specializing in ninjutsu," Sakura summarized, chewing on her lip as she twisted the pencil in her fingers.  "She was a high-caste clan kunoichi -- is there anything specific about her mannerisms that you remember?"

There wasn't much to remember.  Contact had only happened a couple seconds at most, and she hadn't been one of the ones who spoke.  Temari closed her eyes, drawing up a mental picture of the memory on her mind.  "She didn't say anything," Temari mused aloud.  "She didn't stop.  Her expression read as...mild disgust, but she wasn't the one who commented or anything.  Like even that would be beneath her notice, not disagreement with her friends."

"It's usually the more insecure ones that'll try and ensure their places are unchallenged," Sakura pointed out.  "They're the ones who have to defend their positions if they're afraid they'll be taken away, especially since the war.  The hierarchy's been upset, and these guys can feel their power slipping away."

"The girl," said Temari, narrowing her eyes and tapping the eraser of her pencil against her chin.  "She's used to authority and confident that she'll keep it.  She's different."

"She's an heiress," Sakura said, with none of the triumph a deduction like that should have gotten.  "Even if some of the loyalist clans lose their influences, an heiress to one of those clans'll always be valuable."

Temari eyed her curiously.  "What's wrong?" she asked after a few seconds of watching Sakura's eyes glaze over and her fingers start their nervous twitching.

Sakura blinked at her, startled.  "Nothing's wrong," she said.  "I'm just -- " she frowned, and amended it to, "I don't know.  I'll check and see which clans'll have an heiress around that age."

"A-ano," Hinata said hesitantly.  "I-I may h-have s-spotted her, b-but I d-don't know for s-sure…" she trailed off.

"Go on," Temari prompted.  

"S-she is w-wearing t-tall grey b-boots?" Hinata tried.  

Temari straightened.  "Yeah, that's her," she said.  "Silver pin in her hair?"

"A-aa," Hinata confirmed.  "I-I see a c-clan s-symbol on her s-shoulder."  Temari slid her pencil and paper across the table, and without so much as turning her head, Hinata sketched a shape out.

Temari squinted across the table.  "What is that, some kind of tag?  It looks almost like a -- "

"Talisman," Sakura finished quietly, a hushed tone of horror in her voice.  Her books lay abandoned before her, and her eyes fixated, unseeing, on the symbol Hinata had drawn.  "Mayoke Kichirou, firstborn and heiress to the Mayoke Clan."

"You know her?  Gogo," Temari prompted sharply when Sakura didn't move except for her breathing rate picking up.

"She and her team were loyalists stationed aboard the Jurojinmaru," Sakura recited robotically.  

Oh shit.  The Jurojinmaru.  

Best case scenario: Sakura and the rest of her team had seen the kunoichi, Mayoke Kichirou, in passing, aboard the ship during their captivity.  Worst case scenario: the kunoichi had been among their torturers.  Temari admitted that she had miscalculated when she planned this project, because instead of annoyance over a slight, real anger roiled in her mind. 

It would be far too easy to turn a prank into a trap, to kill instead of humiliate, and Temari wouldn’t hesitate to do more over less than the torture Naruto had suffered, the horrors Sakura and Sasuke had endured.  But Temari’s best ability was her ability to look ahead, to plan ahead, to hold her fury tight and fold it in on itself where she would never forget it, until it was long out of her target's mind.  When she struck in earnest, her targets would never realize it was coming.  

Mayoke Kichirou.   Temari would remember that name. 

She should cancel this project, in case it tipped off the kunoichi, or worse, the rest of the pack, but if she did, at least Sakura would know something was up.  "Change of plans," Temari said aloud.  She shoved her chair back from the table as she stood, and both Sakura and Hinata startled at the abruptness.  Murder was out, but paint balloons were way too tame for this bitch.

The Mayoke girl had been part of the team that had kidnapped Team Byakko, but even if her two friends hadn't, they were both classist dicks and Temari was willing to write them off as more than acceptable collateral damage.  

One of the benefits of someone who could see through walls was that it made it pretty easy to hide incriminating activities, like, say, planning a malicious prank on a sadistic bitch that they really shouldn't.  For diplomatic reasons.  Having Hinata meant that by the time Shisui-sensei breezed back into the library with his nose buried in a stack of reports, Temari and the rest of the pack were all doing appropriate, homework-related research like good little shinobi children.  

"Hey, kids, been good?" he said, a distracted glance up from his papers as he moved towards his room.  

"Always, Sensei," Temari agreed cheerfully, ignoring Naruto’s regretfully guilty expression.  Naruto could not lie to save his life, just as Sakura couldn't believably lie to a sensei, but fortunately Sasuke was an excellent liar and Naruto was on Shisui-sensei's blind side.  "You brought your work back with you?"

Shisui-sensei spared a moment to sigh.  "When don't I?" he said, wry.  "Hatake's offsite, so I'm covering some of what he does til he gets back."  He flipped the top folder shut, glancing over at her.  "I'm going to sleep a bit earlier tonight -- I've an early start tomorrow.  Keep an eye on things, hmm, Reiha-chan?"

"You got it, Sensei," said Temari.  

"Oh, and your Nekoko-sensei and Emiri-chan are getting in tonight," added Shisui-sensei.  

"I remember," Temari placated.  "Get some sleep, Sensei."

Shisui-sensei waved a hand absently.   "I'll get there.  Shichino-kun, you keep the pack safe.  Don't you wander off, now."

Gaara’s eyes half-lidded at the joke, his version of a startled laugh.  Gaara didn't wander, not when he could curl up with what he considered his and guard it possessively.

Naruto opened his mouth as soon as Shisui-sensei drew the curtain behind him, and Sasuke helpfully stomped on his foot under the table.   Sakura slapped her hand over his mouth in time to muffle Naruto’s offended yelp.  Epitome of teamwork, those three.

No, more, project, and tonight, Temari signed at them.  Sasuke nodded seriously, mirrored by Sakura.  Naruto kind of squinted in her direction before realization struck and his eyes and mouth widened wordlessly.  Yep, he got it.  Good kid, kind of slow sometimes.

They were about halfway through their studying, free time, and shower and washing up rotations when the front door opened to spill in Neko-sensei and her pint-sized companion.  Temari, the last one still out in the main room, stood and caught up Hanabi in a swinging hug.   “It can’t be my favorite little warrior princess, can it?” she cooed, and Hanabi smothered a giggle in her neck.  

“Hello, Reiha-nee,” Hanabi said, delicate and formal despite her breathlessness.  “Are you well?”

“Well, and better now that you’re back,” Temari teased, tossing her up in the air and catching her again.  “Did you like the Lower City, Emiri-chan?” 

“It was quite crowded,” said Hanabi, wrinkling her nose, “but the weather was lovely.” 

Temari lowered her back to the floor and flashed a smile at Neko-sensei.  “Good to see you too, Neko-sensei.” 

Neko-sensei smiled in that warm but distant way of hers and said, “Still up, Reiha?  It’s late.”

“I’ve got last shower tonight,” Temari explained, making a face.  “And Juuta-sensei said he wanted to sleep early.”

“Ah.  I wanted to speak to him about the lesson plans tomorrow,” Neko-sensei mused.  “Emiri-chan, run on into the den, won’t you?  Greet your sister and your cousin.”

“Very well,” agreed Hanabi readily, and let go of Temari’s hand to patter into the pack’s sleeping quarters.  A boisterous greeting, courtesy of Naruto, drifted out behind her.

“You’ve got things scheduled for tomorrow already?” Temari guessed.  “Juuta-sensei’s going to be pretty busy tomorrow too -- we’re on our own for team drills again.”

“I will do your classroom teaching, but I’ll be available only in the morning,” said Neko-sensei.  “What assignments did Juuta give you?”

“Just one,” said Temari.  “Essay compare-contrasting the Clans in the North.  Is it okay we swap instruction time with study time?  I don’t think anyone’s finished their essay yet.” 

Neko-sensei raised an eyebrow.  “No?  Not enough time?”

“It’s an interesting subject,” Temari admitted.  “Everyone has something they can turn in and call an essay -- ” except Naruto, “ -- but I think we’d all be happy for more time to research it.” 

“All right,” allowed Neko-sensei.  “I will raise my expectations, then.”  

Neko-sensei was the first person to really take Temari seriously, to deal with her as both a guardian to Gaara and later the rest of the children, but also as one of her students.  Temari wouldn’t call her lenient, but she was certainly reasonable.

“We won’t let you down,” Temari promised.   Well, she would.  Just in a different way.  Trust could be spent just as much as it could be earned.

Temari didn't trust people so much as she did their behaviors.  She trusted Gaara's dependency on her affection, Sai's assessment of her as an ally, and Hinata's timid insecurity.  She trusted Sasuke's fear of abandonment, Naruto's need for an older sister figure, and Sakura's acceptance of her presence -- though that was buried under wariness hidden by the facade of affection that grew into less and less of a facade as the seasons carried on.  She trusted Neji's conviction to his duty and Haku's to Zabuza-sensei, Zabuza-sensei's straightforwardness to the edge of cruelty, Shisui-sensei's vulnerable identity hidden behind the gossamer shields of masks and chakra-disguising seals.  She trusted the captain to protect what he considered his and Neko-sensei's attachment to Hanabi, who she had raised as practically her own. 

Once, she had trusted Itachi-sensei's instincts to keep his brother safe, but clearly she had made the same miscalculation that the rest of them had.  

Chapter Text

None of them had lived through the Kiri Civil War without learning a little patience.  Even Naruto, who was impatience and raw instinct crammed into a tiny boy-shaped body, knew a good trap -- or prank -- needed careful observation and planning before execution.  Even still, he was more easily managed when he was doing something, so he did all the little errands when Sai, Hinata, and Gaara were taking turns keeping watch -- getting essential supplies like paint and glitter, for example. 

In this Village, fitting the image of one's status was a thing.  The upper caste wore brocade and fine silks, just because they could, and often painted their faces or twisted up their hair in styles that took maybe an hour to create yet looked deceptively simple.  Low caste wore cheap, mass-produced uniforms and standard greys, and frantically avoided being targeted for looking like a whore because they'd worn their hair a certain way or used makeup.

This was A: very fucked up; and B: useful, because a way to really ruin the reputation of some high caste bitch was to catch them in a humiliating position.  As the butt of a very visible prank, for example, that the shinobi failed to detect or dodge.  This didn't happen very often because the upper caste was vicious and vindictive and a perpetrator getting caught in past years meant time at the whipping post and harassment of all of the perpetrator's family and associates.  

Temari had the advantage of layers and layers of defenses between her and this Mayoke girl.  She had the pack, her Hana-ha status, and if all else failed, all four sensei -- Team Seiryuu -- who were high ranking officers.  Even if she got caught, she wasn't going into the disaster zone that was Kiri's disciplinary system.  She was a bit daring, yes, but not reckless. 

Temari still needed more information.   She ducked into the den during independent study the next day and found Sasuke and Sakura, their heads bent over their books as Gaara lounged on one of the sleeping racks.

"Shieru-kun," she said, and jerked her head towards the kitchen.  

Sasuke looked at her for a long moment, then shut his book and stood to follow her.  He gravitated to the sink at the far end, like a skittish cat, and didn't comment when Temari closed and locked the door behind them.

She took a breath.  "I need you to tell me what happened aboard the Jurojinmaru," Temari said bluntly.

Sasuke didn't shrink into himself like Sakura did whenever their team's captivity was brought up, or grow sober like Naruto did.  His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit.  "What about it?"

"The Command Corps team who captured you," Temari elaborated.  "I need to know about them.  Who they are, what they did to you."

Sasuke's expression didn't change but there was something bitter in his eyes now.  "To me.  Not much," he said.  "I was already dying."

It happened a year and a half ago, and not to Temari's team.  It shouldn't have been hard to hear him talk of it so bluntly, but Temari's heart seized for a moment nevertheless.  "That team, then," she said.  "You remember them?"

Sasuke's eyes flickered red.  "Can't forget them."

Perfect memory was a curse.  But a useful curse.  "Gogo thinks Mayoke Kichirou is the kunoichi I ran into in front of the Suikazura Cafe," Temari said.  Sasuke didn't look surprised -- Sakura had already told him, then.  "She was with two shinobi around her age.  I wanted to see if they're the rest of the genin team that was aboard the Jurojinmaru without her bias."

"They high caste?" Sasuke asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the sink.

"Yeah, all three," Temari confirmed.

Sasuke shook his head. "Team had two high caste, one low caste," he said shortly.  "Could be one but not both."

"I'll describe them.  Tell me if anything rings a bell," said Temari, and Sasuke assented with a short nod.  "Seventeen to twenty years old, around 170 cm.  Slight build, blue-black hair short on the sides, long on top.  Left-hand dominant, carries a katana at the waist."

Sasuke shook his head.  "Not that one."

Miss.   Okay, next.  "Same age range, 174-178 cm, slight to medium build.  Greenish-brown hair, medium cut, shaggy.  Pale skin, green eyes -- " she paused, because Sasuke's silence had grown tense.  She waited. 

"Given name unknown, of the Utautori Clan," Sasuke muttered at last.  "Chuunin.  Kenjutsu-genjutsu specialist."

Hit.  "He was there," Temari surmised.  "It's the same team except the third teammate."  She studied Sasuke's expression.  "You know you can't go after them."

She fully expected to be called out for her hypocrisy and got it in the form of an incredulous stare.  "Hn."

"Shieru, I'm serious," Temari said, smooth despite her own intentions for later.  "A prank's one thing.  We break the truce to go after whoever hurt us in the war and we may as well raze the Village to the ground with everyone in it, us included." 

"Whatever," muttered Sasuke, shouldering past her to let himself out.  

Temari let him go.  He had a temper, but that was mediated by patience and his teammates.  He was too clever to try assassinating the shinobi in their home Village. 

Mayoke.  Utautori.  And then there was one more left to go.  It didn't take long.

Timing and coordination were the most crucial parts of the plan.  Their window of opportunity was the time before Zabuza-sensei and the captain returned, while they still had a lot of independent time because Shisui-sensei was too busy to keep a close eye on them.  Team Byakko needed to research the targets and prepare the materials.  Team Genbu needed to have conducted enough observation to predict the movements of their targets.  Temari needed to analyze all the information gathered by both teams to coordinate the trap.

Their moment came six days after the initial incident.  It was actually a very well-researched, sophisticated plan, and Temari thought the sensei might even have been proud of them if it didn’t threaten diplomatic relations and the alliance and have the potential -- albeit small -- to throw them all back into war. 

“I wish I could watch,” Naruto said wistfully, propping up his face with both hands and his elbows planted on his knees as he sat cross-legged.  “This is my greatest masterpiece ever and I can’t even see how it goes.”

“I wish I could see it too,” Temari agreed, but most of her attention was on Sai’s maps, spread out around her.  

“We could go out,” Naruto wheedled.  “Just a peek.”

“Nope,” said Temari, as Sakura made a half-irritated, half-anxious noise and bopped him over the head.  “All of us have to be here, inside, when this goes down.  None of us can be connected to this in any way.”

Gaara had, at some unspecified point, figured out how to connect his optic nerve to an eyeball made of sand.  This was both incredibly creepy and apparently a potentially major medical breakthrough, the way Sakura’d gushed, but it wasn’t too helpful on the latter count because Gaara couldn’t explain exactly how he’d done it.  What it did mean was that between him, Hinata, and Sai, the three of them could keep up distance surveillance indefinitely.

Or, in this case, it meant that only Gaara and Hinata could watch what was happening in real time.  The smug, anticipatory curve on Gaara's lips that really, really didn’t look like a smile but couldn’t be anything else hadn’t wavered for the past hour, though nothing had actually happened yet.  

Sasuke sat with his back against the wall, tossing a kunai in his hand, end over end, and catching it each time it fell.  His silence was moody, more so than Sakura’s nervous tension.  

Gaara twitched, and Temari’s attention snapped back to him. 

“Primary target spotted,” said Hinata crisply.  She was in mission mode, now, not Kyuushi’s calm stillness, but Kyuu’s almost playful, predatory readiness.  “Mayoke Kichirou.  Positive identification?” 

Gaara made a grumbly kind of noise in his throat, satisfaction and something more sinister at once.  “Yes.”

“Standing by,” said Sai, his hands already bracketing the black rats inked onto his scroll.

“Any sight of the secondary target?” asked Temari, tapping her fingers against her lip.

“Secondary target Utautori Daishin sighted,” Hinata said, a smile curling the edge of her lips.  “Auxiliary target Tsumori Shuuya.  Positive identification?”

Gaara hummed deep in his chest.  “Yes,” he said again.

Naruto vibrated in place, frustration and glee written on his face in equal parts.  

Sakura clenched a fist against her knee, her face drawn and sharp.  “I wish we could see their faces when it happens,” she said, low and almost wistful, but the intent in her voice said, I wish we could do more.  I wish we could make them hurt.

I wish we could kill them.

In Sunagakure, Temari would barely have given Sakura a second glance.  Civilian-born, no particular expectations, didn’t really stand out personality-wise.  But Temari had seen her focus, knew what she had endured, knew the fury and fierceness that lurked beneath the outer shell.  Sakura saw more than she let on, her grasp of chakra control was frankly terrifying, and unlike her teammates, she acted only after careful consideration.  Knowing her now, Temari would never expose her back to Sakura as an enemy.  

“Targets approaching the target zone,” Hinata reported. 

“Hachikou, move in,” Temari directed, nodding sharply to Sai.  

Sai responded by pushing his chakra into the scroll, and the pack of inky rodents scampered out.  "Constructs One through Eight deployed," he announced, shifting the next scroll in front of him.  Another flash of chakra, and an ink cat peeled itself off the surface and high-tailed it out of the room. "Construct Nine deployed."

"All constructs in position," Hinata reported after a moment.  "Targets entering the target zone.  Activation in three, two, one -- "

In poem form, the project went down like this:

Down in the market on a weekday evening,

Where the hawkers lay their products out for easy viewing,

A fish tank dropped;

Goodbye, salt blocks.

One asshole heiress went ker-plop.  

Translation: three days ago, under Naruto's somewhat convoluted direction and Sasuke's much more succinct supervision, Gaara and Sai had replaced some of the cobblestones in the seafood corner of the marketplace with bricks made out of sand and salt.  

Once the targets entered the target zone, Sai's ink rats gnawed through the half-rotted support struts on the live lobster tanks, and the weight of the tanks sent them crashing down.  The plaza partially flooded; an ink cat fleeing from the scene swerved, distracting and redirecting Mayoke's path straight into one of the compromised salt-bricks.  The salt gave way, sucking her leg down into a quicksand-like pit.  

Mayoke grabbed the closest rack of shelves for support as she went down.  That rack did not actually belong to any merchants and had been rescued from the dump five days ago for this express purpose.  Its shelves were not secured and the one she grabbed instead slid towards her, acting more like a seesaw in that the far end whipped up to crash into the shelf above it.  That shelf, strategically sabotaged, held a bucket of paint and a bucket of glitter, the contents of which promptly dumped themselves onto the head of one Mayoke Kichirou, firstborn and heiress of the Mayoke Clan. 

Insert refrain here: 

Down in the market on a weekday evening,

Where the hawkers lay their products out for easy viewing,

A fish tank dropped;

Goodbye, salt blocks.

One asshole heiress went ker-plop.  

“You kids are in a good mood today,” Shisui-sensei noted over dinner.  

In the spirit of celebration, Sasuke had caved to Naruto’s begging and made ramen from scratch, topped with -- among other things -- chashu, seaweed, and a scorched garlic oil.  Gaara's smug smile-thing hadn't wavered at all, and now he stirred the noodles in his bowl languidly, taking one slow bite at a time before stirring again.  Shisui-sensei shot him wary looks every now and then, but seemed content to leave him be since there wasn't a hint of sakki.

“Yup!” Naruto chirped.  Sakura preemptively stamped on his foot under the table. 

“Good training session today,” said Temari cheerfully, which was true.  She winked across the table at Hanabi, who stifled a giggle.  The younger girl still had no idea what the rest of them had spent the afternoon doing, but she was feeding off their energy and the knowledge that they would fill her in as soon as they were alone. 

Neko-sensei raised an eyebrow.  “There was a commotion in the marketplace today,” she noted, giving them all a mild look over her noodles.

Shisui-sensei’s chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.  Slowly, he lowered his ramen back into the bowl.  “A commotion?” he repeated, bland, fixing his stare on Naruto.  Normally, Naruto would be the easiest target to break, but the presence of ramen completely disrupted his regular behavior: stuffing his face trumped feeling guilt.  

“Aa,” said Neko-sensei, going back to her food.  “One of the high caste heiresses ran afoul of a prank, it seems.  Apparently the culprits rigged paint and glitter traps near the seafood shops.”

Shisui-sensei’s stare intensified.  “Paint and glitter,” he parroted.  

“Was she injured?” Temari asked.

“No,” Neko-sensei answered.  “She and two companions were affected, but there was no real damage done.  From my understanding it was merely an embarrassment.”  

“Ah,” said Temari.  

Shisui-sensei switched targets to the nail that stuck out.  “Reiha-chan, do you kids know anything about this?” 

"Sensei, we've only been to the training ground and back today," Temari pointed out.  "None of us went anywhere else, and definitely not into the city."

“Kyuushi-chan,” said Shisui-sensei, and then seemed to remember that Hinata was the best liar of them all once she picked a persona.  “Shieru-kun.  Is this true?”

Maybe he was leaning on their shared blood to give him some insight, because Sasuke was about as inscrutable as the best of them.  “Yeah,” said Sasuke without even looking up.  

“Hm,” said Shisui-sensei, clearly still suspicious.  “None of you have anything to do with this? Gogo-chan?”

The chashu slipped out of Sakura’s chopsticks and landed in her bowl with a plop.  "Uh, what?" she tried with a weak smile.

Shisui-sensei's eye went flat. 

Sakura wilted.  Immediately busted.  Sakura couldn't lie to one of her own sensei or a superior officer; it went against her innate nature.  

Shisui-sensei pinched the bridge of his nose, shut his eye, and took several deep breaths.  Everyone else stopped to watch him warily except Neko-sensei, who was entirely unconcerned, and Naruto, who was oblivious.  "I don't want to know," he muttered at last, "because if I know, then I'm obligated to do something about it.  Do you have any idea what could have happened if you got caught?"

"Hypothetically," Sai interjected helpfully, "we would not be observed anywhere near the scene at the time of the crime, nor would we leave lasting evidence that may be traced back to us."

"How helpful," ground out Shisui-sensei, opening his eye to glare at Sai.

"Hypothetically," Gaara reminded him, looking a little too pleased at the whole situation.  

"Okay," Shisui-sensei said, deceptively mild.  "Hypothetically, what were you thinking?"

The table descended into uncomfortable silence.  Naruto stopped slurping his broth and started looking massively guilty.

"I heard," said Temari, since the whole thing had been her idea to begin with and she wasn't about to hang any of the others out to dry, "that this heiress and her team were stationed aboard the Jurojinmaru at the time of its sinking.  You probably met her below deck, Juuta-sensei."

It wasn't a very subtle hint.  Everyone at that table save Hanabi and Neko-sensei knew what she was referring to.  Shisui-sensei was quiet for a long moment as Hanabi frowned up at them, the frustration in her eyes increasing when nobody explained.  After what felt like an eternity, Shisui-sensei finally said, "Revenge is the most dangerous motive to fall under the influence of.  It clouds your judgment and makes you more likely to be controlled by your emotions."

"She hurt them," Hinata said with Kyuu's soft venom, a massive understatement.  "She hurt us.  She should suffer much worse."

"Kyuushi-chan, you snap out of it right now," Shisui-sensei ordered, real anger manifesting as the sharpness of his voice.  Hinata's shoulders hunched as she shrank in on herself.  Gaara's eyes flicked up, warning and wary.  "All of you know our situation.  There is no excuse for making the choice you did.  You put yourselves and all of Hana-ha at risk today for the sake of petty revenge, and that will not be tolerated a second time.  Am I clear?"

"Hai," Temari said, echoed by the rest.  Petty revenge wasn't the term she'd give the project so much as just payback, but if a scolding was all they got for trampling the rules, they were getting off pretty damn lightly.  The real revenge could wait.  

"You're all confined to this library tomorrow," Shisui-sensei added, as though in response to her thoughts.  "Do not leave.  Training is cancelled; focus on bookwork and research."

Naruto's mouth gaped, openly dismayed.  Sakura tried to hide her relief and mostly succeeded.

"Hai," Temari agreed.  "No one leaves.  Got it."

Shisui-sensei shot her a glare with enough irritation and disappointment in it to make her squirm.  "Dismissed," he ground out, and stood from the table abruptly to stalk towards his room.

Getting grounded didn't seem too bad at first.  The pack had been in hiding for years; they knew how to stay in one place and not attract attention.  That the seven of them had gotten in trouble didn’t change the fact that Shisui-sensei was still the acting head of a rogue army -- it just meant that him grounding them was both punitive and practical, since he could keep them contained without constant supervision. 

That being said, it was absolutely effective as a punishment because Naruto absolutely hated it, and when Naruto absolutely hated something, everyone around him knew it.  

“I wanna go outside,” Naruto moaned, laying half on a table and staring longingly out the nearest window. 

Sasuke had developed a twitch under his left eye that deepened with every iteration of the same complaint.  Since this had been going on for the better part of the morning already, Temari wouldn't be surprised if his entire eye just collapsed in on itself. 

Sakura kneaded between her eyebrows with one hand, the other clenched into a fist on top of the open pages of her book.  "Rokumaru," she said with remarkable calm.  "Stop talking, I'm trying to read."

Naruto lolled his head over, pouting.  "But, Gogo-chan -- "

Sakura stood up so fast her book went flying.  "Shut up, I'm trying to read!" she shrieked, slamming both fists down on the table.

Naruto squawked and flailed, tumbling off the surface and landing on the floor in a sprawl.  From across the room, Hinata and Sai looked up sharply in unison.  After a moment, satisfied that there was no immediate danger, they returned to their own activities in perfect synchrony. 

Sakura glared, her chest heaving and fists clenched at her sides, as Naruto gaped up at her, for once speechless.  Sasuke, too, watched her warily as though she were a previously friendly cat who had just attempted to take out a chunk of his arm.  Without a word, Sakura retrieved her book, opened it back to the right page, and sat back down to read.

Gaara hadn't reacted to the incident at all, but his face was screwed up in a slight frown that did not so much as twitch when Temari leaned in front of him.  "Shichino-kun," she prompted, because he was starting straight through her like she wasn't there.  "Otouto."

Gaara jerked his head to the side, a small, sharp movement, and a silent snarl formed and disappeared again before his eyes focussed on her. 

"There you are," she said, reaching out to comb her fingers through his hair.  He leaned into her, eyes half closing in satisfaction.  "Where'd you go just now?"

Gaara stiffened under her hand.  "Loud," he said, and with an edge of resentment added, "Shukaku."

It was Temari's turn to pause, her hand frozen in midair.  She lowered her voice.  "Shukaku is being loud?"  Gaara gave a short nod.  "When did that start?"

Gaara shrugged a shoulder.  "More awake, now," he said.  "Hungry.  Impatient."

Hungry?  Giant chakra beasts didn't need to eat, as far as any of them knew, which meant the only thing the Ichibi could be demanding from Gaara was spilled blood.

Gaara was glaring at her now, so she resumed brushing her hand through his hair as she chewed on what she should say.  "I know," said Gaara, apropos of nothing.  "I will not lose.  To Shukaku."

Temari tugged on his hair gently.  "I love you, otouto," she said with a wry smile.  "Never forget that."

Gaara hummed, a soft rumble in his chest, and relaxed against her when she finally pulled away to go back to her book. 

"I wonder what happened to him," Naruto said out of the blue after maybe an hour of nothing but the scratch of pens against paper and pages turning.  

Temari glanced up, distracted, and met Sakura's puzzled eyes as Naruto's words caught the rest of the pack's attention.  

"Harada," Naruto added, which clarified nothing except that this Harada was significant enough that he had remembered the name -- Naruto never remembered names.

Sakura's mouth tightened.  Sasuke went back to his notes with a stormy disinterest.  

Ah.  This was about that.  

"Why are you wondering about Harada?" Temari asked, when it was clear that nobody else would.

Naruto turned mournful eyes on her, more expressive than any shinobi she knew.  "He wasn't like the others," he said.  "He didn't want to do that to us.  He was nice.  But now they're here and he's not, but he has to be okay, right?"

He was looking for reassurance she couldn't give him.  The sole low-caste member of the team that had captured and tortured Team Byakko had lived a wretched life for the transgression of being born and had probably died a wretched death.  The high caste loyalists had treated the low caste like firewood.  "Rokumaru-kun," Temari started, and then paused, searching for the words.

Gaara's head snapped around before she could finish, and Sai announced, "Juuta-sensei is inbound, ETA seven seconds."

Temari twirled the pen in her hand with a flick of her fingers and ducked her head back down to her text.  They did the thing where they all pretended they didn't notice the door opening and Shisui-sensei coming in, and Shisui-sensei pretended he didn't know that they knew he was coming.  

