The Traitor and the Nine Tails

by Loudest_Voice

Summary:

Itachi stops his clan's attempted coup by other means. Five years later, he's assigned his first genin team.

Notes:

I started writing this story after catching up with Naruto . . . six or seven years after losing track of the series. I wanted to write an AU were things for the Uchiha brothers went a little better. I'm a sap at heart. Or at least I tried to be.

The characters in this story will have romantic relationships of varying seriousness, but the romance will never be at major part of the plot. That's why I've labelled this story gen. This first chapter, there will be mentions Itachi/Anko (crack) and Itachi/male OC I don't even name yet. In the future, I'll label any pairings at the beginning of the chapter.

As far as warnings are concerned, this chapter contains casual, unchallenged ableism. I don't think that Konoha has gotten the memo about being respectful towards persons with disabilities. There will also be children using bad language (I've always thought Naruto would have a potty mouth if the series' target audience wasn't kids).

Finally, I'll only officially list characters who have become a part of the plot. Naruto has a bajillion characters and if I tried to list every one who makes a cameo in this story's heading, my entry would obnoxiously take up half a page.

Chapter 1: The First Day

“I’m putting you in charge of your brother’s genin team.”

The words made Itachi’s near-black eyes widen slightly for a brief second. Hiruzen Sarutobi knew that catching Itachi off guard was difficult, so he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. When Itachi remained silent, Hiruzen looked beyond him and focused on the tall tree outside his office’s window. Its leaves were a brilliant, glossy green. Hiruzen chose to take their vibrancy as a sign that the summer would be long and plentiful.

“Hokage-sama,” started Itachi.

“How old are you?” interrupted Hiruzen, recognizing Itachi’s politely argumentative tone.

“Seventeen, sir,” answered Itachi. “My age has never been an issue before.” He stood straight, metal-covered armbands crossed at the small of his back. Had he just returned from a mission? Hiruzen spotted no injuries, no bloodstains on his white vest or on the hilt of his sword. It wasn't conclusive information. For Itachi, at least, a clean uniform didn’t always indicate a mission-less night.

“Your age has always been an issue,” corrected Hiruzen, adjusting his pipe tiredly. How many times had he gazed upon Itachi’s deceptively slight frame and wished to swallow his orders? “Harsh circumstances have forced us to ignore it in the past.”

Itachi opened his mouth but Ibiki Morino—Head of Konoha’s Torture and Interrogation Force and unrepentant feathers-ruffler—spoke before the young jonin could voice his thoughts. “You’ve been ANBU for too long. The division needs to learn to function without you. Thankfully, your meticulous reports will help us restructure its ranks.”

“Maybe, but a less abrupt shift in command would minimize confusion and loss of efficacy,” said Itachi, dark eyes fixed on Hiruzen. At least he wasn’t arguing his tenure had grown too lengthy. “I could stay on a more administrative role and—”

“We’re currently experiencing a rare lull in violent missions and hasty infiltration attempts,” said Ibiki. Itachi finally raised his head and looked towards him. “If there was ever a time to test ANBU’s readiness to handle sudden and unexpected changes, it’s now.” Hiruzen was sure anyone else would have glared, but Itachi’s expression remained impassively neutral.

“Congratulations on having a job with lulls in violence,” he said before looking at back Hiruzen. “Hokage-sama, I concede that the older ANBU squads might benefit from a shift in leadership but it would best to proceed cautiously.”

“I am proceeding cautiously,” said Hiruzen, inhaling a lungful of smoke. After exhaling, he levelled what he hoped was a firm gaze at Itachi. “For the next few months you’ll be at Konoha babysitting a trio of children while they complete mundane household chores. If at any moment it looks like ANBU’s about to collapse without your guidance you’ll be practically within shouting distance.” For a moment, Itachi said nothing. Hiruzen could all but see the gears of his mind shifting, desperately trying to think of a good reason to refuse the assignment. He would find none. Itachi himself had been the one who’d noted the growing sense of complacency and elitism among current ANBU squads.

“. . . Then I respectfully request a team that doesn’t include my brother.”

Now it was Hiruzen who was taken aback. He’d assumed that Itachi would jump at the opportunity to spend time with his brother, especially since Fugaku Uchiha had forbidden him to go near the boy after the uprising fiasco. It was part of the reason Hiruzen had ordered Iruka to put Sasuke and Naruto on the same team.

“Your request is respectfully denied.” Hiruzen rose to his feet and walked around his desk, trying to ignore the several reports scattered on its light beige surface. Sometimes, his office felt like a prison.

“Jonin are allowed to refuse genin teams,” insisted Itachi. His stance and tone of voice remained studiously neutral but Hiruzen knew him well enough to recognize the subtle signs of stress on his expression. His face was just a little too blank; eyebrows just slightly too relaxed and lips a bit too immobile. His knees were just a little too straight. He looked like a prisoner of war readying himself for torture.

“When they can provide adequate reasons,” said Ibiki. Following Hiruzen’s lead, he moved forward and stood in front of the wide oak desk. Standing next to such a tall and broad-shouldered jonin and staring at a boy not yet past puberty, Hiruzen felt decades older than he actually was. “Can you provide adequate reasons?”

“Does Kakashi ever provide any?”

“We’ve never ordered Kakashi to train the Nine-Tails,” said Hiruzen. If Itachi was surprised to learn that his brother had been put on the same team as a jinchuriki, he didn’t show it. “Not that whatever eccentricities I allow Kakashi are your concern.” Hiruzen didn’t like throwing his weight around, but he needed Itachi to grasp that training Team Seven wasn’t an order he could refuse. “The council wants us to gauge the strength and malleability of our jinchuriki.” It really might have been better for Naruto to fail the academy exam.

Hiruzen kept the thought to himself.

“Who could carry out the task with more efficacy than a Sharingan master?” asked Ibiki.

“Kakashi—”

“—has a transplanted Sharingan,” interrupted Hiruzen. Tired of looking at Itachi’s increasingly blank face, he walked forward and gazed out the window. Far below, Konoha was bustling under green summer leaves, its people oblivious to the machinations of the shinobi who worked so hard to keep the peace. “The council wants you in charge of Naruto. For once, I agree with them. Kakashi has done his best to master Sharingan but he’ll never have full access to its power. Nevertheless, he would have been my choice if I couldn’t trust you, Itachi. But I can trust you. If Naruto’s seal fails, you have the best chance of minimizing the damage to Konoha.” And to Naruto himself.

“Why is my brother on the same team as Naruto?” The council had asked the same question. They hadn’t been exactly thrilled at the thought of the Nine-Tails’ vessel developing a relationship with the new Uchiha heir.

“Something about balance and psychological compatibility,” said Hiruzen, instinctively aware that Itachi wouldn’t appreciate the knowledge that everyone—including Hiruzen—had hoped he’d agree to the mission without much fuss just for an opportunity to spend time with his brother. “It hardly matters. The new genin teams and their leaders have been organized. The decisions are final.”

“. . . When do I start?” asked Itachi, sounding as close to defeated as he ever did. Hiruzen almost sighed with relief. He’d won. Despite his bluster, he wasn’t sure he wanted to test Itachi’s obedience.

“Two hours ago,” answered Ibiki. “They’re probably still waiting for you at the classroom. You can pick up standard jonin gear on your way out.” By the time Hiruzen turned around, Itachi was already gone.

“I expected that to go smoother,” he told Ibiki, walking back to his desk and glaring at his paperwork. “Any idea why he didn’t want to train his brother?” Ibiki was an expert interrogator. Maybe he’d seen something on Itachi’s face that Hiruzen had missed.

“He did betray his family,” said Ibiki, raising his right hand and rubbing at the edge of one the wicked scars on his face. “Maybe he just wanted to avoid any reasons to interact with them.”

“Hn,” mumbled Hiruzen. Itachi had only betrayed his family to spare his brother the horror of growing up in the middle of a civil war. In a way, young Sasuke could be credited with preventing a great deal of bloodshed. That being said, Hiruzen didn't blame Ibiki for not making the connection. Itachi had demanded that Sasuke not be mentioned anywhere in his files. “Just how close to breakdown is he?”

“Hard to say,” answered Ibiki, rubbing at his one of his scars once more. “ANBU trained him well. Reading him is no easy task. Either way, his comrade’s mission reports speak for themselves. So do our enemies.”

“Konoha’s Wraith,” said Hiruzen, remembering the moniker Itachi had earned during his ANBU tenure. It seemed that most enemies never realized that they were dealing with an Uchiha, probably because the clan was pretending Itachi didn’t exist and because the news of Konoha's purging of all Uchihas from its ranks had burned through the shinobi world five years ago. The criminals and rogue ninja Itachi faced had started to describe him as a deceptively frail-looking child ghost from the Third Ninja War who hunted the living and showed them their worst fears.

“The good news is that he’s developed distaste for blood,” said Ibiki. “The bad news is that his genjutsu are getting steadily more brutal. We asked him to help us interrogate a Sound spy a few days ago. Poor bastard was ready to turn over his own mother after spending thirty seconds with Itachi, and we’d been getting nothing out of him for almost three weeks.”

That bit of news had made it to Hiruzen while he’d been reading another report involving Itachi. The band of thieves ANBU had been tasked with hunting down hadn’t been slaughtered, exactly, but they wouldn’t manage to rob a yen ever again. Itachi had methodically severed a limb from all thirty-three of them to humanely prevent them from robbing the daimyo. His newfound distaste for blood clearly wasn’t affecting his skills with a sword.

“He hasn’t started any fights with fellow shinobi but he’s young,” continued Ibiki, apparently unaware of the dark turn Hiruzen’s thoughts had taken. “Two other ninja did get into a pretty nasty fight over him about a week ago. It seems Itachi got himself a girlfriend and a boyfriend at the same time. Silly teenage stuff but if he escalates to anything beyond irresponsible promiscuity, we’ll have a bloodbath in our hands. Let’s hope a few months of milking cows and showing kids the proper way to throw shuriken will mellow him out.”

“I wouldn’t call Anko a silly teenager,” said Hiruzen.

“Maybe not chronologically,” said Ibiki, “but in terms of emotional development, she’s barely past toddlerhood.”

“What’s the likelihood that Fugaku will protest Sasuke’s placement?” asked Hiruzen, wishing to put the spectacle at the Forest of Death out of his mind. Like Ibiki, he’d just have to hope that Itachi would get over his rough patch without cracking.

“Low,” answered Ibiki. “You know how these clan heads are when it comes to their image. Uchiha’s already suffered the humiliation of seeing his genius first born betray him to ANBU and cut all ties with his clan. If he vocally opposes any interaction between Itachi and the spare, he’ll be admitting he can’t properly influence either of them. Not to mention, he’ll see Sasuke’s proximity to the Nine-Tails as an opportunity.”

“Which is exactly what I was planning,” said Hiruzen as he told himself to stop dallying and sat down behind his desk. “Go inform ANBU that Itachi’s now their former commander and that you’ll temporarily take over his duties until they’ve got a shortlist of possible replacements for me and the council to review.”

“They won’t take that very well,” said Ibiki, an amused smile gracing his thin lips. As usual, he would enjoy raising a few hackles.

“You might as well get to it,” said Hiruzen, confident that Ibiki was imposing enough to handle ANBU. He could probably fit three members into one of his dark grey collared shirts with little effort. “And tell them not to bother to nominate Kakashi. He’s needed elsewhere.”

After Ibiki disappeared, a delighted smirk gracing his scarred lips, Hiruzen retrieved the proper scroll and officially listed Itachi as Team Seven’s commander.

 

***

 

Sakura Haruno was having the best day of her life.

She was about to start her training as an elite ninja of Konoha beside the man she loved; handsome, strong, and intelligent Sasuke Uchiha. She glanced over at where he was sitting and had to hold back a wistful sigh. How did he get his dark, raven’s wing hair to look so artlessly tousled all the time? Was it just luck, or was nature determined to make him more beautiful? Sakura sighed. Her parents had warned her to be weary of him when they’d found out that she wanted to marry him but Sakura just couldn’t obey them. She didn’t care if the rest of Uchiha were traitors! Sasuke was different! He’d obviously become a Konoha ninja to prove his loyalty to the village. All girls her year agreed—even Ino-pig!

“Why isn’t he here yet!” yelled Naruto. “I want to start my training!”

“Shut up!” Sakura tried to whisper. It came out like a rough screech. “Ugh!” After the incoherent scream, she laid her arms on the desk in front of her and put her head down. Why did Naruto always have to ruin her life with his words, and loudness, and general idiot self?

“Everyone else's probably learning a cool new jutsu but we’re stuck waiting for our jonin!” With an angry snort of his own, Naruto got up and walked towards the blackboard.

“What are you doing?” cried Sakura when he picked up one of the erasers and rubbed it against the chalk residue at the board’s ledge.

“I’m going to make this asshole pay for keeping us waiting,” answered Naruto, a big grin taking over his stupid, stupid tanned face. He reached into his pocket, staining his ridiculous orange jumpsuit with chalk dust, and pulled out a long piece of string.

“Stop it!” yelled Sakura, rising to her feet and rushing towards him. Naruto ignored her and tied the string around the filthy eraser, bright blue eyes narrowed with malice.

“You’re going to get us into trouble before our sensei even knows our names!” A part of her—a strongly wicked part that secretly agreed with Naruto—cheered and cried that their sensei deserved to breathe in chalk for keeping his new students waiting.

“Come on, Sakura,” said Naruto, dragging Iruka-sensei’s chair towards the door so he could reach the top. “It’ll be fun.”

“No it won’t!” insisted Sakura, glaring as Naruto tied the string around the metal pulley that stretched whenever someone opened the classroom’s door.

“Just you wait,” said Naruto, chuckling as he placed eraser on the ledge right above the door.

“Will you both be quiet?” snapped Sasuke from his seat.

Sakura immediately turned around, apology halfway out of her mouth. She deflated when she saw that Sasuke was frowning and rubbing his forehead with his index finger and thumb. She wanted to walk over and pass the palm of her hand over his forehead to soothe his discomfort but she knew that Sasuke was too cool, shy, and reserved to permit it. So instead she turned towards Naruto and scowled at his malevolent smirk.

“Now look what you did,” she told him. “You upset Sasuke.”

“I think we both upset poor little baby Sasuke,” argued Naruto, scratching at his tangled blond hair. “Maybe he’s too delicate to be a ninja.”

“No he’s not!” cried Sakura. She heard Sasuke sigh heavily behind her and felt her stomach sink. Why did Naruto have to make her so upset all the time? She wouldn’t be disturbing Sasuke if he wasn’t around to make her sound shrill and stupid. Swallowing back angry tears, she turned back to look at Sasuke and almost wailed when she saw that he’d laid his head down on his desk, obviously overcome by annoyance. She opened her mouth to try and comfort him but the classroom door suddenly opened.

“Juvenile,” said a smooth voice behind her. Sakura gasped at the same moment Sasuke’s head snapped upwards. When his eyes fell upon whoever their jonin instructor was, he frowned so harshly that for a moment he looked ugly.

Sakura closed her eyes and shook her head to dispel the image from her mind. Sasuke was never ugly! When she opened them again, his face was once again beautifully placid.

“You’re late!” she heard Naruto yell at their teacher.

Swallowing nervously, Sakura turned back around, ready to make apologies for Naruto’s stupidity. Like it or not, he was her teammate so his actions reflected badly on her. She fell silent when she saw the jonin for the first time.

“Busy people are sometimes late,” he told Naruto, sidestepping the fallen eraser—had he dodged it?—and looking over at Sasuke. Sakura stared at his lightly tanned skin and wondered how old he was. Despite the subtle marks under his eyes, he wasn’t very tall and he lacked anything resembling wrinkles.

“We’re busy, you ass!” Naruto was going to get them killed! Couldn’t he at least try to make a good impression with their new sensei?

“I doubt that,” said the jonin, fixing his black eyes on Naruto. Sakura tried to apologize again but then she actually heard Sasuke growl. She must have imagined it because when she glanced at him, Sasuke was pushing his elbows on the desk and resting his chin on his hands. He looked as cool and aloof as ever.

“Ignore Naruto, sensei!” said Sakura quickly, prompting the jonin to look down at her. She noted that his eyelashes were really long and thick and felt her cheeks heating. “He’s really uneducated.”

“Am not!” protested Naruto.

“Follow me,” ordered the jonin just as Sakura raised her hand and balled into a fist. He stepped over the eraser again and stepped out the door. Sakura couldn’t help but admire the thick braid of black hair that fell halfway down his back.

“You better teach us something really cool after making us wait so long!” cried Naruto, kicking at the eraser before following him.

Sakura waited until Sasuke got off his chair and tried not to feel hurt when he walked past her without so much as a glance her way, thin eyebrows furrowed with concentration. Determined to show him that she could be mature and cool, Sakura followed him.

 

***

 

Naruto would be having the best day of his life if his stupid sensei would just teach him something already.

This was supposed to be the day when he finally showed Sakura that he was way cooler than that bastard Sasuke. He would master their first technique before Sasuke—it couldn’t be any harder than Shadow Clone, could it?—and their jonin would immediately know that Naruto was way superior to that stuck-up Uchiha traitor, obviously. Then Sakura would fall in love with him, wait for Naruto to become Hokage, marry him, and have beautiful pink-haired babies with him. Except the boys. Boys with pink hair would look stupid. Their sons would definitely be blond. Like their father.

Instead, he’d watched all his classmates wonder out with their jonin instructors. Kiba had even stuck his tongue out at him. Then he’d waited forever, watching Sakura make moon eyes at back of Sasuke’s duck-ass head. It’d been torture. The worst ever. When his jonin had finally shown up, and it hadn’t been anyone remotely as badass as the one who’d picked up Shikamaru and Chouji. He really wasn’t as beautiful as the one who’d picked up Kiba and Shino. No, their jonin was a short kid so skinny it looked like a strong wind could knock him over. They obviously weren’t going to any training grounds either. For some reason, pretty-boy jonin was taking the long way up the Hokage’s tower.

“Is he even older than us?” demanded Naruto, glaring at their jonin’s stupid long braid. He bet girls flocked him just liked they flocked The Bastard Traitor.

“Of course he’s older than us!” shrilled Sakura in a ‘whisper’ loud enough to scare away squirrels. Her voice definitely wasn’t as beautiful as the rest of her. “You think he can't hear us while he’s walking less than a foot ahead of us?”

Well, no. He probably could hear them. Naruto didn’t care. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stuck his tongue out at the jonin’s back. Sakura growled and punched the back of his head as hard as she could, which luckily wasn’t all that hard. People threw frying pans at him. He made a show of rubbing the spot she’d hit anyway.

“Ow!” he cried loudly, enjoying the way Sakura flushed angrily. Her hands curled into fists but she lowered them at the last moment and took a deep breath. She also tried to step closer to Sasuke—who’d thankfully kept his mouth shut most of the morning—but he quickened his pace when she tried to walk too close to him, pointedly stepping away from her. The rejection made Sakura lower her head and slow down.

Why was Sasuke such a dick anyway? He just had to suck the life out of everything ever, didn’t he? Quickly, Naruto tried to think of a way to make Sakura bold and beautiful again. “Hey sensei!” he yelled much louder than necessary, making sure his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Were you late because you needed someone to make your girly braid perfect?”

The jonin ignored the question but Sakura yelled “Naruto!” and punched the back of his head one more time. He made more fake pain-noses and continued to string together obnoxious comments to distract her from Sasuke’s general bastard-ness until the jonin stopped at one of the many sightseeing benches along the path to the Hokage’s tower and looked down at a bustling Konoha. The solemn stone faces of all four previous Konoha leaders looked down at the village like avenging guardians. Naruto’s face would be among them one day and everyone in the village would look up at it with as much respect as they did all the former Hokages.

The warm summer wind picked up and played with the bangs that had escaped from jonin’s braid, abruptly interrupting Naruto’s thoughts. He admitted that it looked kind of cool.

“S-sensei?” he heard Sakura ask nervously. Finally, the jonin turned around, pushing his charcoal-black bangs behind his ear as he looked down at all three of them.

“My name’s Itachi,” he said.

Then he looked at them blankly some more.

“. . . That’s nice,” said Naruto after a few moments of awkward silence.

“Naruto!” snapped Sakura again, slapping at his shoulder. “Excuse him, Itachi-sensei,” she bowed low enough her waist bent. “My name’s Sakura Haruno and my teammates are Sasuke Uchiha . . .” she pointed at Sasuke, who was standing like a statue to the side, and tried to smile. “. . . And this idiot’s Naruto Uzumaki,” she finished in a much stronger and harsher tone.

“Not an idiot . . .” mumbled Naruto, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at down at his blue sandals. Sakura’s insults weren’t cute all the time.

“Tell me, all three of you, why do you want to be ninja?” asked Itachi-sensei, sounding mildly interested but mostly bored, like he was asking someone what their favorite ice-cream flavor was.

“I’m already a ninja!” declared Naruto, grinning up at him as straightening his headband proudly. “Iruka-sensei gave me this because I’ve proven I’m brave and loyal—a true citizen of Konoha!” He waited for Itachi’s reaction, but the jonin merely stared down at him, no quirk to his lips or twitch to his eyebrows. His head didn’t so much as tilt. Excellent. He was in a team with two Sasukes.

“Don’t be stupid, Naruto,” said Sakura. “We won’t be true ninja until we’ve learned jutsu and completed missions!”

“I already know a forbidden jutsu!” He did! And he would have shown Sakura by now if she didn’t respond to all his offers with insults and punches.

“Is anyone going to answer my question?” asked Itachi impatiently. At least Naruto assumed it was impatiently. It was like the creepy bastard had put on a plastic mask that looked like a face.

“I became a ninja because there’s a certain man I have to kill,” Sasuke finally decided to speak. Sakura immediately went gaga at his smooth voice and apparently missed what he’d actually said. Or maybe she thought it was cool. Girls could be so stupid when it came to Sasuke.

“That’s dumb,” said Naruto, wondering why Itachi-sensei didn’t haul Sasuke to prison for making vague death-threats. “I became a ninja because I want to protect Konoha! Someday, I’ll be Hokage and it’ll be my job to keep everyone in the village safe so I'll have to stop you!” He prepared himself for the usual mockery the words got him but Itachi-sensei only smiled down at him gently, looking truly human for the first time all morning. Naruto grinned at him and decided he wasn’t so bad after all.

“Fat chance, dead last,” said Sasuke. “Even if you didn’t suck at absolutely everything, everyone in the village hates you.”

“Almost as much as they hate you and your traitor family, asshole.”

Sakura gasped.

For a moment, Naruto thought he’d crossed a line. Sasuke glared at him and curled his hands into fist before bending his knees.

Naruto braced himself for a real attack. He hated brawling Sasuke. As much as he hated to admit, it was like taking a beating from a navy blue blur. But now he knew Shadow Clone Jutsu! He could just keep barraging the Bastard with clones! Naruto started to arrange his fingers into the right seal—

“That’s enough,” said Itachi-sensei. The words made Sasuke’s frame relax but he still shot Naruto a murderous glare. “And you?”

It took Naruto a moment to realize that Itachi-sensei was asking Sakura to answer the question.

“I . . . um . . .” Sakura was blushing so bad her face looked liked as read as the ribbon she’d wrapped around her head. “I wanted to impress . . .” she shot Sasuke a look under her eyelashes but the Bastard was still glaring kunai at Naruto. “I want to protect Konoha,” she finished, deflated and staring at Itachi-sensei’s green jonin vest.

Damn it. Sakura was usually so smart and confident. Why did she have to let someone like Sasuke turn her into such a blubbering mess all the time? He never even looked at her. He wasn’t worth it. Naruto wanted to make her feel better but the only thing that ever worked was making her angry and he doubted a stupid joke would distract her now.

“That’s all for today,” said Itachi-sensei. Naruto was so upset for Sakura the words didn’t register at first.

“Wait, what?” he yelled, looking up at Itachi’s face in disbelief. “We haven’t even done anything!”

“Consider today your orientation,” said Itachi. “Meet me tomorrow at eight o’clock by Training Area Seven.” Naruto opened his mouth to yell some obscenities but Itachi was literally gone in the blink of eye. “How is this faaaair?” he settled for yelling. He kicked at a rock and imagined Kiba learning something amazing from the hot jonin who picked him up earlier.

“Ugh,” he heard Sasuke snarl, whirling around and starting to head back to the village proper. Naruto couldn’t help but smirk. At least the Bastard was stuck with a shitty teacher too.

“Hey, Sasuke!” Sakura called out. Her fake pleading tone instantly wiped the smile of Naruto’s face. He trailed behind his teammates, rolling his eyes at Sakura’s transparent attempts to not-ask-but-really-ask Sasuke on a date.

“Goaway,” said Sasuke, all but running away from Sakura and jumping over the road’s railing, landing several feet below them.

“I can take you to Ichiraku’s if you want, Sakura,” said Naruto, catching up to her. Predictably, she pushed at him when he tried to walk beside her.

“I’d rather starve,” she said before literally jogging away from him. Despite the rejection, Naruto smiled.

He was still grinning to himself when he made it to Konoha’s streets proper. Not ever the villager’s usual glares and pearl-clutching could dispel his good mood. Let them scowl and hide their children and wares when he passed by their homes and shops, whistling to himself as obnoxiously as possible. Sakura had gone off fuming about him instead of feeling sad about Sasuke’s bastardry. His new sensei had been late, disinterested, and little weird; yes, but he hadn’t laughed when Naruto said he wanted to be Hokage. He’d actually smiled! Things were looking up.

 

***

 

Sasuke was having the worst day of his life.

An outsider would wonder how today could possibly compare to the evening he’d entered his house to find his father with a bloody stump where his sword arm ought to be. Or the day after that, when his mother had struggled out of bed to tell him that Itachi Uchiha was dead and that his family’s honor was on his shoulders. Or even later that same day, when he’d learned that Itachi had severed both the median and ulnar nerves of his mother’s right arm, leaving it completely useless.

Sasuke supposed those days had been bad but the truth was that he barely remembered them. The few days after Itachi’s betrayal were fuzzy at best. Sasuke remembered flashes, like walking through the Uchiha compound and seeing with his own eyes that Itachi had crippled every single able-bodied warrior in their clan. He also remembered kneeling in front of his father, sipping bitter tea as Fugaku explained that Itachi had turned on his family on the Hokage’s orders. There’d been more to it than that—something about an age-old feud between Konoha’s founding families and the Uchihas’ plan to gain their rightful place as Konoha’s ruling clan. Sasuke had nodded at the right moments and made the right promises of vengeance but only two sentences kept replaying on his mind over and over again.

Your brother betrayed us. Your brother betrayed you.

Swallowing a growl, Sasuke kicked at a rock before him and tried to feel satisfied when it hit one of the trees planted beside the road. A child playing right next to it started to shout but then he spotted Sasuke’s forehead protector and grinned. “You’re a ninja!” he cried, brown eyes wide and impressed. He probably would have trotted towards Sasuke but his mother also spotted him.

“Don’t go near him!” she called, rushing to her son’s side and grabbing his arm. “He’s a traitor . . .” Sasuke kept on walking, preferring not to hear how one of Konoha’s citizens described his family.

That was how life had been since his first days at the academy. Sasuke was constantly deciding when it was necessary to defend his family’s name and when it was wiser to walk away and pretend he was deaf. The teachers—Iruka-sensei especially—never brought up the Uchihas at all but his classmates had been ordered to stay away from him by their parents. Sasuke would have preferred it if they'd stayed away from him.

They hadn’t.

The Academy students hadn't wanted to be outdone by a supposed traitor, which they made more than clear every time he made them all look bad.

ANBU should have cut off your arm too . . . Can you really be called an Uchiha if you’re not missing a limb . . . Maybe ANBU cut off his dick . . .

Sasuke suspected he’d gotten more taijutsu practice than all his classmates put together fighting off bullies. Most girls had stopped picking on him, at least, which had been a reprieve. At first. For some reason, they all thought he would be glad to hear that they “knew” he wasn’t like other Uchihas and that he was fighting to “restore his family’s honor”. A few times, Sasuke considered accepting a couple of the unsubtle propositions just to piss people off. What would the Yamanaka do if they caught him holding Ino's precious hand? Would they think he was trying to restore his clan's honor?

Technically he was. His family’s honor would be restored once he killed Itachi. He doubted that was what the girls were assuming when they made moony eyes at him.

The worst part was that couldn’t exactly beat up any of the girls up either. The last thing his reputation needed was rumors about how he savaged girls. So he did his best to ignore them and the snickers they inspired in all the other boys in their class. And Iruka-sensei complained that he didn't handle pressure well. Sasuke would like to see him sit through one of Fugaku's rants after Itachi's . . . 

The point was he hadn’t really felt the impact of Itachi’s betrayal all at once so the day he’d learned about it couldn’t really be called the worst day of his life. On the other hand, Sasuke was pretty sure he'd remember the surge of rage he felt at hearing Itachi's voice scolding Naruto's stupidity for the rest of his life. He'd never forget raising his head to find Itachi--taller and older, but still Itachi--looking down at him like nothing had ever happened.

What had he expected? An apology? Sorry I maimed most of our clan. An explanation? I had no choice because . . . 

Had he expected denial? In five years, Itachi hadn't approached him. Sasuke had waited, privately certain that there'd been some kind of mistake. Someone had transformed into his brother to crush their spirits as well as their fighting ranks. Itachi wouldn't betray them. The real one wouldn't. It made no sense. Why would he? Everyone loved him. He'd escape from whoever had captured him and he'd avenge the clan.

Sasuke could have sworn he'd surrendered the fantasy years ago. Apparently not. 

With a tired sigh, Sasuke made the last turn towards the Uchiha compound, relieved that he wouldn’t have to endure the villagers’ suspicious glares for the rest of the day. Abruptly, he decided to stop by his favorite Aunt's instead of heading straight home. He was in the mood for senbei. Privately, he admitted that he also didn’t want to face his father anytime soon. There was an invisible weight pressing on his shoulders but just seeing the humble brown shelves of Uchiha Senbei's booth made him feel a little lighter. 

“Good afternoon, nephew!” boomed Uncle Teyaki when he spotted Sasuke. Aunt Uruchi also beamed at him.

“Good afternoon,” said Sasuke, feeling a smile fight its way to his face.

“I thought you were supposed to start your real ninja training today,” said Uruchi, reaching for a pack of Sasuke’s favorite rice crackers.

“. . . The jonin was busy.” It was best Sasuke didn’t say who the jonin had been, though Teyaki and Uruchi would hear about it soon enough. The best Sasuke could hope for was that he'd be as far away from them as possible when they found out. Aunt Uruchi especially would worry herself into an early funeral pyre. 

“Irresponsible bastard,” said Teyaki, bending down to scratch at the stump that had once been his right foot. Sasuke glared when he saw it. Uncle Teyaki had been a ninja briefly during his youth but he’d suffered a severe back injury before making chunin. He’d already been crippled. Itachi hadn’t had a legitimate reason to cut off his foot. It'd been cruel. Had Itachi always been cruel?

“Don’t worry, Sasuke,” said Uruchi, patting his head. “He’ll get around to training you eventually and when he does, you’ll show him how amazing you are.”

Despite everything, Sasuke grinned when she rubbed at his headband, glad that he’d decided to visit them. He was happy to hear someone was proud of him for graduating the academy and with the highest marks in the whole class too. Iruka-sensei had congratulated him but Sasuke knew better than to give even the slightest indication that he cared about any villager's approval. If he admitted that he cared about their regard, he'd be admitting that he cared about their insults. His parents had simply nodded when he’d told them. Sasuke knew they’d been remembering that Itachi had accomplished the exact same thing before his eight birthday. Praise wasn't something he could really hope to get from them. 

Forcing himself to smile, Sasuke said his goodbyes to his Aunt and Uncle and headed towards his house.

Sooner or later, he’d have to face his father and explain that Itachi was going to be his commanding officer. A lecture was coming and he was sure it’d cover both of his father’s favorite topics: Sasuke’s duty towards the Uchiha and the many reasons Itachi was worse than pond scum. After Fugaku was done, he'd walked off to be alone and his mother would gently reinforce the whole thing. As Sasuke walked through the compund and watched Uchihas silently completing chores hindered by stumps and dead limbs, he recognized that they were right. He just didn’t want to hear it again.

He should stop whining. At least all his limbs still worked.

Determined to get the worst of the day done with, Sasuke hurried to his home. His determination lasted until he saw the bamboo fence around his house. Unable to ignore the apprehension tangling his entrails, Sasuke walked towards the front door and kicked off his sandals. He couldn’t even bring himself to call out for his mother after opening the door. Instead, he wondered if he could sneak to his room unmolested and avoid everything until dinner.

Yoshie—his family’s docile black cat—dashed that plan when she walked out of the living room and meowed loudly at the sight of him. Sasuke sighed and walked forward to pick her up. She purred the moment he touched her, making him feel oddly comforted. He tried to borrow some of her serenity when his father walked out of the living room, oversized red kimono hanging off him like he was a wraith. The empty red sleeve seemed to sway even though there was no draft going through the house.

“Why are you back so early?” asked Fugaku.

“It—the jonin was busy,” answered Sasuke. ‘Itachi’ just wasn’t a word that was uttered in any Uchiha household anymore. It was always The Traitor or—when his father forgot himself—‘your brother’.

“Who are your teammates?”

“Sakura Haruno and Naruto Uzumaki,” answered Sasuke as he desperately tried to think of a way to say that Itachi was his new teacher. The Traitor is my new commander? No, there had to be a better way to say it.

“Uzumaki?” asked Fugaku, interrupting Sasuke’s thoughts.

Before he could answer, his mother wondered into the hallway, dead hand firmly secured to her right side. “It’s unseemly to have a conversation in the hallway,” she said, ushering him and Fugaku back to the living room.

Sasuke trailed behind them, Yoshie still in his arms. He thought it would be better if everyone was sitting down for the Itachi news, preferably holding a cup of boiling tea. As he kneeled on his grey tatami, he wondered if he could get away with telling his parents tomorrow right before it was time to go back to training.

“How was your first day, Sasuke?” asked his mother while he busied himself petting Yoshie’s black fur.

“Itachi’s my team leader,” he said and almost slapped himself. He’d meant to say . . . well, he hadn’t meant to say that. Yoshie apparently felt his sudden tension because she jumped out of his hands with a shrill growl. The trait—

Carefully, Sasuke looked at his parents, wondering if Itachi’s mere name had caused some kind of catastrophe. His father was staring at him with narrowed eyes and a harsh set to his jaw. His mother’s expression remained pleasantly blank. “You became a grown man the moment you earned that headband, Sasuke,” she told him with a gentle smile. “A man does not cower from the truth.”

“I wasn’t . . .” Sasuke trailed off and looked away. He had been cowering. It was a miracle he’d managed to stand up after seeing Itachi again after so many years.

“The Senju are trying to sabotage you, my son,” said Fugaku. Once, Sasuke had been elated to hear Fugaku refer to him as such. Back then, Fugaku had been more than a living ghost. “They’ve put your traitor brother in charge of your training in an attempt to keep you from reaching your true potential.”

“You’ll just have to work extra hard,” added Mikoto, nodding. “Nothing they do will stop you from fulfilling your duty. In fact, it will be easier because they’re underestimating you.”

“They don’t realize that they’ve handed you a weapon,” said Fugaku.

Mikoto turned to look at him. “I don’t think—”

“You said yourself that he’s a man now,” interrupted Fugaku. “If he’s going to be on a team with The Traitor and The Nine Tails, he needs as many facts as possible.”

Briefly, it looked like Mikoto was going to argue, but she simply nodded and smiled at Sasuke encouragingly. It helped Sasuke brace himself. She only ever looked at him that way when Fugaku was about to launch into one of his many lectures about duty, honor, and shame. Maybe that was why it did little to prepare him to hear that Naruto Uzumaki had more raw chakra than anyone in Konoha.

Maybe more than anyone in the world.

Chapter 2: Red and Green

Summary:

The real first day of official training.

Notes:

So I've already posted the first few chapters of this story, so the updates will kind of fast at first. Also, I'm taking the importing slowly so I can do an extra round of proof-reading and editing before posting here.

Warnings for this chapter: more ableism

Pairings: Nothing I would consider romantic.

Cameos: Ino!

A Konoha headband came with a D-rank clearance level, a privilege Sakura had secretly been looking forward to even more than real ninja training.

Finally, she’d be allowed into some of the restricted areas of records hall—just the first few levels, so she wouldn’t get any really classified information. Basic shinobi rankings and beginner jutsu scrolls were all she’d be allowed to see but she was super excited about them anyway. It was more than she'd been allowed to see as a civilian. Since Itachi-sensei sent them off without orders, she decided to go to one of the secret libraries instead of going straight home. Better to bury her face in a book than obsess about how much Sasuke hated her or how she was going to deal with Naruto on a daily basis.

