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Oh, this was just typical.
Here Shikako was, minding her own business (for once), when an ANBU ghosted straight into her path.
She didn’t flinch at the dramatic entrance; she’d clocked him zeroing in, shadowing her from the rooftops, nearly a mile back. His chakra signature might be suppressed to ANBU standards, low enough to ghost through the village unnoticed by most, but Shikako hadn’t spent years dissecting all their tricks for nothing.
Plus, no matter the time or place, or universe, she’d recognize that chakra anywhere.
“Kako Nara,” the ANBU said, voice devoid of all inflection. “The Hokage requires your presence. Immediately.”
Recognition was not, unfortunately, preparation. Worse than flinching, Shikako froze.
For the first time since being spat out into this universe, she was face-to-face (face-to-mask?) with Kakashi.
There was a reason she’d put off this meeting, and it was this exact feeling she was experiencing right now: a wave of homesickness threatened to capsize the little lifeboat that was the existence she’d carved out for herself.
How long had it been since she’d caught more than a glimpse of him? Years, and it was probably another him, too. Forgive her if that wolf mask got the better of her.
(Which was ridiculous! She’d never even seen her own Kakashi-sensei in his ANBU gear. But that was the thing about dimension traveling: hop through enough of them, and all things become familiar.)
Kakashi didn’t so much as move a muscle as Shikako stared, but some shift in his demeanor signaled he wouldn’t wait politely much longer. Shikako would be going to see the Hokage whether she liked it or not.
So, forcing a smile, as though she had no clue she was on the verge of being kidnapped, Shikako offered an almost cheerful, “Let's not keep him waiting.”
Within twenty minutes, Shikako found herself cursing the lapse of her Kakashi-avoidance policy. Should’ve bolted the second she sensed his approach. Even with her bag of tricks, confined to the village—turning missing-nin to escape a few feelings seemed excessive—it would’ve been a short chase.
Still, considering the smug satisfaction radiating from his spot concealed in the corner of the Hokage’s office, irritating him would've been worth it.
“Hokage-sama,” she sighed, momentarily setting aside plans for vengeance, “I appreciate your faith—”
“Faith your actions more than earned,” Hiruzen Sarutobi intoned. Before him sat an inconspicuous folder that nonetheless filled Shikako with dread.
“—but I’m not qualified. I’m not even a jounin.”
“Consider this your promotion.” Behind the kindly smile was honed steel. No wonder people call him a God of Shinobi.
She'd had enough of gods, thanks.
“Sir, I’ve never led a mission, let alone a team,” she protested, which was even true in this universe. She didn’t even have a mission record. After the dust-up of her arrival, “Kako” Nara had settled into R&D. ANBU R&D, but a desk job was a desk job.
“Yet your colleagues assure me that you are not lacking in, ah, leadership experience.”
Cursing her distaste for inefficiency—given the average ANBU researcher's tendency towards myopia, perhaps she shouldn't have been so shocked by the complete lack of streamlining within the department—Shikako again paused a beat too long.
The Hokage, sensing weakness, pressed on. “Few shinobi have the skills necessary to lead this team. Fewer would I trust to do so. But,” he said, leaning back, “I will not force you. I can only ask: will you do your duty?”
However reluctant, Shikako was already nodding. She'd done her duty many times over, to many Konohas. What was once more?
This, Shikako decided glumly, is what I get for meddling.
She couldn’t even say she’d go back and refrain from that meddling.
It had seemed obvious, then. This final universe had been nearly a decade behind her own; of course she should change things for the better. Starting with a village elder too ambitious for anyone's good.
Well, six years down the line—a row of fallen dominoes more than the convoluted trajectory that stirred a hurricane from a butterfly's wing—she'd certainly changed things.
For the better? That was as yet to be seen. Sure, the Uchiha lived and Kakashi's eye wasn't killing him, but Shikako was also here, crouched in a tree above three squabbling genin. Squabbling genin who called her "Kako-sensei."
Oblivious to Shikako’s presence, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura argued. Well, Naruto argued, Sakura called him an idiot when she wasn’t mooning over Sasuke, and Sasuke ignored them both, determined to complete their final test his way.
An endeavor complicated by the teammates he had to drag along.
Literally.
It was hardly subtle, but the sooner they learned teamwork was nonnegotiable, the better. Enter: a few highly magnetic seals, and they were stuck with one another.
Again, literally.
Above her head, leaves rustled.
Shikako ignored it until, pointedly, they rustled again.
Eyes fixed on her team, she groused, “If you’re going to be here anyway, you could've just taken the assignment.”
“Ah,” Kakashi replied, lounging two branches up, “but then I’d have to deal with them."
Considering the ear-splitting shriek, a three-part harmony courtesy of the now tussling genin, Shikako conceded the point. For now.
Kakashi might have won this battle, but she’d win the war. After all, she had the manpower.
Once, she figured, wincing at another yowl from her charges, she whipped them into shape.