"Hachikou-kun." Temari gave up the pretext and took a furtive glance at the doorway.  It wasn't very furtive because everyone else did the same except Sai, who stood automatically, the kind of reaction trained until it was instinctual, and followed Shisui-sensei into the kitchen without comment.  The door shut behind them with a click.

The rest of the pack traded glances.  Sakura's hand flashed into an empathetic sign: what?  

Temari shrugged.   Not, good, she signed back, and Hinata nodded just once in agreement, colourless eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  

Sasuke sighed, and when they looked at him, signed an abrupt wrong-talk-anger -- the closest approximation they had to reprimand.  

Ah.  That made sense.  Sai took reprimands just about the same way he took everything -- stoically, though perhaps with some chagrin, since he was born uptight and felt uncomfortable breaking any rules at all -- so he was a good choice if Shisui-sensei was going easy on himself to start.  The problem was when he had to lecture Naruto, for whom words kind of just bounced off, and Gaara, who always had something screeching in his head anyways.  In that case, the only thing any of the pack could do was wait their turn.  Which sucked.  

Fifteen minutes and an unsuccessful eavesdropping attempt later, the kitchen door opened to emit a blank-faced Sai, who made his way back to his seat without a word and without making eye contact with the six pairs of eyes that tracked his progress across the room.  

"Gogo-chan," Shisui-sensei said with no inflection.

Sakura wilted, and with the air of one marching to their execution, trudged after Shisui-sensei as he disappeared back into the kitchen.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Temari turned back on time to see Hinata sign a hesitant question at Sai.  Sai, uncharacteristically, ignored her.  Hinata signed again, to the same result, and peeked over at Temari with her eyes wide as she chewed on her lip. 

Temari frowned at them both and committed to drastic action: she flicked an eraser at Sai's face.  He caught it before it hit him, his free hand snapping out before him and depositing it gently on his table.  He glanced up at Temari, then Hinata, and shook his head just once before going back to his notes.  

Sai could be damn near unreadable with his poker face, but this was reticence on an entirely different level.  Sasuke and Gaara were watching now, too, and Temari shook her head and signed later at them. 

The door opened again after a seemingly endless, tense silence, and Sakura emerged with Shisui-sensei at her back.

Sakura looked devastated.  She wasn't crying, but that might have been because she was too shell shocked to think of doing so.  

"Kyuushi-chan," said Shisui-sensei, ignoring the way Sakura wobbled back to her table and sat down with a thump.  "With me."

Hinata, frozen, took a deep breath that did nothing to hide the way she was trembling from head to toe, and went.  

She came back in hysterical, silent sobs.

Sasuke came back with a mask so brittle he vanished into the den as soon as Shisui-sensei allowed him to go.

Gaara came back with empty eyes and rumbles of sakki spilling out from under his skin and a mouth that twitched into a snarl whenever anyone so much as glanced at him.

Naruto came back with his smile long gone and his tail tucked between his legs, subdued instead of bright except for his eyes, which were just a little too bright.

"Reiha-chan," said Shisui-sensei then, and Temari squeezed Hinata's hand under the table before she rose to follow him into the kitchen.

He didn't look like he'd spent the better part of two hours bringing the others to abject misery, but with Shisui-sensei, appearances meant nothing.  Temari stepped in after him, and sidled around him when he moved to activate the sound seal on the door.  That put her up against the sink, where she determinedly did not huddle in on herself. 

"Temari," said Shisui-sensei, turned around, and the shock of hearing her birth name spoken out loud was the first unpleasant part of the lecture.  "I expected better of you most of all." And there was the second.  "The rest are still children, but you're fourteen years old."

Temari understood the implication at once, and it stung twice as much for it.  Fourteen was old enough to make chuunin.  Fourteen was old enough to make jounin or Anbu or Anbu captain.  At fourteen, Temari should be stepping up to that level of responsibility, not enabling the younger kids to pull petty pranks in an enemy Village.  

"The kids look to you as a leader," Shisui-sensei continued.  "You can't afford not to think of the consequences.  But right now, you lack discipline.  You're impulsive and shortsighted, and that means you're not as clever as you think you are.  You'll never make it higher than chuunin like this."

Shisui-sensei knew exactly where to strike to make it hurt the most when he wanted to, and sometimes Temari forgot that because he was so friendly compared to the other sensei.  He knew her worst fears and her hidden dreams and the insecurities that lurked in the shadows of her mind, and he was ruthless enough to weaponize them.  She hated him for that, a little bit -- not because he had, but because she'd let it happen.    

"Lives are on the line.  Tens of thousands of them," Shisui-sensei said, quieter now though he'd never raised his voice to begin with.  "Start from the beginning and tell me why you did this."

It took a moment for Temari to understand what he was asking, another to bite down the resentment that boiled up.  "The heiress," she said at last.  "Mayoke Kichirou.  She was part of the team that -- "

"No," Shisui-sensei interrupted, firm.  "That isn't the beginning."

The beginning.  Wherein Temari sneaked into the city with her friends to get dango.  Shisui-sensei was going to unearth every single one of her sins and make her own up to them today.  That realization, with its entirely unjustified indignation, choked up her throat until cold logic took over.  "Last Thursday during the evening break, I went into the Inner Village," she got out at last, robotically.  "I was accompanied by several other Hanabi-ha genin not from Yorozoku."

She knew what he would ask before he opened his mouth.  "Why?"

Temari didn't have a good answer.  He knew she didn't have a good answer; that was why he asked.  "I wanted to get dango in a café with them."

There wasn't any visible change in Shisui-sensei's expression, but Temari bit back a scowl nonetheless.  "You decided to violate both a blanket order and a direct order from your jounin sensei to avoid the Inner Village because you wanted to get dango in a café."

Temari couldn't say anything to that except, "Yes, sir."

"Who are the genin you went with and who do they report to?"

If this had been anything except an unofficial reprimand, Temari might have rolled her eyes because that sounded more like a parent asking than a superior officer.  "They belong to Zabuza-sensei's unit.  I'm not sure exactly which chuunin leads their squad."  He accepted the answer with a slow blink.  He also didn't ask their names, but he'd probably figure it out himself since he was in charge of Intelligence for all of Hana-ha.  "We had an encounter with three off-duty Kiri shinobi who expressed their...displeasure of our presence.  And our identities."

"Your perceived identities," Shisui-sensei corrected quietly without breaking eye contact.  The more Temari talked, the worse it sounded, so she looked away and said nothing.   "You risked everything over an insult."

"That bitch tortured Rokumaru," Temari snapped, whipping around to glare at him as her temper frayed.  "Her and her team.  They deserved much worse!"

"You wouldn't have known that until you looked into them further," Shisui-sensei said, his voice completely even.  "That was not a factor in your decision to take action."

He was right.  Of course he was right, but --

That was it, wasn't it?  He was right and Temari was an idiot and a fucking child and she hated that she'd needed someone else to point it out to her.  She glowered past Shisui-sensei's shoulder.

"What happened to Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura was inexcusable," Shisui-sensei said, after a pause.  "It was horrific and cruel and an act committed during wartime by enemy nin.  If we were still at war, we could retaliate freely."

But they weren't, and the nightmares of war were fresh enough still that Temari was grateful for that.  That didn't mean she wasn't still pissed, but she wasn't winning any battles in here, not now, when the choices she'd made that put her in this position were a week gone.  

"Why did you choose to involve the younger children in your plan?"

"Team Genbu's distance reconnaissance abilities," Temari answered.  "And Team Byakko's expertise in similar...traps." Vandalism and property destruction.  

"You knew they would share any consequences if you used them for their skills, but you decided it would be an acceptable sacrifice because you lacked the capability to do it all yourself," was Shisui-sensei's conclusion, and Temari knew that question had been too much of a softball to be anything other than a trap.  

He'd backed her into a corner.  "Yes, sir."

Shisui-sensei wielded words more effectively than any blade could cut.  This was why all the others had come out of the kitchen looking like they'd fought a war alone.  

She wouldn't give him a reason to do this again.

After the afternoon with the horrible conversations that Temari took to obsessing over and ignoring the existence of, in equal, alternating parts, the pack was still grounded.  It took three days of particularly Naruto quite literally climbing the walls before Shisui-sensei finally relented. 

“I hoped you learned something from this,” Shisui-sensei warned, just before releasing them to do morning warm-ups.  

“That you love us!” Naruto answered brightly, incorrigible.  

Shisui-sensei visibly regretted his choice. 

“We did,” Sakura said quickly, taking a swipe at Naruto and missing.  

"We're spending the afternoon in the mountains today," Shisui-sensei said.  "Don't wear yourselves out."

Pause.  Rewind.  "The mountains that're trapped to hell and back?" Temari said dubiously.  

"They're only activated when there's a home invasion," Sakura piped up.  "Otherwise they're used as more extensive training grounds."

Temari had memories of their shinobi blown sky high in those mountains that wouldn't be so easily dispelled, but Shisui-sensei nodded.  "The Godaime Mizukage had those security measures disabled when she secured the Inner Village.  Plenty of Kiri teams have been training out there since."

Knowing that didn't make her any less uneasy once they were standing at the foothills, looking up at the treacherous slopes.  

"The exercise today is called Sardines," Shisui-sensei announced.  "It's popular for Kiri Academy students who want to join Anbu's infiltration division."

Temari wrinkled her nose.  A stealth-based exercise, then.  It already favoured all three members of Team Genbu.

"We're not Academy students!" Naruto objected.  

"I'll expect you to do much better than them, then," Shisui-sensei said without missing a beat.  "The objective is simple.  There is one hider; everyone else is a seeker.  The seekers split up to try and find the hider.  Once a seeker finds the hider, they join the hider in hiding together.  The exercise ends once everyone has been found."

Sakura stuck her hand up.  "Is this a no-jutsu exercise?"

"Go wild, as long as you don't destroy this place," said Shisui-sensei, which Temari personally thought was a dangerous amount of leeway.  "Any more questions?"

It sounded simple.  Maybe Shisui-sensei had learned after basket-ball.  

"Kyuushi-chan, you're the hider," Shisui-sensei continued, and Hinata twitched.  "You get a ten minute head start.  Go."

Hinata took off immediately, bounding up the slope.  Temari eyed her trajectory, though she knew Hinata would change direction once out of eyesight.  

"What're we gonna do for ten minutes?" Naruto complained, staring openly at Hinata's retreating figure.

"You're going to decide starting positions with a jan-ken-pon tournament," Shisui-sensei said.  "The closest starting position are two kilometers on either side, and the next another two, and so on.  Do your best."

Sai, the reigning champion of jan-ken-pon, and Naruto, who had spurts of luck that were generally useless, took the two closest positions.  Temari jogged west while Sakura and Sasuke went east.  

Temari wasn't much of a tracker, though both Neji and Haku were.  Sure, she could follow footprints and trails of displaced branches like any shinobi, and she could sense chakra outputs when they were big enough and she was close enough, but other than that?  Nothing.  The consolation, if any, was that Naruto was a hopeless hunter and Sakura and Sasuke weren't much better.

Black feathers streaked overhead with a harsh caw as Shisui-sensei's summons signalled the start of the exercise, and Temari took off towards the peaks at a run.  The trees that carpeted the inclined were thin, springy things that would have tugged at her hair and clothes if she'd let them.  She brushed through them impatiently; they weren't strong enough to support her if she wanted to run atop them, and they were blocking her view.  Sai was somewhere to her right -- if she caught up with him, she could track him to Hinata faster than she could find the younger girl herself.

Temari crested the ridge and stopped short.  

"Kai," she muttered, expelling her chakra in a burst, but the sight in front of her didn't change.  She turned to look behind her, but the rocky slope she had just scaled had vanished without a trace. 

The sky stretched above in a deep, dreamy blue, hazy in a way she couldn't quite put a finger on, and though it was bright she couldn't see the sun.  The land rolled out before her in gentle hills, studded with rocks and short, scruffy grass.  In the distance, the hills melted into mountains, their trees standing proud and upright against the steep slopes, more like the spiny-needled trees of Tetsu than the broad leaves of Fire Country forests.  She cast out her senses as wide as they could go, let her chakra rise to just below her skin as she took in her surroundings.  

This wasn't a genjutsu, but Temari felt her initial alarm melt away into curiosity.  This was something else, somewhere else; she could sense it. 

There was that story that Shisui-sensei had told Sakura long ago, that Sakura had told the rest of them in the hush of the darkened den one night -- of the places where the fabric of this world and another’s thinned enough for someone to slip through.  And this -- this definitely wasn’t Kiri anymore.

Eyes prickled on the back of her neck, and Temari turned, one hand rising to the tessen still worn across her back.  She had to bite back a half-bitter laugh when she took in the creature observing her.  Her suspicions were confirmed, but relief and anticipation warred with the sting of resentment.  It was perched on the old stump of a long-gone tree, its body coiled muscle and sinew as it watched her with one sharp eye.  Fully upright, it would stand as tall as she did.

Of all the summons who might choose her as worthy, it had to be the itachi.  

“Hello,” she said, as neutral as she could manage. 

The weasel smiled, sharp fangs flashing.  “Daughter of Karura,” it rumbled.  “You are far from home.”

Temari crossed her arms over her chest, tipping her head to the side.  “Am I?” she challenged.  This was a summons who knew her personally, but her mother hadn’t been contracted with weasels.  

“Yes,” said the weasel simply.  “I am Kamatari, son of Kamamatsu, and my father fought with your grandmother.  He insists that her bloodline is strong.”  Clearly, from the way Kamatari was eyeing her, he didn’t take it at face value.  

“Hm,” said Temari, equally dubious.  An itachi summons, kami.  At least it was her and not Sasuke.  "You kidnapped me."

"You walked here on your own two legs," Kamatari countered.  "You'll walk out of here just the same as though no time has passed, regardless of what happens."

Temari treated that proclamation with all due skepticism and a glance behind her to see if she'd missed anything.  

“You’re suspicious,” noted Kamatari with grudging approval.  “There’s hope for you yet.”

“The question’s if there’s hope for you,” Temari retorted.  “I guess you’ve got tests lined up for me.”

The weasel narrowed his eye at her.  “Someone’s been spilling our secrets,” he said.  

“It’s not really a secret to anyone with deductive reasoning,” Temari said dismissively.  “If there wasn’t a test you’d’ve already invited me to sign the contract or kicked me back out of here.”  Wherever ‘here’ was.  

“Thoughts speak as loudly as actions,” said Kamatari.  “The tests I have for you are of the mind.  I hope you are prepared.”  

“Bring it,” Temari agreed, tipping her chin down.

"The first question.  My clan is small," said Kamatari, "and we must compete for resources with the shagamu, the stoats.  They're bigger and stronger than we are, and there are more of them.  They have more territory and they have something we want.  How do you propose we acquire it?"

That was...vague. “Is it something you can get diplomatically?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” Kamatari replied, settling on his haunches.  “How would you go about this diplomacy?”

"Find out what the shagamu want," Temari answered.  "If it's something you don't have or aren't willing to give up, make them want something only you can get for them."

"We could simply ask for it," Kamatari pointed out, his tail flicking behind him lazily.  

Temari cocked her head.  "You could," she allowed.  "But the one opening negotiations is the one admitting that you lack something.  You have no leverage and you're in direct competition with these guys.  You can't expect they'll give you what you want out of kindness, it's going to have to benefit them in some way too -- or they have to think that, at least."

"How?" challenged Kamatari.

How?  Temari had no idea how their culture or whatever worked, how was she supposed to explain that?  "Say there's a river that only runs through your territory," she said, her mind churning faster than her mouth could talk.  "Next time you run into those stoats, mention offhandedly that the mud from its banks make the best bricks.  Everyone in your clan just had to have houses made of bricks from the river, because you've tried all different sources of mud and none of them came anywhere near as good.  Maybe give them a brick or two, really talk it up.  He'll go back and tell the rest of his clan, and then they'll all want it -- and only your clan can give it to them."

"Interesting," Kamatari said thoughtfully.  After a long pause, he added, “We like that.”

“Hm,” was Temari’s answer.  She was still skeptical about this whole weasel summon thing.  

"And if they don't fall for that trick," Kamatari said, "we would have no choice but to declare war.  What would you -- "

"Bad idea," Temari interrupted.  Declaring war was never a good idea, and the fact that he'd jumped to that so quickly set off a nagging suspicion in the back of her head.  Like she was blundering into a trap that she couldn't see.  "You said already that they're stronger and there are more of them.  Launching an attack on them is like asking to get annihilated."

"Well, then," said Kamatari.  "What would you do instead?"

"Stay the course," Temari said firmly.  "Keep working a similar angle.  They have a weakness we haven't found yet, some need or desire we can exploit.  You won’t win a straight fight, but if you undermine their position, you can get the leverage you need to have the upper hand at the bargaining table.”

“Consider this: the shagamu attacked first,” prompted Kamatari.  "Our young were slaughtered and they drove us into hiding.  Still, we do not fight?"

Temari frowned.  Honour was for those with something to lose.  “You still won’t win a battle weakened.  Poison their land.  Dump corpses in every river but your own so the water spoils.  Set the land on fire and salt the ashes so nothing survives.  If any of them are still alive after that, they won’t be fit for a fight.  You can ravage what’s left or wait for them to come crawling to you for help.”

Kamatari’s response was a contemplative silence as he studied her carefully.  Temari wondered if she’d gone a bit too far on that one.  “So,” she said.  “What’s this thing the stoats have that you want so badly?”

“Eggs,” said Kamatari easily.

Weasels were mammals that birthed live young.   

Eggs, he said.

“You wanted to go to war,” Temari repeated slowly, “over eggs?”

“Alligator eggs,” agreed Kamatari, his flicking tail betraying his amusement.  “They’re a delicacy, you know.  Delicious.”

She grimaced, closing her eyes briefly and taking a fortifying breath.  Good grief.  Temari had just told this weasel to poison the entire drinking water supply over alligator eggs.  How was this her life?  

This was the freaking trap she hadn't seen.  She had so many regrets.  “Okay,” she said.  “So, the burning and razing thing might have been -- ”

Kamatari bared his teeth, and that smile was sharp and predatory and pleased.  "Vicious," he purred.  "We like this, too."

Oh.  Of course they did.

"Okay," said Temari.  Weasels were smug creatures.  "What's next?"  

"Now I offer you a contract," said the especially smug weasel, who was clearly enjoying her -- well concealed -- confusion.

"You asked, like, three questions," Temari pointed out, equal parts resigned and skeptical.  "I've taken Academy exams that last longer.  All of them did, actually."

"Just a formality," Kamatari said dismissively, turning to reach down behind his tree stump.  "I've been eighty percent certain that I would offer you the contract since you were born."

Translation: Kamatari was a stalker and also he put her through that whole test thing for laughs.  He was a bit of a bastard.

Maybe this was the right summons for her after all.

"Great," she said without much enthusiasm, and caught the scroll Kamatari tossed over to her.  "You're a cradle robber."

"Nah," said Kamatari with a rakish grin.  “Pop’s always going on about how choosing a summoner’s a big deal and should be taken seriously, it’s a formal event, treat it with respect, etcetera etcetera.  S’all good though.  You’re cool; I’m cool.  This’ll be great.  I like you already.”   

"That prim and proper speech was an act too?" Temari drawled, unfurling the scroll.  There were seven names in faded black ink, seven sets of fingerprints and pawprints in neat columns.  

Kamatari reached a paw over to jab at the next blank space.  "Yep, formal event and everything, but that part's over so you don't mind if I drop it, do you?  This'll be ours."

"Sure," said Temari, and rotated the scroll so she could read the writing.  

"What're you doing?" Kamatari squinted at her.  "Are you reading the contract?"

"Uh, yeah," said Temari.  She wasn't an idiot.  "Hey, what do you look for in a summoner anyways?"

Kamatari shrugged.   "You know.  Fast learner, plays well with others, self-motivated -- "

Temari rolled her eyes.  "Kamatari, you said we'd be partners.   I already know spirits pick a summoner for more than just compatibility.   Your father chose my grandmother for a reason.  What did he see, and what were you looking for?"

The weasel's whiskers twitched.  "Cunning," he said.  "And persistence."

To be a kunoichi in Sunagakure, one couldn't survive without either.  That couldn't be it.  "And?" she prompted. 

"You already know," said Kamatari, his expression unchanging.  "Done reading?  Ready to sign?"

He was right.  She did know.   

It was admitting it was a part of her that sat uncomfortably. 

"Yeah, " she said.  "Ink and blood, I got it."

Temari didn't tell a soul that she had signed a contract with the weasel clan, the kamaitachi.  Four years living hand and foot with a pack of other kids with whom she trained regularly meant that they all had few secrets from each other, but in this case, jealousy and pragmatism both stilled her tongue.  Summoning contracts, given what they revealed about a shinobi, could be intensely private matters, and part of Temari didn't want to give away all of herself.  Not even to her teammates.  Not even to her sensei.  Yet.  She fell back into the normal rhythm of the days with the knowledge of her summons held close and secret.  

Normal meant Shisui-sensei sanctioned trips into the Village for groceries, so it was perfectly normal for her to excuse herself from free training early, leaving Sai to supervise the chaos.  The library base was empty except for Shisui-sensei, moving around unseen in his room at the far end.

“Juuta-sensei, anything to add to the shopping list?” she called as she collected the shopping bags and brushing sweat-damp hair from her forehead.  “I’m heading out in a couple minutes!”

"Fresh mackerel and daikon radish, if they've got it.  Straight there and back," Shisui-sensei reminded.  "No fights, Reiha-chan."

"I won't hurt a fly," Temari promised.  She wasn’t lying.  The taste of freedom, after nearly a week without, was too precious to waste.  She wouldn’t even bring her tessen.  

The weather was lovely, the air crisp from the altitude despite the rapidly encroaching summer.   She shivered almost immediately after setting foot outside but dismissed the idea of going back for her cloak.  She wouldn’t be outside long, anyways, just enough time to pick up the ingredients on the shopping list for which everyone ignored Naruto’s requests, which were without fail various brands of instant ramen.  

Spotting Mayoke Kichirou and her two friends at the far end of the marketplace plaza brightened the day even more, because while Temari had paid for her role in the paint-and-glittering, Mayoke had been the laughingstock of the entire village -- a high caste heiress, falling prey to a trap that could have been set by Academy students for all anyone knew.  Temari hid a smile and ignored her, humming under her breath as she picked through the produce shops.  

Cooking for fourteen, or still now for ten, meant frequent grocery runs and scavenger hunts for a wide variety of ingredients.  This time, Sasuke wanted lotus root and shiitake, Sakura was playing it safe by asking for potatoes, and Hinata needed --

She glanced up distractedly just as Mayoke stalked past.  "You're positively radiant today, kunoichi-san," Temari said brightly without thinking.  "Absolutely sparkling."

It was in retrospect a mistake, but a satisfying one.

Mayoke stopped abruptly, unamused, her expression hard as flint.  She was not, in fact, sparkling, at least in terms of appearance.  If she hadn't managed to get rid of all the glitter in the week since the incident, which was unlikely but possible, then she wore a henge that concealed it entirely.  There was no recognition in her eyes, but she was incensed nonetheless.  

Utautori pressed in and Temari took an automatic step backwards, only realizing her misstep when he advanced again to herd her into the alley.  It was practiced, as much prepared as opportunistic.  “Hey, what’s your problem?” she snapped.  The bag with the radishes she’d already purchased bumped against her hip.   

“We’ve been looking for one of your kind,” Mayoke said with a frigid smile.  “We have a message to send, you see.”  Tsumori sauntered around the edge of the alley to block them from sight of the plaza.  “I think you’ll do nicely.”

Okay.  While she'd prepared for blowback in the general sense, she didn’t expect retribution to be this soon or this personal -- she'd designed the project to stay anonymous.  

So Temari had maybe miscalculated.  Slightly.  

"I'm Hana Division," Temari snapped, holding her ground.  "Don't touch me."

"You think this," mused Mayoke aloud, trailing a finger along the red stripe in the cloth of Temari's hitai-ate, "this little line here makes you invincible?"

Temari resisted the urge to jerk her arm out from under the kunoichi's touch. The number of possible outcomes of this confrontation was shrinking rapidly and she didn't need Sai to lay them out for her in clinical detail.  Showing weakness in this Village meant painting a target on her and the pack and any of the other Hana-ha shinobi in the future, so Temari bared her teeth in a grin, feral and deliberate.  "I think that line means I don't need to take shit from a puffed up little bitch like you."

Temari's weakness was her pride, but the Mayoke heiress had ten times the pride and ten times the fall waiting for her.  Mayoke struck, one hand slicing at Temari's neck, and even as she dodged Temari felt the cold shock of vicious satisfaction wash down her spine.

"Ah, an attack in the middle of the marketplace?" Temari said sweetly.  "How rude of -- "

She dropped her groceries and hopped backwards, but not fast enough to avoid the cold slice of a katana blade in her calf.  It ripped through the cloth of her pants and bit into the muscle, and she hit the wall behind her and rebounded.  In hindsight, adding more fuel to the metaphorical bonfire wasn't really necessary or even particularly wise considering that Mayoke had two friends with her who took just as much offense at Temari’s existence as she did.  

The bared weapon vanished as fast as it had appeared, resheathed in its scabbard as Tsumori lunged seamlessly to fill the space where Utautori drew back.  Temari kicked off the ground hard, chakra giving her height enough to land on the wall above their heads.  She flipped higher up when Tsumori pressed the attack, an open-handed strike that splintered cracks into the stone. 

Mayoke chased her up, her jacket flaring around her as Temari cut away, and the older girl’s eyes glinted sharp with intent.  Temari twisted off the wall, Mayoke’s kick just brushing the tips of her hair, and gravity pulled her back to the ground.  Tsumori and Utautori both crouched in wait there, and instinct gave her a split second to crash into the space between the flash of Utautori’s curved kunai and Tsumori’s fist.  She landed hard, close to the ground, and skipped backwards as Tsumori lashed out in a low kick.  Utautori’s blade passed just millimeters over her nose and Mayoke’s palm, as the heiress landed, caught Temari full in the chest.

Temari hit the ground on her back, the wind doubly knocked out of her from the force of both impacts, and struggled to dive out of the way as Tsumori stomped his heel down.  She didn’t quite make it.  Pain exploded in her shoulder, shooting lightning down her arm as she rolled to her feet and threw herself sideways, deeper into the alley.  Droplets of crimson sprinkled the ground after her.

They didn’t give her a chance to regroup, but she couldn’t take in a full breath anyways so it came in quick, shallow pants as she braced herself in a low stance.  Temari was fast, but there were three of them and one of her and Kiri nin sure as hell didn't fight fair.  Utautori swept left; Tsumori charged from the right, and Mayoke stood, unmoving and almost uncaring, to block Temari’s escape.  

Temari really wanted to wipe the arrogance off that bitch’s face, but that was pretty much what had gotten her in this situation to begin with.  She was outnumbered and outmatched.  Forget winning a fight, Temari would be hard-pressed to escape without major injury.  

She darted at Utautori, the genjutsu-kenjutsu specialist, because even though he held a blade, that kunai was there to compensate for his insecurity at close combat.  She came at him hard and fast with a hint of chakra, but when he slashed at her, she twisted again to ricochet off the wall to the opposite side.  Tsumori blitzed her from below and Temari flipped back to the opposite wall, launching herself up towards the lip of the roof.  Once on the roof she'd be home free; she'd been trained by Konoha's best and no other shinobi were as comfortable in the treetops and rooftops.  

Temari didn't have the breath to swear when Mayoke's hand closed around her ankle and hurled her down.  Her head knocked against the pavement, sending white starbursts across her vision, and as she scrabbled at the stone, trying to find her feet, a vicious kick slammed into her side.  

She sucked in a painful breath and threw her arm up to block another kick but failed, gritting her teeth as her weight landed on her injured shoulder.  She pushed up from the ground, staggered two steps back to get her foot against the wall, and launched herself forward, straight through the blurred tangle of limbs and killing intent.  She hit the far wall with a grunt, having misjudged the distance, and she blinked furiously through the pain as she crouched.  

"You are alone and trapped," Mayoke observed, honey-sweet and full of malice.  "You should have accepted your fate at the onset.  This is inevitable; you could have made it a lot easier on yourself."

Bah, fate.  One puffed up Neji-esque rice cake in Temari's life was enough, thanks.  

Temari turned her head to cough and spat up a splatter of blood.  "Someone," she said, thready and singsong, "needs to extract the very large stick stuffed up her -- "

The temperature plummeted.  

Mayoke took an unconscious step back, and Tsumori and Utautori closed ranks with weapons raised, suddenly wary.  Temari swayed on her feet, drifting towards the wall, and shoved away the relief that swelled in her mind. 

Haku picked his way down the alley and surveyed the scene with a face carved from stone.   

"Reiha-san," said Haku, his voice light, as if they had bumped into each other while browsing at the market, despite the iciness of his unwavering stare.  "Apologies for the tardiness.  Nishiki-kun and I only just returned."

Temari tried not to wheeze and failed.  She could feel the throb in her skull with every heartbeat, and a piercing stab every time she took a breath.  "Good to see you," she rasped, hauling herself upright with the support of the closest wall.  "Have you met Mayoke Kichirou?  She's got some really strong opinions on some really dumb shit."