Records hall was at the center of the village. It was a three floor concrete building painted beige, boasting obscured windows and a wide set of majestic steps at is front. Civilians walked in and out hurriedly, peering at different scrolls while wearing slight frowns on their faces. They were probably reviewing official but rather boring documents; birth and death certificates, property rights, wedding documentations, and the like. Some of them would be filing requests for Konoha’s shinobi that would most likely become the D-rank missions Sakura and her team would complete later. Mostly boring things indeed. Any other day, Sakura would be wearing the same pout most of the children who’d been dragged to the place by their parents were wearing, but today . . . today she came as a ninja of Konoha.

Feeling proud of herself, Sakura hurried up the steps and went straight towards the left-most information booth on the ground floor, flashing the ninja sitting behind its glass a bright smile. “I’d like access to the restricted section, please,” she told him, perhaps a little louder than necessary.

The ninja—a bored chunin judging by the grey uniform he was wearing—looked up from a comic book and peered at her out hooded brown eyes. “Headband?” he asked after a few seconds, making Sakura blush. Of course he wouldn’t know she was a ninja just by looking at her. Not while she had her headband tied above her wide brow, probably obscured by her pink bangs. Awkwardly, she pulled her ribbon down until it covered her forehead, holding back a wince when it got tangled with the hairs at the back of her neck. “Genin, right?” asked the chunin.

“Yeah,” answered Sakura, blushing even more.

Expressionlessly, the chunin opened a drawer and handed her a plain white slip with letter D stamped on it, looking back at his comic book before she even reached out to the little circular opening on the booth’s glass. “Go left past the bathrooms, at the end of the narrowest hallway, and into the basement.”

Wondering how the chunin knew it was her first time there; Sakura took the slip, nodded, and followed his directions. There was another chunin guarding the door at the end of the long, narrow, and poorly lit hallway leading to the hidden shinobi records. Sakura showed him her slip, straightening her shoulders in an attempt to look grown-up and professional. He let her through without any fuss, so Sakura decided that she'd managed to adopt an air of resigned boredom. Luckily, the stairway to the basement was deserted because she didn’t manage to hold back her excited grin the moment she reached its bottom and stepped into the restricted section for the first time.

Dim light bulbs on the walls gave the room an odd blue tint that sharply contrasted the bright light of the summer midday sun she’d just left. Sakura spotted another chunin sitting at what looked like an information desk reading a book and twirling a kunai, seemingly unconcerned with Sakura’s sudden arrival, almost like she hadn’t noticed a newcomer. Sakura considered asking her for help and decided against it almost immediately. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to look at first. Jutsu scrolls or ninja rankings? Sealed historical documents or bingo books stolen from enemy ninja? She decided to explore on her own and walked deeper into the room without asking for any directions. Since her first official day of training had been so boring and frustrating, she might as well make an adventure of exploring one of Konoha’s secret libraries.

With no particular destination in mind, Sakura walked deeper into the poorly-lit room and lost herself between one of the shelves. She pulled one of the scrolls out from its place and eagerly sat down to read it. A scroll on basic healing jutsu. It was about the importance of understanding all naturally occurring chakra flows along the human body in order to knit even the most superficial of surface wounds. Fascinating! Unlike most of the techniques she’d learned about, healing seemed to be focused on precision, knowledge, and patience rather than speed and power.

Sakura was acutely aware that her taijutsu was a disaster and that she had little natural talent when it came to ninjutsu. Genjutsu required less raw chackra but it was so close to torture that Sakura doubted she’d ever be truly good at it despite her superb chakra control. Honestly, Sakura was afraid that she’d never achieve the level of ruthlessness required from field shinobi. The only reason she hadn’t quit being a ninja was that she’d always known about all the support journeymen and jonin required and how useful her high aptitude for organizational skills would be for a supporting role. That and . . .

“Well hello, Forehead.”

The words made Sakura jump to her feet, then blush furiously because she’d let someone sneak up to her. What kind of ninja was she? What it had been an enemy? Hell, it had been an enemy! Schooling her eyebrows into a disdainful arch, Sakura looked at up Ino and refrained from making any kind of comeback. A grownup ninja would not sink to petty and childish name calling.

As usual, her determination to be mature and dignified lasted less than a minute against the superior look on Ino’s cold blue eyes. “Look what the slutty and underdressed cat dragged in,” she said, looking Ino up and down and making sure to scrounge up her nose as if the bandaged thighs and skimpy dark purple skirt Ino wore somehow gross. Privately, Sakura wondered what the hell time it was. Had it been long enough that the day was almost over or had Ino also been dismissed from training early as well?

Smiling, Ino fell to the ground and peered at the scroll Sakura was reading. “Jutsu, of course,” she said, chuckling to herself. “A brain like you would be here studying.”

“What do you want?” demanded Sakura, rolling up the scroll. She wasn’t in the mood to read it anymore.

“I was on my way to the room with all the ninja rankings but—”

“—of course you’d be here for gossip,” interrupted Sakura, rising to her feet and depositing the healing scroll back in its place. A voice inside her head pointed out that she’d been planning to look through the ninja rankings as well but Sakura stubbornly ignored it.

“But,” continued Ino, getting up and following Sakura, “when I ran into you I decided it was a sign that we should stop fighting now that we’re officially comrades.”

“Like I’m going to believe you,” said Sakura, quickening her pace. “You’d pretend to be my friend just to get information on Sasuke.”

“Oh please,” snapped Ino, grabbing Sakura’s arm. “Sasuke’s such an academy mark. I’m so over him.” Sakura had to hold back an urge to punch her in the face for talking about Sasuke like he was . . . like he wasn’t even a person. She bit back her anger and told herself that if either of them damaged even a single scroll, neither of them would ever be allowed back in. “Come on,” said Ino, dragging her into another wing while Sakura asked herself how much she cared about access to the restricted area.

Unlike the spot where she’d had been reading before, the new room had a large desk made of wood so dark it looked black. Several rows of shelves surrounded it on all sides not oriented towards the door. “I don’t believe you,” cried Sakura, wrenching her arm away and turning around, intending to walk away with the last word.

“You should forget about him too,” said Ino before Sakura could stomp away.

“He’s my teammate,” said Sakura, unable to hold back that last dig. She bet Ino was drowning in jealousy. Instead of being paired with the best-looking and smartest boy in the class, she was stuck with—

“Well, I’d do my best to be seen with him as little as possible,” said Ino, sounding so sincere that it took Sakura a few moments to consider that she was only saying as much because she not-so-secretly wanted Sasuke for herself.

“Liar,” said Sakura whirling around, expecting to see Ino smirking, her long blond ponytail strategically placed over her chest in a way that accentuated its thickness and length. Instead, Ino was bending over the room’s dark wooden desk, looking through a loosely bound notebook she must have gotten after Sakura turned away from her. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I wouldn’t want anyone to think I sympathize with a traitor,” answered Ino, smiling down at the page she was reading.

“Sasuke’s not a traitor,” argued Sakura. “He’s the best ninja in our class! A prodigy!”

“He could surpass the Fourth Hokage himself and it wouldn’t matter,” said Ino, looking up at Sakura and rolling her slate blue eyes. “He’ll probably never make chunin. Not while he calls himself Uchiha anyway.”

“He can’t help what his family name is.”

“Don’t be stupid, Forehead!” cried Ino, rubbing at her own brow, blond eyebrows furrowed with tension. “He could’ve renounced all ties to his disgraced clan the moment he earned his headband. Since he didn’t, everyone’ll assume he’s either too weak to stand up to his crippled family or that he sides with them over Konoha.”

“That’s . . .” Sakura trailed off and looked away when she realized that she had no argument to defend Sasuke with. Technically, Konoha recognized him as an adult the moment he passed the academy exam. He could've renounced his family name.

“That’s the truth,” said Ino, looking back at her scroll. “But, hey, you go on sniffing at a loser if you want. The rest of us will move on to bigger and better things.” 

Unable to think of anything to say, Sakura turned back around. She would’ve left but she heard Ino grunt before she could step through the door. “I meant it when I said I don’t want to fight anymore, Forehead. Now stop whining and look around. We’re in the room with all the ninja rankings!”

“You’re a backstabber,” shot Sakura but she hesitated despite the venom she'd injected into her voice. Now that the scrolls were a few steps away, all the curiosity she’d forgotten while reading the healing scroll and then arguing with Ino came rushing back to her.

The ninja rankings were like the shinobi’s version of gossip rags. They did hold some important, official, and accurate information about individual ninjas’ skills and completed missions, but they also allowed a section for ninja to anonymously write their thoughts and opinions on their comrades. Theoretically, those sections helped ninja gather unbiased information on any other ninja they were randomly paired with for missions. Everyone was supposed to be truthful and objective but the ninja rankings were still like a popularity contest anyway.

“Come on,” said Ino, probably sensing her indecision. “Don’t you want to know about my sensei? He’s the Hokage’s son!”

“No way!” said Sakura, finally turning back around and rushing towards the table. She looked down at the page Ino had been reading and saw a picture of the tall jonin who’d come to get Team Ten from Iruka-sensei’s classroom earlier in the morning.

“Asuma Sarutobi,” read Ino in a smug tone. “Master of Wind chakra enhanced taijutsu and member of the Twelve Guardian—”

“I can read,” interrupted Sakura, before Ino provoked her into throwing a punch. She read over Asuma’s file and tried not to be impressed. The man had been a ninja for a very long time so he’d made quite a name for himself and not just because he was the Hokage’s son. He’d completed hundreds of C-ranked missions, over two hundred B-ranked ones, and almost two hundred A-ranks. There were even twenty S-ranks listed on his tally. Sakura wished she could read those reports but she knew she couldn’t with a measly D-rank clearance.

“Obviously, they assigned someone really important to train the children of the Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi clans,” said Ino. Sakura didn’t even have to look away from the introductory page of Asuma’s booklet to know Ino’s pointed chin was so upturned that her slim neck was probably in danger of straining. Though she had to admit that for once, Ino’s pride wasn’t entirely unwarranted. Her teacher had so many accomplishments to his name that simple scroll hadn’t been sufficient to list them all. “I see you’re speechless.”

“Shut up,” said Sakura as she looked at Asuma’s official stats. Thirty-one point five. As far as she knew, anything above twenty-seven was practically unheard off. Asuma was strong, fast, and he’d apparently nearly mastered ninjutsu. Impressed in spite of herself, Sakura flipped the page and read the first few lines of the section on Asuma’s personality.

• Generally laid back

• Not prone to unnecessary conflict

• Superb leadership skills

• Resistant to the stresses of long term missions/looks too striking for infiltration anyway

“He is really attractive in a rugged sort of way,” said Ino, still sounding like a cat who’d just stolen the daimyo’s cream.

“It says striking,” pointed out Sakura, though privately she agreed. From what little she’d seen, Asuma was good looking—very tall with wide shoulders, a handsome beard, and an easy smile.

“Striking is a way to say a man’s attractive without making him sound girly,” argued Ino. “Which Asuma isn’t, unlike Sasuke.”

“Sasuke’s twelve,” said Sakura, reading through the section on Asuma’s special skills. Can infuse trench knives with chakra . . .

“So are Shikamaru and Kiba but no one would ever mistake them for girls,” said Ino. “Anyway! Aren’t you going to tell me about your sensei?”

“Uh,” started Sakura, trying to think of a non-suspicious way to not answer the question. The chances that Itachi’s file would be anywhere near as cool as Asuma’s were astronomically low. Someone so obviously young couldn’t have been a jonin for too long no matter how talented he might be.

“Well?”

What was Sakura supposed to say? Itachi-sensei’s hair’s probably longer and prettier than yours, Ino-pig. She looked at her ex-friend’s stupid blond bangs and frowned. That might piss her off for a few moments but even Ino wasn’t so stupid that she wouldn’t quickly realize that a jonin should have more to brag about than his hair.

“Don’t worry, Forehead,” said Ino, straightening up and crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t expect you were assigned anyone important. Not with a traitor and Naruto in your team.”

Something inside Sakura wanted to scream that it wasn’t fair and that Ino had only gotten an elite professor because of her clan, not because there was anything special about her. Thankfully, she remembered that she was in a library and couldn’t cause a scene.

“You’re supposedly smart but . . . let’s face it, no one's going to waste an elite jonin on a girl who can just read books and scrolls really fast,” continued Ino, shattering Sakura’s resolve to remain silent.

“I’m smart enough to become a better ninja than you,” she snapped, trying and failing to keep her face from twisting into what was undoubtedly an ugly scowl. “Even if Itachi-sensei’s not . . .” Ino must have recognized the name because her blue eyes widened at the sound of it. “. . . What?”

“Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know,” said Ino before she suddenly stepped away from the table and rushed towards the shelves to its left.

“Oi!” called out Sakura, straightening and following behind her. “What do you about Itachi-sensei?”

“I think my dad’s mentioned him but I’m sure I’m remembering wrong!” answered Ino. When Sakura found her, she was at a shelf, pulling out a notebook that looked as thick as Asuma’s, if not outright thicker. Sakura stepped closer when she opened it, eager to see what all the fuss was about. “Oh.” It was the only thing she could say when she saw her sensei’s picture with the words Itachi; formerly of the Uchiha clan right beside it on the notebook’s first page.

“Is this him?” asked Ino excitedly after Sakura pulled the notebook out of her hands.

“Yeah,” she answered, staring at Itachi-sensei’s dark eyes. It had to be an old picture. He looked even younger and smaller, shoulders as narrow as . . . as narrow as Sasuke’s.

Suddenly, she remembered how much angrier Sasuke had been after Itachi-sensei picked them up. Formerly of the Uchiha clan . . . Sakura grunted at herself, wondering how she’d missed their resemblance before. Itachi-sensei’s eyes were the same shape as Sasuke’s and their lips had the same pouty arch. They were obviously related, or had been. She wondered how closely.

“Oh spirits!” Ino leaned against the shelf with all the notebooks and sighed. “Your teacher’s the Uchiha who betrayed the other Uchiha to ANBU. I think I’m jealous of your team after all, Forehead. You’re going to witness so much crazy drama.”

Sakura was about to respond when her eyes landed on Itachi’s official stats. Thirty-three point five.

 

***

 

Next day Itachi-sensei showed up on time, hair loose and flowing with the summer wind. Unbound, it reached the small of his back and obscured the dark green strap of the multi-pocketed bag he’d hung across his chest. Instead of standard ninja gear, he’d put on a black, short-sleeved fishnet shirt over dark navy pants that ended a couple of inches below his knees. He looked even younger than he had the previous day. If not for the headband he’d wrapped around his surprisingly well-muscled right arm, he wouldn’t even look like a ninja.

The comparatively short dark bangs that framed his face looked like they tickled his lips and nose at random moments. Naruto didn’t understand how it didn’t drive him crazy. “I’m going to need your lunches,” he said by way of greeting and Naruto’s pretty sure his only response was a surprised frown. Someone who looked more like a girl than most real girls shouldn’t have such a deep voice.

“All right,” said Sakura, immediately reaching into her own pink bag and producing a white lunchbox with a pretty purple bow tied at its center. By the time Itachi-sensei grabbed it and pushed into his much larger green bag, Sasuke had pulled a grey lunchbox of his own. For some reason, he looked down at it with tense and furrowed eyebrows, like the thought of surrendering it to Itachi made him feel ill.

“It’s for your lesson,” said Itachi-sensei after Sasuke had been glaring at his outstretched hand for a couple of seconds, holding his lunchbox like it was lined with pure gold. Before Naruto could think of a proper taunt, Sasuke grunted and handed his over his food.

Maybe it was better that he didn’t say anything because when Itachi-sensei turned towards him, Naruto remembered he hadn’t brought food at all. “Uh, I was gonna go to Ichiraku’s at lunchtime.”

“You wouldn’t have enough time to wait in line,” pointed out Sakura, shooting Naruto a suspicious glare.

“I was going to be fast, like a ninja!” Nobody laughed at the stupid joke. Nobody laughed at him either, which Naruto had been expecting. Sakura didn’t even bother to slap him or apologize on his behalf.

“I expect you to bring lunch tomorrow,” said Itachi-sensei before walking under the shade of the big tree beside the small pond of training area seven, his footsteps making dents on the growing grass. He dropped to the ground, smooth and graceful as a cat, and adopted a cross-legged sitting position before motioning at them to do them same.

“Are we going to learn any jutsu today?” asked Naruto after he’d dropped to the ground in front of Itachi-sensei, carefully avoiding any muddy spots. They were really close to the water. Hopefully Sasuke would have to plant his white pants on the mud.

Without answering his question, Itachi-sensei pulled the strap over his head reached into his bag for a scroll. Naruto beamed, thinking that it held the seals of some special technique. He deflated when Itachi-sensei rolled it open and revealed that it was just a map of Fire Country. “The goal our training will be to prepare you for a chunin exam. It’s not so important that you learn jutsu after jutsu—”

“So you’re not going to teach us a jutsu,” interrupted Naruto, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. “Do you even know any?”

“Naruto . . .” mumbled Sakura, sounding more stressed than exasperated. Something was really off with her. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong but Itachi-sensei suddenly fixed him with an eerily blank expression. Naruto expected anger when he interrupted a teacher, not . . . whatever wasn’t on Itachi’s face.

“I’m not your academy teacher,” he said. A gust of wind pushed his bangs in front of his face but he ignored them. “I’m your commanding officer. I’m under no obligation to put up with your obnoxious interruptions. The next time you disrespect me with a stupid joke or inane question, I’ll dismiss you from my team.”

“You can’t kick him out,” said Sasuke, forestalling Naruto’s defiant retort.

. . . That almost sounded like Sasuke was defending him. Naruto looked at him and tried to decipher the usual sour look marring his stupidly pretty face, certain that his own jaw was about to hit the grassy ground. It would've been less baffling if the Fourth himself had suddenly risen from the dead and announced that Naruto was his son.

“I can kick any of you out,” said Itachi without bothering to look at Sasuke, probably because he didn’t realize the strangeness of what had just happened.

Naruto looked at Sakura, expecting to find an appropriate air of surprise on her face, but she'd pulled her knees to her chest and was currently staring at the map Itachi-sensei had placed on the grass like it was the most difficult puzzle she’d ever seen. “Everyone’s weird today,” he said, shaking his head to make sure he wasn’t having some bizarre dream.

“As I was saying,” started Itachi-sensei, ignoring Naruto’s words, “learning a varied set of jutsu would be of little use to a genin. You won’t be allowed on anything other than D-rank missions by yourselves until you’ve become chunin unless I or another jonin’s accompanying you, so you’ll hardly be in a situation requiring complex ninjutsu anytime soon. With that said, if you want any semblance of independence as shinobi, you’ll need to be promoted. Can any of you tell me what's expected of an average chunin?”

“An minimun official ranking of two on ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu,” answered Sakura; though Naruto noticed immediately that she was lacking the usual spark she gave off whenever she answered a question in class.

“What else?” prompted Itachi-sensei, dark eyes scanning all three of them.

“Leadership skills,” tried Naruto, half-expecting someone to make fun of him for such an obvious answer. He mentally sagged with relief when nobody did.

“And last?” asked Itachi-sensei, finally turning his gaze on Sasuke.

“Foraging and hunting skills, and tactical proficiency,” said Sasuke, frowning like he usually did whenever someone forced him to talk.

“Yes,” said Itachi before looking back at Naruto. “I hoped you’ve noticed that knowing high-level jutsu isn’t one of the requirements. As a matter of fact, most promoted genin don’t know a single high-level technique.”

“If you’re not going to teach us, then how’re we supposed to learn any?” demanded Naruto. He kept his voice loud and defiant but he made sure to wait until Itachi had been silent for a few seconds before talking.

“That’s not my problem,” said Itachi. Then he ignored Naruto’s scowl and pointed at his map. “C and B-ranked missions are by definition weeks-long journeys confined within Fire Country’s borders. We travel as lightly as possible, carrying as many weapons as we can without hindering our pace. Drinking water we must make room for, but rations can be left behind altogether if we know how to take advantage of our environments.” He pointed at the different forests surrounding Konoha, keeping it hidden from local daimyos. “When hunting for dangerous wild beasts, we can rely on forest game to feed our teams.” Then he pointed at the several towns scattered throughout Fire Country, all of which had different leaders. “That’s not the case when we’re completing an infiltration, espionage, or assassination missions in a populous city. What options do we have then?”

“We could just buy food,” tried Sakura, not looking directly at Itachi.

“What if you run out of funds?”

“Steal food!” said Naruto, smirking at no one in particular.

“Exactly,” said Itachi, nodding. In spite of himself, Naruto felt his chest puffing with pride. He momentarily forgot Itachi’s refusal to teach them jutsu and grinned.

“That’s the obvious answer,” snapped Sasuke, glaring at Naruto. That was more like it! Sasuke was suppose to jeer at him, not defend him.

“It’s the answer I was looking for,” said Itachi-sensei, rolling up his Fire Country map. “Do you have any other suggestions?”

Sasuke’s only answer was a grunt, which made Naruto’s grin widen even further. “I already know how to steal food!” he said, expecting Sakura growl angrily. He looked towards her, certain that he'd see a spark of fire in her eyes and then frowned. She was still hugging her knees and looking at the ground. Something was wrong.

“Prove it,” said Itachi as he put the map back inside his green bag.

“What do you mean?” asked Naruto, mind shifting away from Sakura again.

“I want to gauge this team’s skill, so we’ll simulate a small portion of what a C-rank mission might entail,” said Itachi, looking at all three of them. “You have until noon to steal your lunches back from me.”

“Naruto didn’t bring a lunch,” said Sakura, but she slowly rose to her feet and curled her hands into fists.

“Then you better get to me before he steals your lunch,” said Itachi.

“Don’t worry Sakura,” said Naruto, watching Sasuke get up with a determined furrow to his slim eyebrows. “I’ll steal the Bastard’s.” He was expecting some kind of response but both Sasuke and Sakura jumped away from them and hid among the woods of training area seven.

For a few moments, Naruto smirked at blank-faced Itachi. “Aren’t you going to hide?” he demanded.

Itachi actually snorted and shook his head slightly, smiling like someone had just made a little joke. Naruto opened his mouth to shout about being underestimated, but then Itachi reached for his bag pushed his right hand inside. Thinking that he meant to pull out some kind of weapon, Naruto spread his legs and readied himself to dodge an attack. He was surprised and more than a little confused when Itachi pulled out a red leather-bound book and settled to read it, long hair and bangs obscuring his face.  

“Hey!” Naruto screamed, feeling familiar rage well up in his chest. “Don’t ignore me, you asshole! I’m about to rob you blind!”

Itachi flipped a page over. Naruto growled and rushed straight at him without any real plan of action beyond making him regret his decision to be like everyone else in the goddamned village. He felt a surge of satisfaction when he bent down, arm already outstretched to grab the green bag, a boast already forming in his throat. Much to his shock, he ended up running face-first into the pond a few feet away from where Itachi was sitting. He tried to breathe in some water before he registered what had happened.

Trying to ignore his frustration and embarrassment—he realy hoped Sakura hadn’t seen that—Naruto swam up to the pond’s surface and got to the grass. He looked over at where Itachi was reading a few long paces ahead of him, head still bent like absolutely nothing had happened. The wind suddenly picked up, forcing Itachi to push his long hair behind his back to keep it off his book’s pages and cooling Naruto's unfortunately wet skin. With renewed determination, Naruto put his hands together and arranged them into the seal for Shadow Clones. Six different wet and pissed off Narutos carefully surrounded Itachi. All of them growled when he flipped a page, apparently unconcerned with all the clones preparing to rush him.

And rush him they, all vying for the first hit, some considering the possibility of grabbing a chunk of the long black hair and ripping it off Itachi’s scalp. But Itachi vanished at the last moment and all the Narutos’ limbs became hopelessly entangled.

“Where did he go?” demanded one of the clones, trying to wrench itself away from the confused mass of limbs and orange fabric.

“Put that kunai away, jackass!”

“Don’t step on my foot!”

“Ow!” One of the clones disappeared into a puff of smoke. From there it went from silly to disastrous.

Naruto felt his control over the clones slipping and soon they’d devolved into what Naruto was sure was a hilarious brawl to an outside spectator. Really hoping Sakura wasn’t nearby; Naruto did his best to slink out of the mess, trying to dodge punches and kicks before accepting that the current batch of clones was useless and stabbing one in the neck with his kunai. He shook his head and started to pull off his wet sweatshirt, looking around for Itachi.

A sudden flash of heat coming from somewhere behind him made him turn around.

Sasuke had set the tree Itachi had been using for shade on fire. That was almost as surprising as the fact the tree Itachi had been using for shade was several feet away behind Naruto. Though now that he thought about it, why hadn’t he noticed the tree since his first rush at Itachi?

He might have considered the problem a bit longer but a great whip of water suddenly rose from the surface of the pond and launched itself at the flames destroying Itachi’s tree. Some tendrils of water spread towards that flames that had set the surrounding grass on fire. When the smoke cleared, Itachi was at the center of the pond standing on the water like it was frozen solid, red book in his right hand and green bag hanging by his left side.

Eager to be part of the action, Naruto created a new batch of Shadow Clones and ran towards Sasuke. Maybe they could team up. One of them could distract Itachi while the other went for the bag. “Hey, Bastard!”

If Sasuke heard, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he ran towards the pond with a kunai clutched in his right fist, walking on the water just like Itachi was. Naruto grunted when he got to the pond’s edge, watching as Itachi easily sidestepped Sasuke’s slash and wondering why the hell they weren’t sinking. “Hey!” he yelled seconds after dipping a foot on the pond to see if they’d done something to make it solid. They hadn’t. 

Sasuke threw several punches and kicks but Itachi dodged them all without difficulty. He didn’t even bother to put away his book. With nothing else to do, Naruto aimed and threw his kunai at the moving Itachi . . . but it would have actually hit Sasuke if Itachi hadn’t reached out and pushed him out of the way.

“Stay out of this, dead last!” shouted Sasuke as he scrambled to his feet, not even turning to look at Naruto. He raised his hands and started a series of hand seals but stopped when Itachi suddenly vanished from where he was standing.

Naruto blinked and then Itachi was rushing at him, kunai readied to slash. He stepped backwards and practically felt the sharpened edge slice through the skin of his belly. One of his clones threw a punch at Itachi’s left side only to be caught and stabbed through the eye. Naruto tried to go for Itachi’s arm while it was happening, thinking that if he was just fast enough— He wasn’t. Itachi looked at him; his face twisted into an angry-determined grimace and raised his right arm. Naruto saw the kunai and told himself to move but he knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. It was going through his eye next. The pointy end was getting bigger and bigger . . . Naruto closed his eyes.

Another Itachi grabbed Sasuke’s—Sasuke’s?—arm and pushed him back towards the center of the pond before the kunai punched through Naruto’s eye. “That’s enough.”

“Huh?” Naruto didn’t understand. Why would Sasuke—genjutsu! “Cheater!” he yelled at Itachi, looking at Sasuke for support. The fake Itachi—Sasuke—hadn’t been wearing a bag. Or holding the red book. “You have to give us another chance and without any dirty tricks!”

“How can you be so stupid?” asked Sasuke between short breaths. He was staring at Itachi with knees slightly bent and kunai tightly gripped, apparently ready to have another go him. Thinking that it might give Sasuke an opening, Naruto made an obvious grab at the bag with the lunches. Itachi caught his arm without taking his eyes from Sasuke and pushed him to the floor.

“I said enough.” Then Sasuke sank, which Naruto had to admit looked really funny as he got back up from the ground.

“Sasuke!” yelled Sakura, suddenly running towards them from her hiding spot among the shrubs several yards behind them. She dropped the kunai she was holding when Sasuke swam back to the surface, obviously unharmed. Naruto tried not to feel hurt about her lack of reaction to his near eye-gouging experience.

“Haha!” he called instead, pointing at Sasuke water-walked back towards them. “You should’ve seen your face!” He laughed even harder when Sasuke shot him a furious glare. He continued to laugh until Sasuke reached the ground, long after the situation had ceased to be funny. Not that it had been that funny in the first place.

“Shut up!” said Sakura when she was beside them, staring at Sasuke in obvious concern. The tension in her voice silenced him and made him stare at his feet, suddenly made aware that he was wet and miserable. Itachi’s next words weren’t exactly comforting.

“You all should quit trying to be ninja.”

 

***

 

Itachi hides behind a veneer of kindness. Doubt everything he says and question all his orders.

His mother warned him about how manipulative Itachi was, so Sasuke wasn’t surprised when he told them to quit their training. It didn’t even make him angry, really. Of course Itachi didn’t want him to get stronger. Why would he want someone who’d just threatened to kill him the previous day to get stronger?

“Like hell!” Naruto was screaming. “I’ll never quit no matter what you or anyone else says!” Sasuke expected that he’d fly at Itachi before the conversation was over.

“We’ll do better next time!” said Sakura, green eyes wide and pleading. “If you give us more precise instructions . . .” She shook her head frantically, holding the palms of her hand up in surrender. “Not that it was your fault or anything!”

“None of you want to be ninja,” said Itachi, looking down Sakura with a wistful smile.

Itachi hides behind a veneer of kindness. The wind picked up and cooled Sasuke’s wet skin.

“Of course I do!” protested Naruto, knees slightly bent. He was already poised to strike. “I’ll be the best ninja in Konoha and then everyone will have to—”

“—respect you?” finished Itachi, turning his gaze on Naruto and shaking his head. “Hiruzen Sarutobi isn’t respected because he’s the Hokage. He’s the Hokage because he’s respected.” As if Naruto was smart enough to understand the distinction.

“What the hell does that mean?” he demanded. Sasuke had to hold back a snort. Convince him you’re his friend. It was going to be next to impossible not to make fun of him.

“Naruto, just stop arguing,” interjected Sakura, slapping at Naruto’s shoulder. “You’ve already messed up enough.” She looked at Itachi then bowed low enough that her ridiculous pink bangs almost reached her waist. “Please give us another chance.”

“Why are you here at all?” Itachi asked her. “It’s obvious you have no confidence in you abilities and no desire to engage in the violent trickery expected of shinobi. Naruto and Sasuke’s attempts to get the food were disastrous . . .” Sasuke had to bite back a growl, but he couldn’t keep his hands from curling into fists. “. . . but at least they were attempts.”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to get it,” said Sakura, head still bowed. “In a real mission, it’d have been better to stay hungry but alive.”

“No, we could’ve gotten it!” insisted Naruto, bending down to try and look at Sakura’s eyes. “We just had to keep trying.”

“Straighten up, Sakura,” ordered Itachi, not even glancing at Naruto. Sakura did as she was told but she still avoided Itachi’s eyes. “In a real mission, not trying to get the food would have made your death slower and more painful." His tone softened again. "You don’t have to force yourself to go through with this training, especially not to impress someone who I’d wager my eyes has done nothing but reject and ignore you since the day you met him. There’ll be other boys and they’ll be easier to win over than Sasuke.”

Sakura blushed so hard that her cheeks almost matched the red ribbon tying her headband around her head. She looked down and let her bangs cover her face, probably to hide the tears threatening to spill from eyes. Even Sasuke felt like cringing in sympathy and he didn’t even like her. The words would have been harsh coming from anyone but Itachi somehow made them worse by keeping his tone even and oddly sympathetic. Your brother attacks with compassion.

“There’s no need to say it like that,” said Naruto. Trust him not to know when silence would be better. Sakura sniffed.

Itachi finally looked down at Naruto again, his bangs hiding his eyes from Sasuke. “A ninja does not cower from the truth.”

Sasuke wanted to growl. He swallowed slowly in an attempt to ease the fist trying to squeeze sound out of his throat. Briefly, he saw his mother struggling to do dishes with her left hand a few days after Itachi’s attack.

“You’re still an asshole!" screamed Naruto.

Yes, agreed Sasuke.

“Naruto," started Itachi, shaking his head sadly, "you only think you want to be a ninja because you don’t understand what it means. What you actually want is the villager’s respect and for some reason you think that a headband will buy it for you. It won’t. Most ninja never achieve fame and the ones who do manage it only because they’re exceptional killers. If you want to be treated as a hero, leave Konoha and become a samurai.”

“The Old Man Hokage—”

“—is a murderer,” interrupted Itachi. “Just ask anyone outside this village.”

“You can’t say that! It’s not true and he’s your boss!”

“And on his orders I smothered a five-year-old boy just two nights ago.”

Sakura flinched.

Naruto opened his mouth but no sound came out. For a couple of moments, he looked like a fish drowning on air, opening and closing his mouth, flailing for a response. “That’s . . .” Not even close to the worst thing Itachi’s ever done. Sasuke bit his lips to keep himself from voicing the thought out loud.

“Evil,” said Itachi. “Unless you can see yourself handing out similar death sentences on a regular basis, don’t pretend you would like to be the next Hokage.” Finally, with both Naruto and Sakura rendered speechless, Itachi turned to Sasuke.

He twists truths and uses them like poisoned shuriken. Sasuke schooled his face into a neutral expression and waited for his weaknesses to be exposed and his dreams shredded.

“You don’t need power to kill your certain man,” he started; face as expressionless as if he was discussing the weather, “what you need cunning. Ask your mother about deception and spare yourself countless hours of chasing lost cats, garden weeding, and mind-numbing guard duty.” With that said, he moved his face so he was looking down at all three of them.

Sasuke almost sighed with relief. He’d been preparing himself for a much more personal attack.

“Take the afternoon to think about what you want and whether becoming shinobi will help you get it,” continued Itachi. “If you decide to accept all the aspects of a ninja’s lifestyle, come back here tomorrow at the same time. Training and missions begin then.” He was gone in the blink of an eye.

Sasuke almost let out the frustrated, incoherent shout he’d been holding but bit his fist instead. For all he knew, Itachi was still nearby, watching their reactions. Predictably, the other two were too stupid to consider the possibility. Sakura sniffed so loudly it was practically a wail and whirled so fast that her hair hit Naruto.

“Sakura!” Naruto ran after her after shooting Sasuke and glare. “Don’t listen to him!”

Idiots, thought Sasuke before pursuing them. I already have a mission, Itachi. “Wait!” he called. Sakura stopped immediately, which prompted Naruto to do the same. He ran towards them, wondering what his mother would want him to say. “. . . It’s probably part of the test. He wants to see if he can make us quit.”

“Sasuke . . .”

“Hah! Like we couldn’t figure that out,” said Naruto, twisting his face into a strained grin. “That’s what I was going to say, Sakura. That lazy fuck probably doesn’t wanna teach us so he’s making up all those horrible things.”

“I don’t think he was lying,” said Sakura, meeting Sasuke’s gaze and then flushing.

“He’s too clever to outright lie,” Sasuke explained. “But he knows just what to say to make us . . . indecisive.” Naruto smiled and Sasuke nodded encouragingly, which made the smile morph into a bright, honest grin.

“You’re not so—wait.” Bright blue eyes narrowed before Naruto stepped closer to Sakura, almost using his body to shield her. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?”

“. . . You’re my teammates,” tried Sasuke.

“We were your teammates yesterday and it didn’t stop you from being a total dick.”

“Naruto!”

“The real Sasuke’s a complete bastard,” he told her, trying to grab her upper arm. She wrenched her arm away then stepped closer to Sasuke. “Listen!” pleaded Naruto. “Itachi-sensei uses genjutsu. This Sasuke’s probably another one of his tricks!”

“I’m not!”

“He’s not!” agreed Sakura, nodding frantically.

“Prove it,” demanded Naruto.

“How?” His family hadn’t taught him how to prove such a thing, probably because they hadn’t thought he’d ever need to do it at all. What kind of ninja admitted that he was that vulnerable to genjutsu in the first place? And he was supposed to befriend Naruto. The Traitor will try to make him his weapon. You must do it first.

“You don’t have to explain anything,” said Sakura.

“Explain why you’re being nice,” ordered Naruto.

“I . . .” Desperately, Sasuke searched for a reason. “I’m sorry about attacking you at the pond.”

“Right, because you’d never attack me,” said Naruto, snorting. “It’s not like you’ve been doing it at least once a week since forever.”

“I’ve never tried to stab you in the eye!”

“And you’re the one who always starts those fights anyway,” added Sakura. For once, Sasuke was glad that she refused to shut up.

“You did today,” pointed out Naruto.

“Because I thought you were Itachi, dumbass.” As much as it pained him to admit it, Sasuke had fallen for the genjutsu just as easily as Naruto had. He shouldn’t be surprised. Before he’d betrayed them, Fugaku bragged that Itachi was a genjutsu master.

“So what you’re saying is you’re psycho who wants to stab sensei in the eye,” said Naruto. “Gee, that makes me feel much better about having you on my team.”