The magnitude of Mayoke's sneer intensified.  Temari didn't need to look at Haku to sense the aggravated disapproval he was radiating in her direction.  Right.  Stop antagonizing the jumped up sea cucumber who'd just kicked the shit out of her.

Haku turned to the Kiri trio.  "On whose authority did you assault my team leader?" He demanded politely.  "You should already know that violence is prohibited in the streets."  Which was more wishful thinking than an actually practical rule.  Society didn't just forget that the powerful ate the powerless, and even if the powerful had less power these days, they were ever hungry. Violence was just more subtle, confined to training grounds where convenient and back alleys when not.

"I am a chuunin of Kirigakure," Mayoke hissed.  "I will discipline shinobi under me as I seem fit."

"You attacked an unarmed genin," Temari ground out.  "One outside your line of command, who made no move to draw a weapon or engage offensively."

"It is not that you did not.  You were incapable of landing a single blow," Mayoke snapped.  

Temari grinned.  She could taste the blood staining her teeth.  "I didn't even try," she fired back.  "The three of you launched a one-sided attack and all I did was evade and defend.  Mizukage-sama's looking for an excuse to make an example of those who violate the new anti-harassment laws, you know."  She paused, smug and deliberate.  "You'll do."

Where the hell was Kiri's military police, anyways?  They were supposed to stop shit like this from happening.  Not that they ever had.

"Oi." 

Zabuza-sensei had a way of raising her hackles with just a growled word, and from the way the three ex-loyalists froze, she wasn't the only one.  Underneath the adrenaline Temari was a mess of anger and resentment and guilt, because the last time he'd been in the Village he was ripping her a new one for getting into a bar fight and, objectively speaking, she didn't exactly look innocent right now either.  

Zabuza-sensei gave them a glower that could have melted steel.  He summoned Haku to his side with a jerk of his chin, and behind them, half-turned to face the market, Neji hovered silently.  Temari dragged herself upright as much as she could manage, wiping the blood from her mouth with a wary eye on Mayoke.  

Mayoke recognized Zabuza-sensei at first glance; it was hard not to.  She stiffened, folding herself smoothly back until she was statuesque.   Utautori's and Tsumori's blades vanished into their sheaths between one moment and the next as they shifted behind her.   

Zabuza-sensei zeroed in on Mayoke.  He could probably smell the high caste snob on her.  "You gonna make me ask what happened here?"  His eyes drifted to Utautori's rank armband, and even though it was the same as Mayoke's, focussed his attention on him.  "You, chuunin."

Mayoke bristled at the slight.  Utautori ignored his teammate with practiced ease and said, "Nothing of importance."

Zabuza-sensei bared his teeth, full of threat.  "What?" he said, a warning and a challenge. 

"Nothing of importance happened here, sir," Utautori amended, as Mayoke's eyes narrowed.  Funny how they weren't pulling the you're not in our chain of command thing on him.  

Zabuza-sensei did a very obvious up-and-down look at Mayoke, Utautori, and Tsumori, and then did the same to Temari.  His eyes passed over her dispassionately before he returned his attention to the Kiri trio. "Nah," Zabuza-sensei said.  "Don't think you can fucking bullshit me and walk away.  Last chance: what happened?"

"A conversation," answered Utautori.  "We met in the market and -- "

"Shut up," Zabuza-sensei ordered, just a hint of a snarl in his voice.  "You don't get to talk anymore.  Haku."

If Utautori was composed, Haku was glacial. "Hai."

"Tell me what happened here," Zabuza-sensei ordered, shooting a quelling glare at Mayoke when she shifted indignantly. 

Haku nodded at the Kiri nin.  "These three shinobi were assaulting Reiha-san when I arrived on the scene.  They used live blades to do so, while Reiha-san did not draw any weapon."

"That is a blatant falsehood," Mayoke interrupted, shouldering past Utautori.  "Our actions were nothing but self defense -- "

Zabuza-sensei snapped his fingers at her.  "You, shut up.  You're what, two chuunin and a genin?   Why the fuck would you need any weapon against a single genin who's a full head shorter than you?"

"I never even tried to attack them," Temari rasped, the words gurgling in her throat.  She was pretty sure she had blood in her lungs.

Zabuza-sensei shot her a warning glare, but Tsumori cut off any reprimand that might have followed when he scoffed.  "You couldn't land a single blow when you attacked us.  Don't pretend that was intentional."

Temari grinned a crimson-stained smile.  "I'll prove it.  Proper match, three on one.  That should make it fair."

Zabuza-sensei took a single step forward.  All three of the Kiri teens were taller than Temari, but Zabuza-sensei loomed over all of them and their attention snapped back to them as the biggest threat in the vicinity.  Zabuza-sensei, Temari had learned, was very rarely not the biggest threat in his vicinity.  "Stand the fuck down," he growled, and Utautori leaned backwards unconsciously.  "I don't know who the fuck let you think you can get away with this crap, but in case you didn't notice, you lost a fucking war.  Surprise, the laws apply to you too now -- "

And maybe he said more, but as it was, the last thing Temari remembered was the world going fuzzy and muted around her as she bared her teeth in a victorious grin at the Kiri nin.  

Temari woke up in a sterile room, sparse but cramped with the paint peeling off the walls.  She could breathe more easily now, which was nice, though it ached every time she inhaled.  She focussed her eyesight with great effort to take in the papers scattered across the blankets covering her legs, then dragged her gaze to the figure hunched on the narrow seat next to the bed.  She cleared her throat, painfully.  "I didn't get the mackerel," she croaked.  

Zabuza-sensei didn't bother rolling his eyes or looking up.  "No shit."

He didn't understand.  Temari'd had one job -- okay, two if she counted the daikon radish, which -- "I dropped the radishes."

"The fuck were you thinking?"

Temari blinked and tried to process that.  He cared a lot more about the radishes than he had the fish.  Maybe he was thinking of going vegetarian?  Would Kubikiribocho go vegetarian too?  "I can get more," she assured him, and sat up.  Or tried to, because everything hurt when she moved and her muscles were strangely loose and not at all cooperative.

"Don't move," Zabuza-sensei snapped.  "Why didn't you fight back?"

Temari was doing a lot of blinking.  It took more effort than she realized.  Why hadn’t she ever noticed how hard it was to blink?  "Juuta-sensei said not to get into a fight," she explained, confused.  "Didn't fight.  Promise."  And then, "What's wrong with my brain?"

"Got whacked good," Zabuza-sensei grunted.  "Concussion.  You're hopped up on who knows what painkillers.  That oni said something about a ripped diaphragm, something something it'll hurt to breathe while it heals."

Yep.  She could feel that one. "I didn't fight," she said again instead, as her attention drifted.  "'nd you caught 'em." 

"You're a dumbass," Zabuza-sensei informed her.  "But they got what was coming for them."

She was…overwhelmingly tired.  Her head still pounded.  She blinked, and the next time her eyes opened it was Neji sitting primly on the end of her bed.  She squinted hazily at him. 

"Zabuza-sensei and Juuta-sensei are not speaking with each other," Neji informed her, as if she had asked.  Maybe she had, and then forgotten. Her thoughts seemed to be sliding around just out of reach.  Neji didn't comment on her condition, only raised his eyebrows with enough judgment that Temari considered pointing out his hypocrisy.  

Temari took a cautious breath, relieved when it wasn't followed by throbbing pain.  "Why's that?"

"Zabuza-sensei blames him for your injuries.  Juuta-sensei maintains that you not fighting back was strategically better in the long run." 

Temari rolled her eyes and then had to shut them when the room spun.  "Can't they just kiss and make up already?  I made my own choices."  The right ones, this time, she was sure of it.

But Neji had turned into a girl when she opened her eyes again.  A short girl. 

"Hello, Reiha-nee," Hanabi greeted solemnly, peeking at her from her perch on the very edge of the pallet.  "You have my wishes for a speedy recovery."

"Oh, hey," said Temari, valiantly concealing her bafflement.  "Thanks for visiting, sweetheart."

"Is there any discomfort?" Neko-sensei asked from the opposite side of the room.

Temari squinted in her direction until the older kunoichi came into focus and absently ran a check.  "Just a little soreness.  Nothing I can't handle," she reassured.  "Killer headache though." She reached a hand out to Hanabi and the younger girl latched on immediately, interlocking their fingers.  "Emiri-chan, what mischief have you been getting into today?"

"I did no such thing," Hanabi protested, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh?" Neko-sensei interjected, one eyebrow raised.  "What about the frogs?"

What about the frogs, indeed.

"An observation of an organism in a non-native environment," Hanabi replied primly, though the tips of her ears blushed light pink.

Temari blinked again, and Haku was leaning over her, green chakra flickering over his hand.  The spot where Hanabi had been was empty, probably long since.  "Sorry, this might tickle," Haku was saying.  "It's just a diagnostic scan.  Shizune-sensei said the swelling's gone down a lot."

"I keep waking up," Temari noticed.  What she actually meant was I keep falling asleep, or I keep losing time.  She wrinkled her nose to keep from sneezing.  

"That would be the concussion," explained Haku.  "If we don't keep waking you up they're worried you won't ever wake up."

Wow.  That was terrifying.  Thanks, Haku.

Haku flushed and pulled his hand away.  "Sorry," he said, and she realized she'd said it aloud.  Oops.

"Shizune-sensei teach you that?"  Her words were a little slurred, but hey, brain damage, right?

"No brain damage.  Juuta-sensei taught us that concussion bit," Haku said.  "He's mostly going over textbook concepts with us so when Shizune-sensei has time, we can do practical work with her."

"How long am I going to be here?" Temari asked.  

"We'll bring you back to the den tomorrow," he assured her, letting the iryou-chakra flicker away.  "You're a bit battered, but the worst was your diaphragm and they put that back together already.  Take it easy on training for a bit until they're sure the brain swelling is gone."

"Sure thing, Haku-sensei," she said agreeably, just to watch him duck his head to hide a split-second smile. 

"I'll be keeping watch," Haku told her.  "You need your rest, and to focus on recovering."

Obediently, Temari closed her eyes again.

Haku left sometime while she was asleep, and Zabuza-sensei showed up to take her back to the library base around late morning, as best as she could guess while confined in a windowless room.  Temari was cranky from doing nothing but lying around and alert enough to notice and enjoy his obvious distaste of the hospital ward.  He eyed the walls like they might bite him and said abruptly, "Clothes," to Temari.  He dropped a bundle of said clothes on her bed and skittered back out the door.

Temari stared blearily at the ceiling for a long moment before she realized her head didn't spin nearly as much as she thought it did.  Bolstered by the lack of negative consequences, she struggled upright and pawed for the clothes.  She tested her muscles as she dressed, tensing and releasing again as she moved.  Her shoulder complained when she raised her arm above her head, and her calf itched, the wound from Utautori's sword healed over with delicate pink skin.  When she poked the latter, it ached like a bruise, and after a few seconds of prodding she left it alone.  

Zabuza-sensei had brought her cloak, and even though it was way past winter, she slung its heavy furs around her shoulders.  That much made her strangely tired, so Zabuza-sensei found her still perched on the edge of her bed when he came back ten minutes later.  "Time to dip, princess," he grunted, giving the lamp flickering in the corner a deeply suspicious stare.  

"Is it a genjutsu?" Temari asked.

Zabuza-sensei stared at her.  "What?"

She nodded at the lamp and said, very seriously, "Is that someone in a henge?  You look stressed, Sensei."

"Hasn't your smart mouth already gotten you in enough trouble?" he snapped, turning on his heel.

Temari swallowed a smirk and followed.  

Nobody liked the hospital.  The shabby, run-down hospital that despite Shizune-sensei's best efforts looked more like an abandoned motel than a medical facility made Temari's skin crawl, and she didn't complain even though she had to hustle to keep up with Zabuza-sensei as he beelined for the nearest exit. 

Two weeks wasn't the longest Zabuza-sensei had been away, but Temari studied him anyways, looking for any differences.  Physically he looked fine, so he must not have pissed off Senju-sama too much on Uzushio.  He didn't have that look from when he'd discovered Neji's festering wounds, where he'd skipped over worry or fear and went straight to pissed, so she couldn't have been hurt too badly.  This was just Zabuza-sensei irritated at her dumbassery landing her in the hospital.  

She needed him to know that she hadn't just spent the last couple of weeks getting her ass kicked.  He needed to know that she was still a kunoichi, still a leader, still capable and still strong, because he was Kiri-born and he and the rest of them valued strength above all.  

The number of cards she had to play was small.  She sorted through them carefully and chose one.  

It was just the two of them.  It was just as good a time as any.  Just as they turned down the road towards the Old Academy, she said without glancing over, "I got a summons."

Zabuza-sensei eyed her for a moment, considering.  He didn't ask anything save, "Useful one?"

Temari shrugged.  "I think so, yeah."

"Good," said Zabuza-sensei, and that was that.

The library that served as their base camp was soundproofed because it had been a shinobi library, and an Academy library at that.  When the door flew open to expel a flying Naruto, his shriek of, "Reiha-nee!" and the chatter spilling out behind him hit Temari full blast.  Temari gritted her teeth and braced herself for impact, too aware of how wobbly the short walk had made her. 

Zabuza-sensei swatted Naruto out of the air and into the ground with a thump.  "Hey," he growled, glowering at Naruto.  "Injured person, brat.  That means do not jump on her." 

"Whoops," said Naruto happily, rolling to his feet completely unfazed.  "Reiha-nee, you're okay!  I wanted to come see you in the hospital and bring you ramen because ramen is the best food ever and it's healing, y'know?  But Juuta-sensei and Zabuza-sensei said I couldn't come and that you were okay but you needed to sleep lots and it ain't that interesting when a person just sleeps and you're not s'posed to talk to them and I talk a lot -- "

"You're welcome," Zabuza-sensei muttered under his breath. 

"Thanks," Temari said dryly, then raised her voice.  "Rokumaru-kun, help me inside, would you?"

"Sure," Naruto chirped. 

Naruto did not make a very good crutch because he wiggled too much despite his exaggerated slowness.  Fortunately, Temari didn't actually need to use him as a crutch and just rested a hand on his shoulder lightly to make him feel helpful as she followed him in.  

Haku smiled at her and Neji gave a short nod from their table.  Gaara brushed up on her other side silently, tucking himself under her arm.

"Reiha-chan, good to have you back," Shisui-sensei greeted as they entered.  He didn't so much as glance at Zabuza-sensei.  

Zabuza-sensei rolled his eyes hard and otherwise ignored Shisui-sensei.  "You're off training for the rest of the week," he told Temari gruffly.  "Easy on the thinking so you don't hurt yourself."

"That leaves me nothing to do," Temari pointed out, disgruntled.  

"Should have thought of that before you got your bell rung," dismissed Zabuza-sensei.  "Not like you did much thinking anyways."

"Reiha-chan," Shisui-sensei cut in pleasantly.  "You must be starving.  I made braised fish stew."

"I am, thanks, Sensei," said Temari, miraculously keeping a straight face.  Naruto forgot he was supposedly holding her up and scurried off to steal a peeled orange from Sakura.  Zabuza-sensei growled something inaudible under his breath and glared at Temari for paying attention to Shisui-sensei.  

Shisui-sensei didn't cook often -- he didn't have time to -- but when he did, he whipped up savoury dishes that not even Sasuke had tried before.  It was always good; he was a good cook.

He didn't offer any to Zabuza-sensei.  Zabuza-sensei clearly wanted some, from the way he was carefully not looking at the pot, but he didn't ask for any.

Temari's humble opinion was that if the two of them had a problem with each other, they could sort it out like mature shinobi.  "Otouto," she said to Gaara.  "Get me a bowl?"

Gaara thumped his head into her ribs and then pushed away to skulk towards the kitchen.  Temari eased her way over to Team Suzaku's table and sank down.  "Have they been like that for the past three days?" she asked in an undertone.

"Oh, yes," said Haku, wry, as Neji heaved a sigh.  "It's all very civil, of course."

"I'm surprised the captain's putting up with it," Temari commented, and added, "Thanks, otouto," to Gaara as he deposited a bowl and spoon in front of her and melted off to orbit Naruto's sunniness.  

"The captain is currently still in Uzushio," Neji explained.  "He had further business to conduct."

Temari narrowed her eyes.  "What business?"

"I don't know," Neji lied, lyingly, as he pointedly went back to his meal.  

Temari jabbed her spoon at him.  "You can't lie to me.  You know something," 

Neji scowled.  "I knew this would happen," said Haku, mild but with an undercurrent of mirth.  "Nishiki didn't think you would notice so quickly."

"She did not notice in the hospital," Neji argued. 

"I was barely lucid in the hospital," Temari pointed out.  "You should be glad I even recognized you.  Come on, spill -- what's got the captain off-site for so long?"

"You should just tell her," was Haku's opinion.  He nursed a cup of tea, his bowl already scraped clean.  "It won't be secret much longer."

"I do not know specific details," Neji said.  "I merely happened to...see a conversation to which I should not have been privy.  As it was."

"You were spying," Temari deadpanned.  

"Senju-sama told me to activate my doujutsu so she could check for signs of strain," Neji protested.  "My range has expanded significantly in the past year and she and the captain likely believed that he was out of my sight when he was talking to the commander."

"You eavesdropped," Temari corrected, and risked a glance across the room to make sure Shisui-sensei and Zabuza-sensei were still occupied with not talking to each other.

"Fine.  Yes.  Do not be so obvious," Neji hissed.  "Do you want the intel or do you not?"

"I always want the intel," said Temari, subsiding into her stew. 

Neji took a deliberate bite from his bowl, chewed, and swallowed.  "We are preparing to initiate large-scale operations on the Mainland."

Temari waited.  Neji didn't elaborate.  "That's it?" she said.  "That's all we've been doing for the past six months."

Haku cleared his throat slightly.  "It seems like the plans are a lot more immediate," he said, and faster than the eye could see, flicked an ice pebble into Neji's bowl.

Neji stared at the ice pebble and levered the same look at Haku.  "There is a major mission in the planning stages.  It is time-sensitive and will be launched in the next three weeks.  The captain will be intimately involved."

"He's going on this mission?" Temari said, skeptical.  "He's the commanding officer of Hana-ha on Kirigakure's main island, I didn't know he was allowed to take missions on the Mainland."

"He will go on this one," said Neji as Haku shrugged bemused agreement.  "Nara-taishou will transfer over here temporarily while the captain is occupied."

"Thought the commander was more of a behind the scenes kind of guy," Temari mused.  "He keeps his identity even more of a secret than the captain does."  And the captain never went anywhere except as his masked Raijuu cover.

"The last time Hatake-san was on the Mainland was just after the Kiri Civil War ended," said Haku.  "That was last year.  This mission is important enough that he's going anyway."

He was right.  Temari's mind jumped to the obvious conclusion: just as the captain had left Tetsu before the rest of them to begin gathering the troops, he now would forge ahead in preparation for the invasion of Konohagakure.  The thought sent a lurch of dread down her spine. 

She hadn't seen the worst of the Kiri Civil War, the sensei had shielded her from that much.  She hadn't spent a month undercover in a starved city, hadn't been captured and tortured aboard a warship, but she did see battle.  Zabuza-sensei was the most active combatant of the sensei and used Team Suzaku when he could.  Temari, Neji, and Haku had seen the most action of the pack -- collectively, they'd seen the most bloodshed, fled the furthest under pursuit, and killed the most enemy nin.

But Temari had also watched blood bubble from the mouth of a teen who had taught her to play blackjack at their base camp the night before, had pressed helpless hands to an unknown shinobi's throat wound until his last breath slipped between her fingers, had seen a kunoichi drag herself across the ground and leave behind a trail of charred, mangled flesh after losing both legs to an exploding tag.  Temari knew death intimately, had seen the eyes of the dying, had witnessed their last emotions: fear, most commonly; anger, those who never stopped fighting; peace, those who were relieved to stop.  She didn't want to think about which one she would be.

Shinobi were weapons destined for the battlefield.  She was a kunoichi; she had no illusions that her life would be surrounded by death and killing until the day she herself was killed.  That was her duty, her choice, her life.  But war?

Temari couldn't admit it to the rest of the pack, not when they needed her to be their pillar, but she didn't want to go back to war.

"Do you think Zabuza-sensei got briefed on this?" Temari asked.

"He knows something," Haku said.  "Juuta-sensei hasn't been briefed, because he's refused to engage Zabuza-san after he accused Juuta-sensei of purposely endangering you after we found you in the marketplace on our way to base camp."

Temari didn't ask how they'd found her.  With Neji present, it was obvious.  "So they're not talking and they're not updating each other.  They do know that if the captain comes back and finds out they're doing this, he'll do the thing where he gets very quiet and then maybe kicks their asses?"

Both of her teammates frowned at her language.  "They will likely resolve the situation before that happens," said Neji.  

"Once that happens they'll brief the rest of us," Haku added.  "Three days have passed; I don't imagine they'll keep it up much longer."

As one, all three of them turned to look at Zabuza-sensei and Shisui-sensei again.  Shisui-sensei's mouth flattened when he noticed their attention.  Zabuza-sensei's scowl deepened.  

"One of them's going to have to give," Temari observed.  

"Zabuza-san likely won't," Haku said, resigned.  "He doesn't like conceding anything."

"I have never seen Juuta-sensei with this level of irritation for such a lengthy duration," Neji said.  "I find it unlikely that he will make the first move in this instance." 

"Well," Temari said.  "Chances are they'll either wake up one day and pretend this never happened, or go to a training ground and beat the living daylights out of each other."

Whichever of those happened, it happened at night when there were no witnesses.   Temari woke up the next morning in the middle of the puppy pile on the floor of the den, having been bullied there the previous night by a combination of Hinata and Hanabi's pitiful looks and Naruto's whining.  She eased out from under Haku's arm, careful not to disrupt Neji on her other side, or Gaara curled up near her head, and padded out to the library's main room.

Shisui-sensei and Zabuza-sensei silenced themselves abruptly and looked up from where they sat together at a table near the windows, a pot of tea and two teacups between them.  

"Morning," said Temari, blinking at them.

"Reiha-chan, what are you doing up?" Shisui-sensei asked, rising to his feet.  "Sleep more, you need your rest." 

"I thought I'd start breakfast," Temari said.  "I napped through most of yesterday."

Zabuza-sensei snorted.  "Sit your ass down.  You're not making breakfast."

Temari eyed him warily.  "You're not cooking, are you, Sensei?"  There was a very good reason he didn't cook -- he didn't.  Last time he'd just sliced up a fish fresh out of the water and called it sashimi.  Which, technically, it was, but it wasn’t exactly cooking. 

"No," said Zabuza-sensei smugly.  "Konoha's cooking."

"I wouldn't inflict that on you, Reiha-chan," Shisui-sensei assured her.  He patted her head as he passed.  "Sit."

"So," said Temari, settling herself down across from Zabuza-sensei.  "What were you and Juuta-sensei talking about?  It looked serious."

"What did I tell you about thinking, princess?" Zabuza-sensei shot back.  "Don't worry about it."

"I'm glad you two aren't fighting anymore," she said.  "Very mature, I'm proud."

He glowered.  "I shoulda let that little wretch cave your skull in."

"You would never," Temari said cheerfully.  

Gaara drifted out of the den, probably due to boredom more than any real desire for human company.  His hair stuck up in unruly tufts and if anything, it appeared the shadows ringing his eyes had darkened.  He and Zabuza-sensei traded identical guarded looks before Gaara turned to bury his face in Temari's shoulder.  "Hi, you," she said, combing her fingers into his hair.

"Kill them," Gaara muttered. 

"No," said Temari patiently as Zabuza-sensei snorted a laugh.  "We've talked about this.  Don't kill them."

Gaara scowled mutinously.  "Kill enemies.  You said it's okay."

Zabuza-sensei raised a sardonic eyebrow as she grimaced.  "They're not enemies," she said.  

Neither of them looked particularly impressed by this.

Temari sighed.  "You're not helping," she complained at Zabuza-sensei, who shrugged.  "Otouto, remember what we said about how killing a problem can make ten more problems later on?"

"They won't find the bodies," Gaara argued.  He paused.  "No bodies," he said meaningfully.

Temari grimaced.  "Yeah, I don't need an heiress slushy, but thanks for offering.  Leave it alone, otouto, it's not worth the effort."

Gaara pulled away without comment, his version of sulking, though his expression didn't so much as twitch.  

"You got bigger problems to worry about," Zabuza-sensei said idly.

Temari zeroed back in on him.  "Like what?"

Zabuza-sensei flashed his teeth.  "Wouldn't you like to know?  Hey, midget, go help Konoha with the food." 

Temari sighed.  Gaara glared at Zabuza-sensei but ambled off anyway.  

Haku emerged from the den, brushing his hair as he went.  "Reiha-san, you're up.  Good morning, Zabuza-san."

"Hey, Ichika," Temari greeted.  

"Konoha needs a hand in the kitchen, kid," drawled Zabuza-sensei, and Haku turned on his heel without a word.  

Temari made a face.  "They can't fit many more of them in that kitchen."

"Sounds like a 'them' problem," Zabuza-sensei said, and threw back his tea like it was a shot.  And then, "Ah, shit."

That last part was a knee-jerk reaction to Naruto tripping out of the den.  He flailed and grabbed at the closest thing he could reach -- Sakura.  Naruto managed to stay on his feet.  With a dismayed yelp, Sakura did not.  

"Hm," was Temari's opinion.  Suddenly, she was tired again. 

Once Naruto was awake, it wasn't long before the rest of the pack roused, trickling into the library sleep-foggy or bright-eyed, depending on who they were.  Neji sidestepped the mess that was Team Byakko and picked his way over to Temari.  "Ohaiyou," he said automatically.  Hanabi, behind him, wandered around to sit next to Zabuza-sensei, and then Neji forced himself down next to Temari.

Zabuza-sensei eyed Hanabi warily.  She looked back up at him, her expression open and innocent.  "Child," Zabuza-sensei grunted at last.  Hanabi smiled sunnily.  "Ah, fu -- frick, where's your minder?"

"Preparing for the day, I imagine," said Hanabi.  "Neko-sensei has a frightfully long list of topics to go through with her Second.  She said we may not return until dinner."

"Ah," said Zabuza-sensei, still looking like he thought she might bite him.  "Great.  Off you go."

Hanabi, an agreeable kid, picked herself right back up and skipped back towards the senseis' rooms.  

Zabuza cut a glare at Neji.  "Cut that out," he snapped.

"I have no idea as to what you are referring to, Sensei," Neji said, bland.

"I can't believe you're afraid of little kids," Temari added.  "If I wanted to defeat you, I'd just throw a baby at you."

"I'm not scared of shit," Zabuza-sensei retorted, glowering, but it was a bluff.   He actually had no idea how to reasonably interact with anyone under the age of ten -- and it showed, which was amusing and half the reason Neji subtly encouraged Hanabi to tag along with him.  Zabuza-sensei rather thought of them like barnacles -- let them hang around while they're young and harmless and next thing you knew they'd grown on you and weighed you down and eaten away at your defenses.  Terrifying to think about, actually, she could kind of see his point of view.  

"Hey, food!" Shisui-sensei called from the kitchen, breaking up the Team Byakko squabble that Hinata had somehow gotten tangled in on her way out.  

Team Byakko's members were all highly food-motivated.   They left Hinata drifting in their wake as they gravitated towards the promise of something to eat.  

Temari had no desire to join the fray.  She rested her chin in her hand and watched, less judgmentally than Zabuza-sensei but with more indulgence than Neji.  Sasuke escaped first, four small bowls balanced precariously in his hands as he ducked out of the doorway.  Temari watched with interest as Sasuke veered right for their table.  

"Here," he said, deposited the bowls in front of her, and produced a pair of chopsticks before turning on his heel.  

Oh.  "Thanks, Shieru-kun," she said to his back, bemused.  

Zabuza-sensei leaned over, eyeing the meat and tofu bowl meaningfully.

Temari transferred a bite of said dish to her rice and took a bite.  "Juuta-sensei'll mangle you if you steal my food while I'm injured," she pointed out.

"As if he could," Zabuza-sensei snapped, but leaned back anyways.  "Kami, I can smell the spice in that from here."

"It's not comfort food unless it's hot," Temari said. 

Neji, whose preferred spice level was white, made an almost-impolite noise of disagreement in his throat.  

"The fuck do you need comfort food for," grumbled Zabuza-sensei, who absolutely loathed Temari's curries for no good reason.  

"It's been a while since I made green curry," Temari mused aloud.  It was a threat.

Zabuza-sensei narrowed his eyes.

"I went ahead and grabbed enough for all of us," said Haku, setting down a tray stacked with bowls.  He had senses acutely attuned to detect hostility and a penchant for defusing it.  He passed the bowls across the table.  "Reiha-san, I'm glad you're looking better."

"Loads," Temari agreed.  "Could go for a good spar, actually."

"No!" Sakura snapped from halfway across the room, and glared at her when they all turned around.  

"I'm not going to, relax," Temari placated, rubbing at her forehead.  Zabuza-sensei didn't bother trying to hide his smirk.  

Breakfast trickled past quickly, as it always did when there was so much to do -- or not do, in Temari's case.  Neji didn't let her return her own dishes to the kitchen, which was both thoughtful and kind of grating.  

"I'm going to be stuck here all day anyways," she complained at his back as he, predictably, ignored her. 

Shisui-sensei clapped his hands together.  "All right, kids," he called.  "Your Zabuza-sensei and I have some news before we get started today."

Naruto's head swung around, Sakura mirroring him curiously.  Temari shot Zabuza-sensei a betrayed look as he rose.  She should have kept pressing him.

Zabuza-sensei didn't look particularly pleased or smug though.  He glowered, arms crossed over his broad chest as he planted himself next to Shisui-sensei.  "I'll get to the point," he said.  "You're all disappointments."

Only Shisui-sensei rolling his eye behind him took the sting out of that.  "That's not the point you're supposed to get to," he muttered under his breath.

Zabuza-sensei didn't pay any mind to him.  "There's a reason none of you have been promoted and that's because you're all fucking idiots with no foresight," Zabuza-sensei growled, which, okay, Temari at least might have deserved that much.  

Behind his shoulder, Shisui-sensei radiated patient aggravation.

"You don't get to do that anymore, so step the fuck up.  You all got a mission you're gonna be prepping for," Zabuza-sensei went on.  "Hatake's running point.  It's the kind of mission that if you fuck it up, you may as well kill yourself and save everyone else the trouble."

This was taking a weird turn.  She shot a glance at Neji, but he look just as inscrutably confused as she felt.  Neji'd said it was the captain's mission, so she'd expected them to be impacted secondhand if at all, but now -- he was bringing genin on this mission?  Them?  

"Konohagakure's hosting the Chuunin Exams in a month," announced Zabuza-sensei.  "Good luck -- the nine of you are going." 

Chapter Text

OPERATION: HIGURE

MISSION REPORT

Akatsuki member profile: Hidan

Alias: one half of the Zombie Pair

Origin: Yugakure

Partner: Kakuzu

Combat: Strongly favours triple-bladed scythe bukijutsu.  Able to survive fatal injuries and is functionally immortal: cannot be killed by physical means.  Employs a blood curse using a target’s blood; any damage taken by Hidan is likewise inflicted on the target.  Brute force melee fighter; very little strategic prowess.  

Notes: Likely insane; possibly delusional.  Regularly inflicts mortal injuries on himself.  Accelerated healing factor.  Talkative -- avenue of information but generally uninterested in the mission of Akatsuki.  

Motivation: Maximal death and destruction -- deeply religious follower of Jashinism.  

Current location: Akatsuki satellite base, Kawa no Kuni.

Observations: Kisame is the principal operative most in concordance with Akatsuki’s mission statement thus far of those encountered.  Other members seem to associate with the organization because it facilitates pursuit of their personal goals -- for Kakuzu, management of vast amounts of money; for Hidan, resources and opportunity to access victims for religious rites.  Akatsuki’s home base is purportedly located in Ame no Kuni.  There has not been a full gathering of Akatsuki’s principal operatives, at the home base or otherwise, in at least eight months.

END REPORT

D.C.O. Ikiryou

The outpost built atop Uzushiogakure's ruins was an eerie thing to the superstitious sort.  Kiri's forces had decimated the Village, then left the remains to rot or burn.  Uzushiogakure's shinobi lay calcified in collapsed tunnels, her walls scarred and crumbling.  Her secrets had died with her defenders.  

It was an island that did not like Kiri shinobi.  

Nonsense.  The island wasn't alive; it didn't like or dislike anyone.  

You could sacrifice your soul to the Shinigami to borrow a little of its power.  You could seal a demon into a teapot and trap it there for years.  You could make a blood contract with animal spirits by stepping through the fabric between your world and theirs.  Maybe it wasn't strictly the island itself, just its guardian spirit or some remnant of the near-mystical seals the Uzushio shinobi had designed and carved into its very foundation, but it was just easier in the face of that uncertainty to blame it on the island.  

So, fine: the island could like or dislike people, and it disliked the Kiri shinobi.  All Kiri shinobi.

What was Kakashi supposed to do about it?  

Something, apparently.  

"Incident fourteen: a genin team working to fortify a warehouse to be converted into housing reported a, quote, 'sudden episode of extreme disorientation' and passed out, then found themselves half-buried in the basement four hours later." The kunoichi glanced up.  "You can see why this concerns me, Raijuu-san."

"Kirameki-san," Kakashi began, then paused.  "I'm sure you're not accusing my shinobi of anything."

Kirameki grimaced like she was going to bare her teeth but thought better of it.  "I'm well aware that you have your shinobi in hand.  This is a proposal."

Behind his porcelain mask, Kakashi raised an eyebrow.  "What exactly is your proposal, Kirameki-san?"

"Your shinobi are... unaffected," Kirameki pointed out.  "I propose a joint venture."

"Mizukage-sama assured us that we would have no interference in how we run our outpost, captain," Kakashi said mildly.  "My shinobi stay to our side of the base and run our own missions, and yours to your own.  Our forces stationed at the Main Island are the ones available to take missions."

Kirameki eyed him stonily, blue hair dark against her pale flak jacket.  "I wouldn't call it a mission."

"Because for a mission, my shinobi would be paid," Kakashi supplied.  

The kunoichi looked even less happy about it than he did, which was a feat.  "Mizukage-sama won't approve a mission just to chase ghosts," Kirameki said, low.  "Something out there is targeting my men and women, and it's escalating.  I have a duty to stop it."

"That's admirable, Kirameki-san," Kakashi said, "but if your Academy teachers thought Leaf-nin were soft because they gave charity, they didn't take into consideration that Konohagakure is still a shinobi Village."

Kirameki was silent.  "I don't believe that."  She glanced at him.   "Your shinobi are not soft."

"Then you have something you're willing to offer," Kakashi surmised. 

"Your shinobi will split the mission fees with mine until the root problem is neutralized," said Kirameki.  She hesitated for a split second and added, with palpable reluctance, "and I would personally consider it a great favour if you participated in finding that root."

"With you," Kakashi clarified.  "You want my shinobi to run escort with yours, and you want me to help you find out what's causing it all.  As a personal favour."

Kirameki's face smoothed into unreadable ice.  "I'm sure you know what that's worth."

Kakashi hated politics, but he did know how to play.  "If you expect me to go ghost hunting with you, it'll have to be during off-duty hours," he warned.  

"You're never off duty," Kirameki said bluntly, shooting him a commiserating glance before apparently remembering that he wasn't Kiri.  

That was also true.  Unfortunately.  "It'll be during a night shift," he said.

"Done," said Kirameki immediately.  "Raijuu-san, I will be in your debt."  She rose to her feet.  

"One more thing, Kirameki-san," Kakashi said as she turned to go.  She paused, a guarded look in narrowed eyes.  "What will you be telling your shinobi to explain why mine are not affected by these...incidents?"

Kirameki didn't quite relax, but she wasn't surprised by the question.  "They'll be told that it's because their ancestors didn't take part in the sack of Uzushiogakure.  The North seized the moment when the Mizukage's attention was diverted to launch a minor revolt -- their shinobi took no part in that operation."

Kakashi sat back, considering the Kiri captain.  "I'm sensing some distaste, Kirameki-san.  I thought Kiri considered their conquests a symbol of their power."

"Conquests," Kirameki agreed.  "The strong conquer and defend.  Killing children and noncombatants is the ambition of the weak.  The raze of Uzushiogakure was the disgrace of an insecure man."

"I haven't heard that perspective before," noted Kakashi.

The corners of Kirameki's mouth curved into a close-lipped smile.  "It sounds like you've been talking to men," she said, and vanished out the door.

Kunoichi didn't make jounin often in Kirigakure.  When they did, it was very clear why they had.

A narrow muzzle stopped the door before it shut entirely.  A wolfish silhouette nosed its way in, and Kakashi ignored it in favour of picking up the report he'd abandoned when Kirameki had dropped by.  It was incredibly dry, something to do with how food rationing would be changed by --

"Ack," said Kakashi when Urushi reared up to shove his entire upper body in Kakashi's lap.  Through the eyeholes of his mask, he saw a wall of fur and nothing else. 

For as long as he had known Urushi, he'd been way too big to consider a lap dog in any sense of the word.  That never stopped him from trying.

"We've discussed this," Kakashi said, muffled.  With reluctance and irreverent trampling of Kakashi's more sensitive parts, Urushi subsided.  "Was she followed?"

Urushi grumbled a negative deep in his throat and rested just his head on Kakashi's leg.

The outpost on Uzushio was a strange thing in its own right. The Hana-ha side of the outpost wasn't paradise, but it did have all the amicability of its Konoha-born residents.  An invisible line separated them from the Kiri outpost, which itself was again divided into ex-loyalists and former Hanran, and even further by the shifting power bases in each.  It was all aggressively civil.  

The Kiri captain had risked a lot asking for his help.  She was a war hero now to half of her people, a marked target to the other.  Plenty in either camp watched her and anticipated her fall in her handling of the ghost situation, and a transaction like this was a golden opportunity for anyone looking for it.  

Kakashi wasn't meant for politics.  If he were never in charge of anything larger than a squad again, he'd be perfectly fine.

Kakashi drummed his fingers idly on the thick, velvety fur between Urushi's ears.  The ninken's head lay warm and heavy, and his ears pricked moments before Kakashi heard the footsteps himself.

"Commander," Kakashi greeted, straightfaced, as the door opened.   

Shikaku very nearly rolled his eyes.  "Commander."

Urushi peeled back the corner of his mouth in a silent warning snarl.  Kakashi poked his ear with a lazy finger, but Urushi ignored him, watching Shikaku with a golden eye.  Urushi didn't like him because he drank with Kakashi, and the ninken hated the smell.  Shikaku took it in stride because he had no intention of stopping.  

"Ready?" Kakashi asked, tossing his file to the table.

"To die?" Shikaku said with very little irony.  "Komorebi has my will."

Kakashi wasn't very good at pep talks.  He gave it a shot anyway.  "Tsunade-hime already heard the proposal, so it won't come as a surprise to her."

Shikaku sighed.  "She bit our heads off," he said gloomily.  "She yelled for an hour and kicked you through three walls."

Kakashi bit back a wince at the reminder -- he still had the bruises to show for it.  "She didn't lapse," he pointed out. 

Shikaku paused, tipping his chin down.  "She didn't lapse," he repeated absently.

"She's giving us a chance to explain this time," Kakashi added.  "She's open to the concept of the mission."

"She's giving her commanders the 'opportunity to explain at which point they lost their damn minds' before she harvests us for blood transfusions and organ transplants and dumps what's left in the bay for the sharks," Shikaku sighed.

Kakashi eyed the older man critically.  "Have you been drinking?"

Shikaku reached into his cloak instead of answering, producing a flask and setting it down on the desk between them.  "Want to?" he offered, bleak, as Urushi rumbled his displeasure in his chest.  

Kakashi gave it and then Shikaku a flat stare.  "Drink.  Before our defense with Tsunade-hime," he said, dry.

"Probably not," Shikaku agreed reluctantly. He tipped his head back to regard Kakashi's borrowed office's ceiling with dull resignation.  "This is a terrible plan."

"This is fifty percent your plan," said Kakashi.  "You're a genius, aren't you?"

"We have a fifty percent chance of death," said Shikaku optimistically, and slid his porcelain bird-mask down over his face.

Apparently, it wouldn't reflect well on Kakashi's reputation to bring an emotional support ninken with him while he and Shikaku got dressed down for the sheer improbability of their plan.  Urushi didn't follow them into Tsunade's office, on the second floor of the field hospital.  He sprawled outside instead, his bulk blocking off the doorway entirely as he lowered his head to rest on his forepaws.  

Across the hall, Genma chewed on a senbon as he leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets.  He eyed them with pity and no envy whatsoever and shot them a lazy salute.  "You do know she can't afford to kill both of you?"

"She hits me harder," Kakashi said at the same time Shikaku said, "She likes him better."

Kakashi gave Shikaku a dull, one-eyed glare.  Shikaku sighed and dragged a hand down the side of his masked face.  Genma grinned at them, but it came out more like a grimace.  "You'll be fine," he told them unconvincingly.

Kakashi exchanged a grim look with Shikaku.  Shikaku sighed again silently and pivoted to rap sharply on the door.

"Enter," Tsunade barked from inside.  

Tsunade had overseen the design and construction of this hospital herself, and she was the reason it looked like a place of healing instead of storage for the dying.  Sunlight spilled into her office from the windows, illuminating what should have been stacks of papers on her desk but was actually just the bare surface of her desk because certain other someone had taken precautions knowing that she had summoned Kakashi and Shikaku to her. 

Kakashi came to attention smartly before the desk as Shikaku did the same on his other side.  "Tsunade-sama."

"Nara," Tsunade said, curt.  "Hatake."

"Not Hatake," Kakashi said automatically without thinking, and then, "I apologise, sir," when amber eyes narrowed furiously at the interruption.

The invisible pressure didn't lessen in the wake of her silence.  "You," she said at last, dangerously soft, "are supposed to be my top shinobi.  My strategists.  My commanders.  Is this true?"

There was only one correct answer.  "Hai, Tsunade-sama."

"So tell me," Tsunade snapped.  "Why have my highly intelligent commanders have decided to use a plan where they openly attend Konoha's Chuunin Exams with nine children, three of which are highly sought after by Danzou, two of which are the Kazekage's children, and two of which are jinchuuriki?"  Her voice rose as she spoke and she punctuated the question by slamming her palm down on the desk in front of her.  It cracked, fine fissures spiderwebbing across the surface.

"I wouldn't be attending," Shikaku was quick to point out.

"We need the intel," Kakashi stepped in before Shikaku could keep throwing him under the carriage.  "The sources we had inside the Village have gone quiet, and we agreed that Hanabi-ha is recovered enough to move to the next phase.  The genin are our ticket in, and Danzou won't make an overt move against me if I'm there under Kiri's protection."

"Provide him with an incentive and he will," Tsunade retorted.  "The second he figures out their identities, he will not stop until he has them -- and you'll have delivered them right to his doorstep."

"The last thing Danzou will expect me to do is bring three of the Lost Four with me, back into Konoha," Kakashi pointed out.

"Because you'd have to be an idiot to do that," snapped Tsunade.  If he hadn't helped with this plan himself, Kakashi would have agreed with her.

"Team Genbu has proven their intel and infiltration abilities already," Shikaku said.  "The information they gathered during the siege of the Lower City last spring was invaluable for the planning process."

"They're targets and you plan to walk them straight into the lion's den, where the lion is specifically looking for that girl,” Tsunade growled.  Her fist clenched against the table, her knuckles white, and Kakashi valiantly didn't stare.  

"They're genin; they give us a reason to get inside Konohagakure.  They won't be watched as closely as any adult, and they're capable," Kakashi defended.  "Team Genbu is our best-trained genin team specializing in infiltration, and Team Suzaku are around the right age for competitive entrants."

"Preliminary preparations for an infiltration mission of this variety have been underway for nine months," Shikaku added.  

Amber eyes darted to pin Shikaku with a cold stare.  "What preparations?" she demanded, eyes narrowing dangerously.  "I was not informed of this."

"Cover identities," Kakashi intercepted smoothly.  He and Shikaku were getting good at covering each other's backs in terms of creative bullshitting.  "All of them have been training, and some of the kids have been developing cover identities as part of their independent research and study projects.  Juuta's operatives have been reporting that Konoha's borders are still closed to all outsiders -- the Chuunin Exams are the first time they're reopening internationally even in a limited capacity."

"It is the strategically safest opportunity to get operatives into both the country and the Village itself," Shikaku said.  "Barring this, it'll take months to get even one more operative embedded in Hi and with significantly higher risk."

"You cannot pin the future of this entire movement on the hope that nobody in Konoha will recognize the Lost Four," Tsunade fired back.  "We lose them and you and Hanabi-ha will never return to Konohagakure except as prisoners."

"It isn't hope," Kakashi said, which he recognized might sound like the gushings of an overly sentimental jounin sensei.  "They're young, but they're competent shinobi."

"Team Genbu and Team Suzaku both have impressive wartime mission records," said Shikaku, cool and dispassionate.  "On that alone, these genin are qualified for the mission."

"Not Team Byakko," Tsunade was quick to point out his omission.  Her face was still stormy, her mouth pressed into a grim line, but her eyes were deep and thoughtful and clinical all at once.

"Team Byakko recorded mostly routine missions," Shikaku acknowledged.  "However, they have also run a small number of missions independent of a supervising officer, including their first, during which they were captured and subjected to enhanced interrogation.  They're more of a combat team than infiltration, but that is the type of team Villages typically send to joint Chuunin Exams."

Tsunade's gaze drifted.  Amber eyes contemplated Kakashi, all but ignoring Shikaku.  "You're a child of war," she mused, because she had been, too.  "You're quick to volunteer your genin."  Children of war grew up believing that the next generation should not have to lose their childhoods as they did. 

Kakashi believed that.  But some children were doomed to lose their innocence earlier than others, and he would not have the genin go out into the world defenseless, nor would he subject them to a long life always fleeing.  Maybe he was selfish, taking them into danger when he could hide them away and play it safe, but the children had chosen to stop running and fight eighteen months ago and he would not tell them to start again.  "Believe in them," said Kakashi instead.  "And believe in me."

Tsunade stared him down for a long moment.  "Tell me your plan," she said, her voice cold and hard.

Shikaku stepped forward, drawing her attention so Kakashi could take in a steadying breath.  "Here's the groundwork we're putting in place right now," he said, drawing a scroll from inside his flak jacket and flicking it open along the desk.  

Shikaku and Kakashi celebrated their lack of death and mutilation over Shikaku's flask while Urushi sulked about the smell from across the room, ears pinned flat against his skull.

"Kirameki stopped by earlier," Kakashi said, tipping his head back and letting the burn of alcohol sear its way down to his stomach. 

"Oh," Shikaku said bleakly.  "Her.  The one with the hauntings."

Kakashi eyed him suspiciously.  "You've been deflecting her," he accused.  

"Yes," Shikaku admitted shamelessly.  "I'm surprised it took her this long."  Kakashi gave the far wall a dull stare.  "You're of a higher rank than her, so she can argue she was coerced.  You're not stationed here, so there's a lower chance of interacting with you after her problem is resolved.  You're known to associate closely with Momochi, which implies you're open to working with Kiri-born and willing to trust them more than the average Hana-ha officer.  After your arrival, it was only a matter of time."  He took a long draw from the flask and passed it back to Kakashi.  "You can't be surprised."

"I'm not," agreed Kakashi, glum.  "I've seen the way she looks at me."

"Hm," said Shikaku with no sincerity.  "I was worried.  You're going back to Kirigakure in five days."

"Twenty-nine days to the Chuunin Exams," Kakashi agreed.  "I need to prep the teams."

"There's a lot to do here before you leave," Shikaku warned.  "Back to back planning sessions until the ship raises anchor."

Kakashi grimaced.  "I could cancel on Kirameki," he said.

"You could," Shikaku said.  They both knew he wouldn't.  Kiri nin held incredible grudges.  "I'll allocate a couple squadrons for escort duty -- Jounin Anzai can coordinate.  Komorebi's Unit 14."  Technically, none of the units officially stationed on Uzushiogakure were under Kakashi’s direct command.

"Right," said Kakashi, reaching for a pen and paper.  "I'll notify Kirameki that she should contact Anzai directly.  Urushi, run this message to her."

Urushi bared his teeth but heaved himself to his feet.  He inched over to the desk, nose wrinkled, and took the proffered note delicately.  Once he had it in his jaws he whisked away in a flash of fur, about as fast as he could without a shunshin. Really, Kakashi was doing him a favour, giving him an excuse to leave the room.   

That didn't stop the ninken from pointedly ignoring him when Kakashi finally left the temporary office for the night, the pleasantly warm buzz of alcohol numbing the breeze sweeping in from the sea.  Kakashi didn't bother trying to talk to him -- not while his breath still stank of alcohol.  He'd get over it, either on his own or when Kakashi found a nice steak for him. 

His steps took him to the private quarters for Hana-ha's highest ranking shinobi in a former furniture store.  If not for the creeping mold in some of the corners and the massive chunk of floor and wall missing from the northern face of the building, one could easily picture the elegance of its prime.  

Urushi's ears pricked.  Kakashi tilted his head up as a familiar scent caught his attention.  Urushi picked up his place to a loping trot, rearing up to open the door before Kakashi.

"Pakkun," said Kakashi, shutting the door behind him.

Pakkun sat up from where he'd curled on Kakashi's pillow and said, "Hey, boss." 

Urushi's tail whipped back and forth, tightly contained, and he shoved his muzzle in Pakkun's space to give him a good sniff.  Pakkun tolerated it, but pushed at Urushi's nose with one paw when the bigger ninken nudged him a little too enthusiastically.  

Kakashi hooked the mask off his face and tossed it to the desk.  "Did you have to use my pillow?"

"Your blankets are scratchy," Pakkun informed him.  He paused, and pointedly covered his nose with a paw.  "And you deserve it," he added.

"It was just a drink," Kakashi muttered, peeling out of his armour.

Urushi whuffed.  "Four," he corrected, an annoyed slant to his eyes. 

Kakashi glared at the betrayal.  Pakkun said, "Four drinks.  You realize you have a Command briefing at 0600 tomorrow?"

"No," Kakashi said automatically.  "I have the intel session at 1000 -- oh."  He stared bleakly at the missive on his desk.

"A messenger brought that about ten minutes ago," Pakkun supplied helpfully.  "What's the big news?"

"Tsunade-hime approved Operation Teikoku," Kakashi said, checking the back of the paper for any additional notes.  "She's not wasting any time."

Pakkun eyed him thoughtfully.  "That one's a gamble," he noted.  "I didn't think she would."

"Our options are limited."  Kakashi didn't need to think for this conversation, they'd run through it so many times it was like a path trodden in the grass.  "Too long and the lack of momentum turns against us."

Urushi snorted, swinging his head around to give Kakashi an inpatient look.  "Pups.  Too young."

"He's right," Pakkun agreed.  "The pups are a wild card.  There's no telling how they'll react to being back in Konoha.  Hinging the success of the mission on them is daring."

Kakashi picked up Pakkun, swinging him into the crook of his arm as he pulled the blankets back.  "I'm not worried about them," he lied.  Pakkun squirmed; he let the ninken wriggle free and nestle himself in the join of Kakashi's neck and shoulder.

Urushi looped around to the door, and after careful scrutiny, circled back to the bed.  He leapt up in a bound, stepping on blankets and Kakashi alike as he turned.  

"This is my bed," Kakashi complained as Urushi's massive paw jabbed into his ribs.  Urushi rumbled, amused, settling to sprawl alongside Kakashi with his head resting on Kakashi's chest.  

"What's yours is ours," Pakkun reminded drowsily.  

"Hey," Kakashi said suddenly, jolting himself from the half-asleep haze that had already drifted over him.  "Who's keeping watch?"

Pakkun grumbled.  "Shiba.  We're covered, go to sleep."

Shiba was here?  That was news to Kakashi; the ninken was supposed to be across the continent in Kaze no Kuni.  Kakashi should probably go --

Urushi growled without opening his eyes.  "Nope," Pakkun agreed.  "He napped all afternoon, he's fine.  Sleep now, find Shiba later."

As it turned out, Kakashi didn't need to find Shiba.  A warm weight on his stomach vibrated faintly as he drifted back to awareness and he shoved at it with one hand as he cracked his eye open.  Instead of Urushi's faintly snoring muzzle, he found himself face to face with wide amber eyes, his hand buried in longer, silkier fur as Shiba's tail beat a wild tattoo in rising excitement.  "Shiba," he said groggily.  

"Kakashi!" Shiba yelped, and took that as an invitation to launch himself forward and thoroughly lave Kakashi's face with his tongue, high-pitched whines escaping from behind his teeth.

"Oof." Kakashi gave up trying to push the ninken away.  He didn't need to say,  Good to see you too.   He scrubbed a fond hand over Shiba's ears, reassuring them both with the warmth of his skin against Shiba's.  

"I missed you," Shiba said cheerfully, his tail whacking Pakkun over the head twice a second. 

Pakkun grumbled at the disturbance, tucking himself into a tighter curl.  "Go outside if you're going to be loud."

"This is my bed," Kakashi reminded him again, uselessly, and pushed Shiba off so he could sit up.  Pakkun immediately claimed his vacated pillow and snuggled down. 

Shiba leapt to the ground readily, hopping back and forth in short pounces as Kakashi found his feet.  "Do you have food?" the ninken asked hopefully.  "I'm hungry."

"Hi hungry, I'm Kakashi," Kakashi muttered, shrugging into his flak jacket.  

Shiba's tail drooped.  Pakkun raised his head to give Kakashi a pitying look and said, "This must be what it's like watching a flower shrivel up and die."

Kakashi didn't need to stick around and listen to insolent ninken disparage him.  "I'm getting food," he said instead.  "Stay."

Pakkun wouldn't have gone anyways.  He was lazy and not nearly as food-motivated as Shiba.  Shiba visibly considered tagging along anyways before a stern look from Kakashi made him subside into the blankets.

Kakashi eyed said blankets wistfully.  Maybe he could make Urushi pack leader and then he would have to go fetch the food instead.   But the wolflike ninken would probably make them all do midnight hunts and eat their prey raw.  There was really no winning for Kakashi.

Kakashi hadn't had much sense of what time Shiba had woken him, and when he stepped out, squinting away the sleep behind his cat-mask, he was resigned to see the glow from the yet-to-rise sun only just illuminating the horizon.  Even this early, however, the outpost was active.  Guard teams patrolled the streets, and others scattered out atop the surface of the ocean to bring in the first haul of fish.  

The haunting reminders of Uzushiogakure's former beauty followed Kakashi as he made his way through the streets: smooth white stones intermixed with the dull gravel that they'd spread on the broken surfaces, patches of golden sandstone peeking between pitted and scorched walls, an arched roof swallowed by the scaffolding keeping the structure standing.  He could see the echoes of the Village in which Kushina had grown up, and not for the first time wondered if Konohagakure, like this city, had nothing brighter to look forward to than a patchwork fix.  

Civil war broke something wherever it happened -- trust, people, nations.  The moment Kakashi had chosen to flee with the Sandaime Hokage's Seal and dying decree, he had ripped a chasm between all who called themselves shinobi of Konoha.  Now, they were a rogue nation, and he knew that in the eyes of many Konohans, he would always be a traitor.  That wasn't something that going back would fix.  Comrades would kill each other on the battlefield when Kakashi brought them home -- and then, they would be forced to live side by side with the killers of their comrades.  

Kiri was a good example of the damage it did to a Village.  Even those shinobi stationed on Uzushio, though much less combative than those still on the Main island, wore scars both visible and invisible.  Though the Kiri garrison’s half of the island had been no less decrepit than the Hanabi-ha side at the end of the Civil War, their internal animosity reflected in the lack of progress in repairing and rebuilding compared to the Hana-ha’s sweeping restorations.

Hanabi-ha's mess hall used to be a seafood storage warehouse, and decades later had it never quite lost the aroma of salted fish.  Breakfast wouldn't be served for another couple of hours, and so the massive dining area yawned silently before him as Kakashi made his way down the center aisle to the warm glow of the kitchen doors.   

The shinobi perched on the wall stirring a massive vat of fish stew didn't bother glancing up when Kakashi pushed through into the kitchen.   Stark lighting reflected harshly off metal equipment, and Kakashi sidestepped neatly to avoid a harried genin hauling a sack of potatoes.  Pre-dawn, the kitchen crew was already in full swing. 

He wove his way through the maze of the kitchen, nominally ignored apart from the occasional salute or nod, until he reached the cold-room in the back.  A short, wiry kunoichi guarded the doorway with a thunderous glare.

Kakashi nodded a greeting.  "Quartermaster."

The Quartermaster scowled up at him, hands planted on her hips.  "Again?" she demanded.  "Can't go for a carrot or something this time?

"Dogs are carnivores," Kakashi said in explanation.  There was nothing any of them could do about that.  They both knew that if she denied him, he would go out and hunt down meat himself without any retaliation against her.  They also both knew that it would cut into Kakashi's time and energy when he already had none left to spend.

The Quartermaster huffed.  "Wait here, sir," she said,  and stumped back into the cold-room.  She returned with a large metal bucket of chopped beef shanks and trotters, which she handed over without fanfare.  “There’s a good amount of meat in there,” she said, and gave him a considering look instead of bustling back off to ride herd on the kitchen.

Kakashi paused.  The Quartermaster was the type of person who, when she wanted to say something, she would do it without invitation, regardless of his rank.  And she did.

“Rumor has it you picked up a genin team,” she said, squinting at him.  “Heard they’re young.  Real young.”  

For a split second, Kakashi ran through the kunoichi’s personnel file in his mind -- what he knew of her was sparse but with no obvious red flags.  There were too many battles and too many shinobi for him to keep track of them all.  “Where did you hear that?” he asked mildly.  

The Quartermaster gave him a droll look.  "This is the mess hall," she said.  "Rumor spreads the fastest here."