“You don’t understand. It’s not like that!” said Sakura. “Itachi-sensei’s—”

“—shut up!” hissed Sasuke, beginning to understand something unbelievable. Naruto didn't know. How could he not know? It was absurd. Though now that they were all in the same team, Naruto would figure the truth out sooner or later. Even he wasn’t that stupid. Still . . . always try to know more than your enemies, Mikoto liked to say.

“Don’t talk to Sakura like that,” Naruto ordered, glaring and scratching his blond head. “Jeez, I guess it is you.”

For the moment, Sasuke was more interested on signaling Sakura to keep her mouth shut about who Itachi really was. He looked at her, shaking his head when she opened her mouth. “I don’t like to talk about it.” Sakura hesitated before nodding. Sasuke mentally sighed with relief and then fixed his gaze on Naruto. “Itachi said that he’s not going to help us with high-level jutsu, so if we want to get stronger we’ll have to rely on each other.”

“I take it back, it can’t be the real him,” said Naruto, looking at Sakura with wide eyes.

“I’m telling the truth!”

“I wouldn’t train with you if you were the last human alive, dead last,” said Naruto, deepening his voice in an attempt to sound more like him. “You’re so awful that practicing henge with you would make me unlearn how to do it. I’d rather swallow my own kunai than spar with you, dead last. You said all of that to me last week.”

“That’s because last week I wasn’t stuck with you two imbeciles!” shouted Sasuke, losing all patience with Naruto. His mother would just have to understand that he was too stupid to befriend.

“Well now I don’t want to practice with you!” Naruto yelled back, grinning with so much satisfaction that it made Sasuke picture knocking his teeth out. “Come on, Sakura. Let’s go before this asshole loses it and tries to gut us with a rusty kunai.” He turned around and put his hands inside his still wet, ridiculously orange pockets before beginning to whistle as he walked away from them and towards the jacket he'd discarded at some point during his attempt to steal food from Itachi.

“Ugh!” Sasuke watched Sakura looked back and forth between them and wished he was a good enough liar to make his mother believe that he had made progress with Naruto. He’d just have to explain that the only way to get through to the idiot was to ins—

“Hey, dead last!” called out Sasuke, the answer to his problems suddenly rushing to the front of his mind. “I always knew you were stupid but I never thought you were a scaredy cat too.”

“All right you fucker, that’s it!” shouted Naruto, whirling around and rolling his shoulders. “I’m gonna knock your teeth out.”

Sakura sighed deeply and then rolled her eyes.

Sasuke smirked.

Notes:

Like I said at FF.net, when I was writing this I accidentally made Itachi's hair way too long. My guess is that I saw an official-looking fanart of him with longer hair and it stuck. I decided to keep that deal since . . . AU and all.

Chapter 3: Hoshi

Summary:

So what's Kakashi going to be doing in this story?

Notes:

Warnings: Mentions of rape

Itachi spat the tomatoes out into the sink as if they’d been drenched in acid.

It was too late. His plain white kitchen walls morphed into the plate-adorned light-yellow walls of his mother’s house. He saw his father sitting opposite him on the dinner table pontificating about every subject under the sun in between swallows of rice balls dipped in the same sauce currently spread over his tongue.

He’d microwaved Sasuke’s lunchbox by mistake.

What the hell was wrong with him?

Holding back a frustrated grunt, he opened his fridge and took out the right box. His appetite had deserted him but he put the grey plastic in the microwave anyway. There was no need to trick his body into thinking it was starving. He was already under enough stress. How he was—

—suddenly, he felt someone enter his kitchen unannounced. He greeted them with a shuriken to the forehead.

“If I’d been almost anyone else,” said Kakashi, passing the shuriken between his fingers, single visible white eyebrow raised, “you’d have a corpse on your hands.”

Itachi ignored the unspoken query about his disposition and took in Kakashi’s rumpled appearance: bare feet, crinkled black eye, sleeveless black shirt, no belt holding his black pants above his narrow hips, no basic weapon pack strapped around his right thigh, no Make Out Paradise novel.

“Did you sleep here again?” he asked, trying to decide if Kakashi’s white hair looked messier than usual. “Where’s your vest?”

“Where’s your vest?” returned Kakashi, pushing down his always present black mask and walking towards the counter, reaching behind Itachi for Sasuke’s lunch. Itachi almost tried to stop him but since he’d been allowing Kakashi liberties for years, he’d have to explain what made that particular serving of food so special. Better to let him eat it. “This is really good!”

“Yes,” agreed Itachi, watching Kakashi enthusiastically shove thin tomato slices into his mouth. His mother was a superb cook. An excellent wife all around. A good wife supports, Itachi. A good son obeys.

“I don’t remember my own ANBU retirement party being quite that . . . rambunctious,” continued Kakashi in between bites.

“Yours involved cremations,” said Itachi, not unkindly. Most ANBU members retired in a funeral pyre that often left their living comrades mentally unfit for duty. He didn’t blame his squads for taking advanatge of even the slightest excuse to say goodbye to someone without grief.

“I’m pretty sure you were the only one sober by the end of it. You and . . . what’s his name? Eiji?”

“Why are you here?” asked Itachi, certain that Kakashi knew precisely who Eiji was.

“I got evicted again.”

Itachi sighed as he heard his microwave beep. Shaking his head, he opened its door and reached for his food. “You’re a jonin. You can afford to pay your rent.”

“I do pay it,” said Kakashi. “Eventually.”

“Or buy your own apartment,” suggested Itachi, opening the box and picking up the chop sticks hooked to the top lid. “Maybe then you would stop breaking into mine and stealing my food.”

“You know I’m going on off for an S-rank today?” Kakashi bit into another tomato slice and continued to speak with his mouth full. “Imagine how devastated you’ll be if it turns our last conversation was you whining to me about leftovers. Least you could do is tell me about your threesome with Eiji and Anko.”

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Itachi popped a rice ball into his mouth and began to chew, trying his best to ignore how much blander than his mother’s tomatoes it was. He’d never been with Eiji and Anko on the same day, much less at the same time, and Kakashi probably realized it.

“People are saying you used genjutsu to seduce them,” added Kakashi.

That bit made Itachi frown as he swallowed his rice. “I wouldn’t.” Being called a traitor and liar was one thing; he’d done plenty of lying and betraying in his relatively short life. But he’d never given anyone any reason to suspect him of rape.

“Don’t worry, I stood up for you right away,” said Kakashi. “Said you’re definitely hot enough to bag two people at once but it turns out there’s a rumor you’re using genjutsu to make yourself attractive.”

“That’s absurd.” How much chakra did these idiots think he had at his disposal anyway? “I’m not even that good looking.” He looked like his father. It was baffling that anyone at all thought him beautiful.

“I think it’s the hair,” said Kakashi, shoving more tomatoes into his mouth. “Cheer up. This is doing wonders for your reputation.”

“Who hasn’t wanted to be known as a rapist who wastes chakra on meaningless physical transformations at some point in their life?” asked Itachi. He grunted before grabbing thin strip of fish with his chopsticks.

“Few people actually believe that part,” said Kakashi, swallowing the last of the tomatoes. “Most people just think you got horny and fucked the wrong people, like someone your age is supposed to. Makes you look . . .”

“Human,” finished Itachi.

“Essentially,” agreed Kakashi with a smile. He put the lunch box away and pulled up his mask. “Why did you start having sex now anyway?”

“I was having trouble sleeping.”

“Ah,” said Kakashi. “Insomnia strikes again. A ninja’s worst enemy.”

Yes it was. Lack of sleep slowed reflexes, decreased strength and chakra reserves, lowered precision, compromised intelligence, and—worst of all—it made people crazy. Itachi could think of few things more dangerous than a crazy, highly trained killer. He finished his food and put the lunchbox in the sink, looking at the clock above his stove. It was already 7:15. He needed to go. Waiting any longer would get his team stuck with the worst chores. He opened the fridge and got the day’s lunch.

“Did it work?” asked Kakashi, when he was at the kitchen's threshold. 

“For the most part,” answered Itachi as he entered his living room. After a nice orgasm or two, he had fallen asleep, but his ghosts hadn’t abandoned him. Shisui still asked him why he hadn’t been avenged, his mother still told him she ought to have strangled him with his umbilical cord, Sasuke . . . Well, he could now look forward to dreaming a skills-accurate Sasuke threatening to murder him.

Nevertheless, sleep riddled with nightmares was better than no sleep at all.

“And when the insomnia comes back?”

“I suppose I’ll have to go to a bar with my hair loose and my ANBU tattoo visible,” said Itachi, looking at his vest and deciding to leave it behind. If he ever got into a fight with anyone who managed to get past his evasive genjutsu, the vest wouldn’t help him much. He grabbed his green bag and pushed his lunchbox inside before raising the strap over his head.

“Sex won’t work forever, you know.”

Itachi said nothing as he grabbed a hair tie and pulled his hair into a simple ponytail. He’d rather not think about that eventuality.

Not that he could stop himself. There were sleeping drugs but all of them were addictive to some degree. A highly trained killer who also happened to be an addict might be worse than one who was merely insane. Physical exhaustion also helped people sleep but driving a body to that extreme too often wasn’t healthy. Not to mention that physically exhausting someone at his level was easier said than done.

“Please lock my door when you leave,” said Itachi as he hooked his headband to the belt holding up his standard jonin pants, letting it hang over his left hipbone.

“Why the hurry?” asked Kakashi before he could leave. “It’s not like the kids can start without you.”

“If I get to the tower first, I’ll get the best missions of the day.” Maybe some rich merchant clan needed a boar hunted for some birthday or wedding. Or a lady might want to know if her lover was cheating. He’d be happy with anything that might resemble actual ninja work instead of tedious household chores.

“The best thing you could teach your genin is that shinobi life is filled with more tedium than excitement,” said Kakashi, walking over to the dark blue futon he kept at Itachi’s living room and dropping facedown on it with as much grace as drunken tiger.

“Too bad you aren’t their commander,” said Itachi, throwing a futile glare his way. It wasn't like Kakashi would see it while laying face down. “You could waste as much of their time as you saw fit.”

“Oh, is that what the sudden increase in passive-aggressiveness is about?” Kakashi turned over and gazed at him with his lazy single eye. “We always knew one of us was going to get stuck with the Nine-Tails the moment he earned his headband. I thought it was going to be me after that unpleasant business with your clan, but luckily you spent the last five years acting the model shinobi.” Mask or no, Itachi could sense Kakashi’s sudden smile. “For the most part. Getting into a Jiraiya-esque love triangle at the last moment was too little, too late.”

“It wasn’t Jiraiya-esque.”

“Please,” said Kakashi. “Tortured illusionist seeks solace in the arms of a soothing comrade and a wild kunoichi? That’s practically a synopsis for the latest Make Out Paradise installment. If I find out you cry during sex, I’m going to assume Jiraiya-sama has been spying on you.”

Itachi let his expression go flat. “Like I said, please lock my door when you leave.” For one reason or another, he was in no mood to smile at Kakashi’s teasing.

“So how sharp a kunai did I dodge anyway?”

Briefly, Itachi considered taking off without responding. After a small sigh, he decided he’d think about his rudeness all day if he did so. “Naruto’s so stupid I’m having trouble accepting he’s real, Sakura’s so insecure she can’t bring herself to look me in the eye, and Sasuke already tried to kill me.”

“Awkward,” said Kakashi, shrugging. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m gonna have to try and borrow one of Guy’s students after lunch. For an S-rank mission. It’d probably be easier to desert Konoha altogether.”

“Neji?” asked Itachi, curious despite himself.

“You know him?” asked Kakashi.

“I know of him,” said Itachi, sitting cross-legged beside Kakashi’s futon and arranging his bag on his lap. If he got stuck weeding a garden until mid-afternoon, Kakashi was going to pay. “The branch member who surpassed the Hyuga heir. Most ninja in Konoha know of him.”

“Yes, yes, a Gentle Fist prodigy in the branch family,” said Kakashi, eye rolling. “The horror. It seems a certain part of his family wants him dead. I wonder why no one’s blown his brains with that Cursed Seal yet.”

“Neji must be so valuable to the branch family that his outright murder might cause a . . .” Saying rebellion would be inaccurate when the possible insurgents were as effectively shackled as the Hyuga branch family was. “. . . a sudden wave of suicidal defiance among the branch members. What’s the main family’s excuse for not letting a Hyuga chunin or jonin take the mission with you?”

“Hiashi’s birthday’s coming up and every Hyuga absolutely must be there,” answered Kakashi. “Except for his nephew, apparently.”

“Hokage-sama knows about this?”

“What can he do?” asked Kakashi, shrugging and looking out the window on the other side of his futon. The summer sun shone brightly and proudly “The Hyuga clan’s practically autonomous.”

Itachi knew. It’d been one of Fugaku’s favorite ranting subjects. They Hyuga are treated like royalty despite their barbaric Cursed Seal, yet we’re confined to the edge of the village and put under constant watch by Root because of our ancestors’ actions.

“I’m asking if he knows that the main family’s compromising your mission.” Itachi didn’t like agreeing with Fugaku about anything, but it was incredibly unfair that the Hyuga were given so much special treatment when the main family obviously had very little regard for the rest of the village.

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve been told to take Neji or no Hyuga at all,” said Kakashi, his one visible eye narrowing.

Frustrating, but not surprising. The Council always let the Hyuga do as they pleased, mostly because the Byakugan was invaluable for almost all reconnaissance missions. A significant portion of Konoha’s revenue was owed to the Byakugan’s ability to spy on unsuspecting targets from miles away. Thanks to the Hyuga, Konoha was the only hidden village that could afford to charge more for espionage than outright assassinations sometimes. But not everyone could afford Konoha’s hefty fee, of course. Other villages somehow carried out espionage missions of their own.

“How would a jonin without access to the Hyuga handle this mission?”

“Well, it’s all very hush-hush classified so I can’t really give you the details,” said Kakashi, eye crinkled with amusement, “but hypothetically, they’d make use of good old-fashioned strategic murder and brown nosing. It’d take months.”

Infiltration, then. Kakashi needed to join some organization and gather information which would probably be used for later missions, if the S-rank was anything to go by. To make matters worse, said organization couldn’t know that their plans had been discovered or Kakashi wouldn’t need Byakugan so badly.

“The Hyuga look quite striking,” said Itachi.

“I know, I know.” Kakashi scratched at the part of his forehead not covered by his headband. “They’re no good for any mission that might require blending in. Unless you’re about to tell me that Sharingan can secretly see trough walls too, I’m taking Neji anyway. I’ll pass him off as my blind brother or something.”

“Have you seen Neji’s file? It’s very unlikely that he’ll be able to play blind convincingly.”

Kakashi nodded. “I’ve already said as much to Hokage-sama, the Council, and the main family,” he said, visible eyebrow furrowed. “They all basically said to figure it out or go fuck myself.” He shook his head in exasperation. “I don’t understand why the old bastards in the main family don’t just set off Neji’s Cursed Seal and get it over with. It’s not like anyone in the Council would make a big fuss about it.”

That much was true. Nobody asked many questions whenever a random Hyuga branch member tragically passed away in some vague accident or other. “It’s possible this is not about Neji,” said Itachi. “At least not entirely.”

“Hm?”

“The Hyuga heir just became a genin and, as far as I know, she wasn’t considered for Naruto’s team,” said Itachi. Puzzle pieces were beginning to click together in his mind. “Instead, Sasuke—heir to a traitor clan—was placed on the same team as Konoha’s jinchuriki. And since I’ll never be anything else to them, another Uchiha was made his sensei. Yet their precious heir was passed over.”

Kakashi grunted. “As far as they’re concerned, the Uchiha clan’s been honored and their clan has been slighted,” he said, nodding. Then he sat up and looked at Itachi. “You think they’d dare try and cut ties with Konoha over this?”

“Of course not,” answered Itachi. “Not after what I . . . what Root did to my family. But they’d feel the need to make the village aware of their displeasure.”

“I’m certainly aware of it,” said Kakashi. “I have to admit this Neji bullshit’s brilliant in a stuck up, petty kind of way. If nothing blows up in my face, they get to brag that one of their lowly branch genin completed an S-ranked mission. If something does blow up in my face, then Neji dies and the branch family can’t complain that he was killed for being better than the heir. It’d be like he failed to meet expectations.”

“You could always do this without him.”

Kakashi shook his head. “We don’t have months. The information I’m looking for might be useless by then.”

“If you take him and he makes a mistake—and he will—you won’t get the information anyway,” said Itachi, wishing that Kakashi hadn’t put his mask back on. It’d be easier to steer the conversation in the direction he wanted if he could discern Kakashi’s facial expressions more effectively. “Subtle genjutsu could be used to earn whoever’s trust is necessary much faster.”

“No.” Kakashi’s tone made it obvious he’d guessed what Itachi wanted to suggest. “We’re not trading missions. Even if I said yes, Hokage-sama wouldn’t allow it anyway.”

“We could convince him,” argued Itachi. “He must know that taking a half-trained genin with a highly noticeable and highly coveted bloodline limit on an S-ranked infiltration mission would be stupid. The Hyuga probably know it as well. Nobody’s expecting you to actually take Neji with you—” Suddenly Itachi understood what Kakashi’s plan was. “You’re counting on that much. You’re sure someone will suddenly remember another Hyuga who also happens to be available if they think you’ll really risk taking Neji.”

“That’s the plan!” confirmed Kakashi with a smile wide enough his mask shifted a little. “And if none of these old farts sees reason, we’ll just have to test how similar to you Neji really is.”

“There’s no need to insult him.” And Itachi understood his reputation well enough to be certain any comparisons to him were meant as an insult.

“I meant skills-wise,” said Kakashi. “Everyone’s been saying he’s as impressive as you were at his age.”

“That’s likely a gross exaggeration.”

Kakashi chuckled. “I guess modesty’s not one of your virtues.”

A ninja does not cower from the truth. Itachi was perfectly aware that very few people alive matched him in raw talent. “The point remains that you can’t risk the Hyuga calling your bluff. If you take Neji and something goes wrong, you’d be losing both Byakugan and Sharingan in one spectacular—”

“—stop,” interrupted Kakashi. Itachi ordered himself to let it go. “Your unwavering faith in my abilities is embarrassing both of us.”

“This has nothing to do with my faith on your abilities,” said Itachi, making sure to keep his face pleasantly neutral. “I simply dislike taking unnecessary risks.”

“This risk isn’t unnecessary.” Kakashi grabbed the standard green vest he’d been using as a makeshift pillow and pushed his right arm through the proper sleeve hole. “I told you Hokage-sama won’t let us trade missions. In case you haven’t noticed, everyone’s been pretty nervous about you lately.”

Itachi let himself grunt in frustration. “I can’t believe I’m the one getting flak because Anko and Eiji decided to make asses of themselves.” He’d actually been surprised when that chunin barged into his office at ANBU Headquarters to tell him that his “lovers” were leveling off a section of the Forest of Death in some ridiculous spat.

“Not because of them,” said Kakashi, rising to his feet. “You visited the Uchiha compound a few weeks ago.”

Itachi couldn’t stop his eyes from widening. “That . . .” Would certainly make people nervous. He stood up as well, mostly to avoid the blank dark eye that had been staring down at him.

What was he supposed to say? That he’d had a bad mission? That he’d just wanted to see Sasuke? That Mikoto hadn’t let him past the threshold so the whole thing had only left him feeling even worse? Come to think of it, how the hell hadn’t he noticed someone watching?

He really must have had some kind of psychotic break after crippling that band of thieves.

“Don’t look so shocked,” said Kakashi, waving his right hand dismissively. “This is a Hidden Village. Root’s going to have your family watched for the next three generations, at least.”

“I thought nobody had seen me because nobody said anything,” said Itachi, remembering Hokage-sama’s words. But I can trust you. Had that been the truth?

“People said plenty, just not to you. There was a goddamned meeting about it.” Kakashi snorted. “The Council was half-panicking, Danzo wanted to lock you up and breed you—”

“I’d castrate myself first.” The rational part of him argued that it was perfectly logical that no one trusted him after what he’d done to his clan, but every other part of him was enraged that none of Konoha’s higher ups—not even Hokage-sama—had thought to just ask him why he’d gone to see his family. He’d given up everything for Konoha; his brother, his reputation, whatever had been left of his peace of mind after the Third Shinobi World War. Hadn’t he earned at least a little bit of faith?

“Ibiki’s of the opinion that you’d decimate the village’s forces first,” said Kakashi. “I tried to say you’re a nice kid but . . . well, somehow ‘he’s my friend, trust me’ loses its impact when you’re talking about a guy who already cut off his father’s arm.” Paradoxically, hearing Kakashi talk about what he’d done to his family so casually was oddly therapeutic. It made it sound like it wasn’t so bad. “Anyway, everyone decided that some downtime with your brother would mellow you out.”

The brother who’d made it his mission in life to kill him. Not that Itachi blamed him.

What he really had to worry about was Sasuke suddenly coming to Naruto’s defense the previous day. It was obvious that the two boys hated each other, so clearly his parents wanted Sasuke to make ties with the Nine Tails. So much for Itachi’s plan to spare his brother a lifetime as a political tool.

“I should go,” he said. If everyone thought he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, there was no way they’d let him take Kakashi’s place on any dangerous mission. He might was well focus on doing whatever he could for Sasuke. “Bandage Neji’s eyes with red-stained gauzes and teach him to look clumsy. People will stay away if they think he’s carrying some kind of infection.”

“Invaluable advice,” said Kakashi with a curious head tilt. “If only I was a high level jonin too . . . I could come up with that kind of thing on my own.”

Despite his mood, Itachi smiled. “Lock my door and wrap your futon away before you leave.”

He took off before Kakashi could say anything else, praying there was still a halfway decent D-rank mission left.

 

***

 

No other Konoha tree ever seemed so tall.

Naruto felt himself lose control of the amount of chakra he was sending to the soles of his feet—too much! Too much!—and quickly bent to slash at the bark of Sasuke’s burnt tree, marking how high he’d reached. When he fell to the ground, he congratulated himself for landing on his feet then looked up. The new slash was barely above the last one. For all he knew, the “new” sash was actually the one slightly lower. Talk about slow progress . . .

With a sigh, he looked behind and watched as Sakura wobbled on top of the water like it was oil spread over ice, bare feet slightly submerged. She’d figured out tree climbing right away, unlike him. Naruto wanted to be happy for her--he really did--but as he watched her take tentative steps on the pond’s surface, he had to admit he was more jealous than anything else. How come he was always the last one to learn everything? He glared at Sakura’s feet and wished that she were having at least some trouble.

Almost like his thought caused it, Sakura suddenly gasped and sank beneath the water.

“Sakura!” Naruto rushed towards the pond, ready to jump in to get her, but she swam to the surface right away. He sighed then chuckled, telling himself that of course Sakura knew how to swim. She was a ninja.

“My legs!” yelled Sakura just as Naruto was ready to turn back to his tree.

Then she sank again. Naruto stared, thinking that she was playing some kind of joke, but the pond’s surface evened out and Sakura did not remerge. He was about to jump in to rescue her, heart pounding so hard he was sure it’d escape from his chest, when Sasuke rushed past him and walked on the water until he’d reached the spot where Sakura sank. He let himself fall under. Mere moments later, Naruto saw a black head rise from the water followed by dark blue fabric and a mess of pink and red.

“Are you all right?” yelled Naruto right after he heard Sakura cough out some water and heave in a lungful of air.

“She’s fine!” answered Sasuke, pulling Sakura’s arm over his shoulder then pulling himself to the surface of the water again, one of his arms wrapped around Sakura’s waist. When she almost lost her hold on him, Sasuke put his free arm under her thighs and picked her up. Sakura let her head fall on his shoulder as he walked towards the pond’s edge.

“What happened?” Naruto asked when Sasuke set Sakura on the grass beside the water. Pain was written on her furrowed and wet pink eyebrows and she grunted when Sasuke removed her arm from around his neck. Naruto felt his belly clench in sympathy and reached for her other hand.

“It’s nothing,” gritted out Sakura. Since she squeezed Naruto’s hand instead of slapping it away, he doubted it was nothing. “My legs cramped, is all.”

“We’ve only been training for a couple of hours,” said Sasuke, pushing his dripping dark bangs out of his dark eyes. “You should have way more chakra.”

“You mean you knew this could happen?” demanded Naruto. If he hadn’t been holding Sakura’s hand, he would’ve thrown a punch. “When were you gonna tell us?”

“I didn’t know it could happen in just two hours!” protested Sasuke, shooting Sakura a glare. Naruto was glad she was looking at her lap and avoiding both their gazes. She always wilted when Sasuke glared at her.

“It’s not your fault,” she said to Sasuke, taking her hand out of Naruto’s. She then reached towards the sides of her calves and began to rub at them lightly. For the first time, Naruto noticed she was trembling.

“Well, what do we do now?” he asked, reaching for Sakura’s shoulder. Despite the hot sunlight shining down on them, the little bit of skin not covered by her red sleeveless shirt felt cold and clammy. Naruto doubted it was just because she was wet.

“I don’t know,” said Sasuke, crossing his arms over his chest. “My legs never cramped when I was learning this.”

“Yes, yes, you think you’re perfect at everything, we know!” yelled Naruto. “For your information, you completely suck at teaching, Bastard!”

“No, you just suck at learning because you’re stupid, dead last.”

“I’m gonna kill—”

“Naruto, please!” yelled Sakura, pushing her forehead against her shaking knees. “It’s really not his fault. He saved me. We wouldn’t be learning water walking or tree climbing without him in the first place.”

Sasuke nodded and smirked. Of course. As far as Sakura was concerned, Sasuke could do no wrong even when he didn’t bother to tell her that water walking would drown her if she didn’t do it right. What if she'd been practicing by herself? It was enough to make Naruto want to scream.

“So what else didn’t you say about the chakra control stuff?” He didn’t want to find out that the whole thing could suck away all his chakra forever or something.

“I told you, it’s just pushing chakra to your feet so you can stick to surfaces,” said Sasuke, pouting. Naruto supposed he was trying to glare but his face was too pretty for any expression that was even remotely manly. “It’s not my fault that Sakura apparently doesn’t have any and that you—well . . . I suppose you’re doing fine,” he admitted, glancing over at the tree he’d roasted while trying to get at Itachi. Naruto would’ve smiled at Sasuke’s faint praise if Sakura hadn’t curled into herself after hearing that jab at her lack of chakra.

But speaking of Itachi . . .

“Where fuck is Itachi-sensei?” Maybe if he was here, Sakura would not have almost drowned thanks to Sasuke’s shitty lesson.

“I’m right here,” answered a deep voice coming from behind Naruto. Sasuke immediately rose to his feet and adopted a loose fighting stance, glaring up at the spot where Naruto assumed Itachi was standing.

“Don’t be stupid,” Naruto told him. It wasn’t like sensei was going to randomly attack them without warning. He shook his head, then turned around to glare at Itachi himself. “How long have you been here?” The bastard was even holding his red book on one hand.

“I got here not long after you did,” answered Itachi, walking towards Sakura and bending down next to Naruto. “I need to examine your legs,” he told her, a section of his long black ponytail falling forward and brushing Naruto’s arm.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” asked Naruto, scowling. Much to his frustration, Itachi ignored him entirely and put away his red book. Sakura—who’d somehow curled into an even tighter ball after she heard Itachi’s voice—reluctantly raised her head from her knees and moved her arms away from her legs.

Itachi leaned for and placed as his right hand on her left knee before running it down her calf. “Chakra exhaustion,” he said while Sakura blushed and looked down at her red clad navel.

“Is that dangerous?” asked Naruto, feeling his stomach sink. What would happen to their team if Sakura couldn’t get fixed? He looked down at her glistening and water-slicked pink hair and told himself to stop being dramatic.

“It shouldn’t be,” said Sasuke before walking away from them. Naruto looked up to scowl but Sasuke had already rushed away from the pond and started to gather the shuriken he’d been practicing with while Naruto and Sakura learned chakra control.

“Here,” Itachi was saying when Naruto looked back at him and Sakura. He’d pulled out a lunchbox filled with onigiri. “Sakura, I’m not upset with you,” he added when she didn’t take the lunchbox. “I just need you to eat.” Still avoiding everyone’s eyes, Sakura reached for Itachi’s food and grabbed one of the onigiri.

“Do you feel better?” asked Naruto after she’d swallowed down the first bite.

“Naruto, go help Sasuke gather his shuriken,” said Itachi-sensei. “I need to speak with Sakura.”

His first instinct is to argue. He wanted Sakura to know that he’d always defend her, even if she didn’t really appreciate it. Then he watched Sakura finish another one of Itachi’s rice-wrapped seaweed bundles and decides that she probably wouldn’t need a champion anytime soon. Itachi-sensei doesn’t seem nice enough to worry about tearing someone apart in front of an audience anyway, so he might just want to comfort her or something like that. So Naruto went off to gather shuriken.

But he wasn’t stupid enough to go anywhere near Sasuke, though. Instead, Naruto focused on the shuriken scattered farthest from where his teammate was cleaning up. He was still staring at the weird red-blue circle stamped on the back of Sasuke’s navy blue shirt when he bent down to pick up the first shuriken. Its sharp edges pricked his fingers, prompting him to look down at the grass and pay attention to how he was grabbing them. Always pick up a shuriken by inserting one of your fingers—preferably your index—into the hole at its center and pressing your thumb against one of the blunt edges between the sharp spikes. Naruto had always gotten lower grades at the academy because he grabbed weapons carelessly and without looking at them. Iruka-sensei had ranted at him that real shinobi weapons were a lot sharper than the blunt tools used at the academy all the time. Imagine how embarrassing it would be to get maimed by your own weapons.

Sighing, Naruto examined his fingers to make sure he hadn’t cut his them too deeply. The bleeding had stopped and when he wiped at the blood, he noticed that the wounds themselves had vanished. For a few moments, he stared down at his fingers in wonder—no cuts or bruises had ever vanished so quickly before—then he got distracted by the obviously high quality of the shuriken he was helping Sasuke gather. Their black metal surfaces were smooth and unscratched even though Sasuke had spent all morning throwing them at the sky and then using other shuriken to alter their course. The triangular blades protruding from their centers ended in sharp points thin enough to cleanly slice through the blades of moist grass they fell on. Sasuke must have gotten them from his creepy traitor family.

Naruto had tried to buy a pack of genuine shuriken the day after he’d gotten his headband. He'd failed the moment he walked into a shop and realized just how expensive genuine shinobi weapons were. The shop owner had sneered and told him to go get his equipment from an official shinobi warehouse if he really was a ninja. Naruto had tried that, of course, but the chunin guarding the base he’d visited had lazily informed him that genin could only requisition weapons if they presented written approval from their jonin. Maybe Itachi-sensei would sign a . . . whatever it was he needed to sign so Naruto could get some real weapons?

After glancing at the spot where Itachi was explaining something to a still eating Sakura, Naruto shook his head and jogged towards Sasuke. Time to see just how serious the Bastard was about his new and creepily friendly attitude.

“Hey, Bastard!” called Naruto. “Hey!”

“I heard you, dead last,” said Sasuke, straightening up and looking at Naruto. Wet clothes were sticking to his skin, but if he was cold, he didn’t show it. “What do you want?”

“Where’d you get these?” Naruto raised his right hand and spun the shuriken hooked on his index finger. “They look way expensive.”

“Give them back,” said Sasuke, frowning. Before Naruto could say no, Sasuke grabbed his wrist and pulled the shuriken off his finger. “Where’re the others you got?”

“I didn’t get that many,” said Naruto, reaching into the weapons pack he’d wrapped around his right thigh and handing Sasuke the rest of his shuriken. “Where’d you get them?” he asked a second time.

“They were my mother’s,” answered Sasuke, chin so upturned that he was looking down at Naruto more than usual. “I got them when I graduated. She’s a jonin.”

Was a jonin, Naruto almost corrected, remembering that Sasuke’s family were traitors. They’d all lost their headbands when ANBU found out that they were planning to destroy Konoha out of spite.

“Can I borrow some?” he asked instead, certain that mentioning the rest of the Uchiha would only result in a fight.

“No,” said Sasuke, walking around Naruto and bending down to pick another shuriken off the grass. “You’d lose them.”

“I wouldn’t!” protested Naruto, rushing towards a nearby tree with three of the throwing stars stuck to its trunk. “I take care really good care of my things.” It wasn’t like he could afford a lot of them. With a genin’s salary being what it was, that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon.

“I don’t believe you,” said Sasuke, extending his hand and waiting for Naruto to return his shuriken. “Why are you helping me gather them anyway?”

“Itachi-sensei told me to,” answered Naruto.

“Well, don’t listen to him!” Sasuke all but screamed, his face twisted into the harshest scowl Naruto had ever seen him wear. Since Sasuke was always scowling at one thing or another, that was actually kind of impressive.

“Uh, we kind of have to listen to him. I mean, I’m all for giving him a hard time and everything, but he really can take away our headbands away whenever he wants.” Naruto sucked in a deep breath after saying as much, thinking that his life would turn into a hopeless mess if he wasn’t allowed to be a ninja. Then he sighed tiredly. First, Sasuke asked to be friends and now this. Naruto never would have guessed that someday he’d be arguing in favor of respecting a teacher.

“He’s not going to kick us out,” insisted Sasuke, looking over at where Itachi-sensei was still talking to Sakura.

“You always talk like you know everything,” said Naruto, thinking that there was no way Sasuke could know that for sure. “Just make sure that you don’t do anything to land me and Sakura in any trouble.”

“Whatever, dead last,” said Sasuke with a dismissive shrug. Then he looked at his sandals and muttered something Naruto couldn’t make out.

“What?”

“. . . Do you want to stay and practice after Itachi leaves?”

“Uh,” said Naruto, trying to decide if he shouldn’t ask Sasuke to repeat himself just to make sure he hadn’t misheard. “Sure. If get I get to practice with your shuriken.”

Sasuke grunted and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, surprising Naruto. “After you master tree walking.”

“And Sakura can stay if she feels better?”

“Right, whatever,” agreed Sasuke with another shrug.

Naruto didn’t know what to think. When he’d started at the Academy, he’d made a genuine effort to befriend Sasuke. He was the only other boy who was as mercilessly bullied as Naruto. It hadn’t been too stupid to assume that they could turn into not-blood-related brothers, had it? Naruto had even told Sasuke that he didn’t care if all the other Uchiha were traitors, that they could be family. It was the first of many times Sasuke beat him up. 

Things had only gotten worse from there since it turned out that being prime targets for bullying was about the only thing they had in common. While Naruto struggled to achieve a passing grade in even the most basic of tasks, Sasuke shone. There wasn’t a single lesson he didn’t pass with flying colors (excluding the ones that involved cooperating with anyone, of course). He molded high amounts of chakra faster than any other student. He was just faster. Stronger and smarter too. Iruka-sensei often let him practice with shuriken and kunai on his own. All the girls wanted to take him on dates because he was pretty on top of all the broody and tragic talent. Bullies didn’t just hate him, they envied him.

Bullies only ever hated Naruto.

Naruto was clumsy, he couldn’t really get his chakra to work, and it seemed like he couldn’t even read right if his written test scores were anything to go by. He was proud, yes, but he wasn’t blind. There were only so many fights someone could lose and so many tests someone could fail before they started to think that maybe, just maybe, they really were as useless and dumb as everyone said.

Point was, Naruto sometimes secretly wanted to just give up and run away. During his worst days, the only reason he didn’t do just that was that he wanted to prove to every villager who ever rejected him or threw things at him that they’d been wrong. He wanted to show Sasuke that he’d been wrong. Naruto would train until he was a hero just like the Fourth had been. Then people would have to start respecting him, Sasuke included.

“All this nice stuff better not be an act,” Naruto said into the silence.

An irritated “hmph!” was Sasuke’s only answer, which wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“Naruto! Sasuke!” called out Itachi-sensei before Naruto could get Sasuke to promise not to be an ass in the future.

“Try not to look like you want to kill him for once,” Naruto said before rushing towards the burnt and slashed tree.

Sakura looked a little more relaxed. She’d already finished Itachi-sensei’s food and had moved on to her own dumplings. Naruto smiled before plopping down to a sitting position in front of her and next to Itachi-sensei, glad to see that her trembling had stopped. “Are you better now?”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Sakura after swallowing another bite. She offered him a tentative smile and shyly glanced at where Sasuke was standing, green eyes wide. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Hmph,” said Sasuke.

“That’s his favorite word,” said Naruto quickly, trying to get Sakura angry before Sasuke’s rudeness could get her down. He beamed when she smiled instead of throwing her dumpling at his face like he expected her to.