Kakashi didn't concede.  "Who did you hear that from?"

The kunoichi sighed.  Kakashi realized suddenly that she was the same age his father would be. 

"I was stationed on the base at Gull Hill when it was sacked.  That night, I ran into the youngest genin I have ever seen in Hanabi-ha.  Too young to have been genin in Konoha before the Fall, else I'd've known them on sight."  She glanced at him, lips pursed.  "I won't say any more on this, taishou, and not to anyone else either.  Just keep those kids safe."

Kakashi made a note to look into her later.  He nodded at her, took his bucket of meat bones, and left with far more on his mind than when he'd come. 

Shiba noticed his distraction as soon as he stepped through the door, pricked ears drooping when he caught sight of him.  Urushi swung his head around, nose rising at the scent of meat, but then he too noticed and pinned his ears flat. Pakkun, comparatively, stretched his jaws wide in a yawn and said, "What's on your mind, Kakashi?"

"Danger?" Urushi asked, craning his head to squint at the closed door.

Kakashi shook his head.  "Not now," he said.  "It might not be an issue."  But it might.  "It's the genin."

Shiba's head popped up so fast he may as well have been a gopher in his past life instead of a dog.  "The pups?" he demanded, high pitched.  "What happened to them?"

Urushi shoulder-checked the younger ninken, sending him stumbling forward in a sprawl of limbs.  "Nothing.   Listen first, then ask," he scolded. 

Shiba flashed the tiniest hint of fang.  Urushi took offense.  

"They're getting more attention from the rest of the shinobi now," Kakashi said, ignoring the burgeoning scuffle.  "Once someone who isn't discreet enough figures it out and spreads it to the rest, we'll lose an advantage."

As good as shinobi were at keeping secrets, they were equally good at discovering them.

"Get the pups to the Chuunin Exams first," Pakkun suggested, resting his head on his paws.  "If they lose their cover there, there's no point in hiding them anyways."

"True," said Kakashi, and frowned behind his mask.  "Come down off of there.  You're not eating these on my bed."

The moon was beautiful and bright, hanging low over the ocean waves, and Kakashi wanted with every fiber in his body to find his sleeping roll and enter a five hour coma.  Instead, he was in full Raijuu regalia, which was basically cobbled-together Konohan Anbu armour and a cloak from San trimmed in fur, because apparently the Kiri shinobi were being haunted by the sins of their ancestors and also by ghosts.  He waited at the end of a pier, looking very intimidating and vaguely otherworldly with Urushi by his side as he stared out over the rolling waves and thought very hard about how he could be sleeping right now. 

Fortunately for Kirameki, she was on time.  She strode up briskly, her katana slung over her back, and gave him a short greeting nod that he returned.  She eyed Urushi warily.  Urushi eyed her back.  "A handsome creature.  They should have called you Raijin instead of Raijuu," she commented to Kakashi

Kakashi dropped a hand down to pat Urushi.  "If your problem has a spiritual root, we need him.  He has a stronger connection to that world.  What have the joint teams discovered?"

Kirameki shot him a curious glance with just an edge of derision.  "You didn't read the report before coming?"

Kakashi had not seen the report and in fact hadn't known that one existed aside from the escort teams' routine mission reports.  "Humour me," he said, bland.

Kirameki relented.  "Of the hundred and forty-seven joint teams that took missions in the past three days, fifty-three reported abnormal incidents like the ones before.  It was always the Kiri nin that were affected, with eighty-seven percent of those happening when the Kiri shinobi were out of eyesight from the Hanabi-ha."

Kakashi absorbed the information.  "Thirteen percent were witnessed, then, " he surmised. 

Kirameki's expression didn't change.  "Thirteen percent should have been witnessed, but there are no reliable accounts.  A Hanabi-ha shinobi reported noticing that the shadows had changed abruptly as she turned, and the Kiri shinobi she had been with had suddenly vanished."  She glanced at Kakashi.  "The shadows changed because time had passed, and she had not perceived it happening.  She discovered the Kiri shinobi a kilometer away, floating in an estuary.  He was alive but disoriented.  The lost time is estimated to be forty-five minutes."  She rolled her shoulders, grim.  "The rest are like that too."

Whatever was causing this was still taking pains not to harm Hanabi-ha shinobi.  And so far, it had not killed.

"Let's go to where most of the incidents happened," he suggested. 

"Agreed," said Kirameki, and turned.  "Follow me."

The sea fog drifted in gently to carpet the land as they went.  Kakashi leaned on his nose more than his eye, concentrating on the feel of cracked stone under his sandals to gauge the terrain.  Kirameki ghosted forward without hesitation -- she was Kiri through and through; this was her domain.

Urushi paused at the crest of a hill, ears pricked as he lingered at the top of the winding stairway.  A few steps down, Kakashi stopped.  "What do you sense?" he asked, voice low.

Ahead of them, Kirameki turned, her eyebrows furrowed though she didn't say anything. 

"It feels like brambles here," Urushi growled, and shook out his thick coat in a graceful twist.  "Prickling.  And too cold -- it's getting under my fur."

"Uru senses something not from this world," Kakashi translated for Kirameki, who had been watching their exchange with polite incomprehension.  

Kirameki's hand drifted up to the hilt of her katana, and she ran light fingers over the wrapped leather before she let her hand drop again.  What she planned on doing with it, Kakashi didn't know, since all the victims had been heavily armed when they were displaced.

"Go ahead," Kakashi told Urushi, who sneezed twice in quick succession and then grumbled about it as he led the way down the stairs.  To Kirameki, he said, "Do you have a plan for dealing with whatever is causing this, once Uru leads us there?"

"Kill it," said Kirameki, which was a very Kiri answer.  And then perhaps sensing that the logic of that wasn't enough to sway Kakashi, added, "There can be no effective plan until we know the source."

Kakashi had backup plans, so fine.  Life was easier when he didn't argue with Kiri shinobi of questionable mental stability. 

By generally accepted standards, a haunted place increased its factor of hauntedness the fewer people were there.  And for some reason, Kiri’s side of Uzushiogakure was all but abandoned at night.  

Konoha-nin tended to favour the daylight hours but had a tendency to stay up far past the moonrise and rise past dawn, relatively late for shinobi.  Suna-nin maximized the twilight hours, rising with the sunset and sleeping with the sunrise to capitalize on the time of day where the sun didn’t bake them alive.  Kiri-nin rose when the sky was dark and slept when it was dark again.  That meant that now, past midnight, the Hana-ha camp still buzzed lightly with activity, lamps lit both indoors and outdoors, and the Kiri half of the outpost was deathly dark and still.  One might say that the Kiri half looked haunted.  

It was unfortunate that now it was Kakashi’s problem too.  Otherwise he would have left them to their ghosts.  

The sea fog continued its rise, blanketing the streets in white fog so thick Kakashi couldn’t see beyond Urushi’s tail, three meters ahead of them, and the scent of sea brine hung heavy in that fog to muffle his nose.  He oriented himself by the feel of the air against his fingers instead, and the quiet click of Urushi’s claws against the stone and the faint swish of Kirameki’s hair against her flak jacket. 

Urushi slowed at the mouth of an alley, snuffling thoughtfully at the corner for a long moment.  By Kakashi's estimate, this was the eastern side of the outpost. 

“This is where the most incidents occurred,” Kirameki said, her voice carrying though she spoke barely above a mutter.  

Urushi sneezed.  “There’s nothing here,” he growled. 

Kakashi glanced from side to side and took a deep breath.  He regretted it immediately.  “Nothing unusual here,” he said for Kirameki's benefit, blinking rapidly as though it would dispense the dumpster that had rammed itself firmly up his nose.  He turned around.

Kirameki was gone.   

Kakashi couldn't see the moon for the fog so he couldn't gauge how much time had passed, but between one breath and the next the air had sharpened, and something foreign and earthy mingled with Kirameki's fading scent. 

"Kakashi!" Urushi snapped, the wolf-tongue catching in Kakashi's ears.  He turned to see the ninken pointing with his nose and ears, tail out stiff behind him.  

"Were you affected?" Kakashi asked, sifting through the scents as he peered in the direction Urushi indicated.

"Not entirely," answered Urushi.  "I saw it."  He didn't pursue because they would need two of them, one to chase and one to guard.

The trail was still relatively fresh. "How long?" 

Urushi's tail twitched impatiently.  "Ten minutes, no more.  I tried to wake you earlier."

Ten minutes was still better than what the joint teams had reported.  Maybe he had his connection to Urushi to thank for that.  "Go," said Kakashi.  Urushi took off faster than a thrown kunai, and Kakashi followed.  

He hadn't felt the time pass, but his body had -- his muscles were stiff, a strange soreness that eased as he ran to the rhythm his heart thrummed in his chest.  His breath puffed out beneath the mask, trails of white vapour that spilled into the fog around him.  Something about the hunt -- this hunt, all hunts -- seemed to bring the blood closer to his skin, something buzzing in the back of his mind with urgency and anticipation.

Optimistically, Kirameki was fine.  No one had died from the incidents yet.  Worst case scenario, Kakashi was the last person to see her alive and he'd be charged with her murder.

What a terrible deal.  

Cracked stone transitioned to gravel and then to sand beneath his feet, following the scent path Urushi left overlaid on Kirameki's.  Urushi's lope slowed to a trot, and then he froze midstep, nose low to the ground and fur bristling along his spine.  Kakashi inhaled rather than rely on his eyes, and --

He sensed the movement, the abrupt split of mingled scents, and turned with the departing scent. 

Urushi snarled, coiled to spring.  "I will guard?"

"Follow when you can," Kakashi ordered, and took off after the flash of fur as Urushi rushed for Kirameki's flickering chakra.  

And it was fur -- something small and fast, darting away, and this close Kakashi could feel its cold-bramble-prickle crawling over his skin as he gave chase.  He stifled a sneeze.  His eye half-closed.  That was a mistake.  

All at once, the fur vanished and the strange chakra with it.  Kakashi stopped, landing in a crouch, and inhaled deeply.  The creature, or whatever it was, was gone.

But it was a busy little thing.  It'd hit fifty-seven teams in three days.  

Kakashi closed his eyes.  Every sense he could enhance, he did.  Sight, smell, hearing.  

He opened both eyes.

The silhouette he saw wasn't entirely visual or entirely a silhouette -- it was more the suggestion of the shadow of a silhouette, outlined in the earth-sea scent of Uzushio itself and an impression of cold-bramble chakra that tickled against his skin.  Kakashi chased it, letting his instincts move him instead of conscious thought.  His chakra drained the longer he kept Obito's eye open, a constant tug at his core, but he followed his quarry up stairways and down alleys, under the light of the fog-draped moon and over the red-tiled rooftops.   

"I've not seen one like you in a long time," someone said, and Kakashi realized that he'd stopped running, at the top of the crumbled tower that had once been the capstone of Uzushiogakure's graceful architecture.  It stood a little over half its original height now, the beautiful white stone fractured and scarred.  A small figure sat at the very edge of the wall overlooking the city.  "Whose blessing do you carry?"

Kakashi sized it up.  Smaller than Shiba, larger than Bisuke, with a lithe build and russet peeking out of its thick grey pelt.  The little fox curled its tail neatly around its paws and watched Kakashi expectantly. 

Whoever the god of bad luck was, probably.   "None," Kakashi answered. 

The fox chortled, fur rippling in its amusement.  "I wouldn't mind another soul, " said the fox, "but there is already a claim upon yours."

Kakashi stiffened, which he disguised by taking a few steps closer.  "I would know if I'd traded my soul," he said mildly.  And last he checked, deals made with the Shinigami came due almost instantaneously.  

The fox wrinkled its nose.  "Trade?  No.  We claim those that we like, and there's not a thing to be done to stop us."

Pride and greed and the casual dismissal of a being assured of its power -- the fox didn't consider Kakashi a threat.  And it couldn't be of this world entirely.   "What are you named?" he asked.

The fox flashed sharp white fangs in a smile.  "You may call me Shio, for the tides that bring the whirlpools into being.  Now, you owe me an answer -- who is it that has given you their blessing?  Their claim is quite strong."

His ninken?  But in Hatake tradition, he had bound them to him, not the other way around.  The Kyuubi?  A claim to killing him, maybe, but honestly Kakashi didn't think he was worth the bijuu's special attention.  Other than bijuu, though, he hadn't come into contact with any creature of the spirit world -- ah.

"The Wolf-Mother of the Iron Forests," he said out loud.  San's wolf-mother, who had favoured his clan hundreds of years ago before they lay down their weapons to farm for the first time.  He'd never actually seen her, but San insisted that she was there, that she had blessed him, and Kakashi hadn't given it a second thought since.  If it meant Shio wasn't going to try and do whatever he did to the Kiri shinobi to Kakashi, then it was useful if nothing else.  

"Oh.  Her," said Shio moodily.  "Humph.  I would have liked you for myself."

"You claimed the people of Uzushiogakure, didn't you?" Kakashi said, glancing out over the remains of the Village.  "You were the guardian of this city."

"My favourites," agreed Shio dreamily.  "Very bright, very playful, and so clever."  Its tail flicked.  "They're all gone now.  I was quite cross when I returned to find them all dead."

"Some of them survived," said Kakashi.  "Not everyone from Uzushiogakure died in the massacre."

The fox sniffed.  "Yes, but they're not here, are they?" it pointed out impatiently.  "There's no use if they're not here."

“You’ve been attacking some of the people that are here now,” Kakashi said.  

“They’re the reason that all of my favourites are gone,” said Shio.  “The least they could do is play with me.”  As it spoke, the faint impression of a running fox darted from above the rocks and leapt, but when it collided with Shio, it melted into its body without a trace.  Shio shrugged its shoulders like it was shrugging on a cloak but otherwise didn’t react.

“And the other half?” Kakashi prompted.  “You haven’t attacked any of the Hana Division.”

"That's because the old man said I mustn't meddle with the people of the tree village," said the fox, almost sulky.  "He was quite clear on that.  He's dead, of course, but I don't see why I shouldn't keep listening to him.  He's never taught me anything useless, you know."

It was like Shio knew more than what Kakashi had revealed and expected the same of Kakashi.  However, Kakashi was here because he was chasing ghosts -- or island fox spirits, apparently -- on very little sleep and didn’t see the need to bother with putting up pretences.  “Who taught you what?” 

Shio huffed.  “Old man Uzumaki, with the long hair and the white beard,” it said impatiently.  “He wasn’t always old, of course.  He had red hair before and ran around and played like the rest of them before they get old.  He teaches me little tricks with ink and blood.  To catch people and hide things and protect them.  He said I mustn’t meddle with the people from the tide village or the people from the tree village, so I shan’t.”

The last head of the Uzumaki Clan had taught a fox-spirit sealing in exchange for its amity.  That reeked of pure chaos and Kakashi didn’t know if it was genius or insanity.  “We’re allied with the Kiri shinobi right now,” said Kakashi.  “It would be helpful if you could extend that cessation order to them as well.”

“I don’t see why I should,” retorted Shio, a gleam in its eyes.  “They’ve killed all of mine, and this is the most fun I’ve had in decades.  I should kill just as many of theirs to start, shouldn’t I?”

Were Shio human, Kakashi might point out the never-ending cycle of revenge and hatred that led to the fall of nations, but he suspected the fox wouldn't exactly care.  The shinobi of Uzushiogakure had just been favoured toys that had been broken when it set them down for a moment while distracted.  

Out of the goodness of your heart wasn't likely to work except as a joke; I'll owe you a favour was likely to end in disaster; and making an enemy of a fox-spirit was the fastest path to living hell.  Kakashi couldn’t think of a good reason that might convince the fox-spirit to stop preying on the Kiri shinobi, for one, and furthermore not to kill them.  "You won't have any souls left to claim if you kill them off," Kakashi said.  "My shinobi won't be here much longer, and you'll be left with the Kiri shinobi.  You can't kill half and claim the other half."

"I don't see why not," the fox sniffed.  

"It wouldn't be very polite," Kakashi tried.

The fox's nose wrinkled. "I suppose not," Shio grumbled.  "Politeness is very vague, you know," it added.  "It is polite to maul the man who came to the house secretly to try and mate his daughter, but it is not polite to maul the man who came to the house secretly to cook a meal.  Curious, isn't it?"

Not really, but Kakashi didn't have the time to teach the fox-spirit about morality when an Uzumaki failed.   "My leader, here on the island -- her grandmother came from Uzushio.  Uzumaki Mito."

"Ah, I remember Mito.  Did you ever wonder how she could subdue the greatest of the bijuu so easily?" Shio mused.  "Uzumaki make great jinchuuriki, of course, but none are better suited for the Kyuubi than them -- because of me," it finished smugly, tail flicking back and forth.  "Perhaps they never fully realized it, but with my blessing they resonate with all fox-kin."

There was a pretty good chance the fox-spirit was just messing with him.  Kakashi ignored this possibility and said, "A granddaughter of the Uzumaki is here and allied with these Kiri nin.  Shouldn't you honour that alliance?"

Shio's ears pricked before it slumped.  "I don't see why I should," it complained.  "She is not much of an Uzumaki in any case.  I should like to see one again," it added, almost wistful.  "They're great fun, you know."

"Stop harassing the Kiri nin and I'll bring an Uzumaki here," Kakashi offered, diving on the opportunity.  

Shio eyed him suspiciously even as its flicking tail betrayed its excitement.  "You know an Uzumaki?" it asked curiously.  "A proper one?"

Naruto wasn't much of a proper anything and Kakashi had no intention of bringing him here after this.  "Yes," he lied.  

The fox sniffed.  "Very well," it conceded grudgingly.  "I suppose I could do with a quick trip.  Bring the Uzumaki when I return and I shan't bother the ocean village humans."  It stiffened slightly as Kakashi caught Urushi's scent in the wind.  "Ugh, dog," Shio muttered.  "Do not cross me, Wolf-Blessed.  I can hold a grudge like none you've ever seen should I choose."  With that as a final warning Shio turned, dove headfirst off the wall in a graceful arc, and disappeared before it hit the ground.

Kakashi closed Obito's eye and listened to the feather-light footsteps approaching.  

"Where did it go?" Kirameki demanded, ruffled, landing beside him in a low crouch.  Urushi trotted up alongside, peeling away to Kakashi's side at the edge of the wall.   "What was it?"

"Uzushio's resident spirit," Kakashi said.   "It's agreed to let up on your shinobi for the time being."

Kirameki frowned, her hand drifting up to her blade's hilt.  "For the time being?  You let it live?"

Kakashi didn't let the kitsune do anything.  "Time passes differently for them," he said instead.  "That should be a decade of reprieve.  It was going to start killing soon.  I suggest you figure out a way to appease it yourselves -- it's not too happy about what happened to the old Village."

Kirameki clearly didn't like that answer, but she subsided.  "Very well," she said grudgingly.  "My thanks to you and your partner.  Goodnight."

Kakashi inclined his head and watched her abrupt exit before glancing down at Urushi.  

"Stopped her from flooding the warehouses," Urushi explained.   His tail swished, amused.  "She didn't take it well."

Kakashi reached down to ruffle the ninken's ears.  "Good work."  Dawn was still hours away, the hanging clouds giving the night a ghostly cast.  "Back to my room.  Let's get some sleep."

Kakashi didn't see Kirameki for the rest of his time in Uzushiogakure.  She'd probably engineered that.  Kakashi didn't mind.  They had nothing further to discuss since the ghost incidents had stopped.  

He saw a lot of Shikaku instead.  This was not necessarily better.  In contrast, Tsunade withdrew; Kakashi did not have the opportunity to speak with her for the rest of his time in the Uzushio outpost.

But the night he boarded the ship to return to Kirigakure, he found a scroll sitting on his desk, innocuous, laid there with care and well-kept.  Tsunade's fading scent still clung to it.  

Kakashi recognized it immediately, knew even before he unrolled it that he would see the words printed carefully three years before, the signatures at the bottom binding the fates of Hanabi-ha and the then-Kiri Hanran with not one, but two wars.  

The attached note crinkled in his hands as he unfolded it, and he scanned Tsunade's beautiful, nigh indecipherable scrawl.  Bring them home, was all it read.   

This was more than Tsunade's grudging permission.  It was her trust. 

Kakashi burned the note with a snap of fire, and tucked the contract scroll into one of his pockets.   "Pakkun, stay here to coordinate with Shikaku," Kakashi directed.  "Urushi, back to Kirigakure with me.  Shiba, recall the pack.  We're going home."

On deck with Urushi as the Hoteimaru docked in the Lower City, Kakashi spotted Yuugao's distinctive silhouette easing through the oceanside markets, her shadow beside her as ever.  She wore her jounin's uniform comfortably, and almost unconsciously the other market goers gave way as she passed.  Hanabi's mouth pressed into a grim line as she followed her sensei, drifting slightly until some unheard cue corrected her course.

Urushi rumbled as he caught their scent, nose tilting towards the markets.  "Approach?"

Kakashi nodded.  Urushi bounded lightly over the side of the ship.  Kakashi turned to flag down the ship's captain.  "Yanagi, much appreciated.  I'll be leaving first."

Tsukimi grinned.  "Sir, yes sir," she said cheerfully, snapping him a salute.  "Give Momochi a good whack from me, Commander.  I'm worried he might be going soft."

Kakashi didn't bother responding.  He'd give Zabuza a good whack anytime for any reason.

He vaulted over the railing, plummeted through the air, and landed without a splash on the surface of the waves.  Urushi trotted towards shore ahead of him, the tides bobbing him up and down as the waves crested and rolled beneath his paws.  

With his one-eye scorched cat-mask and furred cloak, Kakashi by design stood out from the rest of the pretending-to-be-Northern shinobi, not to mention the real Kiri shinobi, but invisibility was another skill he'd developed.  Even with his conspicuous appearance, he slipped through the evening crowds without stirring a whisper behind him.  Urushi led the way through the maze of stalls and buildings, scarred still with the marks of battle.

Kakashi knew he hadn't escaped the sight of the Anbu who prowled the Village's shadows, but he wasn't trying to evade them.  He turned a corner, spotted Yuugao at the edge of his vision, and crossed to the opposite alleyway without acknowledgement.  Kakashi stopped in the middle of the alley; Urushi skulked down to the opposite end, where he sprawled with his head resting on his fore paws and his ears pricked for any danger.

Yuugao gave Kakashi a brisk nod, which he returned.  Hanabi bowed in greeting, her hands folded neatly in front of her, and said, "Hello, Taishou.  It is a pleasant coincidence to meet you here."

"Are you surprised to run into me here,  Emiri-chan?" Kakashi prodded gently.

Hanabi beamed before remembering herself and composing her face back into a neutral mask.  "I am not."

...great.  Now what was he supposed to say?

"The children missed you," said Yuugao, saving him from having to respond. "They'll be happy you're back."  She paused, and added, "Everyone is quite excited for next month's events."

Kakashi blinked and said, resigned, "Momochi announced it the first opportunity he got, didn't he?"

Yuugao swallowed a smile.  "With relish," she agreed.  "He does take rather a lot of pleasure in stirring up the genin."

Note to self: Kakashi really needed to stop bouncing his and Shikaku's midnight think tank ideas off Zabuza.  He had an uncanny instinct for which batshit idea would actually make it off the ground.  "That proposal hadn't been greenlit yet."

"I rather think he liked that one," Hanabi inserted helpfully.   "Everyone is training es-pe-cial-ly hard now."  She formed the word carefully, tilting her head towards Kakashi.  "Taishou, I had wondered -- what will Neko-sensei and I be doing next month?  Neko-sensei says I'm not to join the others."

Kakashi paused in case Yuugao intended to rescue him.  She did not.  "You'll continue your training here in Kirigakure," he said.  "Your sensei will be busy with her captain duties and helping Shikaku-taishou prepare the next phase of the operation while I'm away."

Hanabi wrinkled her nose.  "I should like to go to Konoha too," she declared.  "I can keep up just fine in the exams."

Yuugao did step in this time.  "Emiri-chan, Konohagakure is extremely dangerous, and you and I do better facing such things sideways, don't we?"

Kakashi watched with mild alarm as Hanabi's face screwed up into an impressive scowl.  

"Excuse us, Taichou," Yuugao said to Kakashi, and in a flash of cloth had swept Hanabi up and away in a shunshin.  

Urushi chuffed a laugh.  "Spirited, that pup," he said.  "She'll grow up fierce -- I like her.  I don't like many people."

"I don't know why anyone would think that," said Kakashi, watching Urushi eye every passerby with a deeply suspicious glint in his golden stare.  He turned, intending to head down the back of the alley out to the fountain plaza.

"Not that way," Urushi growled.  "I smell tiger.  Too many."

There weren't many suspects Urushi could be referring to.  The ninken really didn't like the idea of any cat bigger than him.  "Too many?  That clan has seven members left, and three tigers," Kakashi pointed out clinically.  "They're dying out."

Urushi's heavy stare landed on Kakashi.  "Like the Hatake."

Like Pakkun’s too-loud speculations as to when Kakashi would find a mate, Urushi meant well.  Kakashi ignored it, turning towards the entrance of the alley.  "There are no Hatake anymore."

Urushi didn't voice disagreement, falling in at Kakashi's flank, but none of the pack really understood.  To most of them, Kakashi was the only Hatake they had ever known  -- to them, Hatake meant Kakashi.  They didn't understand how much lay behind the name -- the pain, the triumph, the very essence of what had made the Hatake a great shinobi clan.  They didn't understand everything Kakashi had sacrificed when he gave up that name.  

He should have given up his pack too, strictly speaking, but his pack were more Kakashi than they were Hatake.   

He put that thought out of his mind and set his path without paying too much attention to the world around him.  He had a hundred other things to worry about and the faithful drum of Urushi's paws against the ground to reassure him.  The kids would need extra training on infiltration tactics; he needed to arrange a meeting with Terumi; operatives on the Mainland should begin to lay the groundwork for the first of the contingencies.

From the harbour to the heart of Kirigakure would take a civilian two days and a night to manage on foot, at least.  Shinobi and horses covered the same ground much more quickly, and even with a detour for a late lunch, the rooftops of the Inner Village greeted Kakashi and Urushi before the afternoon ended.  

A lithe figure slipped out the trees ahead of them, shadowing them for a few paces through the training grounds edging the city.  When he approached around the bend of a lake, the slow wag of his tail betrayed his dignified poise.

Kakashi crouched.  "Akino," he greeted, reaching out with one hand.  Akino brushed past it, nosing in close to bury his muzzle in the crook between Kakashi's neck and shoulder.  Kakashi sank his hand in Akino's ruff as Urushi wound around them both.  "You knew we were coming."

"The little one smelled of you," Akino said in explanation. 

"You've been keeping an eye on all of them, I hope, " said Kakashi. 

Akino pushed away at that, glaring haughtily at Kakashi as he shouldered Urushi out of the way.  Urushi let himself be moved, agreeably.  "This one is not here to watch the pups," Akino retorted.  "The mischief they find is their own."

"Great, " Kakashi muttered under his breath.  "I'd better check on the damages."

Shisui was good at wrangling the kids, but he would have had too much to think about as shinobi in charge while Kakashi was away.  Yuugao managed the genin with ease as well, but she often disappeared by herself or with Hanabi for long stretches.  Zabuza oscillated between being somewhat helpful and a horrible influence.  It was a good thing that in a large part, the kids were self-raising, else half of them would have been terribly maimed or malnourished by now. 

Despite having lived in Kirigakure for over a year now, Kakashi had never lost the impression that it was an enemy Village.  It wasn't his home; he wasn't safe here.  Kiri Anbu hovered at the edges of his range, just obvious enough to be polite, just unobtrusive enough to be obnoxious.  Akino and Urushi, with their keener senses, marked them without Kakashi's explicit direction.  The Old Academy boundaries, however, their shadows did not cross.  This was Hanabi-ha's now, and on this Terumi wouldn't challenge them.  

Not yet, at least.

As in Uzushio, the change in atmosphere was palpable.  The sentries perched in the trees still radiated tension, but the teams sparring lightly further in the grounds or sharpening weapons chatted easily among themselves.  The shinobi here had far less hostility towards each other than any randomly selected group of Kiri shinobi, but even among allies, Kakashi couldn't relax.

Kakashi knew he cut a formidable figure; it was part of his cover.  Scorched cat-mask, fur cloak, flanked by wolves -- Hanabi-ha needed someone visible to look untouchable, both to their own shinobi and to Kiri's.  With Tsunade-hime's intermittent dysfunction and Shikaku very literally working best from the shadows, that role fell to Kakashi.  

Movement paused when Kakashi strode past, teams pausing in the exercises to watch him go.  The closer ones bowed or saluted a greeting.  Those further away pretended they weren't looking.  

Kakashi was a shinobi.  He didn't like the scrutiny.  All of their eyes prickled at the back of his neck, and he forced calm over himself, measuring every step until he reached the edge of the common area.  

The library that served as base camp for himself, his team, and the children had a cracked stone path leading up to the back door.  It trailed through a small, enclosed space that had probably been meant to be a garden but instead resembled a prison yard.   The library door flew open as soon as Kakashi's foot breached the perimeter. 

"Sensei!" Naruto howled, hurling himself bodily at Kakashi.   

Having spent a year as Naruto's designated jounin sensei, Kakashi stepped to the side with practiced ease to let the kid fly past with a shriek of mixed excitement and dismay.  He ignored the almighty crash behind him and the way Urushi's ears pinned flat against his skull in displeasure.   

Sakura skidded out hot on his heels, though she pulled up short when she spotted Kakashi.  "Sensei!" she squeaked, hands flying up to cover her mouth.  "You're back!"  Behind her, Sasuke glanced out the door with zero interest, then back to his book.  

"Hm," said Kakashi, neutral.  "It's independent study period."

Sakura flushed.  "Yeah, I -- I was just fetching this idiot!"  She lunged for Naruto, who had been distracted by Urushi's teeth in the back of his jacket keeping him from trying to jump on Kakashi again.  Urushi let go, and Naruto literally fell into Sakura's arms.  Sakura sputtered, but rather than let his superior weight knock her over, seized him by the collar and shook him.   "Studying, we're supposed to be studying!"

"A-ah, Gogo-chan!" Naruto complained, his teeth rattling.

Kakashi took that as his cue to go into the library.  The kids would sort themselves out.  

"Captain," said Temari as he stepped in.  "It's good to see you."

Haku dipped his head with a smile, and beside him Neji did the same but without the smile.  Shisui's kids stayed silent, but that was normal for them.  

Kakashi nodded, scanning the room.  All the kids were accounted for, and though he didn't see Yuugao or Hanabi, their scents were fresh.   Maybe it was the years on the run, but Yuugao was habitually scarce despite their shared quarters and duties.  She rotated in with the teaching rotation, showed up promptly to every meeting, and more nights than not slept in the library with the rest of them, but other than that, she kept to herself and Hanabi.

"Zabuza-sensei and Juuta-sensei aren't here right now, and Neko-sensei just left," Temari supplied.  

Ah, right.  He needed to have a talk with Zabuza.  "Where's Momochi?"

Hinata peeked up at him as Temari and Haku exchanged glances.  "Zabuza-san called a meeting with his officers this afternoon," Haku said.  "They should still be in his office."

Kakashi redirected Urushi with a tip of his head, and the ninken went without complaint to sprawl at the side of the room, unbothered even when Sakura and Naruto nearly tripped over his tail on their way back in.  Akino stayed at his heels as Kakashi headed out the door to the hallway.

"Huh?" Naruto said behind them.  "Where's he going?  He just got back!"

"Zabuza-sensei probably did something dumb again," Temari said dismissively. 

"Reiha-san," Haku protested, a mild rebuke.

"Zabuza-sensei probably did something he thought was hilarious and the captain thinks is unnecessary," Temari corrected.  "Better?"

Kakashi didn't need to hear a response.  That much was accurate already. 

He took the stairs to the second floor.  The library and this particular corridor were restricted traffic to most of the shinobi based here, and the few shinobi he did encounter drew back in recognition at the sight of his mask.  Akino's head turned to follow his nose at the top of the stairs, and Kakashi stopped. 

"Nobody gets the drop on you, huh, Taichou?" Shisui said with weary amusement.  He was masked, of course, but the set of his shoulders betrayed his tension.

"I'd be a bad shinobi if I let anyone sneak up on me," Kakashi pointed out.  The corridor was empty now save them, but he glanced around pointedly anyways.  "I was on my way to find Momochi."

"Z's still putting the fear of kami in his guys," Shisui said.  "My office is empty."

Shisui's office was always empty except when he was in it -- one of the perks of heading the Intelligence unit.  This wasn't an offer, it was Shisui's request to talk.  And it was a request, stated so neutrally that Kakashi could pretend it hadn't been made at all.  He had a pretty good idea of what Shisui wanted to talk to him about.  "To your office, then."

Akino split off to pin down Zabuza.  Kakashi followed Shisui to the converted storage closet that the younger shinobi had laid claim to precisely because of its rumours of being haunted.  

It was not.  They had checked.

It was a spacious storage closet because of the sheer amount of supplies a shinobi academy needed on any given day.  While racks of metal shelves still stretched up the walls, they had been cleared of their towels and plywood and disinfectants and suspicious bins of odds and ends that would have been used for patching up whatever stopped working, and instead piled with endless boxes of scrolls, missives, and maps.  There was one table in the middle of the room, which Shisui used as a desk, and one chair, neither of which were actually visible.  If someone had told Kakashi that Naruto had run into the room with a massive stack of paper, thrown it all up in the air, and then run away amidst the resulting paper-storm, he would have believed him.  

After a sheepish pause, Shisui said, "Reorganizing a bit.  Sorry."   He liberated a crate, swept a stack of files off the table and onto another precarious pile, and pulled out the chair for Kakashi. 

Kakashi sat.  "You want to talk about the mission," he said, blunt.  

"Yeah," Shisui admitted, settling down on his crate and knocking his mask up so it perched on top of his head.  "I'm assuming it's official now.  It have a name?"

"It'll be designated Operation Teikoku," Kakashi answered.  Operation Empire.  "The genin are the most crucial pieces."

Shisui wouldn't like that.  He'd always had the strongest connection to the kids; he was inarguably the best sensei, and Kakashi knew the entire pack saw Shisui as a surrogate parent or older sibling, and vice versa.  Kakashi was prepared for the protests, the arguments to keep the kids out of the front line.  Shisui would say they were too young, too fragile, too valuable to risk in a gambit as risky as Konoha's Chuunin Exams.  

Shisui frowned at him, as though hearing his thoughts, and said, "I know.  They'll be ready."

Kakashi's counterargument dissolved unspoken in his mouth.  "Good," he managed to say.

Shisui eyed him, the ghost of a crooked smile playing at the edges of his mouth.  "Don't look so surprised, Taichou, your first war was also mine," he pointed out.  "We've lost too many lives already to let an opportunity like this pass by."

Shisui had been a wartime graduate, turned out of the Academy early to run non-combat missions, though that would not have saved him from the realities of battle.  Of his graduating class of thirty, four had survived to the end of the war less than a year later.  Shisui had been a jounin for almost a decade, now -- a decade of loss and war and betrayals and rebellions.  He had chosen lives to save and lives to sacrifice.   He was first, as they all were, a shinobi.

Kakashi forgot that, sometimes, because compared to the rest of them, Shisui had managed to preserve so much of himself.  He still trusted, he still hoped, he still played around with Zabuza and openly doted on the kids and he still fought fiercely for what he believed in.  Most days, Shisui's fire burned so brightly Kakashi wondered if it had ever flickered.  

"Then you agree with the plan?" Kakashi prodded, drawing his attention back to study Shisui's face. 

"I have faith in the kids," Shisui said, wry with a shadow of discontent.  "Team Suzaku would be a competitive entry in a Chuunin Exams anyways, and this sort of undercover work is Team Genbu's specialty.  They'll be more than fine."  He hesitated.  The obvious exclusion didn't escape Kakashi's notice.  He waited as Shisui's eye drifted to the side, his forehead furrowed in thought.  Finally, Shisui refocused on Kakashi and said, "We need to talk about Team Byakko."

Kakashi went with the easy answer.   "You don't think they should go."

Shisui's pause lasted even longer the second time.  "The risk is a lot higher, with them," he said at last.  "I could list the reasons taking them would be a bad idea."

"No need," said Kakashi quickly.

"Undertrained jinchuuriki, adolescent Uchiha: vulnerable and valuable political targets," Shisui said anyway.  "Moderate to severe physical and mental trauma at a young age.  Little to no intelligence or counterintelligence training -- " he cut himself off when Kakashi levered him with a pointed look.  "It's not ideal."

"It'll be taken into consideration," Kakashi said.  It was the best answer he could have offered, since he hadn't come to a decision as to what to do with his team yet.  He had to admit that bringing them to Konoha was significantly riskier than bringing the other two teams.  Neji had lived most of his life flying under the radar, and his present skillset diverged drastically from the average Hyuuga.  Sai was likely presumed dead, and there was a slim chance anyone would recognize him.  Hinata's infiltration skills were rock steady, and even if she were caught she had a clan in the Village who would protect her once her identity was revealed.  The rest weren't even from Konoha.

On the other hand: jinchuuriki, Uchiha, girl with pink hair, none of whom were particularly subtle.  Shisui had a point.

"Here's another thing I wanted to mention," added Shisui, reaching into one of the inner pockets of his flak jacket.  "It's not Team Byakko, but it is mission relevant." He drew out a lock of hair, snow white and curling at the ends, and dropped it on the table in front of Kakashi.

Kakashi frowned, recognizing the scent.  It was Hinata's, unblemished by the harsh burn of bleach or any other chemicals that he could detect.  "Has she been under a lot of stress lately?" he asked with a frown, picking up the little bundle to examine it more closely.  "Health concerns?"  It would have to be severe, to cause such a drastic change so quickly, and Kakashi's mind jumped from possibility to possibility -- poison?  Some sort of wasting disease or parasite?  An inherited defect, even?

"Nothing like that," Shisui assured him.  "Kyuushi-chan has adapted her iryou training.  She's figured out a way to extract the pigment from her hair."

Kakashi didn't do incredulity, so the stare he gave Shisui was equal parts considering and curious.  "She learned how to do this?  By herself?"

The corner of Shisui's mouth quirked up.  "Yeah, she did.  Shizune-sensei was very impressed, even if it doesn't actually have much of a healing purpose."

That was...something.  Of all the children, Hinata was the one he least expected to have invented her own jutsu -- besides maybe Naruto.  Maybe it was the influence from her teammates, both of whom had created most of their repertoire from their own ingenuity.  Maybe she had found her true passion, though up until now she had treated iryou ninjutsu as a necessary if tedious task.  However it had happened, it was remarkable -- a physical transformation without scent or chakra to betray the change.  "Useful," Kakashi noted, reaching down to trail his fingers along the lock.  "The effects are permanent?"

"We think so," Shisui answered, "but it's only been a week.  We're still observing.  It does take a long time and very good chakra control to extract the pigment -- I gave it a shot, actually -- but if necessary, we'll have time to do a couple of the kids if we need to before we go."

"Does it work the other way around?" Kakashi asked.

In answer, Shisui drew out another two bundles of hair.  Both were Hinata's, but one was a delicate rose-pink and the other a pale gold.  "It's limited, but yes.  She's tried borrowing from Gogo-chan and Rokumaru-kun so far."  

"The Tourou Clan of the North were noted to have unusually pale hair," Kakashi noted after a moment.

Shisui's tone was noticeably smug when he said, "Yep."

Kakashi nodded absently.  "Get me a meeting with Terumi," he said, his mind already jumping ahead.

"Hai," said Shisui, and that was equally satisfied. 

While Shisui split off for the Mizukage Tower, Kakashi made his way to Zabuza.

"Kami fuck," Zabuza greeted him when he looked up and found Kakashi perusing his old desk, which Zabuza had commandeered as extra storage after Kakashi had moved offices.  "Knock or something, damn."  Akino, sprawled on the floor, thumped his tail in welcome. 

"And give you time to run away?" Kakashi said, dry.  

"I don't run," Zabuza growled, rolling his eyes.  "What do you want, Kakashi?" 

What do you want, Kakashi?  The words and the tone were dangerously familiar.  Kakashi brushed it off.  He couldn't afford to live in the past, not when the future churned closer ever more rapidly.  

Zabuza glanced up and made a disgruntled noise at Kakashi's pause.  "Sulk when I call you Hatake, sulk when I don't.  Make up your damn mind."

Yeah, okay.  Kakashi was definitely in the present now.

He narrowed his eye and waited a moment just to let him start to get nervous.   Unfortunately, Zabuza was already used to this tactic and ignored him.  "Juuta's setting up a meeting with Terumi.  Expect to be there," Kakashi said, while he still had some facsimile of authority left.

Zabuza glanced up at him.  "It's about -- "

"Operation Empire," Kakashi confirmed.

"Oh gods," said Zabuza with dawning horror, and physically recoiled.  "You didn't.  Tell me you didn't actually fucking name it that."

Kakashi blinked.  "What?"

"Do you remember how you came up with that name?" Zabuza demanded.  

On second thought, Kakashi couldn't.  That alarmed him somewhat, and he fished back through his apparently spotty memories of the past few weeks.

"You were shitfaced," said Zabuza bluntly.  "The witch gave you some fucking injection for who knows what and you went and had a bottle of sake with it and got totally smashed."

Kakashi didn't remember this.  "From one bottle?"

"And whatever she shot you up with," Zabuza said.  "She got you and Nara in one go.  She also told you not to fucking drink but I guess you both ignored that part."

Kakashi remembered this very vaguely, with the slow creeping horror of remembering a nightmare during waking hours.  "Oh," he said, bleak.  "What does the name mean?"

"Operation: End Danzou's Empire Before It Becomes An Empire And Destroys Everyone's Lives Haha That Would Suck," Zabuza recited, and gave him a droll look.  "You were so proud of that name.  It was only hilarious the first three times."

There was a good chance Zabuza was just messing with him.  Kakashi did remember getting a vaccine, and maybe a drink after that, but he was pretty sure he'd just passed out in his quarters after that.  Probably.   Possibly. 

Damnit.

"The origin of the codename doesn't matter," said Kakashi, ignoring the tattered remains of his dignity.  "We've already tagged this mission with it.  I'll need readiness assessments on your team, a dossier for your Second while you're away, and all mission compilations done by the end of the week."

"Aye aye," droned Zabuza with too much irony. 

From the corner, Akino gave Kakashi a condescendingly disappointed look.

Chapter Text

Unlike Shisui, who had phased into the standard Kiri jounin uniform with a half-mask to hide his empty eye socket and the seal-mask from Jiraiya on his shoulder to disguise his chakra, Kakashi had never stopped wearing his mishmash of Konoha and Kiri Anbu armour and the cat-mask scorched around one eye.  Despite the hitai-ate around his bicep and the standard katana over one shoulder, he looked more like a mercenary or nukenin than a Kiri shinobi.  Coupled with his commander's armband and wolfish ninken, neither Kiri civilians nor shinobi quite knew how to treat him.

It did get tiring, at times.

Kakashi turned away from his perusal of the butcher's refrigerator case, and the old woman who supervised her employees from a stool in the back of the store stared at him judgmentally.  A clerk carrying a box of packaged meats turned into his aisle, saw Kakashi and Akino, and turned right back around at speed.  Trapped on the other side of the counter, the butcher watched his coworker's retreat longingly.

Akino, tail wrapped primly around his paws where he sat, muttered, "This one wishes they would leave us alone."

Kakashi didn't bother pointing out that that was exactly what the workers were doing.  Since his arrival, the butcher had retreated to the farthest corner he could without deserting his station, his hands conspicuously far away from the knives on the counter.  Considering the man was a butcher, Kakashi doubted it was because he was afraid of sharp objects. 

The cuts weren't as fresh today. Both his ninken would eat them, but Akino would give Kakashi the cold shoulder for it and possibly sabotage his bed. Pass. Kakashi migrated towards the opposite side of the store, where the crates of potatoes caught his eye.  Good for feeding nine bottomless pits, potatoes.  

Akino's ruff bristled, and he straightened to his full height as Kakashi caught the nearly inaudible footsteps enter the store.  The ninken's ears were fully pricked, and he twined in closer to Kakashi's legs as the woman approached.  Kakashi looked her up and down, cursory.

Jounin.  High caste.  Loyalist.  Her type was easy to pick out in the Village post-war.  She gave Kakashi a grudging nod just barely considered polite for their respective ranks and a wide berth as she strode past.

Off to terrorize the butcher, probably.  Mei's calls for peace and mutual respect of all were not as successful as she had probably hoped, and lower caste civilians weren't particularly high on anybody's priority list in Kiri.  Kakashi exchanged a glance with Akino and headed for the front.  

"Ten kilos of potatoes, delivery to the Old Academy for Hana-An-4696," he told the cashier, a skeletal teen who wouldn't meet his eyes.  

"H-hai," said the cashier, accepting the folded bills Kakashi handed him, and darted a nervous glance to the butcher's corner.

Kakashi could feel the slow swell of lazy sakki drifting from there, languid malice as the jounin toyed with her prey.  Akino a pace behind him, he left the store.  This wasn't Kakashi's Village. That kunoichi was neither his comrade nor his subordinate, and he had no authority to intervene.  These shopkeepers would need to find one of their own shinobi to protect them.

Between one stride and the next, Shisui fell into step with him, the crackle of his chakra faint enough not to draw a second glance from anyone.  "Taichou," he greeted. 

Kakashi nodded at him and angled them down a quieter alley that skirted the market.  "What do you have?"  Akino dropped back instinctively to cover them.

"Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock appointment," Shisui reported.  "She'll be expecting the three of us, but I didn't give any details."

Meeting set: the first piece in motion.  "Tell Momochi I'm taking his team to the training grounds," said Kakashi.  Of that team, he was on Neji’s and Temari’s training rotations, but he hadn’t had the chance to really watch all three work together since the war.  He needed to know, really know, that they were ready before the meeting -- before he committed them to a hostile Chuunin Exam.

Shisui widened his eye with false surprise.  "Oh, no.  He'll be devastated.  Are you sure you want to break his heart like that? Whatever will he do?  He's lost without his genin."

Kakashi eyed Shisui sideways.  "He'll just have to cope," he said, as if both of them didn't know full well that Zabuza's response would be to say thank fuck and head for the nearest bar to celebrate his freedom.

Shisui pulled open the door to the library base.  “Surprise inspection!”

He was met by eight pairs of unimpressed eyes plus Naruto.  Said eyes promptly slipped right past Shisui to watch Kakashi with interest.  Akino, apparently uninterested, wandered in behind them.

“Okay,” said Naruto after a pause and a suspicious squint.  “Why are you really here?”

A miracle: Naruto had finally developed a sense of doubt.  “Surprise inspection,” Shisui repeated.  “Just making sure you all are doing what you’re supposed to be doing.  Also, Team Suzaku -- go with the captain, please.”

“Us?” Temari repeated even as she rose.

“What!  Why them?” Naruto demanded, jumping up before Sakura yanked him back down by his sleeve.

Neji and Haku exchanged glances, but neither commented.  

“Bring your equipment,” Kakashi said without acknowledging Naruto's questions.  

"Prepare to throw up!" Shisui added cheerfully.  

"Sensei," interjected Sakura with a frown.  "Didn't you say we were all playing basket-ball tonight for team session?"

"I lied," Shisui decided after a pause.  "We'll do something else tonight.  Suzaku, off you go."

The trio followed Kakashi obediently and quietly until the front door closed behind them.  Then, Haku said, "Are you substituting for Zabuza-san for this session?"

"Consider this an assessment to evaluate your current skills," Kakashi answered. 

"It's because of the Chuunin Exams," said Temari.  "Isn't it?"

Kakashi waited to answer until they reached their training ground, and none of them pressed further.  All three genin met his eyes steadily when he turned around.  

“You don’t need to focus on doing well only for the sake of the Exams,” Kakashi told them.  "There are three major parts to the Chuunin Exams, and success of the mission depends on your team making it to the third part -- the live matches."

"We can do it," said Temari, and Neji nodded once beside her.  "We're prepared."

"You'll be up against some of the best genin in all the Nations," Kakashi warned.  "Many will already be at chuunin level."

"We won't fail," said Haku, soft and sure.

"Prove it," said Kakashi, and lunged.

Immediately, he swerved to avoid the wall of ice that erupted from the ground between him and the genin; when he reached the other side, all three were gone.

With Neji on that team, Kakashi would never truly be hidden from their eyes.  He turned, let his nose guide him towards Haku's cold-ice-sky, and darted towards it before his sight could catch up.  Raijuu Hashiri no Jutsu: Sou.  He sent the raiton out ahead of him, twin hounds crackling white with heat as they tore into the trees.  One met a hastily vacated ice mirror, the other a scything fuuton that ripped it into sparks.  

Kakashi didn't let them retreat so easily, flashing forward with a burst of chakra and drawing his katana in the same movement.  Temari lunged to block, her tessen blooming before her, and Kakashi's blade clanged off its slats.  Haku yanked her backwards into his mirror and they vanished in a blink.  But just as he couldn't hide from them, they couldn't hide from him.  He stepped into a shunshin that shadowed Haku's scent-trail, and the second he emerged, hurled a blast of lightning at Temari before she could dodge.

The raiton wrenched sideways, ripped out of Kakashi's control by Neji's latest creation, a lightning rod seal, which imploded with a sickly yellow light as the lightning struck.  Kakashi switched targets, his hands already flickering through the handseals.  Douton: Hatsuga iwa.  Jagged rock erupted from the ground beneath Neji's feet as Kakashi slammed his hands down.  Neji leapt up, out of the way, and Kakashi was already there.

Haku was faster.  A flash of light and Neji vanished midair before Kakashi could connect.  Kakashi substituted himself just in time for Temari's fuuton to rip through the air, scoring the trees and sending branches and leaves tumbling to the ground.

This team was most devastating at a distance.  Kakashi wouldn't give it to them, so now, they split up.  Kakashi did the same, a lightning bunshin peeling away on either side as he gave chase to Haku's flitting chakra signature.  

Senbon hissed through the air, and Kakashi twisted, ricocheting off the trees to dodge.  Haku's trail burned cold in the air as he drew on the ice in his blood to fuel his speed, and every time he changed direction he hurled a cluster of frighteningly precise senbon back at Kakashi.  Kakashi avoided what he could without compromising his pursuit, deflected what he couldn't, and pricks of icy steel sank into the muscle just below his collarbone, grazed his shoulder, pierced his hip just under his armour.   Kakashi opened Obito's Sharingan in time for it to see the treacherous tip of a senbon far too close for comfort.   He jerked to the side, catching himself against a tree, but his balance faltered when a section of bark buckled in as he pivoted to jump again. 

A millisecond of hesitation was all Haku needed to flip the tables, and then Kakashi was the one giving way under Haku's relentless onslaught.  He ducked and twisted, using the trees as shields until Haku started charging his senbon with chakra and hurling them straight through the trunks and out the other sides.  A douton: Kakashi slammed his foot against the ground and launched a flurry of earth spears up at Haku.

The senbon stopped abruptly, and for a moment Kakashi thought he'd actually skewered Zabuza's apprentice.  Then Kakashi tasted the electricity in the air, that familiar tang of ozone that prickled the fine hairs on his neck.   The sky was thick with it, and he understood instantly what the genin had done as thunder rumbled overhead.  

Haku provided the ice, Temari the winds, and Neji, from his seals, the lightning; together, they created the perfect storm.  Abruptly, the clouds opened up to unleash their fury.

Hailstones battered the earth, hard and fast and nearly too thick to see through.  Kakashi dove for cover in the trees, but even their branches did little against the relentless barrage.  He gathered his chakra and plunged underground instead.

His world became darkness, and his breath came shorter now with the limited air supply.  A collaborative jutsu of this magnitude, while impressive, couldn't last, but the three genin also knew Kakashi's abilities well enough to avoid straying too close to the ground.  They'd accomplished the distance they wanted.  They needed only Haku to maintain the storm.

Neji was their eyes.  Kakashi caught his fang-night-bird chakra and followed it up in a rush of speed.  He exploded out of the ground, sending up a spray of hailstones, a suiton at his fingertips.  Temari sprang in front of him and caught the brunt of the jutsu on her tessen.  The force sent her flying, but it gave Neji time to draw his tanto in a reverse grip and brace for impact.

Kakashi flicked his katana up and crashed down on him with the force of his weight and the fall.  Neji met him, his mouth a grim slash as he skidded backwards with his left hand bracing his dominant wrist.  Kakashi shoved, the edge of his sword drifting dangerously close to Neji's face.  Neji didn't flinch, spinning under their locked blades, but Kakashi disengaged with a ringing screech of steel on steel and Neji's open hand missed his chest by a hairsbreadth.  

A hailstone caught Kakashi full in the face, now that he'd distanced himself from Neji.  For a moment he saw stars even as he twisted away, following Haku's scent blindly, and he sent out a fuuton to blast away the hail in his path.  Temari threw out another, bigger one to turn his back and shards of ice pelted him, but he drew on his chakra to shield his head.

He caught Haku at the top of the trees, because Haku couldn't direct the joint jutsu without sacrificing his speed.   Kakashi sprang at him with katana raised.  Haku whirled, senbon held like claws between his fingers, and parried with just as much force as they fell together.  On Kakashi's backslash, Haku snagged the blade between senbon, and they hit the ground entangled.  

Haku twisted and used the momentum of the movement to wrench the katana out of Kakashi's hand, his free hand coming up to form one-handed seals.  Kakashi let the blade go flying and grabbed Haku by the wrist, drew a kunai, and deflected the senbon that swung in defensively towards his face.  They stopped, face to face, Haku's wrist in Kakashi's iron grip and his throat with the tip of Kakashi's kunai poised millimetres away.

"Stop," Kakashi ordered.

Neji's hand froze, hovering above the design of a primed seal inked on his arm.  Temari aborted her jutsu and sent the remains of the fuuton flying straight up at the sky instead.  Haku watched him steadily, unbothered by the kunai point hovering just under his chin.  Kakashi held it there a moment longer and then drew back, spinning the knife back into his holster.   “I’ve seen enough for today,” he said. 

The ozone-heavy scent of storm around them faded.  Hailstones crunched heavily underfoot as the last few fell from the clouds, which themselves lightened and drew back to reveal blue sky.  The winds quieted, and the cold bite in the air eased.  

Altogether, the skirmish couldn't have lasted longer than ten minutes, maybe even five.  Still, Kakashi could measure the impact it'd had on his chakra stores, and through the bruises already forming and senbon still sunken in the gaps between his armour.  The team had fought well, to their strengths, and hadn't yet shown their full potential. 

"You pass," Kakashi said with a strange combination of solemnity, pride, and wistfulness.  "You make a good team."

Haku's smile, light and pleased, nearly eclipsed the tired relief on Neji's face.  

"Taichou," said Temari, hands on her hips as she caught her breath.  "You made us this team."

Kakashi released Team Suzaku to the wilds of the Inner Village with a generous handful of ryou on the condition that they not start a bar fight or an international incident like a certain someone and then went to find that certain someone.  Unsurprisingly, he found him in a shady dive bar on the east outskirts, sitting in the corner booth and staring down everyone who so much as glanced in his direction.  He spotted Kakashi heading his way and grimaced, throwing back a shot of sake.

“What, you killed them already?” Zabuza grumbled, eyeing him as he slammed the glass back down.  “Couldn’t you have drawn it out longer?”  

“I’m not a hinnagami,” answered Kakashi, settling down across from him even though it put his back to the rest of the room.  “I didn’t hunt you down to grant your wishes.”

“Do you know how annoying that nose of yours is?” Zabuza retorted.  He flicked an empty shot glass across to Kakashi.  “It’s an abuse of authority, using it to track down off-duty shinobi.  Sir,” he added with a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Kakashi twitched.  “I gave your team time off, not you,” he said in a mild tone that would have made Zabuza at least pause a year ago.  That time had unfortunately passed.  Maybe he really should take Zabuza out to the training ground sometime again.

Zabuza snorted and poured them both a shot.  “So the brats aren’t dead.  Do they at least wish they were?”

“I gave them money to spend the night on the town,” Kakashi replied, and Zabuza nearly dropped the bottle.  

“Kami,” he said, giving Kakashi a look of mixed disbelief and revulsion.  “You tree types really spoil your genin rotten.”  

“Those genin fought a war and haven’t missed a day of training since it ended, unless they were on medical leave,” Kakashi said dryly.  “A night off before a long-term mission won’t make them soft.”

“Like I said,” said Zabuza, and shook his head disbelievingly.  “Fucking coddled.”  He shot a glance at Kakashi as he took the shot.  “They didn’t completely embarrass themselves then.” 

“No,” Kakashi agreed, rolling his glass in his fingers.  He tipped it back, let the alcohol burn all the way down to his stomach.  “They fought well.  Better than during the war, even.”

“They better have,” muttered Zabuza, reaching for the bottle again.  “Waste of my time if they didn’t.”

“I’d have been inclined to blame their teacher if that happened,” said Kakashi, and ignored Zabuza’s offended huff.  “But no; they’re a credit to their sensei.”

“Hmph,” Zabuza said, but Kakashi’d known the man long enough to know that he was proud of his genin team even if he would never say so out loud.

“Their other sensei,” Kakashi deadpanned.  “Juuta and I worked hard.”

Zabuza leaned over the table to look Kakashi in the eye very seriously.  “You can go fuck yourself.”     

 Kakashi crinkled his eye in what he knew was a particularly annoying smile. Getting under Zabuza’s skin was always fun.  “You eating here or just drinking?”

“Order whatever you want,” replied Zabuza dismissively.  “I’m gonna eat.” 

“Whatever I want,” Kakashi repeated, dubious.  

“Sure,” said Zabuza with a shark’s grin.  “You’re paying.”

“Am I?” Kakashi hedged.

Zabuza eyed him over the bottle.  “Ranking officer always pays.”

“Ah,” said Kakashi, bland.  “I already gave all my money to your genin team.”

“Gods fucking damn it, Hatake.”