“Sit down, Sasuke,” said Itachi-sensei. After a beat, Sasuke obeyed the order and adopted a cross-legged sitting position right next to Naruto was sprawled. It mirrored Itachi’s oddly rigid posture.

“You guys look a lot alike,” observed Naruto out loud, suddenly noting that Itachi looked like an older Sasuke with longer hair and weird birthmarks under his eyes. The words made both of them stare at him; Sasuke glaring and Itachi looking as placid as ever. “What?”

“Narutooo . . .” Sakura sighed then rolled her eyes.

“What? They do!” It was actually embarrassing that he hadn’t seen it before. Maybe it was because Itachi’s high ponytail left his face nearly naked and framed only by bangs that were barely any longer than Sasuke’s. They even had similar coloring.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” snapped Sasuke, eyes fixed on Itachi’s face.

“Why would it mean anything?” asked Naruto. “Geez, I was just saying . . .” Why did people always have to act like everything that came out of his mouth was somehow offensive? He could say the sky was blue and someone would find a reason to yell at him for it.

“Anyway,” said Itachi, reaching into his bag and pulling out a rolled scroll. “Sakura needs the rest of the day to recover from mild chakra exhaustion, so the two of you will have to carry out today’s mission on your own.”

“But why did you run out of chakra in the first place?” asked Naruto, still wondering if another one of them was going to get some horrible cramp in the middle of training and fall face-first into mud, fire, or up-turned kunai.

“I just I didn’t have breakfast,” answered Sakura, blushing and looking down at the second dumpling she’d picked out of a pink lunchbox.

“Why not?” Naruto couldn’t imagine why someone would try training on an empty stomach.

“The issue has been resolved,” said Itachi, opening the scroll he’d pulled out of his bag. On it was a generic drawing of a black cat with a red ribbon tied around its neck. A heart-shaped pendant with the name Hoshi etched on its center hanged from it. “Lady Koga’s cat has run away from home,” started Itachi in a tone so serious he might as well be describing a rogue ninja ransacking Konoha’s secret libraries. “She claims Hoshi’s devastated because a stray from the Aburame compound broke her heart. Your mission is to retrieve her and return her to Lady Koga’s mansion at number twelve on the main street leading to the Hokage monument.”

“You have to be joking,” said Naruto, praying that was the case and that Itachi just didn’t know how to change his tone of voice.

“I never joke about missions,” said Itachi, rolling the scroll closed.

“The cat will just wonder home by itself the moment it gets hungry,” said Sasuke.

“Let’s hope not,” said Itachi. “You won’t get paid if she does.”

“But that’s a stupid mission!” complained Naruto.

“What did you guys expect?” asked Sakura, shrugging. “Espionage? Hunting rogue ninja? Genin start out with awful, boring missions.”

“She’s right.” Itachi nodded sagely.

“But, sensei!” protested Naruto. “That lady can’t really think she needs shinobi to look for a cat!”

“Evidently, she does,” said Itachi, handing Naruto the scroll. “Since you did the least awful yesterday—”

“—what?” Sasuke practically screamed the word.

Naruto shot him a confused look and wondered why the hell he’d curled his hands into fists. It wasn’t like he could break Itachi’s nose like he’d done with nearly every bully in Konoha. Even Sakura was eyeing him nervously.

“What did I say about interruptions?” asked Itachi. Despite his mild tone, Naruto felt a shiver running down his spine.

“He didn’t mean to interrupt you, Sensei,” interjected Sakura, shaking her head as she tried to draw Itachi’s attention.

“Are you trying to say Naruto did better than me?” demanded Sasuke, ignoring Sakura and visibly shaking with obvious rage.

“Uh . . .” tried Naruto. Had Itachi-sensei said that?

“I wasn’t trying to say anything,” said Itachi. “Though I hesitate to use any word with even the slightest positive connotation to describe yesterday’s disaster, I have to admit that literally speaking Naruto’s performance was indeed 'better' than yours.”

“So you are saying it.” Naruto beamed before sticking his tongue out at a fuming Sasuke. He might not understand half the words Itachi had used but he got the gist of it. He’d done better than Sasuke.

Better. Than. Sasuke.

Sasuke! “I did better than Sasuke, Sakura!” She only glared at him but Naruto didn’t even care!

“I wouldn’t be so proud of myself,” said Itachi. “You would have gotten yourself killed in a real mission as well. It’s just that Sasuke would’ve gotten himself killed, alerted every enemy in miles of his team’s location, and—depending on mission parameters—lost Konoha future commissions by damaging client property.” He waved at Sasuke’s burnt tree to emphasize his point.

“Yeah, that’s right!” So what if Itachi wasn’t exactly impressed with either of them. Naruto didn’t care about that either. He’d never, ever beaten Sasuke at anything. A teacher was saying he was better than Sasuke. Naruto didn’t think anything would ever make him feel so good again. Maybe if Sakura gave him a kiss . . . Naruto looked over at her and decided that wasn’t happening anytime soon. She looked like she wanted to break her knuckles on his face.

What came out of Sasuke’s mouth next was close to strangled growl. Briefly, Naruto felt guilty about making him feel so embarrassed but then he remembered who he was dealing with. Sasuke was the biggest asshole ever. He deserved it.

“As I was saying before being unprofessionally interrupted,” continued Itachi, “Naruto will be leading this mission. Sasuke, you’ll have to follow his orders until you’ve retrieved Hoshi and delivered her to Lady Kago.”

Naruto had to keep himself from letting out a triumphant shout. Was this really happening? It felt like a dream. “This is the best day ever,” he said.

“Naruto,” said Itachi, looking at him with a stern arch to his dark eyebrows. “A good leader treats his subordinates with respect. Listen to Sasuke’s suggestions and do not order him to do anything unless you’re certain it’ll help you both complete the mission. That means no ridiculous commands meant to embarrass him. As leader, you will also be responsible for writing the report—with Sasuke’s input—and delivering it to Mission Assignment and Tracking at the Tower.”

“I’ll be the nicest, most amazing commander ever, I promise!” said Naruto, nodding enthusiastically and beaming at Sasuke—who was still trying to set Itachi on fire with his eyes. Naruto felt his grin deepen. Even the writing homework couldn’t get him down. “The Bas—I mean Sasuke won’t have any reason to complain!”

“Good,” said Itachi, nodding at both of them. “Now go. I’ll make sure that Sakura gets home safely.”

“Feel better, Sakura!” said Naruto as he stood up. Then he looked at Sasuke and waited for him to rise to his feet in his usual superior and graceful manner. “Obviously, we have to eat lunch so we don’t pass out looking for the cat. I say we go to Ichiraku’s!”

“Whatever,” said Sasuke. Naruto grinned. He couldn’t say no.

“Be prompt,” said Itachi as he helped Sakura to her feet. “We won’t be able to take another mission until we complete this one.”

“Don’t worry, sensei!” said Naruto, shooting him the brightest smile he could muster. “Hoshi won’t know what hit her!”

Chapter 4: Training

Summary:

Exactly what it says on the title! Also, Ino makes another brief appearance.

Sakura sighed happily when the first soy-soaked dumpling touched her mouth. She rolled it around her tongue and then pierced the thin layer of skin protecting the bundle of seaweed and carrot strips her mother had pre-boiled in yesterday’s chicken broth. After chewing and spreading the tangy bits and pieces all over her mouth, she swallowed and reached for a second dumpling with another small sigh.

“So you’re finally eating again,” said her father, reaching for a few dumplings as well and smiling at Sakura brightly. He tucked some stray strands of graying bubblegum pink hair behind his ear before dipping a dumpling in soy sauce and popping it into his mouth. Warm brown eyes crinkled with amusement when Sakura nodded.

“She’s been eating for weeks now.” Sakura’s mother said the words with a beaming smile that accentuated the laugh lines around her lips and bright green eyes; the same lines Sakura knew she battled with every cream and homeopathic trick under the sun. “Tell him why, honey.”

“Itachi-sensei says I wouldn’t be able to keep up with training if I don’t eat nutritious meals as often as I’m hungry,” said Sakura, nodding with enthusiasm. She dipped her dumpling in soy sauce as she repeated the gist of Itachi’s even-toned lecture. “All ninja arts require large amounts of energy so I’ll lose some weight during initial training no matter how much I eat. Besides, I have a small frame so I wouldn’t gain weight unless I overeat all the time anyway.” Instead of elaborating about the other stuff Itachi had said—your body’s the only weapon you’ll never be able to replace, care for it well . . . be glad you live in a village where overeating is an actual possibility and not a fantasy—Sakura bit into her dumpling. Her parents really didn’t need to think about the more dangerous aspects of shinobi life.

“I’ve been saying that since this diet business started!” Her father waved a hand and glared up at the ceiling, flat and wide nose scrunched up; like he usually did when he was exasperated.

“Sano!” said Sakura’s mother, looking at her husband and shaking her head. “You’re not her jonin-sensei.”

“For heaven’s sake, Shio!” he snapped. “Do you want a daughter who listens only to pricks waving ninja headbands around?”

“Papa!” Sakura couldn’t help but imagine him saying stuff like that around her teammates. She winced in mortification at the image her mind conjured up. Itachi would tilt his head, Sasuke would look away with a frown, and Naruto would let out a loud laugh. “It’s not even like that! It’s just Itachi-sensei knows more about the needs of a growing ninja.”

“Since he’s a growing ninja himself, I don’t doubt that,” said Sano, speaking with his mouth full.

“Stop chewing with your mouth open!” ordered Shio. “And Itachi looked like a fine adult when he brought Sakura home that one time she had a bit of trouble with chakra. You were off working so you wouldn’t know.”

“I met him at Dango World yesterday,” said Sano. Sakura felt held shoulders hunching as she flashed on the still vivid memory. Of course her team would run into her father the first time she got to pick where they went for lunch. Of course. “He barely looked older than the two boys.” Sano had said as much to Itachi himself. What are you, fourteen? Sakura had wanted to die on the spot.

“He carried himself maturely,” said Shio before biting into a dumpling.

“Please,” dismissed Sano. “He’s seventeen. Seventeen! I’m wearing sandals older than him.”

“Which is a sign that should buy new clothes!” Sakura’s mother jutted out her slim jaw, looked at Sano up and down, then slapped at his shoulder before going on to recite her usual arguments against his supposed cheapness. “How’s your business ever going to take off if you wear the same old, plain white yukata and . . .”

Sakura shrugged and continued to eat. Her parents’ constant and pointless fights had stopped bothering her a long time ago. Both of them were just argumentative enough that fighting was how they showed affection for each other. Since she was perfectly aware of that much, Sakura pushed her chopsticks into her serving of plain white rice and did her best to ignore their words. She knew that their real fights were all about awkward silences and forced propriety. The tension was truly palpable then. The moment they stopped turning even the smallest of disagreements into full-blown debates, Sakura would start wondering if they were on the path to divorce.

“I’m telling you,” Shio was saying, her pouty lips twisted into a scowl, “the fact that he was promoted and given his own team at such a young age is proof enough that he’s very talented.”

“Or,” argued Sano with a smirk, “it’s proof that our family’s not important enough for our daughter to warrant a special jonin instructor.” Then he gulped before looking at Sakura and offering an apologetic shrug. “No offense, sweetheart.”

“None taken,” said Sakura quickly, deeply grateful that neither of her parents had the clearance necessary to go and check Itachi’s ranking. They’d hyperventilate if they found out that he’d been made ANBU commander at fifteen.

“Our Sakura had the highest written test scores in her graduating class!” Shio insisted. If possible, her frown became more pronounced.

“So she can read,” said Sano, rolling his eyes. “A highly valued skill among shinobi.” He looked over at Sakura again and cringed. “Like I said—”

“—no offense, I know,” said Sakura, nodding. What was the point of getting upset? Her father was right. Reading comprehension wasn’t exactly going to help her fly through ninja ranks.

“I’ll have you know that Itachi said Sakura’s chakra control is exceptional,” said Shio, reaching over and tucking Sakura’s bangs behind her ear with a smile of encouragement. “He’s clearly an intelligent and insightful man.”

“I told you, he’s barely a m—oh!” Sano’s lips suddenly stretched into a knowing smile. He snorted at Shio and then bit into another dumpling before chuckling to himself. “I see how it is.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Shio’s light brown eyebrows furrowed. She curled the hand she wasn’t using to pat Sakura’s shoulder into a fist.

“You’ve got a crush on the baby jonin,” said Sano, shrugging and smiling at the same time. “All this talk about how ‘mature’ and ‘adult’ he looks is a front to cover for your perverted—”

“—how dare you!” shouted Shio, throwing a punch. Sano evaded it by leaning to the opposite side of the table and sliding closer to Sakura.

“Look at your mother blush!” he told her, ruffling her hair.

“Uh,” said Sakura, looking at her mother’s frowning face. Shio’s pale skin was indeed flushed a delicate shade of red, which made Sakura realize that her mother did find Itachi-sensei attractive. Oh dear. Had Itachi noticed when they met? “So how was work?” she asked, looking up at Sano with a forced smile.

“The way it always is right after Konoha gets a new batch of ninja,” answered Sano, sighing and reaching for more dumplings. “No one wants to pay full price for a carpenter when they can get three genin and a lazy jonin for cheaper.” He bit into his dumpling and grunted. “Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t be better not to live in a hidden village.”

“And I suppose you think life would be easier in a city somewhere,” said Shio, shooting Sano a narrow-eyed look. “Sakura’s been in real training for twenty full days! She could beat bandits on her own. Or maybe brave wondering samurai would protect us.”

“The majority of people in the world manage to survive without an army of ninja to guard them . . .”

Sakura rolled her eyes as she recognized the signs that her parents' conversation would devolve into another meaningless and heated debate. She ordered herself to be grateful that it meant they wouldn’t notice she was being unusually quiet.

When she finished her dinner, Sakura excused herself and rushed out of the room before they could start asking her for details about her day. She’d rather not describe how difficult it’d been to reach the top of the waterfall Itachi had ordered her and Sasuke to climb while he tried to teach Naruto how to minimize the amount of energy he wasted when molding chakra. When she walked into her room and pulled out her futon, Sakura noticed that her knees and thighs were still somewhat tender. She was having trouble getting her body adjusted to extreme exercise despite the fact that she was eating as much and as often as she was hungry. It didn’t help that the day’s training had been both mentally and physically grueling. Walking against gravity was hard enough on its own. Walking against gravity using water that was rushing towards the ground with unflappable determination as a makeshift wall was awful.

She had managed to get to the top though. It’d taken her twice as long as it’d taken Sasuke, but she had done it. Itachi-sensei had even told her she’d done a good job. He almost never praised her. Or Naruto or Sasuke, she was quite sure, but still . . . Sakura couldn’t ignore the niggling feeling that Itachi-sensei didn’t like her much. Even Naruto—awkward, obnoxious, and loudmouthed Naruto—seemed to be on his good side more often than she was. Maybe it was because without written exams, Sakura's painful mediocrity was obviously apparent. She was having an absurdly hard time completing Itachi's assignments, and it wasn't even that they were inetellectually challenging.  

Itachi’s actual training methods were exhausting, but quite simple. He’d moved them deeper into their training area—towards the waterfall Sakura was beginning to see in her nightmares. “This terrain will be most helpful,” Itachi had said when Naruto asked why they’d changed training spots so suddenly. In addition to the rushing water, Team Seven now had to contend with rocky terrain and a near-complete lack of cover. It was embarrassing to slip on the odd patches of gravel during spars, but it’d happened to Sakura more than once. She ought to be grateful that Itachi seemed determined to attack the specific weaknesses of his three genin but the truth was that she was embarrassed too often to appreciate how practical it was.

Sakura spent most of her time practicing taijutsu and increasing her miniscule chakra reserves by moving heavy rocks from one spot to another. Naruto was expected to rein the ridiculous amounts of energy he squandered while trying to accomplish even the simplest of techniques by standing at the foot of their waterfall and molding chakra without evaporating a single drop of water. For him, the worst part was having to stand still until Itachi decided that he’d done enough for the day.

Since Sasuke’s chakra reserves and chakra control were above average for their age group, his training was just a bit more exciting and much more painful. Itachi had decided that Sasuke relied on the right side of his body too much, so he’d started tying his right arm behind his back during several exercises. While she did her thing, Sakura entertained herself by watching Sasuke try to block barrage after barrage of projectiles with a kunai held on his clumsy left hand (though she supposed it wasn’t clumsy anymore). Training shuriken were so blunt that they couldn’t cut flesh, but Sakura still winced with sympathy when one of the hit the love of her life anyway.

The rest of the time, Sasuke also had to teach Naruto and Sakura all the taijutsu and Shurikenjutsu his family had been teaching him all his life. “How’s this helping me?” he’d asked when Itachi had first ordered him to help Sakura in her efforts towards increasing her chakra reserves.

“It’s improving your abysmal cooperative skills and teaching you patience.”

Sasuke had glared at the answer but he’d gritted his teeth and told Sakura to start pushing a fifty pound rock all over Training Area Seven’s gravelly ground. It was boring, exhausting, and often painful, but Sakura had to admit it seemed to be working, especially since she’d moved on to carting around heavier and heavier rocks. Oh, she still didn’t have enough chakra to enhance her speed for long, but her punches were getting stronger. The instances when Sasuke and Naruto evaded them instead of shrugging them off were becoming more common. Before, they used to slap her attacks away with an air of laziness about them. That was improvement, wasn’t it?

With a tired grunt, Sakura turned under her covers. Her idea had been to go to sleep early in hopes that the extra rest would make the next training day easier, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen. Her stomach was churning with nerves no matter how stubbornly she tried to even her breathing like Iruka-sensei had tried to teach them during basic meditation. Tomorrow was her turn to spar with Itachi-sensei; a practice that was both painful and humiliating. Not that Itachi ever actually hit any of them, but it wasn’t exactly pleasant to spend two hours watching him dance around her futile strings of punches and kicks with a blank look on his face. Just in case his obvious boredom and utter lack of a fighting stance didn’t signal how badly she did, he liked to randomly reach out and tap Sakura’s vital spots—her jugular, her liver, her kidneys, and her ribs—to make it clear that in a real fight she’d have died a hundred times over.

“Could you just slow down a little bit?” Sakura had very stupidly asked him the second time she’d had to mock-battle him. He’d responded by tilting his head and blinking out of existence right before Sakura felt a strong gust of wind hit her chest. It’d sent her flying towards the waterfall, where Sasuke and Naruto had been trying to practice some trick with Sasuke’s largest shuriken. Naruto had caught her across the waist and Sasuke had pulled his shuriken away before looking down at her with raised eyebrows, head tilted in the exact same fashion as Itachi’s had been right before his disappearing act.

“Hey, what happened?” Naruto had asked, helping her regain her balance. He’d finally learned to stand on water, though he sometimes forgot himself, stumbled, and almost sank.

“I’m already moving very slowly, Sakura.” Itachi had appeared in front of her as suddenly as he’d vanished. “You should try and force me to speed up. At the very least, work on covering the many holes in your defenses. I’ve already showed each to you at least five times.” Is that what he’d been doing when he tapped her vital spots with his fingers? Sakura would never have guessed it.

“You don’t have to be such a dick about it,” Naruto had said, probably noticing just how wilted Sakura had felt.

Sasuke had merely hmphed and dragged Naruto away, frowning at no one in particular.

Reluctanctly, Sakura had fallen into the usual fighting stance and threw another punch at Itachi, wondering if she could subtly inch them out of the stream. It was more difficult to spar with him while trying not sink. By the second time Itachi pushed her down into the water, she’d realized that he wasn’t going to allow her back onto solid ground and that her chest wasn’t in any pain. Whatever he’d done to her hadn’t involved any physical attacks. As she laid on her futon, Sakura supposed she ought to be grateful that Itachi favored illusions so much. Ino was always complaining about the occasional bruises Asuma left behind when he forgot his strength.

Itachi might be careful not to hurt them but that was the only good thing Sakura had to say about him. The sad truth was that he was an awful teacher. His philosophy seemed to be that showing was infinitely superior to the notion of perhaps explaining what he thought he was teaching them. And by “showing”, Sakura meant that he pushed, poked, and startled them whenever he spotted a mistake without bothering to point out what the mistake actually was. Obviously, he expected all three of them to figure out what their errors were on their own.

More than once, Sakura wished she had the nerve to tell him that he was doing a really bad job. She’d even considered writing something on his official file—the one that said people called him Konoha’s Wraith—but discarded the notion almost immediately. He had three students. It wouldn’t take genius deductive skills to figure out which one was most likely to write bitter complaints on his record. No, what she needed to do was talk to him, but she chickened out every time.

He’s scary enough that shinobi are calling him a ghost, she thought, fidgeting under her thin, lavender summer bed sheet. Someone inside her mind snorted that Naruto was brave enough to insult Itachi to his face all the time. Earlier that same day, Team Seven had gotten their first genuine lesson in three weeks and they owed it to one of Naruto’s ill-advised rants.

Nothing ill-advised about them, Sakura argued to herself. Naruto just has the guts to stand up for himself.

Only because Itachi-sensei actually gave him an opening! In the middle of a spar with Naruto, Itachi had actually spoken. A long sentence. It’d been unusual enough that both Sasuke and Sakura had paused their own training to listen.

“Naruto, I’ve been dancing around your clones in the exact same pattern for the last forty-five minutes,” Itachi had said, sounding almost exasperated. “I’m beginning to suspect I’m the one controlling them.”

“Well, you’re not!” Naruto had screeched, arranging his hands into the proper seal and producing another set of clones. Automatically, they’d surrounded Itachi, all of them with identical blond eyebrows deeply furrowed in determination. Sakura almost felt sad for him. Naruto would keep trying to beat Itachi no matter how obvious it was that he was outclassed.

“The one behind me will attack first,” Itachi had said flatly as the clone standing behind him jumped. “The two at my right will attack after I’ve raised my right hand to fend off the one behind me.” As Itachi spoke, the back clone puffed out of existence—Sakura hadn't even see an attack—and the two clones to the right rushed forward. “The two standing to my left will attack next, faster but more erratic.” Instead of countering, Itachi had simply sidestepped the right ones’ attacks and let them collide with the ones coming from his left. Four clones turned into smoke. “Then the one in front of me will growl and rush forward.” The last clone did just that. Itachi had kicked it the moment it got close enough to him, hard enough that it too vanished. “The real one will make a new batch of clones and they will attack in roughly the same pattern.”

“Why did it take him forty-five minutes to point that out?” Sakura had mumbled as Naruto screeched obscenities.

“Because it should’ve been obvious,” Sasuke had responded, standing beside her and much closer than normal too. As usual, hearing him say something that wasn’t a rejection had made Sakura feel a thrill rushing down her spine. She’d wanted to answer with something witty, but her tongue had suddenly grown too big inside her mouth so she’d only looked down at her sandals and wondered why she turned dumb at the worst moments.

“Stop and listen,” she’d heard Itachi say. When she looked towards his voice, he had Naruto in a lazy hold—one orange clad arm twisted above his neck in such a way that if Naruto as much as twitched he’d cut open his jugular with his own kunai. “Shadow Clone Jutsu’s one of Konoha’s most versatile techniques and you’re misusing it. You may be able to generate an army of clones but they’ll only be a hindrance if you can’t coordinate them.”

“Then why don’t you show me how to use them right?” Naruto had demanded, trying to shoot a glare at his back. “Sensei.” The word must have stroke a chord because Itachi had suddenly pushed Naruto away and looked towards the spot Sakura and Sasuke had been standing. “You said you were going to teach us to be chunin at least but you haven’t done anything!” Naruto had continued. “We’ve all had to teach each other.”

“. . . There’s some truth to what you’re saying,” Itachi admitted. Sakura had closed her eyes and tried to ignore the voice screaming in her head. If only she’d managed to work up the courage to demand that Itachi do his job . . . she’d opened her eyes and marched off the waterfall’s base, determined to make her case.

“Naruto’s right,” she’d said, looking over at her teammate’s widening blue eyes, partly to cover her avoidance of Itachi’s gaze. “You can’t expect us to improve if you don’t explain what we’re doing wrong.” Naruto had nodded his approval with much enthusiasm, though he hadn’t been able to hide his surprise at her support.

“. . . Sasuke’s improving,” Itachi had pointed out, looking behind Sakura. “Slowly, but he’s improving.”

“Sasuke has—” a clan full of ex-ninja who’ve been training him all his life “—Sasuke’s a genius,” Sakura had rephrased, trying not to blush when she sensed him walk up to join her and Naruto. “I know you think sparring’s enough to help me and Naruto but we won’t figure anything out without some kind of instruction.”

“Yeah, what Sakura said!” Naruto had cried, stepping closer to her and shooting Itachi a triumphant smile. More timidly than she would have liked, Sakura looked away from Naruto’s face and risked a glance at Itachi. She was startled to find three of them looking down at her with blank expressions, identical down to the long dark bangs framing their faces. It was quite a cowing sight.

She was pretty sure she’d had nightmares involving multiple Itachis calling her stupid and ugly.

“All right, then,” said the one in the center. “I suppose a lesson is in order. Sasuke, follow me. Naruto and Sakura, pay attention.” Even when he tried to teach, Itachi wasn’t particularly verbal.

He’d simply ordered Sasuke to defend himself as well as he could manage before one of his clones—or maybe it’d been the real him—rushed forward and threw a punch. Sasuke had dodged it and tried to counterattack by stabbing a kunai into the clone’s neck. Sakura had expected the Itachi to sidestep, but Sasuke’s attack worked.

Sakura was sure that not even Sasuke himself had been expecting to succeed.

Not that it did, really. Almost before the clone’s small cloud of smoke dissipated, the remaining clone kicked Sasuke’s chest and sent him flying. Sasuke managed to land on his feet and, kunai still in hand, he made a tiger seal and created a couple of clones of his own. “Make more!” Naruto had screamed. Sakura slapped his shoulder lightly (even a single clone required a ridiculous amount of chakra) and watched one of the Sasukes rush forward to attack Itachi’s remaining clone. Instead of blocking or counterattacking, Itachi’s clone sidestepped and ran at the other phantom Sasuke had created.

The real Sasuke jumped backwards and as his clone braced itself for an attack—except it didn’t. Sasuke’s clone just stood there and did nothing to block or evade the punch Itachi threw at its face. It disappeared with no resistance.

“Well, that’s embarrassing.” That had been a bit rich, coming from Naruto. His clones usually defeated each other.

The remaining Sasuke clone also stood by stupidly and allowed Itachi—one of them, clone or not, Sakura couldn’t tell—to walk up to it and punch it out of existence. “That’s enough,” said the Itachi standing closer to Sasuke, loudly enough that Sakura and Naruto heard it. “Gather around.”

Sakura had sighed when Naruto rushed past her, certain that Sasuke would be in a foul mood for the rest of the day. He always was after sparring with Itachi. He always was when Itachi was around at all. Ino insisted it was to be expected considering their connection to the Uchiha; a topic both of them had spent a great deal of time speculating about. Her theory was that Itachi was the fourth or fifth son of a minor Uchiha clansman, and that he’d sold out his family because he hadn’t been able to accept a lifetime of serving people weaker than he was.

“It makes sense,” Ino had argued in more than one occasion. “His file makes it pretty clear he’s one of the strongest ninja in the village, one of Hokage-sama’s most trusted jonin, and our best genjutsu master. None of that would have mattered to his clan unless he was a member of the higher families. He’d have been little more than a highly-skilled servant.” For reasons she couldn’t quite articulate, Sakura doubted it was that simple.

Holding back a sigh, she remembered walking behind Naruto and ordering herself to just be happy that Itachi was actually explaining something for once.

“Sasuke, explain what you learned.”

Or not. Lying on her futon, Sakura held back a tired sigh. The day’s lesson was still buzzing on her mind.

After shooting Itachi an ugly look, Sasuke had recited the facts he’d gotten out of the minute-or-so long demonstration. “The clones are not particularly intelligent if they get too far away from the original and your chakra is evenly distributed among the number of clones you create. They also expand your field of vision, but it’s very strange . . . you have to wait until they get destroyed to . . . receive all the information they gather. They’d be useful for reconnaissance anyway. And they’re best used as a diversion tactic in actual fights because they're way too fragile.”

“I already knew that.” Naruto crossed his arms of his chest and fisted his hands on the orange fabric of his shirt, glaring at nothing in particular.

“You didn’t figure out what you’re doing wrong?” Itachi asked him, tilting his head curiously.

“You’re making too many clones, dumbass,” Sasuke had provided. “It makes them all so stupid that they jump at It—their opponent at once and end up attacking each other. It’s all a big waste of chakra.”

“So? I never run out.”

Sakura sighed again and turned over on her futon. It was true. Naruto was like a fountain of raw chakra. She couldn’t help but be bitterly jealous.

“You would run out eventually,” Itachi had assured him. “I hope I never have to drive you to that extreme to teach how dangerous it would be.” Sakura had watched his eyebrows furrow—she had no trouble looking at him as long as he wasn’t talking to her—before he let out a wistful sigh. “You have shown promise in the past, Naruto. You were intelligent enough to sneak into one of our secret libraries and teach yourself one of our forbidden techniques so well that you managed to pass the knowledge on to your teammates. Why not apply some of that aptitude during training?”

“Because I did all that sneaking around and I wanna beat you fair and square!”

“Oh, Naruto . . .” Sakura mumbled into her pillow, thinking that he’d never sounded so naïve and . . . oddly sweet. Even Itachi had smiled softly at the silly words. Then he’d reached out to Naruto with his right index and middle fingers; a gesture that made Sasuke gasp out a pained growl and stalk away from them, fists visibly shaking. Itachi had dropped his hand at his side before touching Naruto, momentarily looking stricken. 

That was a why Sakura didn’t really buy Ino’s theory about Itachi being some distant cousin of Sasuke’s. Every once in a while, Itachi would say or do something innocuous and Sasuke would act like he’d just been punched in the gut. Itachi himself he was downright tense when he had Sasuke’s attention. It’d taken Sakura quite a while to notice the subtle shifts in Itachi’s mood—he was naturally distant and aloof—but she had begun to notice. For starters, he avoided Sasuke’s gaze almost as dutifully as she avoided his.

The point was simple; glimpses of what Itachi and Sasuke shared were triggered by things too subtle for the kind of impersonal history Ino was suggesting. Besides, the two of them were way too similar. It wasn’t just their eerie resemblance; they spoke, sat, and stood in the same ways. They even shared some facial expressions. Oddly enough, Naruto was the one who innocently trampled over whatever—probably unspoken—agreement they’d reached. Like . . .

“Hey sensei,” Naruto had started one day between greedy slurps of ramen. “What’s a kekkei genkai?”

“Bloodline limit,” Itachi had answered without even looking at him. Since Sakura was attuned to Sasuke, she’d notice that he’d stopped eating the moment Naruto had gotten his question out.

“I know it means,” Naruto had said. “I’m asking what means, means.”

“. . . The term refers to highly specialized jutsu passed down genetically,” Itachi had explained.

“Huh?”

“Passed down from parents to children by blood, Naruto. Like hair color and skin tone,” Sakura had clarified, remembering the brief description of Sharingan she’d read on Itachi’s file and hoping that Naruto would shut up.

“But that’s not fair!” When did Naruto ever shut up? “What if—hey! I don’t know who my parents were. Maybe I have one!”

“If you had one, your parents wouldn’t have abandoned you, dead last.” For a moment, Naruto had looked like Sasuke had slapped him. Even Sakura had to admit that had been a cruel thing to say. 

“It’s perfectly possible to have a bloodline limit without having family.” Itachi had been looking off into the distance while Sakura fidgeted under the tree they’d chosen for that particular lunch break.

“Do you have one?” Naruto asked him, shooting Sasuke an ugly glare.

“Yes,” Itachi had answered. “But I rarely use it.”

“See, Bastard,” Naruto had taunted Sasuke. “Itachi-sensei has blood thing and he doesn’t even have a family na—hey, come back here!” Quickly, Naruto had swallowed down the last of his ramen and followed Sasuke. “Why do gotta be such a prissy little fuck all the time, asshole?”

“I—uh,” Sakura hadn’t wanted to be left alone with Itachi. Not while he fiddled with a pair of chopsticks and looked up at the sky with a tight set to his jaw. “I’ll go make sure they don’t get into another fight.” 

It was always like that whenever Naruto asked Itachi anything. Sakura thought it was impressive how he managed to enrage Sasuke on a regular basis just by forcing Itachi to string more than one sentence together. To make matters worse, Itachi had responded to Naruto’s constant whining about jutsu training by promising to teach a specialized Shadow Clone trap to the first one of them to land a hit on him during their spars. So far, the challenge had done little besides giving Sasuke and Naruto another subject to fight about while they weeded gardens and chased cats.

“Maybe we just need to play dumb until he lets his guard down?” Naruto had suggested for the umpteenth time earlier in the day as he scrubbed grease off the aluminum cooking pots they’d been shining for their thirtieth D-rank mission (umpteenth reason Itachi sucked? he sometimes came to meet them with two D-rank mission scrolls).

“His guard’s always down when he’s with us, dead last,” Sasuke had responded. Despite the insult, his tone hadn’t carried half the contempt it would have at the academy. “We’re not fast enough to touch him, that’s the problem.”

Sakura buried her face in the crook of her elbow and sighed, thinking of the other reason she wasn’t having half as much fun at training as she told her mother she was. Before her eyes, Sasuke and Naruto seemed to be growing into an increasingly disturbing odd couple.

When Sasuke had first reached out to them—reached out to Naruto, she now realized—after they’d all failed to steal their lunches back from Itachi; Sakura had genuinely believed that Sasuke had just wanted the best for his team. Even if he didn’t like his teammates, it was obvious that he was determined to finish his genin training and become a chunin. He’d only approached Naruto first because that idiot was the problem member in their team. The fact that he’d started being nice to her too all but confirmed her initial theory.

A few days later, Sakura had been forced to accept that Sasuke was being nice to her because Naruto was forcing him to be. As it turned out, Sasuke was determined all right—determined to make Naruto like him. The only reason Sakura was allowed on any of their little side-training dates was that Naruto insisted that she was also part of the team and that they had to include her. Sasuke had never asked her if she wanted to try that Great Fireball Jutsu. He’d only agreed to teach her after Naruto insisted that she needed to know every jutsu they did.

What would Ino say if she knew?

Ino wouldn’t believe that Sasuke was trying so hard to win Naruto over to begin with. That he had won Naruto over. Sakura was still having a bit of trouble accepting it, and she’d actually heard Sasuke chuckling—chuckling—at a story Naruto had been telling him.

“I’m not fucking with you, it really works!” Naruto had sounded as earnest as he ever did, but there’d been a surprising lack of defiance in his tone. “Sexy Jutsu’s the best distraction technique ever!”

“I don’t believe you.” It was the softest Sakura had ever heard Sasuke sound.

“Come on!” Sakura had walked towards their voices and found Naruto trying to pull Sasuke up from the relatively small grass patch beside their waterfall where he’d been sprawled. They’d both been barefoot, apparently dipping their feet in the stream that fed the pond less than a mile south of their new training spot. Their sandals had lain forgotten beside them, Naruto’s worn and dusty pair scattered around Sasuke’s neatly arranged and nearly spotless leather ones. “Don’t you what to see how hot a girl you’d make?”

“Go teach Sakura.” Sasuke had pulled his hand away, but he’d let Naruto grab it a second time. Sakura was sure he was agile enough to get away from Naruto if he really wanted to, so why wasn’t he? Sasuke never let anyone touch him for long.

“Sakura’s already a pretty girl, Bastard! There’s no point to teach her. Besides, she probably wouldn’t get it.”

“She got Grand Fireball Jutsu.” Sakura had almost smiled. Naruto hadn’t been able to produce any fire despite all the chakra at his disposal, but she had. Hearing Sasuke say that she’d done well made her want to shout her delight at the sky. Sasuke remembered her being somewhat cool, for once.

“Grand?” Naruto had huffed. “It was more like a little puff.”

“It was fire and it was ball-shaped,” Sasuke had argued, pulling his hand away. For a second, Sakura had forgotten about the painful blisters on her hands, the ones that formed thanks to all the rock pulling and pushing she’d been doing. “She learned Shadow Clone too.” Hearing Sasuke list her meager successes almost made her jump up and down, blisters on the soles of her feet be damned. Naruto’s subsequent grunt had reminded her to keep quiet. Without making herself known, she’d watched him plop down beside Sasuke wearing a comical pout on his baby-fat carrying face.

“Hey, maybe I should try Sexy Jutsu on Itachi-sensei!”

“You do that,” Sasuke had mumbled before yawning and turning over. It’d taken Sakura a moment to register that he’d been getting ready to take a late afternoon nap right next to Naruto.

With a tired moan, Sakura closed her eyes and told herself that Ino would never find out. The next time she blinked her eyes open, Sasuke was standing above her. “I’ve convinced Naruto that you’re stupid and useless,” he told her, smiling as pleasantly as Sakura liked to imagine he could. “He won’t make me be nice to you anymore.”

“Yeah!” agreed Naruto, suddenly popping besides Sasuke and grabbing a hold of his hand. He turned his cheerful gaze on Sakura and beamed so happily that his bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle. “Sasuke’s right. You’re just holding us back. You want to go on a date later?” Sakura opened her mouth but Sasuke dragged him away before she could shout an emphatic no.

The sun shining on her face woke her up. Groaning, Sakura pushed off her covers and got to her feet, studiously ignoring the way her muscles whimpered and begged her to stay in bed. She settled for praying that Itachi would forget their sparring session and began to ready herself for another difficult day.

Chapter 5: Official Team Photo Day

Summary:

It's really hot and some files need to be updated.

Cameos: Team Kurenai and Team Asuma

“Do you want to hold her, Sasuke?”

Mikoto had warned him that saying no would be impolite, so Sasuke extended his arms and let Aunt Riho carefully place her newborn daughter on the crook of his right elbow.

“Make sure to support her neck,” Aunt Riho cautioned, using her stump to gesture at his left hand. When Sasuke wrapped his free arm around the navy blue bundle that was her baby, Aunt Riho smiled.

“Mirai might be your oldest and most trusted advisor one day,” said Mikoto, threading her working fingers through the messy hair at the back of Sasuke’s head. He looked down at the bundle and almost balked at the large eyes Mirai had opened while he focused on positioning his arms correctly. Pale green. A bad sign, as far as Fugaku was concerned. She was only two weeks old, so there was still time for her eyes would darken but . . . it just wasn’t very likely that they would.

Only people with eyes so dark they were nearly black awakened Sharingan.

“She’ll be strong,” said Sasuke, mostly to himself. He rubbed his thumb against the thin sheet of fabric wrapped around her tiny body, wondering how long until the day got so oppressively hot that Aunt Riho decided her baby would be more comfortable naked.

“She’ll have to be,” added Mikoto.

Because she’ll to become a ninja, thought Sasuke. Practically all Uchiha children were expected to become chunin, at least.

Rei and Daisuke—younger cousins of his—had started at the Academy right after Sasuke graduated. They’d been newborn twins the day Itachi attacked the clan. Aunt Ayako had been a gifted kunoichi, so Itachi had severed her right leg right above the knee. She hadn’t survived, probably because she’d still been recovering from forty-seven hours of difficult labor. Or so their father said, anyway. Sasuke hoped they were having a better time at the Academy than he’d ever had.

“I have to go,” he said when Mirai closed her green eyes. Despite his earlier insistence to the contrary, Sasuke had trouble imagining such a little bag of bones, meat, and blood becoming strong. She was utterly helpless. Her only job was to cry for milk every couple of hours. Yoshie was more self-sufficient.

“Of course,” said Aunt Riho, bending down to grab the bundle with her left hand, using her stump for added support until it was secured on the crook of her elbow.

Sasuke said his goodbyes and ran out the door feeling exceedingly grateful that his mother had convinced Fugaku to spend the morning meditating. He didn’t want to hear any more lectures about Sharingan and having a green-eyed Uchiha in the house would certainly prompt one. As a matter of fact, he didn’t want to deal with any conversations at all, so scaled the first tree he found and decided to turn his trek towards Team Seven’s waterfall into a stealth exercise. If he was good, no one in the Uchiha compound or the village proper would notice him.

The new girl doesn’t have our eyes. She belongs to her weaver father. Fugaku’s oddly fevered voice haunted him as he jumped from branch to branch. Sometimes, Sasuke suspected that his father’s mind had been severed as cleanly as his sword arm. How else could Fugaku force his conflicting arguments to coexist if not by some broken moral code? Did he not understand that deriding Aunt Riho’s peasant husband was practically the antithesis of decency? Unlike almost all outside spouses, Uncle Hisao had stayed after Itachi’s mass-maiming, ignoring Konoha’s promise not to take further action against any Uchiha who renounced the name.

If Sasuke was perfectly honest with himself—and his mother insisted that he should always be—what was really upsetting him was that Fugaku was conflating him with Itachi more and more often. Why else would he talk like Sasuke had already awakened Sharingan? Was he really just sure that Sasuke eventually would? Or was his father going mad? Sasuke was too afraid to voice the questions but they kept interrupting his thoughts all the time. Maybe he ought to talk to his mother about it . . . Sasuke shook his head. Just thinking about asking Mikoto made his throat clench.

Your father lost his mind five years ago, some phantom told him. It sounded a little bit like Mikoto.

To distract himself from a sudden flash of fear, he quickened his pace towards Training Area Seven and tried to lose himself in easy summer beauty of Konoha’s trees. It was no use. He was proficient enough at suppressing panicked emotions but he couldn’t shake off the resentment he felt whenever he thought of Fugaku’s latest rant. So what if the new baby’s eyes never turned black? So what if she they never turned red? There had to be more to a family than its bloodline limit. If not, wasn’t Itachi the greatest Uchiha alive? Back when he had two arms, Fugaku had loved to brag that Itachi was the greatest Sharingan master since Madara Uchiha himself. Sharingan had done nothing to guarantee Itachi’s loyalty to his family. As he jumped from tree branch to tree branch, Sasuke thought Fugaku ought to understand that much, at least.

A particular group of boys cornering a girl against one of Konoha’s bamboo fences caught his eye a few minutes after he’d exited the Uchiha compound. He almost ignored them, but then he recognized the cap of short, ink-blue hair on the girl. Hinata Hyuga. She was almost leaning against the bamboo, shoulders hunched so deeply that her body seemed to be losing itself in her baggy cream jacket. Sasuke didn’t understand why she didn’t take it off. She was probably broiling in that thing. Hotaka, Iwao, and Jiro—Academy bullies and rejects from the last exam—were surrounding her. Even though their backs were to him, Sasuke could imagine the leers and ugly smirks on their unpleasant faces.

Despite having recognized their victim, Sasuke's first instinct was still to ignore them and keep on his not-so-merry way. His limbs refused to obey him though, probably because Hokata, Iwao, and Jiro had tortured him constantly before he’d grown big enough to defend himself. And Hinata was his favorite classmate despite being a Hyuga. Favorite because she was one of the very few who had never tried to insult him or goad him into trouble. Iruka-sensei had noticed that they never fought, so he’d had them work together in group assignments as often as possible. She was clumsy and meek, yes, but Sasuke had been more than skilled enough to complete all of Iruka-sensei’s assignments by himself. When they had been instructed to practice together, Sasuke had gone as far as trying to correct some of Hinata’s mistakes. She was the only classmate Sasuke hadn’t dreaded partnering up with. At the moment, he had trouble thinking of anyone else outside the Uchiha compound he liked more than Hinata. He’d actually been a little disappointed when she’d been placed on Aburame and Inuzuka’s team.

Telling himself that it was as good a time as any to blow off some steam, Sasuke jumped off the branch he was standing on without bothering to keep his footing light enough to go undetected. The three bullies were startled into whirling around to face him, their smirks morphing into apprehensive frowns. Sasuke smirked at them. This particular little gang had moved on to weaker targets long ago.

“What the fuck do you want?” demanded Iwao, oldest of the three. His seemingly always-narrowed brown eyes had flashed with anger the moment they landed on Sasuke. Jiro—the short one with inexplicably receding short black hair (he couldn’t be older than sixteen)—sneered. Hokata, an unfortunate teen whose chin was so small it was nearly nonexistent, snorted.

“Right now? An excuse to break your ugly face again,” answered Sasuke, looking past him to monitor Hinata’s reaction. She was still hunched against the bamboo wall, gaze focused on the floor. Sasuke reminded himself that it didn’t matter where her eyes were oriented. She could see exactly what was happening anyway.

“I guess clan brats watch out for other clan brats, even if they’re trait—” Before the word had left Jiro’s stupid mouth, Sasuke was right in front of him, fist raised. A sickening crunch was the only thing that stopped Sasuke from following the attack with a vicious kick. Jiro flew backwards anyway. Hinata had to sidestep in order to avoid being hit by his body.

“Jiro!” yelled Hotaka, rushing towards him. Hinata stepped away from all three of them and rushed in Sasuke’s direction. Sasuke expected her to keep running and was surprised to feel her stand her ground a few feet behind him.

“Take them and leave,” he ordered Iwao, noting that the pathetic weakling had gone so pale that it was actually impressive he was still standing.

For a second, Sasuke was sure Iwao was going to rush him. Luckily, he saw reason at the last moment and rushed towards his . . . whatever he considered the other two. “Come on,” he gritted out, shooting Sasuke a look of pure and impotent rage out of gleaming brown eyes. Before they made their hasty exit, Sasuke noticed that Jiro was holding his now misaligned jaw, whimpering pathetically whenever he twitched.

What a great way to start the day. His mother would be so proud.

“S-Sasuke?”

“Where are your teammates?” he demanded, whirling around to glare at Hinata. Even if Inuzuka and Aburame didn’t like her, they still ought to watch out for her. He wasn’t particularly fond of Sakura but if Iwao and his ilk were to bother her, he’d beat them to a pulp on principle alone.

“They’re waiting for me,” Hinata mumbled, tapping her index fingers together and refusing to meet his eyes directly.

She can see me anyway, he thought as he turned away from her, getting ready to jump back onto the first convenient tree he saw. Hopefully, Jiro would be too embarrassed to explain who exactly had broken his jaw. Ninja were given plenty of special treatment in Konoha but Sasuke was fairly certain most would be reprimanded for breaking a civilian’s jaw. Considering his loyalty was always under scrutiny, he really couldn’t afford having to explain his overreaction.

“S-Sasuke!” Hinata’s voice almost startled him. He could think of no reason why someone so shy and meek would work up the courage to yell for his attention. Not that she’d literally yelled but considering how softly she usually spoke . . .

“What?” he asked without turning back around.

“T-thank you,” she said, voice wavering.

Surprised, Sasuke turned to look at her. He couldn’t remember the last time a villager besides Iruka-sensei had thanked him for anything. His eyes widened when Hinata actually bowed to him. As far as he knew, members of the Hyuga main family bowed to no one, much less to a suspected traitor. Wondering if she wasn’t playing so kind of joke, he mumbled something that might have been “you’re welcome” and started to turn around. Somehow, Hinata found the nerve to softly voice his name again. “Yes?” he said, instantly suspicious.

“How’s N-Naruto d-doing?”

“. . . He’s fi—” suddenly, Sasuke understood what Hinata was playing at. With a smirk, he stepped closer to her. “Why do you want to know?” Naruto was doing more than fine actually. It turned out that the idiot was capable of learning as long as he had sufficient motivation, guidance, time, and—the spirits help Sasuke—encouragement. He wouldn’t tell a Hyuga, though. If Hinata wanted the information, she’d need to be infinitely more intelligent to get it out of him.

“W-we were in the same c-class,” she tried, taking a step backwards.

“I know,” said Sasuke, following her. “Sakura and I were in it too. Don’t you want to know how we’re doing?”

“Y-yes,” said Hinata, swallowing nervously and bringing her hands up to her chest.

Sasuke opened his mouth to make some obnoxious remark but he was interrupted by a tiny white dog yapping from the corner nearest to them. It ran towards Hinata and growled at Sasuke in a rather comical attempt to be menacing. Moments later, Inuzuka turned the corner and rushed towards Hinata and his dog. “What do you want?” he snapped at Sasuke, narrowing his oddly animalistic brown eyes. He glanced down at Hinata, who’d bent down to scratch at the little dog’s ears, and scratched at the red paint on his right cheek. The day was warm enough that he’d taken off his ever present, fur-lined coat and wrapped its sleeves around his waist.

“Nothing,” answered Sasuke. Abruptly, he felt someone turn the street corner behind him and glanced backwards. Aburame was walking towards them, head tilted. His dark, round glasses made it difficult for Sasuke to read his expression, though it was a good sign that he hadn’t been trying to hide his presence. Once he was close enough, Sasuke was glad to see that Aburame’s jaw was fairly relaxed and that his dark eyebrows lacked any hint of a furrow. Still, with his luck Sasuke wouldn’t be surprised if Aburame turned out to be as suspicious and confrontational as Inuzuka despite his apparently placid demeanor.

“Is everything good?” asked Aburame after he’d gotten close enough to tower behind Sasuke.

“This asshole was bothering Hinata,” answered Inuzuka, glaring. The little dog growled some more.

“N-no, he wasn’t,” said Hinata, passing her hand over the puppy’s back.

“Then what was he doing?” Aburame sounded disinterested, but Sasuke noted that he was still standing behind him. Effectively, he was trapped between Hinata’s probably hostile teammates. Not good. He could fight them, sure, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think it wouldn’t be dangerous. Unlike Iwao and the like, Inuzuka and Aburame weren’t total losers.

“N-nothing,” said Hinata, straightening up with the tiny dog held in her arms. The slight tremble in her voice convinced her teammates of the exact opposite.

Inuzuka cracked his knuckles and bared his teeth—fangs, really. Aburame remained perfectly still. Sasuke saw an angry swarm of insects in his mind anyway. It would be smarter to placate them.

Sasuke wasn’t going to placate them.

He felt chakra rushing to his limbs and started to spread his legs, bending his knees slightly. Inuzuka spread his legs and smirked, obviously confident that he had the advantage as long as Aburame was around to back him up. First thing Sasuke needed to do was get in a better position—

“What’s going on here?” asked a clear feminine voice coming from behind Sasuke. He whirled around wondering who the hell had managed to sneak up to him. A woman with curly brown hair, a Konoha headband tied around her forehead, and odd red eyes—not Sharingan, just red eyes with swirly pupils—was standing behind Aburame. Her outfit seemed to be made up of large swaths of strategically placed bandages. Team Eight’s jonin.

“Apparently, Uchiha’s been bothering Hinata,” answered Aburame, hands inside the pockets of his very light, moss-green jacket.

“Is that what happened?” asked the jonin, looking down at Hinata.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head firmly. The denial was stronger than the last one had been. Sasuke had to admit that it was also a lie. “We were just talking,” she continued without looking at Sasuke directly.

“You don’t have to defend him,” mumbled Inuzuka, narrowing his eyes. He was still poised to attack.

“That’s right,” agreed the jonin, looking at Inuzuka’s scowling face. “She doesn’t.” Aburame pulled his hands out of his pockets.

Sasuke told himself to remain calm. He might be getting yelled at, but no jonin had ever lowered themselves into picking a fight with him before. They all saw him as nothing more than a brat (and compared to them, Sasuke had to admit that he wasn’t anything more than brat). As long as he kept cool, he could walk away from this with nothing more than a bruised ego. It was his fault for trying to defend a girl he didn’t even know that well in the first place.

“H-he really wasn’t d-doing anything,” Hinata tried again.

“Since she doesn’t have to defend him,” continued the jonin, still looking down at Inuzuka, “we have to assume that she wants to. It’d be disrespectful to pick a fight in her name when she’s made it clear she doesn’t want one.”

Inuzuka frowned but he relaxed his muscles and hmphed, shooting Sasuke and narrow-eyed glare. “Next time, try to pick on someone your own size.”

What an idiot. Before today, Sasuke had never started a fight with anyone in Konoha. He’d finished plenty and gone about it quite gently too. Never start a fight and avoid doing any permanent damage when you can't avoid one, Mikoto had told him after the mess with Itachi. Do not give anyone in Konoha an excuse to keep you from becoming a ninja.

“Enough, Kiba,” said the jonin. Then she turned her odd, swirly-red gaze on Sasuke. “Go to your team.”

After nodding at her, Sasuke made sure to take his sweet time to find and jump onto a suitable tree. There was no reason to let Team Eight believe he’d been cowed.

But I was, Sasuke admitted to himself after he’d been jumping from tree branch to tree branch for a few minutes. It wasn’t even that he’d almost stumbled into a disadvantageous fight. If nothing else, it would’ve been decent practice. The problem was that he’d let his anger get the best of him. Jiro was essentially nobody, so it was unlikely that anything would come of it.

There was no guarantee that the next person to enrage him would be a nobody. There was no guarantee that it’d be someone he’d be able to beat with a clouded head either. Rationally, he knew that. For five years, he’d been very careful about which battles he fought. You must be as stable and resilient as the most ancient of rocks, Mikoto liked to tell him when it was obvious that his emotions were getting the best of him. Sasuke was tired of trying to be a rock.

After exiting the more populous areas of the village, he jumped off a tree and decided to take the long way to Team Seven’s waterfall. For a few wild seconds, he imagined walking and walking until he’d left the village altogether. He could sneak out and live off the land. With a couple of kunai, someone at his skill level could easily spend the rest of his life in a forest somewhere. Fire country was temperate. A gust of warm wind ruffled the tree’s brilliantly green feathers, confirming his thought. There was plenty of game and wild fruits and vegetables for one loner to make do with.

There’d be no more Uchiha and no more Konoha ninja in a secluded forest. No more insane fathers, no more annoying teammates, no more expectations from anyone. No more uncaring, murderous brothers. Nobody would care if he ever awakened Sharingan or not. Sasuke closed his eyes and felt another gust of summer wind beating against his skin. The stress was getting to him. It was shameful, but he didn’t think he had it in him to look at Itachi’s face five to six days a week.

Before Itachi walked into Iruka-sensei’s classroom, Sasuke’s life had been divided into two separate worlds. There’d been the Academy, where everyone either treated him like he was scum or tiptoed around his feelings like he was some kind of unstable exploding tag. Annoying, yes, but nobody had expected him to be polite and well-mannered so Sasuke had spent his days insulting people left and right. The assignments had never been particularly difficult and Iruka-sensei had sometimes allowed him to practice on his own. 

Then there was home, with his increasingly unstable father and dutifully stalwart mother. The Uchiha compound was riddled with its own set of challenges, but Sasuke had learned to deal with them. Eventually, he’d gotten used to the sight of stumps, dead body parts, and limps that almost all his family members carried around. Sasuke felt the weight of his their expectations whenever he looked at any of them in the face, but that burden had also become so familiar that sometimes he worried that he wasn’t taking his responsibilities towards them seriously. Maybe the only reason he let himself relax when he was with certain family members was that he’d already accepted their fate.

Fugaku insisted that no Uchiha alive could afford contentment but Sasuke certainly felt content enough when he was letting Rei and Daisuke find him in games of hide-and-seek. At least he had in the past. He found that he didn’t have the patience to deal with their bickering the last time he’d visited them. He couldn’t pretend that the Uchiha compound was worlds away from Konoha anymore. Rei and Daisuke had Itachi’s eyes.

Itachi had shattered his neatly compartmentalized existence just like he'd shattered his ideal family five years ago. Every time he was around, Sasuke had to consciously clench his throat shut to keep himself from screaming incoherently. Every time Itachi smiled at Naruto, or corrected Sakura’s stance, or acted like he didn’t even care about him at all, Sasuke felt like someone was driving pieces of jagged glass under his fingernails. Even when Itachi wasn’t around, Sasuke wondered if he wasn’t hiding among the trees, watching him cozy up to Naruto like . . .

And home was hardly a refuge anymore. Sasuke had been delivering detailed reports about his life at the Academy to his parents on a daily basis for years, but he’d never had to talk about Itachi before. How could he go from shying away from Itachi’s very name to thorough descriptions about his lessons, demeanor, words, clothes . . . everything. Sasuke had actually resorted to talking about Naruto and Sakura as much as possible. Today Naruto finally walked on water . . . Today Sakura managed to mold some Fire chakra . . . Today we met Sakura’s father . . . It wasn’t particularly effective.

Eventually, Fugaku would ask about Itachi specifically and Sasuke had no choice but to talk about him. “What did The Traitor teach you today?”  

He tied my right arm behind my back so I wouldn’t be defenseless if I ever lost it. Sasuke didn’t think he would’ve been able to force that sentence out of his throat under torture. He’d said something about practicing chakra control instead. Itachi was forcing him to lie to his parents, something he swore he’d never do.

Sasuke was trapped. He looked up at Konoha’s brilliantly blue sky and accepted that every inch of the village was choking him.

Konoha had booklets and scrolls about stress management littered all over its secret libraries. Sasuke had discreetly read one he’d found on a chair a few days ago while looking for basic jutsu scrolls. It’d had plenty of suggestion—get a soothing hobby (what ninja had time for that?), help some villagers (the villagers despised Sasuke), take advantage of all allotted vacation days (as a genin, Sasuke had none), meditate (Sasuke already did that to improve his chakra control)—but they were all useless. The one it’d kept practically screaming at him was to talk to someone. Anyone. That suggestion had come with a helpful list even more infuriating than the one about hobbies and meditation. Who exactly was Sasuke supposed to talk to?

His family? Let me tell you everyone how difficult it is to have four fully functional limbs. Yes, that would go well.

His teammates? Naruto was still a moron and Sakura would assume he was asking to marry her.

His friends? He didn’t have any.

Medical ninja? For obvious reasons, that wasn’t an option for him.

His jonin-sensei? Sasuke had almost burst into hysterical snorts in the middle of the library.

One of the few clouds in the summer sky blocked the burning sun and Sasuke told himself to stop dallying. He wasn’t going to run. The guilt would kill him. The only thing left to do was waiting until he got used to his new situation. He looked down at his shuffling feet. Itachi and the other two were waiting him. Sasuke told himself that he didn’t care, but his pace quickened anyway.

 

***

 

Sasuke was late.

In the thirty one days since Team Seven’s formation, Sasuke hadn’t been late once. Itachi hadn’t been surprised. Fugaku Uchiha did not tolerate lateness from his progeny.

“Maybe he’s sick?” asked Naruto, looking up at Itachi with big, wide blue eyes. “Like he ate something bad?”

“Sasuke eats veggies, mostly,” Sakura told him, shaking her head before turning her own wide eyes on Itachi. He supposed it was a good thing she was looking directly at him more often. “What do you think happened?”

“. . . Probably nothing,” Itachi heard his voice telling them while his mind considered and rejected dozens of explanations for Sasuke’s tardiness. “We’ll wait fifteen more minutes.” Then he’d go to the Uchiha compound and personally investigate the issue. Commanders had the right to—were expected to look for subordinates who didn’t report for duty on a timely fashion.

“Then what?” asked Sakura, looking away from his eyes.

“I’ll go look for him,” Itachi said with much more confidence than he was feeling.

“Oh good,” said Naruto, trying to scratch at his back before frowning and taking off his burning orange jacket and fanning the black sleeveless shirt he was wearing underneath. A thin film of sweat was blanketing his tanned skin. Itachi watched him glisten under the sunlight and decided that his constant fidgeting was not agreeing with the morning’s merciless heat. “I wanna tell him about something.”

“W-where are you going to look for him?” asked Sakura, looking at some pink strands of hair she was twirling between her fingers. Unlike Naruto, she’d obviously taken the time to read her sensei’s public file.

“Wherever it would be logical for him to be,” answered Itachi. He watched Sakura swallow and realized that she didn’t understand the situation as well as he’d assumed. She thought he was scared of going back to the Uchiha compound. He wasn’t.

An involuntary snort tried to push its way out of Itachi’s throat, as if his subconscious was trying to mock his thoughts. I might be scared, Itachi admitted to himself, but not for the reasons she assumes. No one in the Uchiha compound could hurt him—not physically anyway—but if he went there and found Sasuke hurt –

“You know Sasuke has cousins?” Naruto asked them.

“I’m aware,” said Itachi at the same time Sakura sighed and rolled her eyes. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder if at least part of Naruto’s personality wasn’t an elaborate hoax.

“Did you forget he’s—you know,” Sakura cringed a bit, shooting Itachi a brief glance.

“A clan brat, yeah,” said Naruto with an eye roll of his own. “I meant little ones. Academy kids.”

Ayako’s newborn twins, thought Itachi. They’d be—

He felt Sasuke’s presence before raising his head and looking towards the entrance to Training Area Seven. Sasuke had finally arrived, gait even but unusually slow. Itachi’s first instinct was to rush forward and check him for injuries. He almost did so but . . .

Naruto smiled at him and Sakura after letting out a relieved grunt, scratching at the faint whisker marks on his right cheek. “Oi, Bastard!” he yelled at Sasuke, waving his left hand. “We thought you’d broken something! Sensei was about to go look for you!”

“He’s exaggerating!” Sakura called out, chuckling nervously and watching Sasuke walk towards them. She sighed when he walked on the surface of their staid pond, grabbing Naruto’s arm to keep him from rushing to meet Sasuke half-way. “Are you all right?” she asked when Sasuke reached them.

“Yes.”

Was he? Itachi had detected no hesitation in his stubbornly slow pace and no uneven distribution of weight in his stance. His expression . . . Itachi couldn’t tell anything from Sasuke’s expression anymore. Gone was the open and trusting seven year old with a face so expressive it broadcasted all emotions like a beacon. He’d been replaced with an angry teenager who wore scowls like masks.

“Well, why were you late?” demanded Naruto while Itachi stood in front of his team trying to think of what to say.

“I ran into some classmates.”

“Did you beat them up?” asked Naruto with a surprising amount of glee.

“Why would he?” demanded Sakura.

“Seriously?” asked Sasuke, tilting his head at Sakura.

“I just meant that—”

“—don’t you remember Sasuke and me getting into fights all the time?”

On any other day, Itachi would have told them to save it for whenever they were off duty but today . . . Today their bickering was oddly soothing. If Sasuke had the energy for pointless arguments with his teammates, then he couldn’t be too preoccupied with any serious problems.

“It’s not like either of us was popular back the Academy . . .”

“But I wasn’t as bad as you . . .”

“Nobody could stand you . . .”

“All the girls liked Sas—I mean . . .”

Itachi watched them glare at each other while they fanned their necks and tried to chase away the dread that he'd building over the half-an-hour or so Sasuke had been missing. Sakura was battling her limp and soggy pink hair and trying to arrange it arrange it into a comfortable bun. Naruto eyed the pond longingly and mumbled that he actually wouldn’t mind spending all day under the waterfall trying not to evaporate water. Sasuke raised his left foot and scratched at his bare calf, then scowled when a few chunks of dirt stuck to the sweat covering his pale skin. Itachi realized that the day was perfect for learning about molding chakra to regulate body temperature. Not that any of them was ready to master such a delicate and constant maneuver. Even Sakura, who had exceptional control over her chakra, tired too easily . . .

“Can we just get our chores?” Sasuke asked, sighing as Naruto stepped behind him in an attempt to use him as a shield against an enraged Sakura.

“We’re not taking any missions today,” Itachi said.

“Really?” asked Naruto, beaming at him. “So we can go straight to the waterfall?”

“No,” said Itachi. “We’re going to the Records Tower to take our official team photo—”

“What?” Sakura practically screamed the question. “Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?” Privately, Itachi was so shocked that she’d dared to raise her voice at him that he didn’t even get angry about the interruption. “I’m not dressed for this!”

“Me neither!” added Naruto. “I wanted to wear warrior paint but it’d melt off in this stupid heat.”

“Sensei, you have to reschedule; we’re disgusting today,” said Sakura. Then she looked at Sasuke and shook her head frantically. “But not you, of course!”

“What, he’s so special his sweat smells like roses now?” Naruto snorted and rolled his eyes before leaning closer to Sasuke and sniffing at his neck. “Nope, stinks like regular, nasty sweat.” Sasuke twitched and pushed him away.

“This picture will be part of our team’s official file,” said Itachi, suppressing an amused smile at Sakura’s angry flush. “Its purpose is to show our usual appearance, so it would be counterproductive to alter our looks for it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, pretty boy,” said Naruto. “Why the fuck aren’t you sweating too? You’re wearing long sleeves and a mesh shirt over them. And those heavy jonin pants, too, with the bandages wrapped around your calves . . .”

“Judicious manipulation of my chakra flow,” Itachi told him, glancing down at the red shirt he’d put under his fishnet. He was so good at keeping his body at a comfortable thirty-seven degrees that he didn’t even notice the sun’s heat beating down on them all that much.

“So can we reschedule?” Sakura asked again, looking up and sticking out her lower lip. Itachi assumed the expression was subconscious.

“No,” he said, shaking his head firmly. “The village chunin have been wrangling dozens of schedules for weeks in order to make this work. Everyone’s taking their picture today unless they’re in the hospital. And Naruto, you may not wear ‘warrior paint’.” Whatever that was supposed to be.

“This sucks!” was Naruto’s overly dramatic response. He looked up at the blue sky, sighed, and scratched under his left armpit.

“Perhaps,” said Itachi, heading towards the exit and motioning them to follow him. Despite how much it grated him, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Sakura and Naruto to stop their whining on their way back to the village.

Somehow, it felt hypocritical when he’d spent fifteen minutes picking out his own outfit for the day. It probably wouldn’t sound like much to a civilian, but Itachi usually got dressed in under a minute. Eiji had walked out of the bathroom to find assorted clothes strewn over his bed and looked him up and down, frowning in obvious confusion. Then he’d shrugged and calmly picked the clothes that apparently made Itachi look his best. “And keep your bangs out of your face,” he’d ordered, leaning down to peck his lips. “Makes you look older.”

Anko would’ve laughed at him. Even Kakashi would’ve laughed at him, probably. Itachi himself felt like laughing at the whole thing. He’d never cared about what he looked like in one of these files before but . . . Sasuke. Itachi looked over at him, took in the long-suffering frown and tense shoulders. At least he’d had the good sense to wear thin black fabric, probably in preparation for the hot day. There wouldn’t be any visible sweaty patches on his clothes.

His brother would get a copy of today’s picture, which meant that their entire family would get to see it. Itachi didn’t understand why he cared; why he wanted the Uchiha clan to see him looking good, but he did. He’d woken up imagining Fugaku frowning down at a picture of his slight, thin, and limp-haired traitor son and suddenly he’d turned into a kid picking out clothes for his first date. And he liked to pretend he didn’t care about Fugaku’s opinion. A ninja does not cower from the truth.

This truth is quite embarrassing, mother.

“So it's just the new genin teams that are getting pictures today?” asked Sakura when they reached mid-sized, beige tower that held copies almost all unclassified Konoha shinobi records.

“And everyone else who needs their files updated,” said Itachi, walking up the steps.

Ninja of all ages and ranks were walking in and out of the tower, some of them glaring down at folders in their hands. He heard Sakura sigh deeply.

“I guess all of Konoha’s files will look gross ‘till next time,” mumbled Naruto as they crossed the threshold into tower’s ground floor. Most of the lobby chairs were occupied by bored chunin fanning themselves with books and comics they’d brought for entertainment and glaring at the people who’d stolen all the spots near the windows. Standard green vests were hanging over the chairs and the large trash bins placed at the lobby’s corners were brimming with empty water bottles. Subdued silence blanketed the room. Apparently, nobody had the energy for chatter in such oppressive heat.

“How long until we can retake our picture?” asked Sakura as they made their way towards the information desk.

“Who cares?” demanded Sasuke.

“We do, asshole!” responded Naruto.

“Quiet,” Itachi told them as he waited for one of the frowning chunin at the desk to acknowledge their presence.

“Team Leader?” asked a harassed looking woman before raising a water bottle to her pale lips. A thin line of sweat trailed down between her furrowed eyebrows.

“Itachi.”

“Last door on the left,” she said after glancing down at her list, not sparing them a glance. Itachi looked at his frowning genin, gestured at the hallway behind the information desk, and hoped that they weren’t kept waiting for too long. Voices coming from the room the chunin had indicated dashed that hope.

“Let go of me—”

A young boy, thought Itachi, suppressing a frown. There was probably another genin team waiting ahead of them.

“Hold still—”

“Is that Ino?” asked Sakura as Itachi reached for the silver doorknob and walked inside. Immediately, he scanned the windowless beige room and sat on the front-row chair closest to the only exit. He assumed the other door led to the room where their pictures would be taken.

“Your hair’s a mess!” A blond girl—Itachi pegged her as a Yamanaka instantly—was pushing a kid wearing a fishnet shirt down onto a chair at the other end of the front row. She pulled at the string keeping his messy black hair in a tangled ponytail and frowned. “This is disgusting; when was the last time you wash—ugh!” She suddenly pulled her left hand away and glared at her fingers as though someone had smeared snot on them.

“You’re the one who slathered all that stupid gel on it!” protested the boy—Shikaku Nara’s kid, probably. He tried to pull away, but the girl pulled his hair.

“You shouldn’t pick on him so much, Ino,” said a chubby boy sitting right behind them before pushing a sticky red lollypop into his mouth.

“We’re going to look like bums in this picture!” wailed the girl as she wiped her hand on dark purple fabric of her skirt.

“Hah!” Naruto pointed at the black-haired boy and smirked, walking over to sit on a chair near him and the girl. “You’re so whipped, Shikamaru!”

“Whatever,” said the b—Shikamaru.

“Don’t seat so close to—Sasuke!” Ino let go of Shikamaru—who scrambled away from her as fast as he could—and sauntered over to where Sasuke was leaning against the room’s wall.

“Ino, stop it.” Sakura’s voice carried a distinct threat. Itachi was almost surprised that she could pack so much aggression into so few syllables.

“Stop what?” asked Ino, tone dripping with fake innocence. She pulled Sasuke away from the wall and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, then rested her head on his clavicle. Sasuke fidgeted and frowned, but ultimately he stayed frozen on the spot.

“The Bastard stole your girlfriend!” sing-songed Naruto.

“He’s welcome to her,” said Shikamaru as he gathered his apparently filthy hair into a messy ponytail.

With a grunt, Sakura raised her right arm and curled her hand into a fist— “No fighting,” said Itachi, wondering just how unprofessional it would be to let out an amused snort. He decided he didn’t care if it was when Sakura actually glared at him before lowering her arm. Itachi chuckled to himself, which prompted Sasuke to grunt and pull himself out Ino’s grasp. Before either of the girls could cling to him, he rushed over to a chair between Naruto and Shikamaru. The door at the other end of the room opened before any of the kids could say anything else and revealed a frowning Asuma.

“The camera’s broken,” he told the room as he walked towards one of the chairs near Itachi.

“So we can go, then?” asked Shikamaru.

“No,” said Asuma, uncharacteristic frown still marring his usually relaxed features. “We wait here until the chunin either fix the camera or get another one.”

Itachi scanned him—standard jonin gear, combed hair, no sweat so his chakra flow was all right—and realized Asuma wasn’t smoking or rolling an unlit cigarette between his thin lips.

“But that’s not fair!” complained Sakura, crossing her arms over her chest. It was a miracle she didn’t stomp her foot in protest.

“Can’t we just go to another room?” asked the boy with the lollypop. He was one of the Akimichi kids, most likely.

“Or we could come back some other time,” suggested Ino.

“I want to get this over with today,” said Sasuke.

“But we’re going to look dumb—”

“—everyone shut up and stop complaining!” snapped Asuma. Then he sighed and pulled a single, half-smoked cigarette out of one his vest pockets.

“You’re not the boss of us.”

“Shut up, Naruto,” said Itachi, wondering why Asuma was trying to quit smoking. “They say the first day of withdrawal’s the worst.”

“How the fuck would you know?” asked Asuma, looking down at his cigarette with something akin to longing. “I’ve met monks with more vices than you.” One of the kids started unwrapping a piece of candy and the crinkling foil made Asuma’s black eyebrows furrow into a deep frown. “Choji . . .”

“What?” asked the boy sitting on the second row, innocently popping the piece of candy into his mouth.

“. . . I should start smoking again,” mumbled Asuma, shaking his head. “For the kids’ safety.”

“Why are you trying to quit in the first place?” asked Itachi. Strangely enough, the question made Asuma’s face relax into its usual easy-going smile.

“A pretty girl said she’d go on a date with me if I did.” He sighed and put the cigarette away.

“Ah,” said Itachi, thinking that it was an odd reason to try quitting. Itachi would just find another girl (not that he was in any position to judge—he’d gone to a bar last week and somehow ended up at Anko’s apartment).

“So, how’s the training going?” asked Asuma.

“It’s going,” answered Itachi looking over at his team. Sakura had gone on to sit next to Naruto and was currently glaring at Ino, who’d gone back to fiddling with Shikamaru’s hair with a frown on her face.

Sakura's chakra reserves were slowly increasing and her control remained exceptional. Unfortunately, she was about as motivated to learn as Itachi was motivated to teach her. The problem was that she still operated from a civilian mentality. In order to improve, she needed to stop avoiding pain. Forcing muscles to adapt to chakra enhancement was painful and whenever he tried to goad Sakura into it, she turned resentful green eyes on his chin and promptly gave up. It was shame really. She had the innate talent to become a great medic (she'd excel at genjutsu too, but Itachi didn't think she had the stomach for psychological torture). It would be quite a shame if all her potential was squandered just because she refused to approach her training with the necessary determination. If only she were half as obsessed with improving her skills as she was with his little brother . . .