Kakashi had a nice buzz going by the time he left Zabuza with the bill at the bar and headed back to the library base.  It had been a long day, and the shops and restaurants in the markets were now receiving the swell of evening crowds.  The kids had thrown open the doors to let in the breeze, and even though there were only six of them, he heard their laughter and chatter drifting out from the gate.

Shisui, cheerfully ignoring the chaos of the genin apparently having a water fight instead of doing the dishes, glanced up as he walked in.  “Hi, Taichou.  Did you eat?”

Sakura whipped around with wide eyes at his words, the ladle in her hand drooping, and Naruto gleefully dumped a pot full of water on her head.  Then he saw Kakashi too and dropped the pot, jumping backwards with a yelp like a startled cat.  Behind them both, Sasuke surreptitiously lowered his bowls onto the counter. 

Hinata, who was standing next to Sasuke at the sink, absently held out another bowl of water to Sasuke, and when he didn’t take it, looked up.  She noticed what Sakura and Naruto were staring at, squeaked, and dropped it with a clatter.  Gaara, sitting on one of the tables with a suspicious-looking blob of sand, visibly debated throwing it at Naruto before Sai shook his head minutely.  

“I ate,” said Kakashi, surveying the miniature lake on the floor of their base.  He switched his line of sight to the genin, who apart from Gaara had the decency to look abashed.  He was going to pretend it hadn’t happened and hopefully the next time he stepped foot in here it would also look like nothing had happened.  “Team Genbu, on me.”

The three genin fell in line like ducklings, Sai in the lead and Hinata sandwiched in the middle.  They stopped in the closed hallway beyond the inside door, so they all heard Naruto complain, “How come he’s our sensei but he’s taking everyone out but us?  Ouch, Gogo-chan!”

“You dumped an entire pot of water on me in front of Kakashi-sensei!” Sakura hissed.  

Wow.  Those kids were really tiring.  Kakashi was tired.  He'd actually spent quite a bit of chakra in a short amount of time against Team Suzaku, but fortunately, Team Genbu was far more slow-paced when they weren’t being difficult.  Also, he was giving this team a slightly different test.

He nodded at the crates of potatoes stacked against the wall.   "The store from which these potatoes were bought, " said Kakashi.  "Approximately four hours ago, a kunoichi approached the meat counter and intimidated the butcher.  Your task is to find out everything possible about her without attracting suspicion."

"Understood," Sai answered for the team as Hinata's eyebrows knit and Gaara fixed a hungry stare on the potatoes.  Hinata flashed a question with her hands and Sai verbalized it for her.  "Is the target a Hanabi-ha kunoichi?"

"I have no further information to give you," replied Kakashi, which was an answer in itself.  This team could handle a trial by fire.

“Is there a time limit for this test?” Sai asked. 

Kakashi considered.  “Midnight tonight,” he said.  That was six hours -- enough time for a jounin target if they were careful, but likely not enough to find out much beyond surface information.  That was fine.  “You start now.”

In stark contrast to Team Suzaku, the three members of Team Genbu didn’t immediately jump into action.  First, they all traded glances, communicating questions in the tilts of their heads and answers in miniscule nods.  On unspoken agreement, Gaara made a grumbling noise and headed back into the library base.  Hinata pulled a small case from her back pouch and leaned over to put contact lenses in.  Sai sat down next to her and drew out a scroll and brush.    

Sai’s first step was ever predictable if effective: ink creatures sent to scout ahead -- pigeons, today -- while he himself stayed in the shadows.  Hinata, also predictably, opted for a more direct approach.  Gaara, when he emerged with his sand armour darker and bulging in unfamiliar places on his face and body to suggest a different build, would do something in the middle.

Sai's birds fluttered off the scroll one by one.  Hinata studied the potato crates as she braided her hair back.  Gaara fixed his stare on Kakashi.  

Being stared at by a silent jinchuuriki should be deeply unnerving, but Kakashi had built up some immunity by now, which was both fantastic and concerning for his sense of self preservation.  Gaara had always been the more feral.  Kakashi's instinct told him that the predator inside was just biding its time. 

Sai rolled up his now-empty scroll.  He stood, and in silent unison and, all three turned and filed out the door.  Kakashi spared a moment of affection for the weird trio and went to find his hounds.  

Urushi, who had been dozing on top of the papers on Kakashi's desk, lifted his head to blink golden eyes at Kakashi.  "Those are important," Kakashi said of the documents currently being used as bedding. 

Urushi stood and stretched luxuriously, then hopped to the ground with a thump.  "Scents are fine," he dismissed.  "No fear, no blood.  Not important."

Ningen priorities didn't always make sense to the dogs, but Urushi simply didn't care unless someone was actively dying or there was prey to chase.    

"I need you to track Team Genbu," said Kakashi, and bit back a sigh when Urushi stared back at him uncomprehendingly.  "White-bird-ink, Blood-sand-fear, and River-petal-turtle.  They're finding intel on a Kiri kunoichi, a strong one.  Just keep an eye on them and don't intervene unless someone's life is in danger."

Urushi growled under his breath and shook out his coat, sending fur flying.  "No point in hunting to do it halfway," he grumbled, but shambled towards the door when Kakashi gave him a look.  "Going, I'm going."

Kakashi glanced around the room, then tilted his head up and sniffed deliberately.  "You, too."

Akino, who had been sprawled behind the desk against the far wall without moving in hopes of being overlooked, pushed to his paws with a huff.  "This one is busy," he objected.  "The interim captain -- "

"Can wait," Kakashi cut in, and raised an eyebrow.  "Don't be difficult, Akino."

Akino blinked, hackles bristling for a moment before lying flat again.  "Very well," he said, short.  Akino had the coolest head of all his ninken, but in the end, he too was a creature of action.  Things like babysitting the genin felt trivial when Kakashi and the pack were scattered, hunted, and without a real den.

Kakashi understood that.  Even so, he couldn't afford leniency in his pack -- with the ninken, rebellion bred and grew on itself, and he had no time to detangle pack issues with the looming Exams.  He watched Akino go clinically and added 'pacify pack time' to his list of things to schedule. 

With both available ninken also on the job, Kakashi headed down and joined the streets himself.  He caught up Sai's trail, meandering through the eastern market district, and followed it.  He scented Hinata and Gaara faintly on the wind, but they had each taken an entirely different route.  

Kakashi spotted his target at a cafe table with a steaming cup of tea before him along with a pen and pad of paper.  Patrons and workers flowed around him smoothly.  Sai, his forehead furrowed in thought as he scribbled something on his pad, glanced up as if he could feel the scrutiny on him.  From across the square, Kakashi raised a hand in a two-fingered wave and knew he'd been seen even though Sai's eyes skated over him.  The mastermind; the conductor.  Sai wouldn't move from there unless absolutely necessary. 

Gaara had recently entered a phase where it greatly entertained him to pretend to be an inquisitive, innocent boy around outsiders.  Kakashi assumed that it was to amplify the glee at their horror when/if he finally got the chance to smash them into bits.  Kakashi spotted him next in a produce store -- not the one Kakashi had purchased the potatoes from, but within its sightline.  He was examining a coconut with apparent fascination but actually watching Hinata work.  

They'd narrowed down the correct store quickly, but Kakashi had been expecting that -- it was the easiest part of the test.  The store may not have printed a name on the potato crates, but civilians would need a handcart to deliver that quantity to the Old Academy.  Anything with wheels was easily trackable.  

Hinata, across the plaza from Gaara, propped herself up against the butcher counter with a smile on the edge of cocky.  She had to have learned it from Zabuza, or maybe Temari. Where she had gotten her hands on a hitai-ate without the red stripe denoting members of the Hana-ha, Kakashi didn't know, but the most likely suspect was Haku.  Second was Naruto, because for such a loud and clumsy child, he was a shockingly successful kleptomaniac.  "My sensei loves this place," Hinata said sweetly with just enough malice to muddy her intent.  

“R-really?” stammered the butcher, leaning away subtly.  

Hinata smiled, and there were definitely hints of Temari in that.  "Oh, yes.  You don't remember?"  She tipped her head to the side.  "It was only this afternoon.  At most four or five hours ago."  She leaned in closer.   "It must not have been a memorable encounter," she mused, and light winked off the senbon that she twirled idly in her hand.  "That's...disappointing."

"No!  No, I remember," the butcher rushed to say, very deliberately not looking at the senbon.  "Very -- very memorable."

Hinata's mouth curled.  "Oh?" she purred.  "What was memorable?  Hair, perhaps?"

"Yes! Yes," agreed the butcher hurriedly.  "A very lovely shade of, of, blue," he said, and when Hinata narrowed her eyes, tripped over himself to add, "like the ocean at night!"

"I don't know," Hinata said, tapping her chin.  "You don't seem too sure."  Her senbon flashed again in warning.

“I -- I am,” the butcher said, not sounding very sure at all.  “With the -- with the, the armour -- dress -- uh, apron -- err -- “ He visibly stalled, hampered by his brain’s refusal to come up with the right term.  To be fair, that was not the worst way to describe a pinafore.  

"Blue hair and armour-dress-apron," Hinata summarized, and the man shrank back at her cool disdain.  "I'll make this easy for you: a name."

The butcher jumped on the bait.  "A name!" he said hastily.  "Yes.  Harune-san.  Her name is Harune Koriko-san, yes."

"Harune Koriko," repeated Hinata, somehow managing to loom despite being head and shoulders                                                                                                                                                                                                 shorter than the man.  "That is...her...name?"

He swallowed.  "Y-yes?" stammered the butcher, going pale.

All the emotion wiped off Hinata's face.  "My sensei is a man," she said.  She turned abruptly on her heel and left the shell-shocked butcher behind.  

Gaara put down the coconut with a lazy, amused glint in his eye and started sniffing at the starfruit instead. 

Kakashi didn't want to follow the team too closely.  They needed space to work, and the very polite Kiri Anbu hovering at his peripheral would not appreciate the task he had set the genin.  He turned for the west, where there was a small dining district, and as he went, spotted Urushi lounging in the shadows of an alley a ways down, tail thumping every now and then as he watched the street with lidded eyes.  The genin were in good hands.  So to speak.

Kakashi found a small dumpling stand, placed an order, and took a seat at one of the tables.

And contemplated his problem children.  

The number of Hanabi-ha that would be in Mizu no Kuni during the Chuunin Exams who knew of Naruto and Sasuke's true identities numbered five: Tsunade, Shikaku, Shizune, Yuugao, and Hanabi.  Of them, either Shikaku, Shizune, and Yuugao were qualified to supervise them.  However, Shikaku would have to deal with Mei's power games as the ranking Hanabi-ha shinobi in Kirigakure, Shizune was all but overrun trying to overhaul the hospital system, and Yuugao was dealing with Hanabi herself and an entire Unit of several hundred shinobi as her first command.  

The Team Byakko genin were chaotic at best and disastrous at worst and also far too valuable to leave vulnerable or alone.  If only for a week, he would not have as much hesitation, but if all went according to plan, they would be at the Chuunin Exams for at least a month.  He could move them to the base on Uzushio, to keep them further from Mei, but given Shio the island fox spirit's interest in Uzumaki, he didn't particularly want to bring Naruto there either.

So: his options were to give them over to one of the qualified jounin to supervise and hope they didn’t blow their cover and cause a third Kiri Civil War, or bring them on the Konoha mission and hope they didn’t blow their cover and cause the extinction of Hanabi-ha.  

Decisions, decisions. 

They wanted to go on the Chuunin Exams mission, that much was for sure.  The three had never come across a challenge they didn't want to face, moreso with all three together.  They'd gone through so much in a short amount of time and still, they wanted to fight with the rest of the pack.  They couldn't possibly understand what they meant to so many in Konoha, nor could they fully comprehend the war they were fighting.  They were simply fighting to protect their pack, but now they were among the most hunted children in the shinobi nations.

Kakashi stared down at his dumplings, which at some point in the last however-many minutes he’d spent sitting on this bench had gone cold.  Kakashi lost his innocence early, kneeling in his father’s blood, and he'd gone cold and hard to safeguard himself from the world.  Like the dumplings, once the genin had grown cold, they would never be the same.

And then he caught himself.  Comparing genin to dumplings?  Maybe he really was going as soft as Zabuza complained.  

Fortunately for Kakashi’s impending mental break, a dark silhouette slid under his table and peered up at him with startlingly blue eyes.  “Aa, Akino,” Kakashi acknowledged, and flicked a dumpling under the table.  

Akino gave Kakashi a baleful stare, probably for sitting here and eating while his ninken did the groundwork, but flicked an ear and made the dumpling vanish.  "Someone's got eyes on the pups," he growled, pressing low to the ground.   

Foreboding crept over Kakashi -- that boded poorly both for the upcoming mission and relations with Kirigakure.  “How much have they figured out?  What was the misstep?” 

Akino was far too well-disciplined to roll his eyes.  "Not those pups."

Kakashi paused.  His team was safely tucked in the den under Shisui's eye.  "Zabuza's team?  Why, what did they do?"

"They are his pups," answered Akino, like that was its own explanation.  Perhaps it was.  They were marked already as the students of the twice-traitor.

“Whose eyes?" he asked instead.  Akino would not have broken away from his mission over a threat of a bar fight.

Akino’s tail swished.  “They followed Blood-rain-turtle,” he said.  The Yondaime Mizukage.  “They watch Cold-ice-sky most closely.”  He gave Kakashi a look.  “Their chakra smell strong.  They number three.”  

Suzaku was Zabuza’s team and Kakashi was in the middle of running an assessment on Genbu, but he could make this work just fine.  On a crumpled napkin, he scribbled, New secondary objective: monitor the shinobi following Team Suzaku and intervene covertly as necessary.  He slipped the napkin to Akino.  “Give that to Hachikou,” he said.  

Akino took the napkin delicately in his jaws and slunk off without further comment.  

Kakashi sat back to watch and wait.

Gaara found him three hours after moonrise, after he had moved from the dining district to a grove at the edges of the city.  He shed the extra sand padding and also the innocent demeanor, and perched on the lowest branch of the lowest tree and watched Kakashi blankly.  

Kakashi eyed him.  “Do you have a report?” he asked after a moment.

Gaara kept staring as if he hadn’t heard.  Just when Kakashi thought he wouldn’t answer, he blinked, refocused on Kakashi, and said, “Primary mission objective: Hachikou will report.  Soon.”  His eyes slid to the side before locking back on Kakashi.  “Secondary mission objective.  Intervention performed.”

Foreboding dripped down Kakashi’s spine.   “Elaborate.”

Gaara’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he looked almost offended.  “Squirrel,” he said, and clapped his hands together.  He opened them again to reveal an approximation of a squirrel made out of sand.  Unfortunately, Gaara did not have Sai’s artistic prowess and the squirrel rather resembled a deformed rat with a giant tail.  The squirrel opened and closed its mouth jerkily, and as it did, Kakashi saw incisors that might be better suited to a tiger’s maw.  “Distraction,” explained Gaara, sounding rather pleased with himself.  

Kakashi bit back a sigh.  “Why was the distraction necessary, what did the distraction consist of, and what was the outcome?”     

“Ambush planned.  Ichika targeted,” answered Gaara, and lifted his hands to show off the squirrel.  “Squirrel bit two.  Distracted.  Ichika left.”  He let the squirrel collapse back into sand, which reabsorbed into his armour.  

“I see,” said Kakashi.  At least he had kept the maiming to a minimum.  "Where are Hachikou and Kyuushi?"

Gaara cocked his head.  "Coming.  Three minutes." 

They lapsed back into silence.  Before long, Kakashi heard the patter of paws, and both Urushi and Akino melted out of the trees to fall in on either side of him.  He dropped a hand down on each head for a quick pat.  "All well?"

Akino grumbled an affirmative.  Urushi yawned widely and sprawled onto his side, and he and Gaara entered an unspoken staring contest.  

Sai stepped into the clearing, with Hinata close on his heels.  She'd taken her hair down and wrapped the bandages back over her eyes, and draped in her fur cloak, looked nothing like she had hours prior.  "Taichou," greeted Sai with a nod.  

"Hachikou, Kyuushi," Kakashi acknowledged.  "Report."

"Hai," said Sai, stepping forward.  Hinata faded to his shoulder.  "Primary objective: gather intelligence on a kunoichi who patronized the store from which ten kilograms of potatoes were purchased.  A preliminary sweep and onsite tracking indicated the potatoes were delivered by handcart from the Otohane Market.  Kyuushi approached for interrogation of the staff as to the identity of the target.  The target was identified as Harune Koriko, who we deduced at the time to be a high-caste shinobi of either tokubetsu or jounin rank."

Kakashi held up a hand.  "How did you deduce that?"

"The owner of the store lives with shinobi, likely her offspring," explained Sai.  "There was an extra chuunin flak jacket along with weapons set out for maintenance in one of the rooms.  However, she did not move to defend the butcher when Kyuushi intimidated the man, so either she does not care for her employees or she lacks the power to defend him.  Given the maternal gestures she makes towards the market staff, the butcher included, the latter is more likely.  Applying the rules of equivalency in Kiri caste-rank power analyses, and factoring in subordinate protection by association, the target kunoichi had to have been at minimum a mid-caste tokubetsu jounin or high-caste chuunin."

"Your reasoning in that is sound," Kakashi acknowledged.  "But by your logic, since she presented as a high caste genin, Kyuushi by herself should not have been able to threaten the butcher unchallenged by the proprietor."

"She invoked protection by claiming the target as her sensei," responded Sai.  His calm never faltered.  "Direct association with one of high enough status would prevent interference, so we concluded that the kunoichi was likely a tokubetsu jounin or jounin from the high caste.  Kyuushi extracted the name and description directly from the butcher," he continued.  "She then relayed the information to me, and I began a wide-spread canvas for shinobi matching her physical description or with similar facial features, as she would be from a clan as a high caste tokubetsu or jounin.  To eliminate other possible targets, Shichino interviewed several staff, including the butcher, to crosscheck the gathered information and ensure that no other kunoichi had in that time window had conducted similar actions."

Interview could mean anything from threatening murder to pretending to be a lost child.  Kakashi didn't dwell too long on it.  

In all the genin, Kakashi saw himself most in Sai: mission-oriented and maybe too serious.  Sai had already surpassed Kakashi’s younger self in at least one regard, though: he trusted and relied on his teammates.  "Continue.  Condensed," he added as a second thought, because the night was growing older and he had an early morning meeting to prepare for.

“Shichino focussed on the secondary mission objective after this point,” said Sai.  “Kyuushi and I continued gathering information on the target with a combination of wide-area surveillance and literary research.  The Harune are a high-caste clan who sided with the Yondaime Mizukage during the last Civil War.  They have no kekkei genkai but have developed a Clan technique that greatly increases the user's speed for a short period of time, paired with a distinct kenjutsu style.  The target lives in the clan compound and has no overt deviations from her clan's philosophies.  She is the eldest of three, from a kunoichi mother and a shinobi father.  She does not currently have a genin team, but is assigned to lead a squad consisting mainly of mid-caste genin and chuunin on routine sweeps in the mountains.  She is right hand dominant but functionally ambidextrous, is nearsighted in her left eye, and has a fondness for pineapple cakes."

Kakashi nodded.  “The assessment is over.  The information you have gathered will be compared against another source for accuracy.  I’ll notify you of the outcome at a later time.”  

He paused, because Hinata tucked her hands in her sleeves and tilted her head and traded a look with Gaara, who blinked once, long and slow.  Sai turned back to glance at them.  The three of them were doing the thing again where they talked without a sound.  "If I may," added Sai at Kakashi's nod, "we have also devised several plans of action should it become necessary to kill the target and dispose of the body."

Of course they had.  Shisui had raised them into proper little monsters.  

Zabuza was not happy, to say the least, to see him again.  Perhaps Kakashi should have thought further ahead when he left the other man with the bill at the bar.  Instead, he sent Urushi to fetch him to Kakashi’s office, which in retrospect may not have helped his temper.  

“You have some fucking nerve,” Zabuza growled, letting the door slam behind him.  Urushi whisked in milliseconds before it shut on his tail and gave Kakashi an equally baleful stare.

Kakashi ignored that part.  “I gave Team Genbu their assessment this evening,” he said.  

"Good for them," Zabuza grumbled.  Kakashi leveled him with a look, and begrudgingly, he dropped into the chair across from Kakashi.  "They're not my brats.  What's it got to do with me?"

"What do you know about Harune Koriko?" Kakashi asked.  

"She's got a stick so far up her ass it's lodged in her brain," answered Zabuza thoughtfully.  "I bet Haku could take her."

Zabuza was the pinnacle of shinobi professionalism.  "Physical description?  Family history?  Shinobi history?"

Zabuza glowered at the desk.  "High caste dipshit.  Whole clan sided with Yagura, else they got rid of whoever didn't.  I hear they sterilize clan members who are blood traitors before kicking them out, but no one talks about that."  He shrugged.  It wasn't the most brutal clan practice either of them had heard.  "Koriko's the proud oldest daughter of the Clan Head's younger brother, she's got two younger brothers and an assassin for a mother, and she's straight up a shitcan of a person.  Six years older than me, went through the Academy Graduation Exam and fucking proud of it, chuunin at thirteen, jounin at twenty-two or something, favours kenjutsu and short-range fuuton."

"Is she on your hit list?" Kakashi asked, only half joking.

"Hell yeah, she is," Zabuza agreed.  "I'm going to snap her neck and plant fucking carrots in her ribcage."

"...I see," said Kakashi as blandly as he could manage.  "And a description?"

Zabuza glanced at him sideways.  "Like, cut out her heart with Kubikiribocho and use it to fertilize -- "

"A physical description of Harune Koriko," interrupted Kakashi before Zabiza could continue describing his strange and somewhat disturbing fantasy.  

Zabuza visibly considered rolling his eyes.  "One-sixty-five or so, fifty-four kilos.  Dark blue hair, straight, grey eyes.  Sprinter's build.  Usually wears clan colours: loose sleeves and shinobi uniform pants made from dark blue cloth -- the fancy shit, not the mass produced crap -- and armour that looks like the bastard child of an apron and a dress."  He gave Kakashi an impatient look.  "That enough for you?"

"Have you fought her before?" Kakashi asked.

A slow smirk crept over Zabuza's face.  "Battle at Shishimaru Island.  Raid on Korinto Outpost.  Battle at the north end of Giyatama.  Won every time."   

"You lost two of those battles," Kakashi corrected.

"Yeah, but I beat her," pointed out Zabuza, indifferent.  "Everyone else couldn't hold the line.  You lost a battle to her too -- she was part of the raid on Akazora Outpost."

Kakashi did not grimace at the reminder of that particular skirmish.  "I didn't see her."

"She's forgettable, huh?" Zabuza grinned.  "Bet she'd love to hear that."

They were getting off-track.  This happened often with Zabuza.  "Do you remember anything about her fighting style?" 

Zabuza considered.  "Fast, but Haku's faster.  Drag out the battle long enough and she gets tired.  Overcompensates her left.  Has a clan technique called 'taming the wind' or some shit that tears right through bone and everything."

"Overcompensates her left," Kakashi repeated.  "Why is that?"

"I dunno, she had a stroke?  Dropped on her head as a kid?  Whacked good as a genin?" Zabuza shrugged.  "Left side's weaker.  Eye, arm, leg.  Takes a good while of hard combat before it starts showing, though."

“Is she on active duty now?”

“Yeah,” said Zabuza.  “On a short fucking leash.  Mostly in the mountains; doesn't leave the Main Island.”  Kakashi nodded; Zabuza eyed him and drawled, “The Silent Trio pass your test with flying colours?”

They had.  He had one piece of information still unverified, though.  “Does she like pineapple cakes?” asked Kakashi.

Zabuza squinted.  “How the fuck would I know?”

Never mind, then.  The pineapple cakes could wait.  “Yours and Juuta’s teams are cleared for Operation: Empire,” said Kakashi.  “We need to finalize the details for the mission proposal.”

“By we,” said Zabuza, “you mean you.”

“Absolutely not,” Kakashi returned. 

Zabuza glowered at him.  "This is a fucking shinobi rights abuse."

"Shinobi don't have rights.  They have one right: the right to follow orders."  Kakashi tossed a stack of folders over the table to Zabuza.  "Meeting's in six hours.  We need to get Terumi to agree to cooperate on the mission."

"She'd do it if you married her," said Zabuza under his breath. 

"What was that?" Kakashi said, mild. 

Zabuza snorted, but he shot a wary look at Kakashi as he flicked the folders open.  "What about yours?"  At Kakashi's blank look, he said, "Your three demonlings.  Bringing 'em or nah?"

"It's a disastrous idea," said Kakashi. 

Zabuza flicked a glance up at him.  "That's not an answer," he noted. 

Kakashi grimaced.  "Leaving them in Kirigakure is also a terrible idea."

Zabuza huffed a laugh.  "Yeah, it is."  He eyed Kakashi for a moment.  "Bring 'em, then."

"You're the last person I'd have expected to say that," Kakashi observed, dry.  "You complained day in and day out about training then in Tetsu."

The corner of Zabuza's mouth tugged up in a smirk.  "Yeah, but they're not gonna be my problem in Konoha," he pointed out smugly.  "Your treehuggers deserve to have those hellions unleashed on them."

"It's more of a question of whether Team Byakko can handle Konohagakure," said Kakashi, as if Zabuza didn't already know.  "Do you think they're equipped for a mission like this?"

"Dunno," said Zabuza.  "They're young, scrappy, and hungry, ain't they?  Gotten them pretty damn far for a bunch of special snowflakes."

Kakashi set down his papers and scrutinized Zabuza. He seemed to be in good health and mentally aware.  And scowling at him.  "That's the nicest thing I've heard you say about anyone," Kakashi said.  He may have sounded rather suspicious.

Zabuza sneered.  "Stick it up your ass, scarecrow man."

"You think they should go," mused Kakashi, ignoring the jab.  "Juuta thinks they should stay."

"Hey," said Zabuza. "I don't think shit.  You gave the other brats team assessments, didn't you?  Just take the Terrible Three out for a good ass-kicking and see if they're up for it.  Those brats'll jump at a shot to go.  If you're going as their jounin sensei, Konoha’ll be looking too hard at them to look for the Silent Trio."

True.  Kakashi would draw eyes to whichever genin were attached to him, and Team Byakko was the ideal foil to act as a distraction.  They were...loud, to say the least, and Naruto had the spirit, Sakura, the doggedness, and Sasuke the drive to do whatever it took to keep each other and the rest of the pack safe.  They had never liked being the team left behind, the team with the furthest to catch up. 

It felt dangerous, like playing with the chance of catastrophe to trust those three with something like this.  But they had come so far already and endured so much that setting them to the sidelines without regard felt a little bit like betrayal.

They must have begun to forget what Konohagakure looked like.

Fine, then.  He would give them a chance, as fair a shot as he’d given the other genin.  But a formal assessment for his team would have to wait -- because with or without them, the mission would go on.

"Wow," said Shisui, stirring his tea unproblematically as he leaned against the far wall.  "You two look great.  Really.  Fresh as daisies."  Despite having gotten the same amount of sleep as them -- forty minutes -- he looked all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like a chipper young squirrel ready to harass passersby from his tree.

In contrast, Kakashi's brain was still shooting him up with adrenaline every couple of seconds to shock himself awake and clear the fuzziness from his mind.  His eyelids were sandpapering his eyeballs and he was not at all pleased with this development.  Luckily for his mood, Zabuzas that didn't sleep much were high-functioning but grumpy Zabuzas.  Something in Kakashi's cold, dead soul perked up at the sight of someone more miserable than himself. 

"I hate you," Zabuza growled, half hunched over from the edge of the table he perched on the edge of with his forehead resting against the wall.  "I fucking hate you and every fucking asshole in this fucking hellhole."

"Aww," said Shisui cheerfully, undeterred.  He reached in lightning fast to ruffle Zabuza's hair before the other man could bat his hand away.  "That's adorable.  We love you too, Z."

"I will bite that hand off, Konoha," Zabuza snarled, opening one eye to glare at Shisui.  "Touch me again and I swear to -- fuck you!"

"Juuta, leave him alone," Kakashi intervened before Zabuza flew into a murderous rage.  Shisui skittered back a few steps, still snickering under his breath.  This was supposed to be the team of adults, so why was he babysitting?  "Momochi, you have five minutes to get yourself presentable.  Meet us outside."

Zabuza muttered something very rude into the wall, which Kakashi pretended not to hear.  "Let's go," he said to Shisui, and he fell in at Kakashi's shoulder as they left the den behind. 

The post-dawn sun trickled in through the windows, late enough and bright enough that the genin had all left for morning practice before he, Shisui, and Zabuza had even returned to the library den for their nap.   The rest of the Old Academy base had only begun waking, and the rooms they passed hummed with the light chatter and faint killing intent of shinobi starting their days. 

Though Konoha shinobi habitually woke late, the Mizukage Tower's activities were already well underway.  The main lobby served as little more than a passageway to redirect those entering the building to one’s chosen destination, but administrative nin chatted in the corners and teams moved back and forth, heading for mission reports, briefings, and other tasks.  