Sasuke had relaxed on his chair and fixed his gaze straight ahead. Impromptu meditation. Their mother had taught him too. He really had come into his official ninja training with all the advantages of a full-blown clan brat. When it came to skill alone, Sasuke was probably be ready to complete the chunin exams. Unfortunately, he was already dealing with enough emotional baggage to make even the most relaxed of counselors declare him unfit for duty. Making him a more efficient killer was probably a mistake—Sasuke’s emotions were too intense; he loved and hated with too much ferocity for a ninja—but Itachi had no choice but to teach him. Even if he never awakened Sharingan, Sasuke would always be hunted. Itachi had to make him strong enough to defend himself from the vultures who would breed him like a dog if they ever caught him. Even if he was crafting a future threat to Konoha, Itachi had to train him. He only wished the Council hadn’t been dumb enough to put him on the same team as the Nine Tails . . .

Naruto was rocking back and forth, blue eyes darting around the room for any source of entertainment. He had so much energy . . .

“And yours?” Itachi asked Asuma. Another Ino-Shika-Cho triangle wouldn't hurt the village.  

“Like pulling out teeth,” he asnwered, though he smiled once more. “These kids aren’t soldiers yet . . . and you need to stop stealing all the good D-ranks.”

“Those are the good ones?” demanded Naruto. “A duck almost murdered me!”

“By the spirits, that voice,” said Asuma, rubbing at his eyes and turning to look at Itachi. “Why haven’t you taken a C-rank yet?”

“Because he sucks!”

“Shut up!” Sakura said for him, emphasizing her point with a punch to Naruto’s shoulder.

“Was waiting for Kakashi,” Itachi said, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward on the chair. Hokage-sama had finally gotten fed up with his dallying and assigned him a C-ranked mission yesterday. The Council’s waiting for your evaluation, Itachi. They’ll want to know how these kids perform under the illusion of pressure. Illusion because Itachi could complete a standard C-ranked mission half-sleep by now, but still . . .

“Mark my words,” Asuma was saying, “Kakashi completed his mission weeks ago. By this point, he’s probably traipsing about Fire Country, enjoying summer festivals and making that Hyuga brat they forced on him do his laundry and cook his meals.”

But Kakashi had made it clear that Konoha needed the information he’d been sent to obtain quickly. “I hope you’re right.”

“If some asshole rogue ninja kills Sharingan Kakashi, they’re not going to keep quiet about it,” said Asuma, shrugging.

“I suppose not,” agreed Itachi, glancing at Sasuke to see how he’d reacted to the mention of Sharingan. Nothing. Itachi supposed he only became enraged when someone reminded him that Itachi had the bloodline. “Have you completed your preliminary evaluations?”

“Nah,” said Asuma.

“What evaluations?” asked Ino, pausing her work on Shikamaru’s hair.

Itachi tuned out Asuma’s tired response and considered his situation. The Council was only really interested on what he had to say about Naruto. Did they honestly think that Itachi would buy that genin rankings were suddenly a priority? Sometimes, he couldn’t decide whether they offended or amused him. Why couldn’t they just come out and ask him about Naruto’s progress? It wasn’t like he had anything interesting to say. Predictably, Naruto had an immense amount of raw chakra but painfully poor control over it.

They’d ignore all his suggestions and concerns about the boy anyway. Itachi was growing more and more cognizant of just how poor a teacher he was, especially for Naruto. The kid needed a mentor with high chakra reserves who’d already struggled with control and knew jutsu that relied on high stamina. Itachi was practically the exact opposite. Out of all Konoha jonin, he had the lowest stamina ranking (technically, Kurenai’s was lower but she was also new, so Itachi had no doubt she’d surpass him in that regard soon enough). Everyone just tended to forget he wasn’t the typical chakra fountain because he’d trained himself to utilize the little he had as effectively and lethally as possible.

Teaching Naruto to use the Nine Tails’ chakra would probably involve forcing him to exhaust his natural reserves first in order to minimize his out of control chakra. Itachi was certain he could easily tire Naruto out. He just didn’t want to do it. Almost against his will, he was growing fond of the brat. Just thinking about forcing him to deal with the Nine Tails was depressing so for the most part, Itachi had been trying to improve Naruto’s chakra control without much enthusiasm. He’d taught the kid to walk on water and forced him on a standard meditation routine. He was improving yes, just much slower than the Council wanted him to. Itachi wasn’t in a hurry. Hadn’t he spent his entire life making sure that Konoha was peaceful enough to allow its children to be slow and stupid? Let Naruto play at being a ninja for a little longer. Maybe it’d help soothe his psychological trauma.

On the bright side, said psychological trauma was nowhere near as severe as Itachi had been expecting it to be. The only real problem was that Naruto was so starved for attention that practically anyone could manipulate him with a bit of derision or praise. The fact that he’d been trailing Sasuke like a puppy since the first week of training was not a good sign. Sasuke was hardly a master manipulator. Not that Itachi was going to babble his concerns to the Council. Or even Hokage-sama. He loved Konoha, but to keep Sasuke safe he’d personally burn it to the ground.

Chapter 6: The First Mission

Summary:

Team Seven sets out on its first real mission.

Predictably, it all goes to hell.

Notes:

Cameo: Konohamaru!

Warnings: OC death

When Naruto first looked down on Rei and Daisuke’s eyes, the first thought that flitted through his mind was “Sasuke”. And then, because they really did look that eerily alike, he thought “Itachi”.

As he savored his last mouthful of miso ramen, Naruto wondered about how difficult it must be for Itachi-sensei to go through life looking like a stray Uchiha.

“You seem really different today,” said Konohamaru before sticking a pair of chopsticks into his mouth and sucking in several noodle tendrils.

“It’s because he’s not wearing orange,” said Rei, shooting Konohamaru an exasperated ‘why-are-you-stating-the-obvious?’ glare from her spot at Ichiriku’s stand. It made her look so much like a tiny girl Sasuke with twin braids hanging over her shoulders that Naruto chuckled.

“Yeah, and he’s not wearing his headband either,” added Konohamaru, rolling his small brown eyes. “I’m asking why not.”

“That’s not what you said.” Daisuke didn’t look away from the blunted shuriken he was maneuvering between his fingers as he backed up his sister.

Naruto didn’t like to see him huddled at the floor while the rest of them ate but Daisuke insisted that all ramen was ‘disgusting’. It was practically an insult onto nature itself. Initially, Naruto had been determined to get him to try many different types of ramen; certain that such a little kid couldn’t have tried enough flavors to know for sure that he hated them all. He’d given up around the third sample, when Daisuke had vomited bile after trying to swallow a bit of pork ramen.

“I’m going on a C-ranked mission today,” he told them, smiling away the memory of Daisuke dry-heaving painfully. “Sensei says we have to look like ordinary peasants.”

No headbands, no orange jumpsuits, no bold red dresses or blouses, and no Uchiha fans anywhere on you shirts, Itachi had said before dismissing them the day before with a half-hearted suggestion to get their “affairs in order” before leaving the village.

“You going to be gone for long?” asked Konohamaru.

“C-ranked missions, by definition, take at least a week to complete,” said Rei. She finished her ramen, put down her chopsticks, and aimed her Sasuke-eyes at Naruto. “Thank you.”

“I know that,” said Konohamaru, reaching to scratch under his goggles, thin black eyebrows furrowed. “I meant is he going to be gone for more than a week?”

“You should speak more precisely,” said Daisuke.

Konohamaru sighed and shot Naruto a tired frown before shaking his head. “Clan brats.”

“You’re as much of a clan brat as we are,” said Rei, hopping down from her stool. “And you should hurry up. It’s unseemly for students to be tardy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Konohamaru, raising his ramen bowl to his lips as he got off his stool. Daisuke put away his shuriken and rose to stand beside his sister. Twin pairs of dark eyes watched Konohamaru, silently rushing him. Naruto wondered how long until Rei had Konohamaru obeying her as automatically as Daisuke seemed to. She was three years younger than him . . . It might take her a week. He’d just introduced them on the way to Ichiriku’s and Konohamaru was already hurrying to follow her back to the Academy.

“Heh,” snorted Naruto, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his little frog bag as he got up from his stool. “Daisuke, take this money and buy yourself whatever it is that doesn’t make you barf.” Daisuke stared at Naruto’s extended hand with obvious suspicion until Rei nudged him into taking the cash.

“Don’t I get some money?” asked Konohamaru, putting down his bowl and licking his lips.

“You got ramen, Honorable and Rich Grandson.” Naruto softened the little reproach by ruffling Konohamaru’s hair and grinning down at him. He sobered up when he looked over at Sasuke’s cousins, remembering how short bullies’ memories were. “Hopefully, we won’t be gone for much longer than a week,” he told all three of them. “In the meantime, you stick together and watch out for each other.”

“What’s your mission going to be?” asked Daisuke, tilting his head exactly like Sasuke (and Itachi) did when he was curious. Fuck, even their haircuts were mostly the same.

Naruto wondered if they went to some kind of stoic douchebag school where they learned to act like stiff, life-like statues. A head tilt is the only appropriate display of curiosity, he imagined an Uchiha-like Iruka-sensei saying. Anger? A slight furrow of your eyebrows. Amusement? A little tilt to your lips. Mockery? A slight smirk. The image made him laugh a little. “C-ranked mission details are classified,” he said before Daisuke could get the idea that he was being laughed at.

“Sasuke-sama said you’re going on an escort mission,” said Rei.

“Well, he shouldn’t ha—what the fuck did you just call him?”

“What we always call him,” answered Daisuke.

“Oh geez,” said Naruto, rolling his eyes. How many Uchihas called Sasuke master? No wonder the Bastard had such a high opinion of himself.

“If Sasuke can talk about it, why can’t you?” demanded Konohamaru, crossing his thin arms over his lime yellow shirt.

“Sasuke shouldn’t be—” Naruto grunted and shook his head. C-ranked missions were only technically classified. Even Konohamaru knew that, most likely. Maybe he’d just wanted to feel more important than he was, all right. “Anyway,” he continued. “I just didn’t want you guys to wonder where I’d gone.”

“We weren’t going to wonder,” said Daisuke.

“Thanks,” said Naruto flatly. He was beginning to wonder why exactly he’d spent the entire night worrying about Sasuke’s little cousins.

“Because you’re Sasuke-sama’s teammate and he told us where he’s going,” Rei clarified.

Because they’re fresh meat, Naruto answered to himself. The bullies are going to eat them alive and they’re too little to deal with the bigger ones. Most of them will pounce the moment they realize Sasuke’s nowhere near Konoha. Some of them hadn’t even waited that long. “Konohamaru,” Naruto started, remembering how he’d met the twins in the first place. Iwao and his cronies had seemed delighted to have a new pair of baby Uchihas to torment. “I need a favor.”

“Whatever you need!” said Konohamaru quickly, narrow chest puffing up with pride.

“I need you to watch out for Rei and Daisuke while I’m gone,” Naruto told him.

“We can take of ourselves,” protested Rei. Naruto didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only reason they weren’t being mercilessly picked on was that all bullies in Konoha were afraid of Sasuke.

“No problem!” said Konohamaru. “Me and my friends are gonna guard the little brats like angry hawks!”

“You do that,” said Naruto with a bright smile, satisfied that Ebisu would have no choice but to keep Sasuke’s cousins safe for their entire time at the Academy.

He said his goodbyes to the kids and mumbled his thanks to Ayame before setting out for Mission Assignment and Tracking. He couldn’t wait to see how Sasuke and Sakura had disguised themselves as peasants. Naruto himself had simply discarded his orange jumpsuit for some worn black pants and a thin summer yukata. I should’ve worn this yesterday . . . A mercifully cool breeze swept through Konoha’s streets, almost like nature wanted to reassure Naruto that that the previous day’s awful heat had been a fluke. Thank goodness. Naruto was pretty sure that Konoha would probably implode if it had to deal with that nonsense for more than a day.

Sasuke had been so irritated that they’d gotten into their first real fight in weeks. The memory made Naruto’s face split into a grin. Like usual, he’d ended up pinned face down on the ground with Sasuke straddling his thighs and twisting his right arm into a painful hold before Sakura had stepped in and threatened to tell on them if they didn’t stop it. Still, it’d taken Sasuke way longer than it’d ever had to restrain him. Training was working. He was getting better, probably at a faster pace than he realized since Sasuke must also be improving. Briefly, he remembered how easily he’d taken down the three assholes he’d found picking on the twins about a week ago.

He turned a corner and was almost trampled by a group of kids playing a game of tag. Naruto sidestepped, instinctively grabbing at the strap of the bag he’d hung over his shoulder. It was the easiest thing in the world for an amateur thief to hide among a group of playing kids. “Stop it!” shrilled a voice Naruto recognized. Most of the kids scattered, giggling to themselves. When Naruto looked up, he found the wife of one of the shop owners who operated nearer to the center of the village heading towards a brown-haired boy not much bigger than Daisuke. “I’m sorry, kid,” she said when she spotted Naruto with her narrow, hooded eyes. “These brats are going to give me a heart attack.”

“. . . No big deal,” said Naruto, nodding as she grabbed the little brown haired boy by the ear and dragged him back towards a nice looking house.

“What have I told you about hanging out with that vermin . . .” she lectured her boy as she led him away.

She didn’t recognize me.

Suddenly, Naruto wanted to run towards her and yell something obnoxious about nothing in particular. He reminded himself that he had a mission to report for and besides, he was a ninja now. Konoha’s ninja didn’t wonder the village making pointless mischief, not even for the asshole villagers. He settled for shooting the woman’s retreating back a glare and went on his way. At least he’d succeeded in making himself look anonymous, though it was hard to feel too accomplished about something he’d been a hundred percent sure he’d be able to do. People liked to assume he was a bad at stealth, which just went to show how they weren’t a smart as they liked to think they were.

As if someone as despised as he was could afford to not be able to vanish from a scene in a matter of moments. Naruto could wrap himself glowing red festival lights and he’d still be able to go unnoticed if he wanted to. And he didn’t wear orange just because it was his favorite color or because it caught the eye so well (not that those two things weren’t true). He wore orange because of one of Iruka-sensei’s first lessons. The secret to stealth is not hiding; it’s tricking your enemies into paying attention to something irrelevant.

To the villagers, that asshole Naruto Uzumaki had become so connected to an orange jumpsuit that all Naruto needed to disappear was a shirt in any other color. Since there weren’t many blue-eyed blonds in Konoha, the whole thing was more than a little depressing. The sad truth was that most villagers just didn’t look at his face long enough to notice what the fuck he actually looked like.

A few months after he’d adopted his orange outfits, Naruto had wondered out into the village in simple black clothes. He hadn’t been trying to test anything. It’d just been his laundry day and as usual, Naruto had been trying to put the whole thing off for as long as possible. He’d gone to Konoha looking for some trouble and been floored by the fact that no one seemed to recognize him. For the first time he could remember, Naruto had enjoyed the occasional smile from some villagers. Some of them had even made gentle questions about his parents. For a few hours, he’d been able to play with other kids without having to convince them to follow him someplace away from adults. Hell, one of the adults themselves had offered him lemonade and ruffled his head with an indulgent smile. It should have been the most genuine, uncomplicated fun Naruto ever had, but the experience left his entrails twisting like pained snakes.

He’d gone home and started his laundry, then began to fold his orange shirts so carefully he might as well had been completing penance for something. In between sorting socks, he’d realized that fat silent tears had started to run down his cheeks. He just hadn’t understood—still didn’t understand, Nine Tails or not—why the villagers hated him so much. He played pranks, yes, but he never went out of his way to hurt anyone. Other kids played pranks and all they got was half-hearted reprimands and amused laughter. The thing with the Demon Fox hadn’t been his fault. He’d been a baby, for fuck’s sake. And if they were afraid that the ugly thing was going to take over and destroy them, then shouldn’t they try to be a little nicer to its vessel? And they called him stupid . . .

What would Sasuke and Sakura think if they found out?

Trying to chase away the residual anger boiling in his belly, Naruto looked up at the bright blue sky and sucked in a deep breath. The scent of leaves did little to calm him.

Whenever he passed by a villager, he expected to be glared at or otherwise rejected and it rankled his nerves every time it didn’t happen. When one of them smiled or waved, Naruto felt like screaming. Maybe he ought to use a basic Transformation Jutsu to make himself look like was dressed in his usual outfit? He shook his head firmly, remembering what he’d promised himself that day as he sobbed on top of his newly washed socks. He was never going to pretend to be someone else no matter how the villagers acted. He was always going to be himself and someday the villagers would be nice to him and offer him lemonade while calling him by his name. . . .

Which was probably why he ought to tell his team about the Fox.

I’m not the Nine Tails, told himself, deciding that using a transformation—even one to make him look like his usual self—would be going back on that promise. It’d be even worse in a way. He couldn’t let the villagers’ actions mess with a mission. Itachi-sensei had asked them to look ordinary and until the mission was completed, Naruto would look plainer than a needle on a haystack. Or a piece of hay on a haystack.

When he made it to Mission Assignment and Tracking, he shook his head and decided not to be so damned gloomy anymore. He was going on his first real mission! Today, he’d get to see the world outside Konoha for the first time in his life. With a bright smile, he pulled his headband out of the shapeless sack he was using to bag his supplies and showed it to the sleepy looking chunin guarding the entrance.

“You have a good day,” Naruto said after receiving a nod of approval.

“Bite me, genin,” said the chunin, twirling a kunai on his left index finger. Naruto laughed and rushed inside, feeling oddly calmed by the impersonal jab.

Itachi said he’d be waiting at the second floor. He raced that way, being careful not to bump into any of the probably busy ninja he met on the way. Sakura and Sasuke he found idling near the largest window on the first wing of the tower’s second level, both dressed in simple clothes like Itachi had ordered. “Hey!” he yelled at them, way louder than was necessary. Sakura sighed and he bet Sasuke’s slim eyebrows furrowed into a tiny frown. Ignoring the sparse glares some other ninja sent his way, Naruto grinned made his way towards them.

“We’re not deaf,” said Sakura, glaring at him out of bright green eyes.

Naruto shrugged and looked her up and down, thinking that she’d done a good job with her outfit. She was wearing an oversized white yukata worn enough that it looked a little grey. It buttoned along the left side of her body and fell about an inch bellow her knees. A slip of grey fabric was covering her wide forehead and most of the top of her head so that only some of tresses of her bubblegum pink fell down her back. It definitely made her look pale, thinner and . . . he bet washed out would be the words most girls would use.

“Like he cares,” mumbled Sasuke, shaking his head at Naruto.

He looked like . . . well; he looked like Sasuke trying to look like a peasant. It wasn’t that his clothes were wrong or anything. He’d put on black pants worn enough that they’d been patched a couple of times, and not always with matching fabric. His white yukata was a little too big for him and one of its seams had been re-sown in black thread. Unfortunately, the old clothes did little to hide his pretty face, silky hair, unblemished skin, and all that other stuff that made girls go stupid over him.

“Your costume needs a black eye, Bastard,” said Naruto, throwing a mock-punch his way. Sasuke grunted, but he didn’t recoil away while Naruto patted his left brow for a few seconds. It was probably a sign that his black mood had mellowed to its usual pale grey. “Is Itachi actually late?”

“No,” Itachi himself answered from behind Naruto.

“Augh—you have to stop doing that!” yelled Naruto, whirling around to shoot him a glare.

He was startled by the tall, brown-haired, and pouty girl in a short black yukata standing next to him. “These are the genin?” she asked, looking at all three of them with an open-mouthed grin. The black leather bag at her side covered more of her thigh than the fabric of her yukata. “They’re adorable—especially this one!” When she bent down to grab at Sasuke’s chin, Naruto’s gaze was automatically drawn to her chest. Her yukata was barely tightened enough to properly cover her big, round—not that Naruto was looking at them or anything! He was faithful to Sakura!

Uh . . . and Sasuke . . . he did what he always did when a pretty girl got too close to him: frown like he’d swallowed a rotten lemon before freezing like an frightened rabbit.

“Let go of him,” ordered Sakura, hands curled into shaking fists.

“Oh?” said the girl, turning a pair of challenging hazel eyes on Sakura. She rubbed at Sasuke’s chin and pulled him a little closer. “Are you his keeper?”

“This behavior is unnecessary,” said Itachi. The sound of his voice spurred Sasuke into pulling away from the girl. “Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke, I hope you’ve all packed enough drinking water and weapons under your sleeping bags.” He gestured at the girl, who was smiling down at them with her arms crossed under her large chest. “This is our client, Miss Eiko.”

“Hello,” she said with a little wave.

“Hi,” said Naruto, smiling up at her. “Where are we gonna take you?”

“I’m heading towards Magome-juku,” she said, playing with a few tresses of her thick, shoulder-length brown hair. “I want to head there via a foraging route so I can draw some landscape portraits. Then I can join one of the caravans heading for the Fire Capital and make quite a mint selling my drawings to naturalists.”

“Our job will be to guard Miss Eiko from wild animals and any stray brigands,” said Itachi. “If she’s a quick artist, we should be at Magome-juku by the end of the week. Coming back unhindered shouldn’t take us more than three days.”

“Wait, you’re coming?” Eiko asked him.

“Of course,” answered Itachi with the typical curious tilt to his head.

“Why wouldn’t he?” asked Sakura. Her fists had relaxed but she’d slid closer to Sasuke and was still regarding their client with an air of suspicion.

“I was told a jonin would be leading my escort mission.”

“He’s the jonin,” Naruto told her, gesturing at Itachi.

“I am,” agreed Itachi.

“But . . .” Eiko frowned. “I was told a high level jonin.”

“You were told a high level, high level ninja would be leading the mission?” asked Sasuke. Naruto could almost feel his own eyes rolling in response to the Bastard’s sarcastic tone.

“Like I said, the boy’s a cutie,” said Eiko, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

“Sasuke’s point stands,” said Itachi. “All jonin are, by definition, extremely skilled shinobi.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re very talented,” said Eiko, though it didn’t sound like she thought that at all. “But I paid for someone experienced.”

“Don’t be fooled by my apparent youth,” said Itachi, sounding a little tired. “I’ve been a ninja for more than half my life.”

“No offense, dear,” started Eiko, “but that doesn’t sound very impressive coming from a kid.”

“How old are you, lady?” demanded Sakura, smirking up at Eiko.

“I mean,” interjected Naruto, sensing a catfight coming. “We know Itachi-sensei doesn’t look all that impressive,” Naruto looked towards him and couldn’t hold back a sheepish frown, “especially now that he’s—wait a minute!” For the first time, Naruto noticed what his sensei was wearing.

“Yes?” asked Itachi, raising a slim eyebrow, which drew attention to the fact that he had his headband wrapped around his forehead. Even if he hadn't, he looked like no peasant Naruto had ever seen. 

Itachi was wearing standard jonin pants and a comfortable black tank top that didn’t even try to cover the ANBU tattoo stamped on his right forearm. There was a katana hooked on his belt and lining his right hip. He was actually wearing a pair of the fingerless long gloves ANBU corps never took off. His hair was gathered into a long, fat braid that any poor person would have hacked off and sold in a heartbeat. He wasn’t carrying his things in a shapeless sack, but a standard Konoha rucksack.

“Why are you dressed in regular clothes? I thought we were supposed to look like peasants!”

“That was a lie,” said Itachi without a trace of remorse. “I just want to see how well you three can work dressed in worn and possibly uncomfortable clothes.”

“Isn’t it enough that we’re going on our first mission away from Konoha?” demanded Sakura, glaring directly at Itachi for once. Naruto was relieved she wasn’t so obviously intimidated by him anymore. “We have to do it looking hideous too?”

“All right,” interrupted Eiko. “There’s obviously been some kind of mistake here. I paid for a squad of real shinobi, preferably one led by someone taller than me.”

“Obviously, there has been a mistake,” agreed Itachi. “You paid for a C-ranked mission and accepted a ten percent reduction in charge in exchange for allowing a jonin to use it as a training exercise for his genin squad. If you’ve change your mind, you’re in the right place to renegotiate your arrangement.”

“Rearrange it into what, exactly?” she asked, tone suddenly devoid of calculating playfulness.

“You can pay your ten percent discount back and wait for a chunin squad to become available,” said Itachi.

“And those are also led by jonin?”

“No,” said Itachi. “Chunin are self-sufficient. The only way you’re going to get a jonin for fifty thousand ryo is if you accept one who’s trying to train a genin squad.”

“Why do you think you need a jonin to watch your back while you draw pictures of trees and shit?” asked Naruto, beginning to feel insulted by the implication that his team couldn’t handle something so simple.

“Naruto’s right,” said Sasuke. “The three of us could probably handle this much by ourselves.”

“Well, we don’t know the way to Magome-juku,” pointed out Sakura. “But other than that, the mission does sound very straight forward.”

Eiko looked down at all of them with her pretty face so tense that Naruto was momentarily sure that she’d tell them to fuck off before sauntering over the nearest desk and demanding to speak to the old man Hokage or something. He was relieved when she relaxed her shoulders and leaned closer to Itachi with a sheepish smile.

“You’re right, of course!” she said, wrapping an arm around Itachi’s shoulders. “I’m just nervous about being out camping. I’m a city girl, you know. So more than half your life, you said?” Itachi didn’t balk in horror like Sasuke did when a pretty girl draped herself all over him, but he didn’t look exactly thrilled either.

“Yes,” he answered as he gently pulled himself out of Eiko’s grasp and looked down at his genin. “We head to Magome-juku via the northern trail and make an arc down East.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just start out going East?” asked Sakura.

“I want to take the long way so I can get more material to portrait,” said Eiko, gesturing towards the exit. “Well, let’s go! I don’t want to lose all the day’s light.”

“One last thing,” said Itachi, prompting Eiko to stop in her tracks.

“Yes?” asked Eiko.

“I’ll need to look at and approve everything you draw,” Itachi told her.

“Why?” asked Naruto, rubbing his nose with the back of his right hand.

“To make sure she doesn’t draw anything that could give our enemies clues about Konoha’s exact whereabouts,” said Sasuke.

“Precisely,” agreed Itachi, nodding in Eiko’s direction.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed, shrugging carelessly. “Come along, baby jonin.” Somehow, she made the mocking pet name sound much more suggestive than Sakura’s father had. Regardless, Itachi ignored the jab and gestured at them to follow.

 

***

 

Sakura didn’t like their client at all.

It wasn’t even that she’d teased Sasuke when they first met her—she was obviously too old to be interested in a twelve year old. It was that she was like a grown up Ino. In fact, she was exactly how Sakura bet Ino would be in ten years or so.

She suppressed a glare when Eiko sauntered over to the spot where Itachi was sitting, swaying her round hips and sitting way too close to him. Her already-way-too short black yukata rode way too high up her thighs, and she didn’t even bother to pull it back down. “These are the ones I drew today,” she told Itachi, passing him her sketch notebook. Anyone else would’ve left it at that, but Eiko draped her arm across Itachi’s shoulders and laid her head against his temple so she could look down on the pictures as well. Like she hadn’t drawn them herself . . . “What do you think?”

“They’re fine,” answered Itachi, ignoring how much she’d violated his personal space. He’d given up trying to disengage himself from her grasp sometime during the second day of their journey. “These two are no good,” he added when he got to the last few sketches. He tore them out the notebook with no preamble.

“That last one was a bird!” protested Eiko. “How could anyone get to Konoha by looking at it?”

“It was a rare bird with a very particular flight pattern,” explained Itachi. “A skilled forager could get very far if they knew when and where exactly they passed by Konoha’s northern trails.”

“You know what?” Eiko said when Itachi returned her notebook. “From now I’ll ask you if something’s all right to draw before drawing it.”

“That would probably save you time,” agreed Itachi. “I’ll still need to review all your sketches either way.”

“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes. She still kissed his cheek anyway. Sakura let out an annoyed sigh. Itachi pretended not to notice and Eiko shot a poisonously sweet smile her way.

“May I go look for Sasuke and Naruto?” she asked, wanting to get away from the spot Itachi had chosen to spend the upcoming night. There were perhaps two hours of sunlight left. Their other two teammates couldn’t be too far off camp.

“No,” answered Itachi. As usual, he didn’t bother to explain why he was denying her request. It wasn’t fair. Naruto and Sasuke were out hunting for rabbits—or squirrels if rabbits were nowhere to be found—and she’d spent about an hour gather wood for Itachi to inspect and declare unsuitable for a fire. A week ago, Sakura didn’t realize it was possible for wood to be “unsuitable” for firewood. “If it’s too thin, it won’t sustain a fire for long. If it’s too moist, it might not burn at all,” Itachi had pointed out the first time it’d been her turn to gather firewood. “And this lighter piece emits hallucinogenic smoke when burned.” Eiko had joked that maybe they ought to burn it and shot one of her little smiles at Sakura.

Hunting was definitely the more fun activity even though it involved murdering cute woodland creatures. Sakura had been very proud of herself the first time it’d been her turn to hunt. She’d been paired with Sasuke and managed to catch a white rabbit right between the eyes with one of her shuriken. A lucky shot mostly, but she preferred to imagine that Sasuke had taken it as a sign that she had potential when it came to Shurikenjutsu. Best of all, she’d manage to retrieve her kill without barfing at the sight of blood seeping around the edges of where the shuriken that had cut through skin and meat. She hadn’t thrown up when Itachi taught them to skin and clean their kills either, not even when Naruto had pulled out one of the rabbit’s bleeding and bluish entrails. Unlike Eiko, who'd doubled over and emptied out all the bile and acid in her stomach.

“Well, I’m going to go for a walk,” Eiko said suddenly. She’d probably gotten tired of making futile attempts to engage Itachi in conversation.

“Go with her, Sakura.”

“Yes, Sensei,” she mumbled, even as she fantasized about being his superior and forcing him spend time with such an obnoxious client. With a last look at the gentle, clean river they’d been travelling by for the last three days, Sakura stood and trailed behind Eiko’s swaying saunter. Hopefully, she’d get distracted by some leaf or flower and not expect any conversation. Eiko was much more bearable when she was lost in her sketchpad. Honestly, Sakura would be enjoying the mission a lot more if Eiko spent all her time absorbed in her drawings.

Whenever she interacted with her teammates alone, she had a great time. Even Naruto was so fascinated by all the new things they were getting to see that he’d forgotten all about his quest for her heart. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d paid her a clumsy compliment or asked her if she’d like to go on a date. And his banter with Sasuke had yet to escalate to actual violence. Even now, as she walked with Eiko for a significant number of minutes, Sakura thought that the mission was was interesting enough to be exciting without being too scary. She estimated that at least a half an hour had passed before Eiko spotted something that drew her attention, but she hadn't been babbling so it was all right.

“Oh!” she said as they passed by an odd but beautiful yellow peony. She bent down, for once not bothering to make it look graceful, and slid her slim fingers under the ruffles of the flower’s yolk-yellow petals. Gently, she pushed aside the wrinkled moss green leaves and reached for her notepad with her left hand. “Look at this! A tree peony! I’ve never seen one this particular shade. It must be so rare!”

If it’s so rare, Itachi-sensei’s not going to let you keep the drawing, thought Sakura. For a few seconds, she argued with herself about whether or not she should point it out. Finally, she decided against it, not wanting to deal with the fallout of Eiko’s pouting. Why force herself to put up with that nonsense when she could spend her boring guard duty taking in the sight of a Fire Country forest at the height of summer?

The canopy was brimming with brilliant green leaves that protected Sakura from the harsh glare of the sun and shrouded the ground in a cool blanket of shadows. Varied sorts of vines adorned the trunks of the tallest trees with intricate cobwebs of leaves and flowers. Even the air that caressed the understory and forest floor was scented with the clean smell of leaves, pollen, and mosses. Almost as if summoned by her thoughts, a gentle breeze passed over Sakura’s skin and lifted the pink hair lying over her back. So far, they’d only run into harmless herbivores, but a part of Sakura was hoping to see one of the great cats—hopefully a tiger!—that made Fire Country their home. They wouldn’t hunt it of course since tigers were sacred creatures, but Itachi might be prompted to teach them something about it.

The best thing about the mission (even better than the unusual air of harmony it’d inspired between Sasuke and Naruto) was that Itachi was finally teaching them something, though she doubted he consciously realized what he was doing. It’d even taken Sakura a while to notice. The mission had started out typically enough; Itachi gave out a short order and waited for it to be carried out. What had changed was that none of them—not even Sasuke—knew how to carry it out. He’d had no choice but to explain himself, if only to point out their mistakes.

“Take sporadic sips of water before you actually feel thirst in order to conserve drinking water . . . It’s difficult at first, but if you push chakra to the soles of your feet, you’ll make your footing light enough that you won’t leave footprints or make a sound. . . If you see a rabbit gathering grass but not eating it, you may be able to follow it back to its warren and pack enough meat for a couple of days as long as you’ve brought some curing salts . . . Don’t just stump on a fire to make sure it’s out when you’re standing right by a river . . . Naruto, that berry’s poisonous . . .”

The forest was downright magical. It’d made Itachi talk more in the last few days than he’d had in over a month. And most of what he was so useful, even if it was just telling Eiko why one of her drawings was unacceptable. “This is a completely generic stream!” she’d cried once. “How would it lead someone to Konoha?”

“Using the position of the sun and the way its rays are hitting the water’s surface, it’s possible to determine the direction the water’s flowing,” Itachi had answered. “And the moss growing on the rocks is unique to the Northern region of Fire Country.”

The memory made Sakura’s face split into a happy grin. Eiko’s obvious attempt to . . . seduce Itachi clearly weren’t working. The only drawings he allowed were of individual leaves and animals. All of Eiko’s landscapes were ruthlessly confiscated and torn up.

And her attempts to seduce him were getting really obvious, too.

Once, Eiko had insisted on making Itachi help her climb up a tree so she could take a detailed sketch of a bird’s nest. She stayed up there for almost half an hour, demanding that Itachi be the one to wait until she was done so he could help her down. When she’d finally finished, she’d taken the chance to “stumble” and actually wrapped her legs around Itachi’s chest before sliding down until her thighs had been wrapped around his hips, plunging her hand into his dark hair for “support”.

“Oh, wow!” Naruto had said, looking at the scene with wide blue eyes. “I usually gotta sneak into the adult section at the manga store to see something like that.”

Thankfully, Itachi hadn’t been fazed by the little stunt. He’d simply grabbed her knees and lightly pushed her off him with an apology for not being careful enough to prevent her stumble. His tone hadn’t changed, but Sakura understood the veiled slight. As if a jonin would ever be careless enough to risk letting their charge get injured climbing down at tree. To add insult to injury, he’d taken the drawing of the nest because it’d held a rare type of blue eggshell made only by birds that fed on a specific berry native to Konoha’s northern trails. Obviously, he didn’t like Eiko either.

“Finished!” cried Eiko, pulling Sakura into the present. “Do you want to look at—”

Her question was cut short because Sakura had to reach out and push her to the floor. “What’re yo—” She stopped talking when she spotted the senbon sticking to the floor. If Sakura hadn’t pushed her, the thin needle would have cut her arm.

“Let’s go!” yelled Sakura, grabbing her hand and pulling her to off the ground. She had to block another barrage of senbon with a kunai she’d pulled out of the hidden pocket she’d sown under her worn peasant’s yukata.

“Oh no!” cried Eiko. The twigs lining the forest floor seemed to scream when her feet crushed them. Not that being silent would help them much. The enemy had already seen them.

Common brigands don’t use senbon, thought Sakura.

“Come on!” she yelled, trying to pull Eiko forward as she dodged and blocked senbon that had probably been dipped in poison. She’d never truly appreciated just how slow civilians were.

“The camp was the other way!” protested Eiko.

“Can’t get there yet!” said Sakura. One of the senbon almost cut her. Against her will, she remembered her parents’ worried faces as she insisted that a C-ranked mission was a walk in the park for even the weakest jonin.

“Where are we going then?”

To the small cluster of large rocks about twenty feet ahead of us, thought Sakura. They—she needed the cover. There was no way they’d make it all the way back to Itachi without being caught. Not unless they had a distraction. More senbon. Thinking that it would most likely make their pursuers laugh, Sakura started making the hand seals for Great Fireball Jutsu.

“It might still be useful,” Sasuke had mumbled after she’d produced her first tiny fireball all those weeks ago.

Hoping that their pursuers would care about possible fires, Sakura stared aiming small bursts at dried clusters of leaves and wood at the floor. Despite her terror, she felt a pang at the idea that she might cause a section of the forest to be destroyed. But Itachi might see smoke if a fire broke out.

“I can’t run anymore!”

“You have to!” screamed Sakura, batting away another barrage of senbon. They were so close to the rocks now—there! No sight had ever made her feel as relieved as the image of the clusters of large rocks beside one of the tallest trees in the forest. The place seemed to have been made to provide shelter for fleeing ninja; two large and smooth chunks of stone were laid besides each other with another, flatter slab atop them. “Come on!” yelled Sakura, pulling Eiko under the stones.

“What now?”

“Shut up!” hissed Sakura, refusing to admit she hadn’t thought that far.

“They’ll be here soon!” said Eiko, glaring. Sakura agreed. The rocks had bought them some time, and maybe she’d managed to set a fire. She still needed something or she’d bleed out onto the moist twigs sheltered by the rocks she’d tried so hard to get to.

“Do something!”

She did the only thing she could think of. With a hasty tiger seal, she produced the highest number of Shadow Clones she could muster. A grand total of two. Almost to remind her that two clones would hardly be useful, a sudden explosion ripped through the forest's silence. Sakura flinched, almost expecting her clones to vanish in fear.

“Well, I feel safer now,” snapped Eiko with an ugly sneer. Sakura ignored her and tried to get used to the feeling of having her already meager chakra reserves being evenly split into three vessels even as she tried to keep her ears open for enemy footsteps. Her clones wouldn’t be able to defeat any enemy, but . . .

“Don’t just stand there—” Unwilling to listen to more complaints, Sakura reached out and pushed the palm of her right hand against Eiko’s mouth. Hazel eyes glared at her, but Sakura ignored them and reached into her hidden pocket with her left hand, nodding at her frightened looking clones. One of them put her hands together and made the seals for a Transformation Jutsu. After the puff of smoke dissipated, she looked exactly like Eiko. Sakura passed her the only Exploding Tag in her possession and waited for the sound of footsteps, watching as the clone slipped the tag under Eiko’s short yukata.

She needed to make her one tag count . . . Eiko apparently sensed her concentration because she huddled down closer to Sakura and tried to keep as still and quiet as possible. Even her breathing slowed. The moment Sakura heard footsteps, she nodded at her clones and passed the one not disguised as Eiko a kunai. Immediately, the clone grabbed the fake Eiko’s right arm and twisted it behind her back in a standard hold before aiming her kunai between two of her left ribs. After a last nod from Sakura, the clones stepped from behind the rocks and walked forward; fake Eiko in front of a visibly shaking fake Sakura.

“I’ve decided to turn the client over in exchange for my life!” shouted Sakura’s clone. “Just come closer and collect her!”

The incoming footsteps got louder and firmer, like the enemy had stopped making even a token attempt to remain hidden. After that, it wasn’t long before Sakura heard the sharp sound of her Exploding tag setting off. In an instant, Sakura felt her short-lived clones’ memories rushing back at her together with her stray chakra reserves. Determined not to lose her only chance, Sakura rushed out of her makeshift hiding place, ready to hit their pursuer—a boy who couldn’t be much older than Sasuke with light brown hair and a expressionless face—with at least one of her shuriken. She was surprised to find him lying on the floor a few feet ahead of her, unconscious.

Kunai in hand, Sakura walked over to him and checked his pulse. Steady and strong. She heard Eiko approach them as she stared at the boy’s thin lips and pale skin. He was wearing a headband with the stylized zigzag that served as Kusagakure’s symbol and a simple lime yellow shirt over grass green pants. A good ninja would take the opportunity to . . . neutralize him. Sakura’s grip around her kunai tightened.

“You have to kill him,” said Eiko, who’d walked out of their hiding spot sometime after Sakura.

“You should have waited for my signal,” said Sakura as she tried to force herself to lift her kunai. Ninja were murderers. The Grass ninja wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if their positions were reversed.

“I’ll do it,” snapped Eiko, apparently sensing Sakura’s hesitation. She reached forward and slashed at the young Grass ninja’s throat, probably with a kunai she’d picked up off the floor.

The one I gave my clone, thought Sakura as she dodged a spray of blood coming from the brown-haired boy’s jugular. Eiko wasn’t fast enough to fully evade it so the red stream hit her chest.

“We should get back to Itachi-sensei,” Sakura told her, watching as she tried to wipe away the blood staining her breasts.

“Yes,” agreed Eiko, looking down at the dead Grass ninja with a grim set to her pretty jaw.

You have a lot of explaining to do, thought Sakura, grabbing Eiko’s hand and setting out back to camp. She tried to keep focused on her surroundings even as she prayed that they wouldn’t run into any more enemies.

Ninja very rarely work alone, Iruka-sensei’s voice whispered in the back of her head.

Ninja very rarely set out to rob a travelling artist.

Ninja very rarely bothered to try and incapacitate a defenseless travelling artist with probably-poisoned senbon.

Sakura’s eyes darted all over the canopy branches, looking for any possible threats. She ordered herself not to whirl around and demand and explanation from Eiko. The right course of action was to wait until she could voice her suspicions to Itachi. She almost confronted her when they passed by the yellow peony and Eiko retrieved her sketchbook with a relieved sigh. Only the faint trembling of the hand she was still gripping Sakura’s kunai with stopped Sakura from punching her.

“We have to get back to Itachi-sensei,” said Sakura, pulling on Eiko’s arm and quickening her pace.

“You’ve been more useful than the baby jonin, so far,” Eiko tried to joke.

Sakura didn’t respond. For some reason, the knowledge that Eiko had lied to them—to all of Konoha—was making her more aggressive than she’d thought herself capable of. She remained silent on the trip back to camp, pointedly ignoring Eiko’s requests for them to slow down. The sun was almost over the horizon and Sakura had no confidence in her ability to detect and dodge senbon in darkness, especially if they sent a higher level ninja on a second attempt to capture Eiko. They needed to get back to Itachi before nightfall, so Sakura pushed Eiko as much as she dared and ignored her heaved out gasps. Sakura didn’t think she’d ever been as relieved as she was when she heard the sound of the river’s rushing water.

Ignoring Eiko’s protests, she rushed forward and pulled her along, desperate to see Itachi’s impassive face.

“Ita—” the name died on her lips when she reached the campsite and spotted Itachi’s body lying face down by the unlit firewood. “Sensei!” She let go of Eiko’s sweaty hand and ran towards him, vaguely taking in the prone forms of two other Grass ninja, one seemingly unconscious in front of Itachi and another lying several feet to his left, decapitated. “Itachi!” Sakura yelled again, scrambling to her knees beside and reaching to turn him over. “Please be all right,” she begged him, trying to ignore the blood slowly seeping out of from under his left eyelid and mixing with the clumps of dirt stuck to his cheek.

“This one’s dead,” called out Eiko, as Sakura checked Itachi’s pulse.

“Sensei’s alive,” breathed out Sakura, probably too lowly for Eiko to hear. She almost sobbed with relief when she felt Itachi’s heart beating under her fingertips enough times to be sure that she wasn’t imagining it. “Please, wake up. Please.” Much to her horror, Sakura felt tears running down her cheeks. Though she knew it was probably stupid, she pulled Itachi’s head into her lap and brushed his bangs out of his face. He was supposed to be graceful and untouchable. Konoha’s Wraith, damn it. How had random Grass ninja managed to put their hands on him?

Sakura squeezed her eyes shut and ordered herself to calm down.

“We need to hide,” said Eiko. “More will—”

“Shut up!” screamed Sakura, not caring if an entire army of Grass ninja heard her. “What we need to do is find Sasuke and Na—”

“—Sakura.”

“Sensei!” Sakura looked down at him, wiping away at her cheeks. Ninja were supposed to be emotionless. She almost started crying again when she saw his left eyelid twitch. If he could still move it, then he still had a left eye. She repeated that much to herself when he opened it and revealed a bloody mess. Even his right eye looked brutally bloodshot. So many of the red vessels providing it with blood were visible that his sclera almost looked more red than white.

“Sasuke?” he asked.

“They’re not back yet,” answered Sakura.

“. . . Help me up,” he ordered, half-reaching towards his left eye. His eyebrows furrowed before he visibly made an effort to slide his left eyelid shut.

After taking a calming breath, Sakura complied. She got to her feet and grabbed a hold of Itachi’s forearm and prepared to help him find Sasuke and Naruto.

Notes:

So, I've sort of started imagining these characters as "live-action" the more I write this. I'm imagining Naruto, Sakura, and Itachi as reasonably attractive. As per canon instructions, I'm imagining Sasuke as television, nearly-perfect good looking. (Seriously, how many women in canon have remarked on Sasuke's good looks?)

Chapter 7: Like Clockwork

Summary:

Naruto engages in some literary analysis and Itachi gets momentarily stumped.

Notes:

Warnings: graphic depiction of violence

As far as C-ranked missions went, it wasn’t so bad.

Itachi had certainly dealt with worse, especially during the direct aftermath of the Third Secret War. It’d seemed like everyone wanted everyone else dead back then, and for a few years shinobi had dreaded escort missions far more than outright assassination orders. Since escort missions made up a significant portion of shinobi work—only surveillance and reconnaissance were more common—Konoha had dealt with significant spikes in recklessness and suicides among its ranks.

“Sensei?” asked Naruto, looking up from the rabbit he was skinning. He and Sasuke had returned from their hunting assignment relatively early—just a few minutes after Miss Eiko had announced that she wanted to go on another aimless walk through the forest. Itachi had sent Sakura to guard her, though he didn’t foresee any attacks. He’d been keeping an eye out for any sign that they’d been followed, and—

“Sensei?” insisted Naruto.

Itachi considered pretending he was deaf. He recognized Naruto’s curious tone and was in no mood to deal with the upcoming barrage of questions. Why couldn’t he be just a little bit more like Sasuke, who was so focused on removing his rabbit’s brown fur that he might as well be performing surgery on the daimyo?

At least Naruto’s not trying to kill you, Kakashi pointed out in the back of Itachi’s head.

“Seeenseeei!”

“Yes, Naruto?” He was well within his rights to order the brat to shut up, but . . . it was his job to at least try to answer students’ questions.

“Haven’t you noticed that Miss Eiko’s been trying to,” and here Naruto went for a ridiculously loud whisper, “hit on you?”

“May I finish cleaning my rabbit elsewhere?” asked Sasuke.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you’re not curious!” snapped Naruto, shaking his head at Sasuke and rolling his big blue eyes.

“No,” Itachi told him. He supposed it was as good a time as any for this conversation. It didn’t even matter that Sakura wasn’t with them. Itachi doubted she needed to hear it anyway.

“Well?” Naruto was like a dog with a bone.

Itachi decided it was an admirable, if annoying, trait. “First of all,” he started as he sliced off his rabbit’s right hind paw, “yes, I noticed Miss Eiko’s advances less than an hour into this mission. I’ve been ignoring them because it would be unprofessional to respond to—or even acknowledge—a client’s sexual overtures.” He practically heard Sasuke’s teeth grinding at the sound of the word ‘sexual’. “That being said, Miss Eiko’s aggressive and blatant behavior is . . . odd. Can either of you guess why?”

“Well, you’re acting like it’s not happening,” said Naruto, sounding so baffled that it made Itachi want to laugh.

“She only started doing it after she found out you’re the jonin assigned to be her guard,” said Sasuke. He finished his rabbit and moved to stand up.

“Sit down,” ordered Itachi. It pained him to realize that in another life, his brother might have broached the subject with him willingly. Now, it’d probably be a trial for Sasuke to endure a version of The Sex Talk: Shinobi Edition coming from him. Itachi supposed he ought to be grateful to Miss Eiko for giving him an excuse to start the discussion. Her inappropriate advances were the most obvious sign that there was something off about her. To be more accurate, they ought to be the most obvious sign for his inexperienced students. Their client was hiding something.

Itachi had suspected as much the moment he read the mission synopsis. A lone artist resourceful enough to gather the funds necessary to hire a Konoha chunin squad as an escort party probably understood that she wouldn’t be allowed to keep any meaningful sketches of a trip through any of Konoha’s trails. Itachi didn’t know what her purpose was but he’d bet his sword arm it wasn’t to gather drawings for naturalists. Her nervous demands for an imposing jonin guard had confirmed his suspicions. Miss Eiko was running from something. She was trying to engage him in a personal relationship because she most likely understood that he’d be within his rights to abandon her in the middle of a shinobi forest the moment it became clear that she’d lied about the kind of danger she was in. 

Itachi had considered confronting her several times since the beginning of their trip but he’d decided to give the kids a chance to come to the same conclusion he had.

“You were going to tell us something?” prompted Naruto, sighing impatiently. “Don’t forget!”

“For ninja, sex is commodity and a weapon,” Itachi started.

“Don’t you mean for kunoichi?” asked Naruto.

“Are kunoichi not ninja?” returned Itachi.

“That’s not what I mean,” said Naruto, discarding a slice of bloody rabbit skin. “I meant that we don’t have to bat our eyes at ugly old men to get them to tell us things.”

“Don’t we?” asked Itachi. Naruto turned wide blue eyes on him. “Many times, feigning sexual attraction is a much more humane way to go about gathering information than torture.”

“But . . .” Naruto trailed off and looked away.

Clearly, he’d never considered the possibility that he might be expected to earn someone’s trust just to stab them in the back. Itachi suspected that notion bothered him more than the prospect of having sex with someone he didn’t find appealing; though it was doubtful Naruto himself realized it. Most genin had very specific delusions about what being a ninja was like. They imagined adventure, danger, and even heroism. Very few saw themselves smiling meekly at some hapless businessman, much less worming into his life just to turn around and ruin it.

“So can I go now?” asked Sasuke, gaze fixed on the forest’s roof.

“In any case,” continued Itachi, ignoring the question, “I want to discuss Miss Eiko’s behavior. Why do you think she started . . . hitting on me after she found out I’m her jonin guard?”

“Maybe she just has a thing for jonin,” suggested Naruto with a shrug before beginning to chop off his rabbit’s paws.

“A thing?” asked Sasuke, taking his eyes off the trees in order to shoot Naruto an incredulous glare.

“Yeah, like the books say,” explained Naruto with his usual earnest exuberance. “It goes like this: plain girl meets really hot and muscle-y jonin with big eyes and thick eyelashes—and the eyelashes thing’s really important, for some reason.” He said it with a frown, like he couldn’t fathom why that might be. “And he’s really upset because being a jonin is really hard. Then bandits or pirates or demons want to kill the girl and the jonin protects her and kills the bad guys in a really cool way.” Naruto emphasized his point by slashing his bloody kunai through the air. “Then they fuck—make love, whatever—in a meadow, or an altar, or a river with rain and thunder, which makes the Sasuke want to stop being a jonin so he can marry the girl and move to a farm somewhere so they can make lots of babies.”

“The Sa . . .” Sasuke trailed off and shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “What.”

“I know,” said Naruto, looking up at the sky. “Why would he want to stop being a jonin? And what is it with the eyelashes?”

“What do you mean, ‘the Sasuke’?”

“You mean you’re not doing it on purpose?” asked Naruto, going back to cleaning his rabbit.

“Doing what on purpose?” Sasuke’s tone was becoming more agitated, not entirely unlike the way it used to in the past when he’d been trying and failing to get Itachi’s attention for something. Except he’d never sounded so angry before.

“Well, I don’t think you named yourself,” mumbled Naruto, shooting Sasuke a narrow glance. “But the act can’t be all for real.”

“Obviously, I didn’t name myself,” snapped Sasuke, curling his bloody hands into fist. Then he exhaled and looked away in a visible attempt to control his temper. “What do you mean by act?”

“I think you might superficially resemble a certain archetype in . . . this genre of literature,” said Itachi, proud that his voice was completely devoid of the mirth bubbling in his gut. The fictional ninja were most likely named after Sasuke Sarutobi, just like his little brother had been. Ironically enough.

“No, I mean there’s a lot of Sasukes in these stories,” said Naruto.

“That’s what I said,” Itachi told him with a small smile.

“Really?” Naruto bit his lower lip and frowned. “You always gotta put a fancy spin on everything . . .”

“So you think I’m imitating the idiots in stupid girly books?” demanded Sasuke.

“That’s not what I said,” Itachi said, suddenly realizing that most teenage boys would take comparison much more seriously than they should.

“So you’re not?” Naruto, of course, didn’t seem to realize that Sasuke wasn’t finding the conversation amusing or enlightening in the least. “Because it’s kind of creepy how much like them you are.” Or maybe he thought it was hilarious to rile Sasuke up.

“It’s definitely creepy that there’s a bunch of books about some jonin named Sasuke who apparently resembles me superficially.” At the last word, he shot Itachi a vicious glare.

“It’s technically not the same guy and they’re not all named Sasuke,” said Naruto, like he thought that much ought to be obvious. “But it doesn’t matter because they’re all a Sasuke, anyway.”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Well, the conversation had probably gone on long enough. Sasuke was so upset that he’d been driven to emotive vulgarity. Unfortunately, Itachi had to admit that he had no idea how to steer the discussion back to the original subject without making it obvious he realized just how embarrassed Sasuke was. Maybe he should—

“I mean they’re really quiet and supposedly geniuses and they don’t have lots of friends,” explained Naruto. “And they all got ‘eyes dark as night’, ‘sooty eyelashes’, ‘hair like a raven’s wing’, and ‘skin pale as moonlight’. It's got to be at least half the reason all the girls in our class think they wanna marry you!”

“I’m not—” Suddenly, Sasuke’s rage seemed to shatter in the face of Naruto’s absurd descriptions. “. . . How can skin be like moonlight?”

“I don’t know!” Naruto sighed tiredly. “The Sasukes just have special skin, I guess. They can even shoot love out of their eyes.” Suddenly, he turned towards Itachi and looked him up and down, obviously measuring him against the fictional Sasukes inhabiting the Villages Hidden in Cheap Romance Novels. “You’re way too short and kind of skinny, but you do have some muscle and your eyelashes are really thick. I guess you could be kind of like a Sasuke.”

Something about how seriously Naruto voiced the thought made a soft laugh claw its way out Itachi’s throat. He raised a hand to cover his mouth but had to put it back down when he remembered that he’d been skinning a rabbit while Naruto and Sasuke argued. It was hard to believe there was anyone left in the world who was so naïve and innocent, but Naruto honestly seemed to think that Miss Eiko had wondered out of the pages of a silly and escapist fairy tale. And that real life jonin resembled the heroes in fanciful novels housewives read to pass the time.

“It’s not funny!” yelled Sasuke, sounding so angry and miserable that Itachi sobered immediately, realizing what Naruto had accidentally said. I guess you could be kind of like a Sasuke.

“I’m not joking either!”

Sasuke growled and stood up. Itachi started to order him back down . . . and that’s when he felt the enemy hiding in tree right behind Sasuke and reached out to grab his arm.

“Don’t touch m—”

The barrage of shuriken hit the spot where Sasuke had been standing. Itachi landed a couple of paces to their right, gripping Sasuke with one arm and Naruto with the other. The clone he’d made before grabbing Naruto jumped towards the tree, catching a single shuriken the enemy threw at it. Itachi pushed Sasuke and Naruto behind him, sensing three other enemies—one twenty paces to his left hiding atop another tree, a second on the other side of the river behind a cluster of rocks, and the last one under the river’s current, practically under his nose. He unsheathed his katana.

“What the fuck?” asked Naruto.

Itachi’s clone knocked the ninja on the tree onto the floor and jumped down to stand between him and the open forest, the shuriken it’d acquired held between its right index and middle fingers.

Short dark hair, medium-slim build, between sixteen and twenty, moss green pants, lime-yellow shirt, stylized zigzag etched into his headband, and a thick rope-like bow for a belt. A Grass ninja?

“Sasuke and Naruto, go find Sakura and our client,” Itachi ordered, wondering why his clone was holding onto the enemy’s shuriken. It could have used it.

“But what about y—” Naruto’s question was interrupted a kunai from the enemy to the left. Itachi caught it with his left hand, testing its weight and checking the sharpness of its edge with his thumb. Good quality. Certainly better than what Kusagakure could normally afford.

“Let’s go,” said Sasuke, grabbing Naruto arm and pulling him into the forest.

The Grass ninja got to his feet and glanced between Itachi and the clone with an even expression. Itachi waited for the taunt, the hiss, or the boast. Maybe a snake or two. Anything that might mark him as a Grass ninja. “We have no quarrel with you,” he said instead, young face placidly blank.

“I disagree,” said Itachi, deflecting a barrage of shuriken from the ninja to his left. The ones by the river didn’t move. “You picked a fight with me the moment you attacked my genin.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said the ninja in front of him before rushing forward.

Definitely not a Grass ninja, thought Itachi when the enemy attacked with a competent but rather mechanical Leaf Whirlwind kick. Itachi evaded it, sidestepped the follow-up kick and counterattacked with a lazy slash of his katana. The enemy jumped back, right into a kick from Itachi’s clone. He fell to his knees and winced. Without a word, he reached for his kidney and grunted. A Konoha rogue ninja would know better than to attack me, thought Itachi as he threw a kunai at the one still trying to use the tree as cover.

A woman jumped out, also wearing a standard Grass outfit. Itachi noted how clean her (and her comrade’s) clothes were. The yellow shirts were marked by sporadic grass stains, but the seams looked new. Their hair wasn’t slicked with the oil Grass ninja favored. If she’d been born in Kusagakure, the woman wouldn’t have gone anywhere with her bushy brown hair dry and unbound.

“It would’ve been smarter to disguise yourselves as Sand ninja,” Itachi told them before throwing his katana towards his clone. The more his enemies assumed he planned to keep it, the better.

“If you hand over the woman, we can part ways peacefully,” said the woman.

“For your sakes, I hope we can reach an alternate agreement,” said Itachi. He wasn’t going to turn over Miss Eiko, especially not to unidentified shinobi. Not until he reasoned out her story, at the very least.

Finally, the ninja using river rocks as cover came out of hiding. Another woman dressed in Grass gear, shorter than her teammates. And older, Itachi noticed right away. There were grey strands streaking through her light brown hair. “Come out, Yuu,” she said before rushing towards Itachi’s side of the river, running on the surface of the water so quickly that Itachi felt rather than saw the motion. She stopped between the two ninja who had already attacked, both hands held behind the small of her back. Her wrinkled-framed eyes stared forward—at Itachi’s chest rather than his face, oddly enough.

The last enemy rose out of the river. Another woman—a girl, actually. Judging by her height and narrow hips, he couldn’t be much older than Sasuke. How had she snuck so close to him? It couldn’t have been genjutsu . . . she’d swam, probably with the current. She stepped out of the river and pushed dark bangs out of her eyes. “He’s fast.”

“He’s faster than most,” conceded the older woman. Apparently satisfied that Itachi had gotten the message, his clone threw its stolen kunai at the old woman’s forehead. She batted it away with the back of her hand, the movement so smooth and quick Itachi saw only a flash.

“Your posturing is unnecessary,” Itachi told her. That kind of speed couldn’t be maintained for long. He knew that better than anyone. Her advanced age was more of a concern. Ninja who lived past thirty were more than lucky.

“Who’s posturing?” she asked. “Yuu, go after the genin. You two, distract the clone.” Instantly, the girl ran towards the trees. Itachi moved to follow, but the older woman intercepted him, aiming a blade-palm hit towards his upper arm. Itachi dodged it—or thought he did. He felt a pang of pain from where she would have hit and instinctively pushed a bit of chakra that way. It bled through, but sluggishly so. Gentle Fist? Itachi looked at the woman’s eyes, registering and ignoring a pained grunt coming from where his clone was fighting the other two. Light brown. Itachi forced chakra through the arm she’d hit until he was satisfied that the flow was back to normal.

Technically, anyone who could mold chakra could learn a bastardized version of Gentle Fist. All it required was precise chakra control and general knowledge of the human chakra pathway system. Most ninja tried it once or twice before they decided that they could be much more effective with Strong Fist. Besides, no one liked to practice a technique they knew they had no hope of mastering. Not the old lady, apparently.

He glanced over at his clone. It had the two ninja on the defensive. The woman was holding a bleeding gash over her liver. He saw at least two instances when the clone could have delivered a killing blow, but . . . well, his clones had never been particularly vicious. Fugaku had considered it evidence of a deeper character flaw.

“Yuu’s a better fighter than they are,” said the old woman. She was standing about a foot away from Itachi, not looking particularly interested in attacking him again. “And I’m faster than you. If you care about your genin, let’s come to an agreement right now. We might have time get to your kids while they’re still alive.”

“No,” said Itachi, recognizing the offer for the trap that it was. He looked over at the other two and focused on the uninjured one.

The fake Grass ninja didn’t notice he was being trapped in an illusion until it was too late. He probably didn’t notice it at all. His scream pierced the forest’s dull silence and startled his teammate so badly that Itachi’s clone got an opening to slash at her right thigh, severing the tendons and muscles that allowed her to put any weight on her right leg. She stumbled backwards, fell onto her left knee and looked over at her teammate. The other fake Grass ninja slashed a kunai across his eyes. When that had failed to chase away the belief Itachi inserted into his mind—a helpless certainty that tiny, relentless bugs were trying to eat their way out of his eye sockets—he dropped to his knees and started to claw at his own face, hacking out bloody sobs.

That’s probably enough, thought Itachi. Before he could release the genjutsu, the man stumbled into the river and was carried off by the gentle current. Distance would free him from the illusion’s torment.

“So it’s Itachi Uchiha,” said the older woman, loudly enough to be heard over her remaining subordinate’s pained dry heaves. “And Sasuke must be the younger brother. Were you two planning to inform me at some point?”

“So it’s Root.” Itachi spat out the word as though it was the vilest of curses. Only Root and the Hyuga still called him Uchiha. He wasn’t fighting any Hyuga. The clumsy Gentle Fist strike he’d shrugged off was proof enough of that much. “I thought Danzo knew better than to fuck with me by this point.” Dimly, he wondered why the old woman hadn’t recognized him right away.

“In our defense, we didn’t know this mission had been delegated to you,” said the old woman. A frustrated frown was deepening the crow’s feet at the outer outlines of her brown eyes. “Oh well,” she shrugged. “We should be grateful you have plenty of crippled cousins.”

The younger woman suddenly pulled out a set of shuriken. Itachi’s clone flickered to her side and cleanly severed her head. Blood spurted from her carotid arteries and stained his clone’s bandaged claves.

“I take it my words have upset you,” said the old woman calmly. “Interesting. Your psychological profile was quite adamant about your supposedly flat affect.”

“You’re displaying a surprising level of equanimity for someone who’s about to land herself in one of Ibiki’s prisons,” said Itachi. The thought managed to cut through the rage fogging his thoughts. Finally, Danzo had crossed the line he’d been careful to tiptoe around for so many years. He'd interfered with one of Konoha’s missions.

“You know perfectly well I’d commit suicide long before it came to that,” said the old woman. “I wonder . . . would you indulge an old woman’s childish curiosity? What was Koi’s worst fear?”

“I wouldn’t know,” answered Itachi. A second later his clone rushed at her, body aligned as though it was going for an incapacitating strike at her right shoulder. She instantly dropped into a defensive Gentle Fist stance, ready to deflect the killing blow. Itachi detonated his clone the moment it was within her reach, took advantage of her momentary shock, and aimed a shuriken at her left ribs. People could survive a pierced lung for a surprisingly long time.

The shuriken hit—and the woman puffed out of existence in a minor cloud of smoke. Instinct and years of watching the Hyuga jonin in his primary ANBU squad prompted him to raise his hand and cover his left carotid artery while he jumped backwards. He felt a wave of offensive raw chakra bleed through the skin and muscle of his left fingers while he moved to retrieved his katana from the forest’s moist ground.

“The good news is your profile isn’t entirely inaccurate,” said the old woman as Itachi flexed his left fingers and worked on restoring its circulation of chakra. “It said you’d try that.”

He should have seen her produce and hide the clone. Unless she actually was faster than—no. Itachi hadn’t fought someone faster than him since Shisui. If the old woman was that quick, she’d have incapacitated him already. She’d just made the switch during the brief instant he’d disregarded his surroundings and ensnared her male subordinate in an illusion.

“We still have time to end this without damaging any more Konoha ninja,” the old woman told him. “I’m aware of the agreement you’ve made with Danzo-sama—”

“—clearly, you’re not as aware as you assume,” interrupted Itachi. “The only thing I’ve agreed to is not to strangle Danzo with his own intestines as long as he stays away from me and my family.”

“Tsk, tsk,” said the woman. “There’s that temper again. How sad would it be to lose your genin on their first mission just because you can’t put aside your anger?”

Itachi ignored her and considered his options. There were variations, of course, but standard ANBU (and Root) squads were made up of four to six people. He’d killed one, incapacitated another (who’d probably committed suicide the moment he realized he’d blinded himself), and was currently fighting the leader. The girl in the river had gone after Sasuke and Naruto but she’d looked young enough that Itachi hoped the two of them could at least fight her to a draw.

She practically waltzed right into your camp, avoiding detection like a master hunter, said Itachi’s subconscious with the same amount of derision he’d been used to hearing in Fugaku’s voice. But the girl wouldn’t have been able to attack without making her presence known. He hoped Sasuke and Naruto would be smart enough to focus all their energy on defending themselves until he reached them. 

“Why not just turn over the artist and cut your losses?”

Instead of answering, Itachi threw another shuriken, mostly to test if he could goad the old woman into attacking. She sidestepped it, and the next few he sent her way as well. Thinking that he had a good idea of her movement patterns, he shot two shuriken in quick succession and a third one to deflect the second towards the woman’s left, exactly at the spot he predicted she would jump away to. The old woman moved just as he thought he would, and then she caught the second shuriken between the fingers of her left hand. Itachi waited a moment, hoping she would try to attack him and reveal some kind of opening. She only dropped the shuriken at her feet and kept slightly apart, ready to dodge his next attacks.

Itachi decided to try and run past her.

Predictably, that made her rush at him. He dodged several strikes at the major arteries supplying his arms and chest with blood and chakra and tried to cut a deep gash into her clavicle. She took the chance to grab his right wrist and push tendrils of burning chakra into his tendons. Instead of pulling away, Itachi pushed chakra into his left fist and aimed a punch at her temple. She let go of his wrist and tried to evade. The punch caught her in the chin.

“I’d imagined you’d be a much more impressive opponent,” said the old woman when Itachi jumped backward and switched sword arm. It’d take him a few minutes to repair the damage to his wrist.

“Spare me the empty boasts,” Itachi told her, watching as she flexed the muscles of her jaw. “If you had any hope of beating me, Danzo would’ve sent you after me a long time ago.”

“Luckily for me,” started the woman, smirking in Itachi’s general direction, “all I have to do is keep you occupied until Yuu’s found your genin and gutted them like pigs.”

Rationally, Itachi understood that she was trying to goad him into making an enraged and careless mistake. It was exactly what he did whenever he fought anyone with even the slightest amount of competence. How many times had he stood in front of an enemy with a carefully constructed air of boredom and superiority, patiently waiting for them to rush forward and leave themselves open for an attack? He knew that he needed to remain calm and continue to force the old woman into wasting chakra to block and evade attacks. Eventually, she would start running low enough on energy that he’d be able to defeat her without having to kill her.

It would be a great strategy, if he could be sure that there were no stray Root members besides the girl that had run off after Sasuke and Naruto. He couldn’t be. For all he knew, there was a Root army between them and Konoha, all working on killing his team while he played cat and mouse against the old woman currently keeping him occupied.

For what felt like the first time in his life, Itachi truly understood what it was to be fighting against time.

“I’d rather not confuse you into killing yourself,” said Itachi, frowning. If he killed the first chance he had to prove Danzo was actively working to undermine Konoha’s current leadership, he’d beat himself up about it for months.

“Your illusions aren’t going to work on me,” said the woman, shaking her head smugly.

If Itachi had a yen for every imbecile who’d declared as much after watching one of their teammates self-mutilating because of his genjutsu, his fortune would rival the daimyo’s. He knew the woman wouldn’t be able to shake off his illusions—no taijutsu specialist besides Guy had ever managed to—but he didn’t want to risk killing her. She was skilled enough that he had no doubt her capture would help Hokage-sama get the upper hand on Danzo.

“I hope Yuu has enough sense not to kill your brother,” the old lady said wistfully. “One teenage boy would be enough to breed army of brats in a couple of years.”

Itachi decided to settle for whatever information he could get out of Eiko. He sheathed his katana and pulled a full set of shuriken from the weapon pack tied to his right thigh. After aiming separate hits at her forehead, kidneys, carotids, and eyes—deflect all that while keeping your focus on me—Itachi started forming the seals for one of the deepest non-Sharingan based genjutsu he knew. With a private smirk, he reached for the tendrils of chakra coming from the old woman and started to disrupt the flow of information between her senses and her brain. Itachi knew of things that no one wanted to see—

It didn’t work.

The old woman must have sense his confusion because she suddenly rushed straight at him, pushing aside his shuriken and aiming a Gentle Fist strike at his solar plexus. Itachi prepared to dodge . . . but decided to stand still and hold his katana—sharp edge pointed away from his skin—right in front of where the old woman’s strike would hit. A burst of raw chakra penetrated the skin over his stomach, disrupting a localized portion of the energy flow around the area. The old woman took her left hand back with a frown deepening her wrinkles. Blood was oozing out of a gash over the palm of her hand. Itachi knew her attack had been so forceful that she’d pushed into his katana harshly enough to scrape the bones of her hand.

“You’re blind,” he said, watching as she tried to flex the fingers of her newly injured hand.

“Always have been,” she retorted, tearing at the lime-yellow fabric of her Grass tunic.

It was why his genjutsu had failed. He didn’t have enough experience with blind brains to truly understand their chakra circulation. It’d take him too long to figure out the flow of energy, and even longer to learn how to alter it. If he tried more genjutsu, she’d incapacitate him before the illusion even started.

While she fashioned an impromptu bandage, Itachi tried to correct the damage her last Gentle Fist strike had caused. He focused on enlisting his chakra to fix the damage to his muscles, doing his best to imitate the healing process Eiji had been teaching him over the last few months. Unfortunately, he was not yet skilled enough to repair problems with his chakra circulation itself.

Despite his situation, he found himself suppressing a chuckle. A blind Gentle Fist user . . . what next? Would a fish leap out of the river and fly off towards the sun? He supposed it made a paradoxical sort of sense. Even without scoring a direct or precise hit, the blind old woman could cause significant damage. That was the whole point of Gentle Fist, actually. Haphazard destruction. It didn’t matter how much the Hyuga touted it as an elegant and delicate choreography of subtle strikes.

“That trick won’t work a second time,” the old woman told him after she’d secured the strip of yellow fabric over her wound. Without another word, she adopted a traditional Gentle Fist stance, injured hand in the defensive position.

Tentatively, Itachi slid his right foot forward. The old woman automatically shifted in preparation for an attack to her right side. Sound. Of course. No matter how light he made his footing, he’d never be able to truly walk on air. Konoha’s Wraith was made of flesh and blood. Guy had discussed how he guessed his enemies’ planned attacks by carefully monitoring their footwork, trying to use his ears as much as his eyes. Since the old woman had no other method of observation, Itachi bet she was better at the trick than Guy himself.

Not that it’d help her much. Itachi had already figured out how to win. Without bothering to keep his footing light, he rushed towards her right, trying to make his feint towards her injured side as obvious as possible. When she prepared to sidestep to the left, Itachi switched trajectory and slashed at her left clavicle. The woman shifted before his katana could connect and counterattacked with a swift hit towards his shoulder. Itachi moved away, but the attack grazed the inside of his elbow and almost made him drop his katana. He jumped backwards, trying to ignore the slight smirk on the old woman’s face. It took a couple of seconds to restore the damage to his arm.

“You think you’re the first one to try that one?” she asked. “So much for being a genius.”

She’s trying to taunt me into making a mistake, Itachi told himself, trying to repress his frustration. A ninja is, first and foremost, calm under all situations.

The sudden explosion coming from the direction Sasuke and Naruto had run off towards did more to shatter his composure than any taunt the old woman had thrown at him.

Itachi’s knees bent almost of their own accord and only the knowing smile on the old woman’s thin lips stopped him from leaping without thinking. If he was incapacitated (or killed; he was certain the old woman would settle for delivering his rotting corpse to Danzo) he would not be able to help Sasuke. His next move would have to be decisive.

For the first time in almost five years, Itachi let his irises turn ruby red.

Of course, the old woman didn’t notice the change and didn’t move to attack him. He could rush at her again. Her movements would be much clearer now. He wouldn’t have to rely so much on his other senses and his secondhand knowledge of Gentle Fist. She probably wouldn’t notice the change in his perceptions until it was too late . . .

It would still take too long.