The bustle lulled when Kakashi stepped through the double doors.  Dozens of pairs of eyes tracked their progress with mixed interest and wariness and the scrutiny raised the hackles on the back of his neck, but had Mei not wanted such attention, Kakashi’s Anbu tail would have stopped them -- politely -- before they’d even touched the doors.  Shisui hated the stares just as much as he did, but Kakashi knew without turning around that Zabuza had shifted strides into a predatory saunter and was glaring right back.  

Thankfully, the stairway up to Mei’s office lacked the same amount of foot traffic.  In the antechamber, Mei’s aide, the chuunin who doubled as her charge’s babysitter, flicked his eyes up at them, down at his calendar, and back up at them.  “Oh, um,” he said.  “Mizukage-sama is -- uh, do you have an appointment?”

“Yes,” said Kakashi.  Behind him, Zabuza shuffled impatiently. 

“Okay,” said the chuunin, shoving his glasses further up the bridge of his nose.  “One -- one moment, please.”  He sideled over to the office doors, and after hesitating just a moment with his fist raised, knocked.  

After a pause, the door opened, and a pair of unmasked guards and a pair of masked guards plus Ao glared out at him.  “Yes?” demanded one of the unmasked shinobi.  His partner did a double-take at the sight of the three Hana-ha standing in the antechamber. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but Mizukage-sama has an appointment?” the chuunin hedged, and shot a look behind him.

Mei glanced up and her eyes rested on Kakashi, just behind her aide’s shoulder.  Kakashi ducked his head in a polite greeting.  “Clear the room,” Mei ordered, shutting her folder with finality.  “Ao, stay.”

“Mizukage-sama,” Kakashi said evenly once the doors had closed behind her guards.  “Thank you for agreeing to this meeting on a short notice.”

Ao scowled, crossing his arms across his chest, but Mei smiled, eyes crinkling as the corner of her mouth curled.  “I have to admit, I’m curious,” she said, tapping a finger against her lips, her eyes straying to Shisui's half-mask.   “Your captain wouldn’t say what this is about.”

“It’s a proposal best introduced in person,” Kakashi said, which was universal shinobi code for it’s complicated and you’re probably not going to like it.  

Mei narrowed her eyes.  “Let’s move to the conference room,” she said, and stood.   

The Mizukage Tower had been virtually untouched during the Civil War, as the Yondaime had retreated to the labyrinths when the Village came under siege.  That hadn’t stopped Mei from repainting, reflooring, and generally renovating the Tower to firmly mark the place as hers.  As such, the conference table still smelled faintly of stain, its surface unmarred.  Kakashi settled across the table from Mei and Ao, Shisui and Zabuza flanking him on either side.  

After a moment of silence, Mei tipped her head to the side.  “Let’s hear it,” she said, light.

“The proposed mission is called Operation: Empire and has been sanctioned by Tsunade-sama,” Kakashi said, looking her in the eye.  “We would like to use the upcoming Chuunin Exams to infiltrate Konohagakure and assess the current situation.”

“What?  Absolutely not,” Ao snapped.  

Zabuza scoffed, audibly, and smirked across the table at Ao when the older man glared. 

“Ao, enough,” said Mei absently without taking her eyes off Kakashi.  “Commander, you realize the diplomatic balance is delicate as it is?  This is the first time since the Sandaime’s assassination that Danzou will be opening the borders to foreign nin.  He’ll not take lightly to incursion attempts.”  

“I understand the situation is precarious,” Kakashi said.  “We have precautions planned to limit the chances of retaliation.”

“Everyone spies during the Chuunin Exams,” Zabuza interjected dismissively.  “Ain’t new.  If they’re holding an Exam it means they’ve got enough power that they’re not afraid to show it off.”

“Ambient intelligence collection as a foreign nation with Chunnin Exam participants is much different than aiding a rogue faction of the hosting nation’s military to infiltrate and overthrow,” Ao snapped.  

Zabuza shrugged.  “Is it?” 

“Yes!” Ao hissed.

“Technically, they are the rogue faction,” Shisui pointed out.

“That is not how the rest of the world sees it,” retorted Ao, leaning forward.  “In your ranks, you have traitors, Clan-killers, Kage-killers -- ”

“So fucking what, old man?  You just straight up assassinated the Yondaime Mizukage,” Zabuza pointed out.

"He died during the course of battle," Ao said with icy grace.  "An honourable death and an honourable kill -- "

“Ao,” Mei said pleasantly, as Zabuza showed his teeth.  “Shut up.  Or I’ll kill you.”

Ao blanched and grimaced, sinking back into his seat.  Kakashi shot a warning glance to his left, and Zabuza, teeth still bared, subsided instead of lunging.

“Commander,” said Mei.  “Give us some more details on this proposal of yours.  Kiri did not intend to participate in these Exams.”

"We wouldn't ask you to send teams who are unprepared," Kakashi said, and Mei's eyes narrowed slightly at the jab.  "Juuta and Momochi have genin teams who are currently training for the Exams."

Mei's eyes sharpened.  "The genin teams you've been keeping so safe and secret," she mused, just a hint of a purr in her voice.  "The Lost Four.  You want to send them back home to the lion's den."

"They're trained.  They're war kids," Zabuza drawled.  "You've met 'em."

"They have been tearing up my house with my ward.  It isn't a testament to their skill," Mei shot back, and switched her gaze to Shisui, studying his half-mask.  "Not yours," she mused aloud.  "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting your genin."

"No," Shisui agreed cheerfully.

"Juuta's team specializes in covert operations," Kakashi explained.  "Their skillset is ideal for the mission we have in mind.  Momochi's team will be actively competitive in the Exams, since a team needs to make it to the final round for a visiting Kage to be invited to spectate."

Mei leaned back, contemplative.  Ao sputtered, "You expect Mizukage-sama to go to Konoha for your little plan?  You overstep yourselves!"

"Hanabi-ha is free to run their missions independently, and Kiri will provide the basic support settled on at the close of the Civil War," Mei said.  "However, this request goes far beyond basic support and I cannot agree to this level of involvement."

"All our teams will need for the first stages of the operation is the protection of being recognized as Kiri-nin, which we currently hold," Kakashi said.  "Our genin will have cover identities, but Momochi and I will not be concealing our identities."

"Going as yourself?  That's a deliberate provocation," Ao snapped.  "Kiri's position is still unstable, that's why we chose to skip these Exams.  To purposefully invite Konoha's ire is -- "

"Why does your operation require me to be in Konoha for the final round?" Mei interrupted, ignoring Ao's rant.

"Access," Shisui answered.  "There is no other way to get close to Danzou without tipping him off.  Jounin sensei and their genin are closely monitored in the Village, and they will have no reason to approach Danzou.  A Kage and her personal guards will have the opportunity to spend time in close proximity with him.  I would join your personal guard for the Exams."

After a long pause, Mei shook her head, steepling her fingers in front of her.  "I'm sorry," she said, "but the level of risk to myself and potentially Kirigakure…"  she trailed off as Kakashi reached into his flak jacket and set a scroll down on the table between them.  She recognized it immediately, and her eyes snapped back to Kakashi with a burn of genuine anger and resentment. 

“A war for a war,” Kakashi said evenly.  “Three shinobi for every two of ours who fell in battle.  Hanabi-ha is ready to fight.  Are you prepared to field your shinobi?”

She wasn’t.  She had never intended to fulfill her side of the contract, and everyone in the room knew it.  Mei watched him silently, the storm behind her eyes subsiding to an icy calm as she considered him.  

He held the advantage, but it was precarious.  "I propose a renegotiation of terms," Kakashi said.

Mei had agreed to that deal when she had everything to gain and a very good chance that one or both of herself and Tsunade would be dead before it came time to collect, but that day had tied their futures together.  Kakashi’s threat was implicit: Mei had much more to lose now than she had two years ago, and arguably, Hanabi-ha had nothing to lose.  Destroy Hanabi-ha's hopes of reclaiming their home, and with their death throes the faction would deal Kirigakure a blow from which it would never recover.

Finally, Mei smiled, but though her lips curled her eyes stayed cold and flat.  "Well, then, Commander," she purred.  "I would love to hear the changes to the contract you are proposing."

Akino sniffed the air as Kakashi stepped back into his office, sneezed, and then looked disgruntled about it.  "You smell like rock-smoke," the ninken commented.

Kakashi grimaced.  "Terumi didn't like that I played the contract card."

"Unsurprising," said Akino, wrinkling his nose.

Kakashi tossed his kunai pouch to the desk.  "Is Uzuki in the base camp?"

"No," answered Akino, lowering his head to rest on his paws again.  "She took the little one out of the den and left an hour ago."  

Briefing her would have to wait.  "Urushi?"

Icy blue eyes blinked disinterestedly.  "Helping Poison-night-springs."

Unless Shizune needed new patients, Kakashi didn't know why she would possibly need Urushi's help.  

"Guruko is here," Akino added as an afterthought.  "He's in your den quarters."

"By my den quarters," said Kakashi, "you mean in my bunk with my clothes, which he dragged there."

"Yes," agreed Akino.  The entire pack knew Guruko liked to nest rather more than any dog.  Kakashi's clothing was a frequent casualty to that impulse.  

Kakashi bit back a sigh.  "I'll check in with him later," he said.  "Send Team Byakko to the training ground -- I'll meet them there."

“You haven’t slept,” Akino noticed.  “Humans need more sleep than you get on a regular basis.”

Kakashi frowned at the ninken.  “Did Pakkun tell you that?”

Akino sniffed haughtily.  “This one does not need Pakkun to know of such things.”

“Did Pakkun tell you to say that?” amended Kakashi.

Akino’s tail swished, annoyed.  “It does not matter if it is true.”  

"Three genin won't wear me down much," Kakashi dismissed.  "I'll take a break after their assessment, den mother."

Akino snarled at him for that.  Kakashi had no regrets.

In the time that it had taken to do preliminary renegotiation of the contract, the sun had risen to its peak and begun its descent.  Kakashi slipped out the back and meandered his way to the training ground, enjoying the afternoon sun and the fresh air.  Konoha always had clean air thanks to the surrounding forest, but Kiri's mountain air tasted just as fresh with hints of the sea.

Kakashi arrived rather late to the training ground.  Naruto was bouncing on the balls of his feet at the treeline while Sasuke and Sakura stretched.  His head snapped around and when he spotted Kakashi, his eyes widened.  Sakura and Sasuke came to their feet quickly at their teammate's sudden stillness, and together, the three of them braced to meet him.  Kakashi doubted Akino had said anything out of the ordinary for a training session, but all three of his genin radiated nervous tension.

For a moment, he just looked at them, and they at him.  Still too thin, still carrying themselves like ones hunted, still with that defiant fire burning bright in their eyes.  He didn't know what they saw when they looked at him, but sometimes, Kakashi looked at them and mourned for something he and they would never know.

"The three of you will have an assessment today," Kakashi said at last.  "As you know, the other teams have completed assessments recently as well."

"For the mission, right?" Naruto interjected.   "You're testing us for the mission!"

"This assessment is to gauge your skills," answered Kakashi.  "It is not necessarily linked to the mission.  Passing the assessment doesn't necessarily mean you will be assigned to the Chuunin Exams mission."

Sasuke scowled.  Sakura frowned and said, "This isn't related?  I heard you tested the other teams based on what they'd do in Operation: Empire."

"I tested the others based on their team specializations," said Kakashi.  "I'll be testing you on your combat."

"So, it's a coincidence," said Naruto, crossing his arms across his chest and squinting.

"Their assigned missions are also aligned with their team specializations,” Sakura corrected, somewhat resigned at the failure of her attempted interrogation.  “They got assigned those things because that’s what they’re already good at.”

Naruto blinked at her, then swivelled to Sasuke.  Sasuke shrugged.  “Makes sense.”

“Then what would we do?” Naruto asked.  "During the Empire mission?"

“Worry less about that,” said Kakashi, “and more about this test.”

The change, sudden as it was, was obvious.  Naruto crouched, one hand braced on the ground and the other upraised in front of him.  Sakura slid into a wide stance behind him, eyes locking on Kakashi.  Sasuke merely rested his hand on the hilt of his katana and said, “What’s the objective?”

Kakashi tipped his head to the side, making a show of looking up at the clouds.  “Try not to let me take you down too easily,” he said, and watched their tempers flare in their eyes.  He didn't need to say it to them, but he did anyway: "Come at me with intent to kill."

"Rahh!" Naruto hollered, charging forward immediately.  Sakura followed, hands curled into fists at her sides as she ran at his flank.  Sasuke went sideways instead of forward, swinging wide behind his teammates as his eyes blazed crimson.  

It was a simple yet effective team formation for a combatant who could both deal and take heavy damage, one who could deal precise, crippling damage, and one who had the advantage of distance -- in Sasuke's case, with the Sharingan's foresight, both physical and temporal distance.  

Naruto drew the attention and the attack.  Kakashi fended him off headlong, ducking the hands curled into claws and helping Naruto to the ground with an elbow to the back of the neck.  He jerked backwards as the air shifted, almost perpendicular to the ground, and a trio of shuriken whizzed just above his nose.  Two quick step-spins guided him out of Sakura's reach as she stuck, jumping in to cover Naruto and take advantage of the opening Sasuke had made. 

"Don't overextend," Kakashi warned her, seizing her behind the shoulder when a punch went wide and tossing her bodily away.   

He sidestepped again as Naruto pounced.  "Fuuton: Nagaitsume!" Naruto cried, a fistful of wind-claws in each hand as he lashed out.  

Kakashi twisted straight into the path of Sasuke's raiton, and a quick substitution put him behind Naruto as his clone took the brunt of the damage and vanished in a puff of smoke.

Naruto whirled a second too slow, and Kakashi was on him, battering aside Naruto's wrist and disrupting his chakra enough to make him lose control of the jutsu.  Wind shrieked as it spiraled away, and Naruto yelped with it.  Kakashi tossed him in the direction of the trees.  

He ducked instinctively and Sakura flew overhead, already twisting midair to face him before she landed in a crouch.  Her sandals dug furrows in the ground and chakra glowed ominously at her fist.  "Counter me," Kakashi ordered.  He drew a kunai and attacked.  

Sakura hopped backwards away from the first slash, dancing sideways out of range of the second, but the third she batted away with the metal plating on the back of her glove, with enough force that Kakashi took a step back.  She followed it up by swinging a haymaker at his head, a fierce scowl painted across her face.

"Watch your openings," Kakashi warned, ducking the swing and grabbing her arm just above the elbow.  She vanished before his grip could tighten. Kawarimi.  

Kakashi dropped the chunk of wood that used to be his student, pivoting on his back foot to dodge the fireballs that scorched the air where he’d just been.   He launched a spray of shuriken at Sasuke, who slipped away before any could hit.

Naruto jumped back in with an enthusiastic attempt at taking off Kakashi's head and almost succeeded in grabbing a handful of Kakashi's hair.   Kakashi jabbed down at him, striking his shoulder and chest twice before Naruto threw himself sideways out of range.

"Shieru, cover him," Kakashi directed, even as he pressed Naruto's retreat, lunging with a bared kunai.  "Rokumaru can take the brunt of the attacks, but you need to guard his openings."

Sasuke darted in from Kakashi's blind spot, the light flashing off the blade of his katana as he attacked wordlessly.  Kakashi spun to fend him off, let lightning flicker to his fingers and swiped at the genin.  Sasuke twisted out of the way and Naruto lunged in his place, teeth bared in a fierce growl as he latched onto Kakashi's arm and wrenched.

Kakashi used his momentum against him, tipping Naruto over his shoulder and flinging him into Sakura, who narrowly redirected a fist into the ground instead of her teammate.  The ground rumbled, cratering beneath Sakura's hand as she and Naruto tumbled backwards in a flurry of limbs.  "Shieru," Kakashi prompted again as he pounced, but this time it wasn't needed.

"Raiton: Inazuma," Sasuke intoned, and hurled the lightning bolt.  It sizzled through the air in a flash of light, and Kakashi threw himself into a kawarimi just in time for the raiton to scorch the log instead of him.  

Kakashi pivoted as soon as he exited the substitution, hands already flying through the seals for a counter, and Sasuke flipped up and backwards as the raiton net lashed out at him.  

"Rokumaru and Gogo, don't let me push him like this," Kakashi warned.  "Keep me away from him.  You especially, Rokumaru."  

"Hah!" Naruto shouted, barreling towards him.  Kakashi hurled the net at him instead and Naruto yelped as it flung him backwards amidst the stench of scorched cloth.

Sakura rose up suddenly from his other side, just a clash of colour in the corner of his eye, and a hasty kawarimi left only a log for Sakura's fingertips to graze.  "Stay on me, Gogo, buy time for Rokumaru."

She didn’t respond -- saving her breath.  Innocuously green chakra lit her fingertips, so pale and bright they seemed to be the light reflecting off scales of a fish.  She cratered the ground when she leapt, and Kakashi wove backwards around her blows, dodging each swipe of her chakra scalpels.  She followed him aggressively, chakra boosting her steps to keep up with him though her turns weren’t quite as tight as his.  Kakashi hadn't known how to train a battle medic, so he taught her what he taught the others: how to fight.

Naruto charged back into the fray with a whoop, swiping at Kakashi with kunai held like claws between his fingers.  Kakashi met him, slashing the blades away with his own kunai before they could connect and deflecting Naruto's kick off his shoulder as he narrowly sidestepped Sakura's chakra blade.  He shoved Naruto between the shoulder blades, caught Sakura by the wrist, and planted a kick in her abdomen that sent her reeling backwards.

Kakashi had stopped giving directions, but none of them needed them anymore.  He swept Naruto's feet out from under him, hooked him by the elbow and used the momentum to launch the kid skyward.  Sakura lunged for Kakashi's back as Sasuke intercepted Naruto midair in a controlled collision.  Naruto ricocheted back at Kakashi in time for him to sidestep Sakura's attack, and he spun away from Naruto directly into the path of Sasuke's raiton.  

Kawarimi.  Kakashi burrowed underground, tracking the vibrations his students made as they regrouped on the surface.  

Eyes were useless where there was no light; Kakashi let scent and sound guide him instead, let the echoes of footsteps guide him to his quarry.  He surged out of the ground, snagged Sakura by the ankle, and dragged her down as she yelped.  He left her buried to the neck, like planting a carrot, and slipped back to the surface.

Sakura was their earth elemental affinity; without her jutsu, Naruto resorted to frantically digging her out with his bare hands as Sasuke stood guard over them warily, katana bared as he glared around them.  

Kakashi inhaled, air and chakra at once, and Sasuke's eyes snapped in his direction as Kakashi flipped through the hand seals.  

"Rokumaru, shield!" Sasuke snapped, ducking low and darting left as Naruto whirled in a panic. 

"Err -- water thingy -- !" Whatever else Naruto would have said was lost in a babble as Kakashi spat a volley of fireballs.  A rather begrudging bubble of water expanded just in time for the fireballs to explode on its surface in a hiss and billow of steam.  

Kakashi cut the jutsu short as Sasuke erupted out of the mist, lightning dancing on the steel of his blade.  Kakashi called up his own lightning-chakra as he slid a kunai out of his holster.  Sparks flew as he matched Sasuke's blow, deflecting the katana off his kunai.  Sasuke gave ground only to dart back in, blade first, before retreating again. 

A taunt, an invitation, a distraction -- Kakashi let himself be drawn away from the spot where he'd buried Sakura.  Genjutsu wasn't Kakashi's forte, but he gathered the threads of one as he pressed Sasuke, and pushed it onto him smoothly as their blades clashed again. 

Sasuke jerked away instinctively, his katana sliding off Kakashi's kunai as he ducked the swarm of hornets only the two of them could see.  He shrugged it off in the next second; a born wielder of the Sharingan wouldn't be held so easily.

But even those few seconds was enough time for Kakashi to flip through the hand signs and summon a handful of lightning that shrieked as it tore through the air.  Sasuke flipped his blade around in his hand and met the attack with the hilt of his katana, so that the sword flew out of his hand rather than the blade shattering beneath the raiton.  The tomoe of his Sharingan whirled, and then he lunged with a matching fistful of lightning. 

They collided in a blinding explosion.  Kakashi skidded backwards, and in the cover of the light and smoke, doubled himself with a water clone.  He melted back as the mizu bunshin jumped forward.

Naruto promptly pounced on the bunshin, Sakura hot on his heels.  The bunshin ducked Naruto only for Sakura’s fist to plow through its head.  Sasuke landed on their heels, far back enough to give himself room to maneuver.  Unfortunately for them, they were still clustered close enough together to share in the Raisō: Ikazuchi no Utage, the Lightning Burial that Kakashi brought down on their heads.

That was...maybe a bit harsh, for genin.  

“The test is over,” Kakashi announced, stepping forward into the remains of the blast zone to find his lightly scorched genin still standing and still ready to fight.  “Stand down.”

Naruto flopped over, his clothes smoking lightly.  "I can still go another round!" he told the sky, reaching a limp hand towards Sasuke as his teammate stalked past to retrieve his katana.  Sasuke, naturally, ignored him.

"Here," said Sakura, intercepting Sasuke with a handful of green chakra to his forehead.  "Don't move."  This, too, Sasuke endured wordlessly. 

They were a proper team now, each flowing where another ebbed -- over the past years, they had finally found their balance.  They fought together cleanly though they were so different, read the others' thoughts without speaking aloud, breathed with each other in harmony both during and after battle.  They weren’t the half-feral street kids who scavenged from dumpsters anymore, baby fat clinging to their cheeks while their ribs protruded.  Maybe he had been too close to see it, but over the time he had known them, the three had grown up.  "You've done well today," Kakashi said aloud, watching them.   

At his words, Sakura and Sasuke both froze and turned to look at him, her eyes wide and his narrowed.  Naruto rolled onto his stomach and said, "Huh?"

Whoops.  Probably shouldn't have said that.  "You're done for the day," said Kakashi instead. 

“Did we pass?” Naruto asked.  “I mean, you said we had to like, stop you from taking us down too fast and it’s been like an hour so I don’t think that’s considered fast -- ”

“You passed,” Kakashi interrupted, and that successfully stunned Naruto into silence.  “Go back to the base.  It’ll be time for dinner soon.”

“H-hai,” said Sakura quickly, grabbing Naruto by the arm and hauling him up.  “We’ll see you later, Sensei.”  Wordlessly, Sasuke took Naruto’s other arm, half-carrying and half-dragging him towards the direction of the training ground’s perimeter.

Kakashi watched them go, pride and something else surging in his chest.  

Once they had left his sight, he turned and surveyed the training grounds.  If it had been battered after his session with Team Suzaku, now it was ravaged.  Where the ground wasn’t pitted or cracked, it was charred and scored with heavy scars.  He stepped forward, observing the area around him as more than just a battlefield.  

Team Byakko were not subtle.  He could see the footprints where Naruto landed hard, the craters in the ground where he’d hit.  Sasuke’s raiton had laid bare entire swathes of the grove, and the trees bore heavy slashes from his blade.  And Sakura --

Kakashi picked up the log he had substituted himself with just moments before Sakura's strike.  In the wood, neatly perpendicular to the grain, was a narrow slice that couldn't have been made by anything but Sakura's chakra blade.  He flipped the log around and found an exit hole, just as thin and precise.  

It had been a glancing blow, but landing something like this on a man would slice through muscle and bone alike -- easily fatal.  

They weren’t helpless anymore.  They really weren’t.  

When Kakashi looked at them, he could still see the little girl who'd covered her hair with mud to hide its colour, the boy who had never known parents or family for as long as he had lived, the boy stealing scraps on the streets of an Iwa village though he'd been born with a silver spoon.  They had always been so absurdly out of place, always the misfits, that Kakashi had missed the part where themselves had become their strengths.  

And it wasn't fair, what they had gone through to become just that.  Shinobi life was rarely fair, but Kakashi's responsibility ran deep with his genin.

Naruto, son of Minato and Kushina, who had not only taught Kakashi but tried so hard to raise him without replacing his parents.  Naruto had her fire and his drive and both their hearts, and Kakashi was his only living link to the parents Naruto would never know.

Sasuke, Itachi's younger brother, whose hands were stained with far too much blood in the defense of his home and his beliefs.  He had been entrusted to Kakashi's care directly while Itachi embarked on a mission from which he could never return alive.  Sasuke's safety had been Itachi's only wish.

Sakura, who collected scars like she might have collected hair ribbons once upon a time, who might not even have become a shinobi had she not gotten tangled up in this mess.  She had no one else in this world, either.  Nobody had made promises to her parents to keep her safe; in the larger scheme of things, it didn't seem to matter if she lived or died.

Kakashi mourned for the lives they could have lived, for the lives he could have given them or given back to them.  But he didn't have time to wallow in sentiment.  He fixed his eyes on the distant mountain peaks and wondered if, across the ocean in Konoha, Danzou was sleeping soundly. 

The patter of paws behind him alerted him to Akino's approach, but he didn't turn.  He tucked his hands in his pockets absently.  "The skies in Konoha never seemed this blue," Kakashi remarked.  

Akino sat down beside him and said, "Perhaps you didn't look up."

Kakashi hummed agreement.  

Akino made a point of looking around.  "There is nothing keeping you here," he noted with just a hint of impatience.  "The pups are returned to the den already."

"They've grown up a bit," said Kakashi.  He couldn't quite hide the nostalgia colouring the words.  "They're a little stronger now."

"They have learned to bite," agreed Akino.  "All pups must learn to hunt.  They will not be contained in a den forever."  His tail swished through the dirt thoughtfully.  "They must establish their territory and learn to defend it.  Not good, to raise pups without a territory."

"We're working on that," said Kakashi, dry.   He turned to the east, setting the distant Konoha at his back.  "Let's go," he said.  

Konoha needed to wait only a little while longer.

Chapter Text

OPERATION: HIGURE

MISSION REPORT

Akatsuki member profile: Deidara

Alias: none

Origin: Iwagakure no Kuni

Partner: Akasuna no Sasori

Combat: Able to use jutsu of lightning, earth, and explosive nature.  Employs kinjutsu to amplify the damage done by his explosive clay constructs.  Almost exclusively a long-range ninjutsu fighter; strategically maneuvers his opponents into traps with few avenues of escape.  Susceptible to close-range attacks and genjutsu. 

Notes: Newest principal member; recruited eight months after Uchiha Itachi.  Prominent former member of Iwa’s Explosion Corps; former student of the Sandaime Tsuchikage.

Motivation: Create “momentary” art through use of explosives.

Current location: Akatsuki satellite base, Mizuumi no Kuni

Observations: Akatsuki is able to conduct long-range meetings as a full group through a mechanism somewhat like a genjutsu.  The exact details of the technique are still unknown, but allows at least ten individuals to communicate verbally and visually, albeit to a lesser extent than an in-person encounter.  The possibility of transfer of chakra in the technique is unknown.  The distance limitation of the technique is unknown.  The vulnerabilities of the technique are unknown.  Further analysis to follow in future reports. 

END REPORT

D.C.O. Ikiryou

Haku knew exactly who and what he was.  This did not bother him; rather, the constancy of it comforted him.  Sworn to a Village, nukenin, prisoner of war -- Haku had been all these before and knew that his fate may shift like the wind, but no matter what happened, Haku would always be Zabuza's first.  And as long as Haku remembered that, it would be true.

He was proud of that, and he didn’t particularly want to hide it, so he was glad that of all the pack, only he didn’t need to disguise his name or identity, only pieces of his history.  

Temari, on the other hand, paged through the dossier on her assigned cover identity with an increasingly skeptical expression.  “Orphaned by a foreign mother and mid-caste civilian father.  Born and raised on an isolated outpost of the northwestern sea, became the prodigy of the Academy there despite her lack of shinobi blood.  Her favourite food is raw octopus, she loves beaches with black sand, skipping rocks on the ocean -- how would I even need to know all this?  Ne, Ichika, how come you don’t get a big packet telling you what your favourite food is?”

“Because my favourite food is kabayaki anago whether I call myself Haku or Ichika since Haku and Ichika are the same person,” answered Haku peaceably.  "As is Ichika Haku."  He didn't necessarily need a cover identity, given that he was actually from Kirigakure, but using his codename in place of his clan name would make it easy to explain away any slipups. 

“I have all that and the history of an entire clan to memorize,” said Neji, frowning at his dossier.  “Kyuushi-sama must have combed through every library in the Village to compile this.”

“They were certainly thorough,” Haku agreed, peering over at Temari’s pages.  “I see they’ve included...recipe variations for your second- and third-favourite foods as well.”  

“But they earmarked it ‘supplementary information’ and it’s in a separate section in the back,” said Temari.  She scrubbed her hand through her recently-redyed hair so that it flopped over her eyes.  “Which means we only have to look through it at least once or they’ll keep staring at us sadly while we sleep.”  

"Shichino doesn't stare sadly," countered Neji.  "He stares hungrily.  He would eat us too, given the chance."

Temari hurled a pen at Neji for that.  

"Perhaps we can just say that they will stare at you until you read it," suggested Haku.  He wasn't sure Sai looked at anyone with particular emotion either.  

Temari sighed.  "Well, they did put all this work into it.  Better to be prepared than to freeze up if someone asks us about our Academy years."

"I am not concerned about you or I remembering this volume of information," countered Neji.