Pushing aside his misgivings, Itachi focused chakra into his eyes and forced his Sharingan’s tomoe to fuse into the pinwheel that formed his Mangekyo Sharingan. His felt the back of his eyes—retina and optic nerves—scream in protest as the tomoe shifted, and then—

Then the chakra enabling the old woman’s senses became as clear as the finest and most refined of diamonds. She stood, unaware of how much Itachi’s perspective had evolved, and the delicate webs of chakra that made up the connections between her ears, nose, skin—all her senses—were mapped out by his Mangekyo. Even the weak links between her brain and unseeing eyes were clear as crystals.

While she waited for him to make a move, Itachi stared at her blank gaze and gathered enough chakra to use Tsukuyomi. Even before the genjutsu was in full effect, the old woman’s light brown eyes widened. “I can . . . how?”

“You’re welcome,” said Itachi, thinking that it was marvelous that Tsukuyomi could give the blind sight.

Not that it was a particularly good sight. Even without the tint of blood misting the forest, everything looked off. No wind was ruffling the tree branches, the few leaves that were falling to the ground were doing so in slow, segmented trajectories, and the river’s water flowed sluggishly and with muted sound. The coppery scent coming from the corpse’s severed head suddenly overpowered the fragrance of leaves and moist earth.

The odd imperfections were annoying. Suddenly, Itachi wanted the old Root woman to see the world with as much merciless clarity as he did. While he considered if it was possible to make Tsukuyomi’s illusion more realistic, she rushed forward. The strike she aimed at his heart passed right through him.

“I guess I really am a ghost now,” Itachi told her.

She tried to hit him a few more times, but all her attempts were futile.

I am God here.

Mechanically, Itachi raised his katana and severed her right arm, smiling at the woman’s forcefully aborted escape attempt. Her meat and bones offered no resistance. The woman opened her mouth, but Itachi was in no mood to hear any screams. No sound came out of her throat.

In a way, he’d been forced to main his clan because of Root. The old woman ought to feel the same pain. Like clockwork, he began to cut off her limbs and cleave her tendons and nerves.

Right arm, right leg, left leg, left arm. Above the elbow, right at the shoulder, above the knee, upper femur, and so forth. Slash at the radius and ulna first, deeply enough to cleave the median and ulnar nerves. It was so easy when the muscles and tendons seemed to be made of air. He wondered why the scent of her fake blood was clogging his nose with copper.

After all that was left of her was a bloody torso without limbs, he let her injuries clear and began again, making sure her throat was too tense for the screams she so desperately needed. He kept doing it even after his own shoulder and elbow joints were so sore that every movement sent waves of pain off to his brain. Eventually, he began to wonder if he wasn’t trapped in the genjutsu just as effectively as his opponent was . . . and then he felt a gust of wind hit his face.

Warm blood trickled down his left eye before he felt all his strength deserting his limbs. He watched the old woman fall to the ground before he stumbled forward. The whole world went black.

“Itachi!”

Sakura’s voice could be so shrill. But it was good she was screaming. Meant she was still alive. Still . . .

“Sakura,” he said, itching for silence. His head was pounding.

“Sensei!”

Not so loud, he wanted to say. His left eye was moist and sticky. He raised his right arm—tried to raise his right arm and had to hold back a grunt of pain. It was probably for the best. Why had he tried to wipe at his injured eye with a possibly dirty hand in the first place? And where was—“Sasuke?”

“They’re not back yet,” Sakura told him, green eyes wet and gleaming.

“. . . Help me up,” he told her, instinctively reaching to scratch at his left eye again. The pain stopped him even before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to poke at his injuries. He was suffering from full-body chakra exhaustion. But on the bright side, he was so exhausted that he didn’t have enough energy to ask Sakura not to pull on his injured—when did I injure it?—arm, much less the strength necessary to keep panicking.

“We have to go get them,” Sakura was babbling as Itachi did his best to regain his balance. When Miss Eiko stepped forward and put an arm around his waist, Itachi prepared for a sudden attack. He didn’t relax when it became clear that she was helping stay on his feet.

“Don’t pass out again, baby jonin.”

You lied to us. It was a good thing he didn’t say it out loud. For all he knew, Miss Eiko was an enemy ninja trying to smuggle information out of Konoha. Probably . . . Itachi wanted to shake his fogged head. It was exactly what she was. Why else would Root be after her?

“I need to clean out my eyes,” he said out loud. They hurt worse than he could ever remember; more than they had the first time he’d awakened Sharigan even. His nightmare was coming true. Something was trying to eat its way out of his left eye. His entire left field of vision was blurry and red.

“Get some drinking water and pour in some of your iodine,” Miss Eiko told Sakura. Instead of obeying, Sakura stepped closer to him and shot Eiko a distrustful glare.

“. . . Do as she says,” ordered Itachi, despite his misgivings. If she wanted his dead, she would have killed him while he’d been unconscious. Besides, if she was an enemy—she is an enemy; she nearly got your team killed—Itachi needed her to assume she hadn’t been discovered. “And bring me some rations.” The sound of the word alone made his stomach clench hungrily. Itachi hoped the calories would be enough to combat the lethargy atrophying his limbs. Silently, he prayed that Sasuke was strong enough to save himself . . .

The forest was once again silent. Itachi tried to tell himself it was a good thing.

“Sensei . . .” Sakura looked uninjured, but Itachi recognized the early signs of a panic attack hanging over her anxious green eyes. She passed him a strip of beef jerky and shook the canteen on her left hand frantically, more forcefully then was necessary to dissolve the iodine tincture.

“Hang your head back,” ordered Miss Eiko, after he took his first bite of jerky. Itachi did so, grateful for the taste of bitter meat on his tongue. “Keep your eyes open. Sakura, keep his bangs out of his face . . . what did they do to you, baby jonin?”

They did nothing to me, he thought as the cool water touched his burning right eye. Seconds later, Eiko moved on to his left eye and tried to clean it. Through a thin and blurry red film, Itachi saw Sakura’s pale lips tremble at his left side. He told himself it couldn’t be as bad as it probably looked. He felt his left eye pulsing with pain, so it was still alive.

“I think you got a slight bleed under your left cornea,” said Miss Eiko. She’d stopped pouring soothing water over his eyes and started gazing down at him with a worried frown furrowing her slim brown eyebrows.

“What, are you a medic now?” demanded Sakura.

“I wish.” Miss Eiko snorted. “I know some basic first aid, is all. Your iris doesn’t look damaged. Hard to tell with it being nearly black . . .”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Itachi told them, closing his eyes and feeling another tear of warm and thick blood trickle down his left cheek. Better the blood flow freely instead of getting trapped behind his cornea. Rampant inflammation could and would cause necrosis.

“I need—” Sudden footsteps made him wonder where the hell he’d dropped his katana. He realized Sakura had strapped it across her hip before Naruto’s high-pitched voice pierced his ears.

“Sensei! The Bastard passed out!”

Notes:

I'm officially caught up with what I've posted on FF.net.

Chapter 8: Swelling and Fractures

Summary:

Life hates Sasuke and wants him to suffer. Also, the plot gestates.

Sasuke woke up in pain.

Only years of listening to Iruka-sensei lecturing about the importance of making no sudden movements if they ever woke up in a strange place kept him from twitching and reaching to rub his forehead.

“. . . Konoha’s only a day from here.”

Itachi’s voice. It made Sasuke’s muscles contract. Sharp pain spiked up his right arm and ebbed off into a dull pulse.

“Sasuke.”

He frowned. If he’d managed to stay completely still, he might have been able overhear something. Mikoto would be disappointed.

Sasuke decided not to tell her of his mistake.

“Bastard!”

“Shut up, Naruto.” He said that in his head, but the words themselves sounded slurred. His tongue felt thick and clumsy.

“Sasuke, I need you to try and open your eyes.”

Itachi didn’t get to tell him what to do anymore. No, wait. Jonin-sensei. Yes, he did. But Sasuke’s eyelids didn’t want to listen. His arm was still screaming.

“Sasuke, I’m going to help you into a sitting position—”

“—no!” Sasuke’s eyelids snapped open.

The sky was still a clear shade of blue but the sun was close enough to setting that no rays stung his eyes directly. Sakura’s green eyes were staring down out him, pink eyebrows furrowed and tense. She wasn’t wearing red. Had she ever not worn red? Beside her, Naruto also stared down at him, blue eyes widened in concern. Had he ever not worn orange? He wasn’t wearing his headband either. Confused, Sasuke looked to his other side and almost gasped at the sight of Itachi’s bloodshot eyes. The left one looked more red than black. Sharingan? No. It was just the sclera. He tried to sit up, but another wave of pain from his right arm almost made him lose consciousness.

At least his last word came out clear. Maybe.

“Now’s not the time to get all snitty,” Naruto said. “There’re enemies tracking us, probably.”

But why? What the hell was going on?

Itachi raised his left arm—why left? You’re right handed—and held his index finger in front of Sasuke’s eyes. “Try to follow my finger’s trajectory,” he ordered. Despite the urge to disobey, Sasuke kept his gaze on the tip of Itachi’s finger. The skin of covering the pad was pink, a few shades lighter than the beige tan Sasuke would have expected. “Good,” said Itachi. “Sakura, help him straighten up. Make sure not to jostle his broken arm.”

My arm!

“Naruto, go get some wild fruits,” continued Itachi.

“Right,” said Naruto, before rising and taking off.

Sasuke heard Itachi shift, which was odd since Itachi never made any unnecessary movements. There were so many things confusing him that he didn’t give it more than a passing thought.

For starters, he noticed that his elbow had been immobilized by a makeshift splint made up of . . . Itachi’s scabbard? It’d been broken it into two sleek black pieces and tightened behind and inside his right elbow. A bit of violently purple swelling was visible around the edges of the bandages. The sight of it made his pain feel more acute. When did he break his arm?

Without saying anything, Sasuke let Sakura slip her arm under his back and hoped that the alarm he was feeling wasn’t too obviously written on his face. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to remember what he was supposed to do when dealing with profound disorientation. First and foremost, remain calm, Iruka-sensei’s voice reminded him. Next, try to scan your body for any obvious injuries.

Well, his arm was obviously broken. He couldn’t even tell where exactly. Right under his elbow? He had to bite his lower lip to keep a cry of pain inside his mouth when Sakura accidentally shook him as she helped him sit up. He couldn’t really tell his fingers from each other. He couldn’t really tell if he even had fingers unless he was looking down at them. His entire right arm felt like a steadily pulsating mass of pain. It was the sharpest ache in his body, followed closely by the blanket of pressure pushing down on his head. Maybe his whole right side felt worse . . . it was hard to say.

And he was thirsty.

“Open your eyes,” Itachi ordered.

Sasuke felt his jaw tightening but he obeyed. He needed to figure out where the hell he was anyway. Trees everywhere, trunks wide and covered by peeling layers of dark brown bark he didn’t recognize. Even the shortest one was at least as tall as Konoha’s oldest and largest. He was away from home—and the compound. For the first time since waking up, Sasuke truly felt the edges of a panic attack nipping at his composure. Strangely enough, the pounding of his heart wiped his field of vision clean and made the world seem painfully clear. He swore he could see leaves hitting the ground before they were done falling. Sakura gasped. Sasuke realized his fear probably was obvious.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm . . .

“His eyes . . .” A woman he’d never heard breathed out the words.

Sasuke looked towards the sound and felt his throat contracting with tension. Shoulder length brown hair, tall, pale skin, lots of curves, short black yukata his mother would called indecent, big leather bag, and an air of stress and fear hunching her shoulders. Sasuke didn’t recognize the woman seated on a fallen tree trunk a few feet in front of him but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he should.

“Sasuke, I need you to take a deep breath,” said Itachi. “Please,” he added when Sasuke turned a vicious glare on him.

His mother would say that it was smart to encourage positive behavior, so Sasuke obeyed. Deliberately, he sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold, held his breath for a few moments, and then slowly let it all out. It made his sore throat feel even drier, but his heart rate did slow down. He repeated the process a second time. Then a third. A fourth time to avoid lifting his eyelids and looking at Itachi’s bloodshot eyes. It’d only make him angry again. The fear didn’t come back though. Stupid as it was, Sasuke was convinced Itachi wouldn’t let him get hurt. You’re hurt already, his mind whispered.

“Here you go,” said Sakura, gently tapping on Sasuke’s shoulder. She gave him a black canteen and when the cool water passed through his parched throat, Sasuke decided that he was glad she was on his team after all. By the time the water hit his stomach, he was aware of just how hungry he was. He wished for Naruto to come back, hopefully before he was forced to look at Itachi’s face again.

“I got it!” Naruto cried, almost as if Sasuke’s wish had summoned him. He slid close to Sasuke and offered a pair of newly peeled oranges. “They’re from the sweetest tree.”

“How would you know?” demanded Sasuke before putting down Sakura’s canteen, taking an orange, and biting into eagerly. The bittersweet citrus made his stomach growl.

“Cause I tried from all the trees this morning,” explained Naruto, rolling his eyes. Sasuke realized he’d been unconscious for at least a day.

“I could really use a snack too, you know,” said a petulant, feminine voice. It was the woman Sasuke didn’t recognize.

Sasuke ignored her. Everyone else did too, which made him feel vindicated. Then it made him wonder if maybe she wasn’t real. Wouldn’t Naruto be tripping over himself to gain favor with such a pretty woman? Wouldn’t Sakura, at least, try to be polite? Wouldn’t Itachi acknowledge her presence? The woman snorted and Sasuke looked over at her, wondering if It—if his teammates were going to ask him what he was staring at so intently. His head was still pounding almost as much as his broken arm.

“Sasuke, what’s the last thing you remember?” asked Itachi. His voice made Sasuke frown even as he chewed on the leftover skin of his orange. It was a logical question for someone who’d obviously suffered some kind of head trauma but Sasuke just didn’t like Itachi’s voice.

“Come on, Bastard!”

“Naruto, could you not be obnoxious for once in your life?” Sakura’s voice was brimming with its usual impatience and anger but there was something else giving it a different edge. Fear.

“I’m not!” snapped Naruto, blue eyes narrowed. Sasuke was pretty sure it was the first time he’d ever raised his voice in anger at Sakura. “I’m just trying to . . . to be encouraging and shit!”

“Stop arguing.” Itachi didn’t raise his voice—he would never—but Sasuke heard the tension in his tone anyway. “Sasuke, what’s the last thing you remember?” he repeated.

“Waking up.” Sasuke knew that wasn’t what Itachi was asking but he didn’t care. His fault for not wording his thoughts more precisely. Sasuke took a sort of perverse pleasure in watching his bloodshot eyes narrow.

“He’s probably fine if he remembers how to be a dick,” Naruto said and Sasuke knew him well enough to picture his blue eyes rolling.

“I meant what’s the last thing you remember before waking up,” Itachi clarified. There was no way for Sasuke to misinterpret that, so he had no choice but to try and remember.

It was supposed to be hotter. He remembered the sun doing its damndest to boil his skin off, sweat losing a battle to cool him down. And Hinata avoiding his gaze as she thanked him for something. Itachi looking placid and amused, untouched by the oppressive heat. Gazing down at his copy of a picture, trying to erase the gentle smile on Itachi’s face, wondering what it would do to his parents to see him looking so content as he ruffling Naruto’s blond head with comfortable ease. “The team photo,” he mumbled, instinctively aware that it’d happened way before his confused brain was telling him it had. Everyone was dressed so strangely . . . except Itachi, who only looked weird because he looked injured. Sasuke hadn't thought it possible to injure Itachi. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“Shit,” said Naruto. “That was a week ago.”

Sasuke felt all the air leave his lungs.

“Eight days,” Itachi corrected him, looking down at Sasuke with bloodshot eyes studiously blank.

“I’m sure you’ll remember,” said Sakura, reaching over to rub Sasuke’s shoulder.

He shrugged her off. His head hurt too much to dredge up the actual numbers but he was pretty sure most people don’t recover memories lost to concussions. And most people lost a few hours, not eight days. His stomach felt hollow, and he didn’t know if it was just because he was hungry. “How long was I out?” To cover the waver in his voice, he bit into his orange and stared down at the swelling trying to edge out from under the bandages over his right elbow.

“Nineteen hours,” answered Itachi.

“There was a girl,” added Naruto. “And she was so fast and quiet. But don’t worry, we got her. You tricked her and she didn’t see it coming even a little bit and—”

“—cam down, Naruto.” Sakura sounded so tired.

“Sasuke, name five people you know,” ordered Itachi.

A basic cognition test. To see if he was brain damaged. How badly he was brain damaged. His hand looked a little blue. Not a good sign. “Naruto, Sakura, Daisuke, Rei . . .” Mikoto, Fugaku . . . “Hinata.”

“Count backwards from ten.”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven . . .” His head pulsed with pain but he could think. He answered all basic questions Itachi asked without any difficulty. Sasuke was so relieved he almost wanted to cry. “Where are we?” He hated asking Itachi questions so he made sure to look at Sakura for an answer.

“Do you remember Sensei telling us to prepare for our first C-ranked mission?”

“No.” Sasuke hated how gently she'd asked the question and how soft her green eyes looked. He tried to force himself to remember but there was nothing between the team picture and the pain he was feeling.

“Well,” started Naruto, leaning forward a bit, “we were supposed to guard an artist on her way to Magome-juku but she turned out to be a liar who wants to steal something from Konoha.”

“I already told you,” screeched the woman Sasuke had all but forgotten, “I’m not trying to take anything from you people! I just want to go home.”

Itachi didn’t spare her a glance but Naruto and Sakura shot her dirty looks. As he looked at her despairing face, Sasuke was mostly grateful that she wasn’t a figment of his confused imagination.

“Sasuke.” He really wished Itachi would stop saying his name.

Unable to wipe the frown off his face, Sasuke turned to look at him. “What?”

“We had an altercation with enemy ninja,” he explained gent—no. Itachi wasn’t gentle. “You hit your head and broke your arm but you’ll be fine.”

Sasuke almost threw what was left of his orange at Itachi’s tired face. The attempts to comfort him were more painful than the insistent ache coming from his mangled arm; worse than the pounding cloud of confusion over his mind. He was never going to be anything close to fine and Itachi was the reason for it. The rage clouding his vision must have been evident on his face because Itachi suddenly rose to his feet and turned towards the woman. The artist. Their client. Sasuke put the peeled orange in his lap and reached for Sakura’s canteen.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Sakura asked as Itachi walked a few paces to the left of Sasuke's field of vision and sat beside the woman in the black yukata.

“Rations?” They didn’t taste good but Sasuke was hungry enough to gorge himself on Naruto’s nasty instant ramen cups if it came to that.

“Sensei inhaled them all yesterday,” said Naruto, sliding closer to Sasuke and glancing at his injured arm wearily before offering him the remaining orange. “And drank all our water too.”

“He was trying to recover from chakra exhaustion,” snapped Sakura, taking her canteen from Sasuke’s hand.

Why they didn’t notice how Itachi was gazing at the woman, Sasuke couldn’t say. “Miss Eiko, look at them,” he started before gesturing at him. And at Naruto and Sakura. “They nearly died yesterday because of the people after you. At the very least, they deserve to know why.” Briefly, the woman’s chin seemed to tremble. She looked away, possibly to hide any tears that might be threatening to spill from her eyes.

Sasuke didn’t remember what had happened the previous day but he doubted that he’d risked his life for a random woman. He almost said so just to contradict Itachi but ultimately desire for information kept him quiet.

“Lady, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what’s going on,” said Naruto.

“As if any Leaf bastards would,” cried Miss Eiko. She tried to stand up, but Itachi grabbed her arm and pulled her back down onto the tree trunk.

“Why the hell did you hire us if you think we’re no good?” demanded Naruto. His voice grated on Sasuke’s pounding head. It even seemed to exacerbate the pulsing coming from his right arm.

“Because she didn’t have any other options,” answered Sakura, letting out an angry breath. “She was in Konoha itself.”

“Let go of me,” Miss Eiko cried, trying to pull away from Itachi’s grasp and then using her free arm to try and pull his fingers off her. For a moment, Sasuke expected her to bite at him. “I’m not going to tell you anything.”

“I sent a crow back to Konoha yesterday,” Itachi told her and Sasuke wondered where he’d gotten crows. After maiming the clan? “Reinforcements will be here by nightfall. You either tell me what’s going on, or you’ll tell an ANBU squad.”

“I . . .” She really looked like she was considering if she could get away with spitting on Itachi. “This is exactly why everyone outside the Hidden Villages despises shinobi. You all act like you can own people just because you can do some magic tricks with chakra.”

“Hey, that’s not true—”

“—shut up, Naruto!” ordered Sakura. “This isn’t a game.”

“I don’t think it’s a game,” protested Naruto.

“Quiet,” ordered Itachi without taking his eyes off Miss Eiko. “Who are you trying to protect from us?”

“I . . .” she looked away. “Please, just let go of my arm. It’s not like I’m fast enough to get away from you.” Itachi complied and she buried her face in her hands, sighing deeply. Sasuke tried to shift but even the slightest movement jostled his injured arm and worsened his pain.

“They’ll be here by nightfall, Miss Eiko.”

Finally, the woman began to speak. “My mother was one of the daimyo’s mistresses,” she started, pushing her elbows against her knees and holding her forehead on her hands. Her thick brown hair hid her face. “I guess he might be my father . . . Either way, he paid for my tutors so I got to learn a little bit about everything. Then my mother aged, lost her looks, and he kicked her to the curve. She must have really loved him . . .” She trailed off and sighed tiredly, taking off her large leather bag and placing it beside her on the ground.

“Go on,” prompted Itachi.

“When she died, I started making a living by drawing portraits and selling landscape paintings,” she went on after another sigh. “Eventually, I got the idea to start travelling. Not like anyone was really going to miss me at the Capital . . . Anyway, a few months ago I ran into a caravan who was heading to Konoha and I thought, hey, why not get to see how the fearsome shadow warriors live?” She raised her head, looked into the forest, and rolled her eyes. “I thought it was going to be such a great adventure. And then . . .”

“And then?” repeated Naruto. Itachi’s orders never kept him quite for long. Usually, his insubordination made Sasuke feel vindicated but today the screechy voice was drilling nails into his aching head.

“Well, Konoha was nothing like I imagined it would be,” continued Miss Eiko, turning her head towards them. Sakura fidgeted. Sasuke bit into his orange. “It’s not hard to see why most girls dream of snagging a ninja, why most orphans like to pretend their pocket knives are kunai. Hard not to want to be in a place with so much food everywhere, though it was strange to see people not being afraid of ninja for once.”

“Miss Eiko, why would Root be after you?” asked Itachi.

Root?

“I told you, I don’t know what Root is,” she protested, pushing her face against her hands again.

“I still don’t either,” complained Naruto.

“It’s a branch of ANBU,” explained Itachi. “Their foremost duty is to guard Konoha’s secrets.”

And to stump on anyone who rebels against the Hokage, thought Sasuke bitterly. You crippled the clan on their orders.

“I suppose you people consider all your tricks secret,” said Miss Eiko with a pained laugh.

“We keep as many of our jutsu as confidential as we possibly can, yes,” agreed Itachi. “Are you saying you have one of our secret scrolls?”

Miss Eiko snorted and rolled her eyes at him. “You know perfectly well I don’t,” she said. “It’s not like ignored all the chances I gave you to feel me up.”

“I knew it!” Naruto leaned closer to Sasuke, though his ‘whisper’ was more than loud enough for Itachi and Miss Eiko to hear. Sakura sighed and groaned.

“You could have read and memorized one while you were at Konoha,” insisted Itachi.

“I didn’t,” snapped Miss Eiko. “It’s just . . .” She took a deep breath, held it in, and slowly let it out before looking directly at Itachi’s face. “When I met him, I thought he was blind. He was always staring straight ahead, and his eyes look almost white unless you’re standing really close to him. But he was wearing a headband, so I got a little obsessed. What could be neater than a blind ninja?”

“You’re describing a Hyuga,” said Itachi, voice calculating.

“Who?” asked Naruto.

“Hinata’s family,” explained Sakura.

“Who?”

“She was in our class, dumbass,” said Sasuke, remembering Hinata’s tentative query about Naruto. She had only asked because of the Fox, so Sasuke had no idea why he was vaguely offended on her behalf. “Heir to Konoha’s biggest clan? Byakugan?” Naruto looked at him with wide, confused eyes. “She has the most obvious kekkei genkai in Konoha. How could you not remember her?”

“It’s not my fault no tells me shit,” argued Naruto, frowning at the ground.

“The girl who was partnered with me most often,” said Sasuke, remembering that he was supposed to be Naruto’s friend. The pain was fogging his mind.

“Oh, I remem—”

“—Be quiet,” interrupted Itachi, not taking his eyes off Miss Eiko’s anxious face. “What happened with the Hyuga?”

“Let’s just say that he wasn’t as resistant to my charms as you were,” answered Ms. Eiko, fiddling with the hem of her short yukata.

“Are you saying you had . . . relations with a Hyuga clansman?” Itachi sounded utterly incredulous. Miss Eiko snorted again.

“By relations, you mean sex,” said Naruto before chuckling and shooting Sasuke a knowing glance.

“But that’s . . .” started Sakura.

“Absurd,” finished Sasuke.

“And you’re pregnant,” said Itachi.

“Yes,” admitted Miss Eiko.

It wasn’t even surprising that Itachi looked almost shocked. “That explains why Danzo is after you . . .” he said. “But it doesn’t explain why he would try to frame Grass ninja for your disappearance or why he didn’t report your condition before you ever stepped outside Konoha.”

“So you’re really going to drag me back to there?” demanded Miss Eiko, rising to her feet.

“I never claimed that I wouldn’t,” pointed out Itachi, rising to his feet as well.

“This isn’t fair.”

“Don’t pretend to be childish,” Itachi told her. “No matter how ignorant of shinobi customs you may have been, you can’t really expect me to believe that you didn’t know what would happen if you became pregnant by a carrier of one of our bloodlines.”

“You can’t just drag me back to your village against my will.” Her knees where slightly bent, and her hands were curled into angry fists. Stupid. Itachi could kill her before she even realized he’d started to move.

“Miss Eiko, I can do anything I want to you and we both know it,” said Itachi. “Let’s not waste each other’s time with pointless reiterations of that simple fact.”

“Wait a minute,” said Naruto. “We can’t just kidnap random people just because they got pregnant.”

“Naruto, we have to,” Sakura told him. “Even if we let her go, someone will kill her and steal her baby they moment they realize what eyes it has.”

“But—”

A crow’s harsh cow stalled whatever Naruto had been about to say, prompting Sasuke to look at the sky and consciously note that the sun was almost completely over the horizon. The crow flapped its glossy wings and landed on an unconcerned Itachi’s shoulder. It cawed demandingly until Itachi extended his left arm, then it walked down and . . . vomited an inexplicably dry, tiny scroll into the palm of Itachi’s hand.

“That’s never going to stop being creepy,” said Naruto, shivering despite the forest’s relative warmth.

“ANBU’s on its way,” said Itachi, burning the scroll with a short burst of flame. The crow cawed one last time and vanished off Itachi’s shoulder, leaving behind a single black feather that tumbled to the forest’s moist ground. “It’d be in your best interest to cooperate with them.”

“What are they going to do to me?” Miss Eiko asked.

“Nothing if you do as they say,” responded Itachi, gesturing at the ground. When Miss Eiko sat and curled into herself, Itachi turned towards Sasuke. “A medic is on his way. Keep drinking water and try not to fall asleep again. I’ll have to wake you if you do.”

“Don’t worry Sensei,” said Naruto. “I’ll keep him so annoyed sleep’ll be the farthest thing from his mind.”

Itachi nodded and started to build a fire. A strange decision considering Naruto’s claim that enemies might be tracking them. Sasuke grunted and reached for Sakura’s canteen. He didn’t even bother to say that Naruto’s antics wouldn’t be necessary to keep him awake. Even if he wasn’t in such pain, he had too many things to think about. Sleep would elude him.

Hyuga clansmen weren’t allowed to be with any woman without explicit permission from the Hyuga elders and about fifty different marriage contracts detailing who exactly would have custody of any resulting children. It wouldn’t be the parents, of course. Byakugan children belonged to the Hyuga and that meant they all of them had to be born into the clan. No form of contraception besides abstinence was effective one hundred percent of the time, so Hyuga men especially were expected to keep to themselves. The fact that at least one of them hadn’t was indicative of severe problems among the Hyuga. His parents would be intrigued, to say the least.

It was different for the women. If they got pregnant, the baby would be right there. It wouldn’t even be a bastard since the clans would give them a family name automatically. As a matter of fact, the women from the lesser families were sometimes encouraged to . . . seek out random but healthy looking peasants whenever clans felt that their numbers were dwindling. Sasuke had a rather large number of cousins under four. He knew very few of their fathers.

Expecting near-celibacy from clansmen wasn’t a practice exclusive to the Hyuga, though. Sasuke himself had been instructed to stay away from all women who made sexual advances towards him. One of the reasons he hated the girls’ constant attempts to romance him was that it disrespected his clan. They all had to know that he was expected to stay celibate (or at least, to refrain from heterosexual intercourse) until he was married to whatever girl his parents and the Uchiha elders selected for him.

He glanced over at Itachi, who’d planted himself right next to Miss Eiko and closed his eyes to meditate. Sharingan didn’t belong to the Uchiha anymore because the clan had no way to stop Itachi from impregnating every woman in Fire Country if he so chose. If the gossip on the official files had any truth to it, he’d started with a woman named Anko Mitarashi. Sasuke hoped his father didn’t know.

“I’m sorry you got hurt.” Naruto sounded like voicing the sentence had been like driving rusty nails into his throat.

“Why?” demanded Sasuke. “Was it your fault?” Instead of the angry rebuttal Sasuke had expected, Naruto fell uncharacteristically silent. Sasuke looked towards him and was taken aback by how much he’d hunched into himself. He almost asked for details—why wasn’t Naruto mocking him for getting so badly injured during their first mission—but he didn’t want to highlight how confused he was.

“Do you want more oranges?” asked Sakura.

Sasuke shook his head even though he was still hungry. He looked down at his injured hand and tried not to feel too queasy at the sight of his bluish fingers. His whole right hand felt like an amourphous stump of silence, especially when compared to his uninjured left hand. Where the hell was the healer? The sun was already over the horizon and Itachi had said they’d be at the campsite by nightfall. Shouldn’t ANBU be there already? Sasuke wondered in which direction Konoha was—he really was more disoriented than he ever remembered being—and willed the ANBU squad to arrive faster.

They still took more than an hour to reach the campsite; an hour that Sasuke felt ticking away with excruciating slowness thanks to the steady pulsing pain from his right arm. Seeing the four of them land on the tree branches behind Itachi and the client, black cloaks highly contrasting against the shapeless edges of the dark forest, somehow made the pain from Sasuke’s arm feel more acute. It was like he’d been running a marathon without a drop of water and seeing the finish line served only to taunt him. What had he expected? That the mere sight of porcelain masks would chase his injuries away?

“They’re here!” breathed out Sakura, voice shaking with relief.

“Over here!” yelled Naruto.

The tallest of the ANBU jumped down first and made his way towards Itachi. “What’s your status?” asked a deep masculine voice.

The other three ANBU jumped down as well. Miss Eiko buried her face between her knees. “Treat my genin first,” Itachi ordered, gesturing towards Sasuke.

The tall ANBU seemed to hesitate but a hand signal from another one of the cloaked ninja prompted him to walk past the fire and towards the spot where Sasuke was sitting. Sasuke identified the gesturing ANBU as the leader when he also ordered a shorter, purple-haired ANBU to follow the healer.

“How bad is it hurting?” the ANBU asked, leaning down and . . . it was hard to say where he was looking with the porcelain masking his face. The few swaths of yellow and brown paint adorning it didn’t even identify which animal it was supposed to be. “And I don’t have time for stoic bullshit.”

“Badly,” answered Sasuke, watching as the purple-haired ANBU reached them. “I can’t move or feel my fingers.”

“Stand behind the boy,” the healer told the purple haired ANBU as he reached down to examine Sasuke’s injured hand. He squeezed at the wrist. Sasuke felt nothing and ordered himself not to panic. “When did you wake up?”

“About two hours ago after nineteen hours of unconsciousness,” answered Sasuke. “I’ve lost eight days worth of memories.”

“There was an explosion—”

“—you two, go away,” the healer interrupted.

Naruto looked like he wanted to argue but Sakura grabbed his arm and dragged him towards Itachi. “Let him work,” she snapped. “We’d just get in the way.” Sasuke didn’t know whether he was grateful to be rid of their worried gazes or not. He ought to be.

“I’m going to check your brain injury,” said the healer, raising a hand glowing with bright blue chakra. “Don’t move even if it hurts.” Sasuke nodded, but the healer hesitated anyway. Without warning, he straddled Sasuke’s hips, effectively immobilizing him. “Hold him down, Cat,” he ordered before Sasuke could even protest.

The woman standing behind him pushed her hand into his hair and wrapped an arm around Sasuke’s left shoulder. The healer pushed his hand towards Sasuke’s forehead and quickly moved towards the area of Sasuke’s head that was pounding incessantly. It was uncomfortable—like someone was lightly passing a finger over his skin and refusing to let him scratch at the resulting itch—but he wouldn’t have started flailing because of it. Having two ANBU on top of him was overkill.

“Itachi!” called the healer right after removing his hand from Sasuke’s head.

“Yes?” Itachi was beside the healer in the blink of an eye. Sasuke tried to squirm but the woman had him all but paralyzed.

“I said not to move,” snapped the healer. “You’ve suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. It’s a miracle there hasn’t been enough inflammation to cause intracranial pressure and that there’s no bleeding. How’s his cognition?” It took Sasuke a few seconds to realize the healer wasn’t asking him.

“Besides the week-long memory loss, his mind seemed to be functional,” answered Itachi.

“Lucky,” said the healer. “Do you know what caused the mild inflammation in his eyes?”

What?

“That’s not an injury,” said Itachi.

“My eyes don’t hurt.” Sasuke wondered if they should. He blinked rapidly, momentarily doubting the things he thought he was seeing.

“The inflammation around the ulnar fracture is obstructing circulation to everything below it. I don’t know how bad it is yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s bone marrow leaking into the interstitial fluid around his elbow and triggering an acute immune response,” continued the healer. “If I don’t fix it soon, I’ll have to amputate the arm and I can’t give him any painkillers because he cannot fall asleep for the next twenty four hours. It’d be too dangerous to disrupt whatever his chakra’s doing to prevent lethal damage to his brain so . . .”

The healer babbled on but the only word Sasuke could hear was amputate. The deep voice seemed to be chanting it. Images of all his crippled family members kept flashing through Sasuke's mind. His father stared down at him with disappointment and horror marring his already stressed brow. Sasuke felt like throwing up. For some reason, he’d never entertained the possibility that he might end up like the rest of his family. Death he’d been prepared for but this? Sasuke was sure he’d handle it with as much grace as Fugaku had.

“So what do you want to do?” finished the healer. He was still talking to Itachi.

“It’s not his choice,” Sasuke heard himself grit out. Itachi did not own the limbs of every Uchiha. How many was he going to maim? A blade of anger was cutting through his fear and Sasuke was grateful for its clarity. It was like a beacon centering him and keeping him from dissolving into a fit of despairing panic. “Fix the fracture and don’t bother with painkillers.”

The healer still waited for Itachi’s approving nod and Sasuke considered spitting on him. He must have tensed without meaning to because the ANBU holding his hair tightened her grip in warning. “Keep calm,” she ordered.

“Hawk,” the healer called out. “I’m about to make some noise. Be ready for an ambush. Hold him down Cat.”

Sasuke opened his mouth, eager to promise that he wasn’t going to make any noise, but the healer pushed a glowing hand against his right elbow before he could get the words out. The only thing that came out of his mouth was an incoherent scream.

It was like something was grinding the bones of his arm into fine powder and slowly reconstructing them into a different placement. Describing what it felt like with a word as mundane as pain was be like using the word wave to describe a tsunami. He didn't know if he was moving but he sure as fuck was trying to writhe away from the healer. Sasuke didn’t know how long it went on, but by the time it was over, his throat felt raw. “Give him some water,” the healer ordered.

Sasuke was too parched to care that it was Itachi who bent down and brought an uncapped canteen to his lips. He settled for not making eye contact as he sucked on the cool water, certain that he looked as weak and helpless as a baby. And the water just managed to highlight the specific throat muscles he’d strained screaming, like life was determined not to give him even the slightest reprieves.

“There’s a second fracture,” said the healer, as he removed the bandages keeping the pieces of Itachi’s scabbard in place. Sasuke had to close his eyes to hold back his tears. He was proud that he managed to keep silent when the healer twisted his elbow, manually realigning whatever deviation had resulted from the remaining break. Then chakra was being pushed into the swelling and he had to let out another raw scream.

The bone grinding didn’t last as long the second time. Maybe. For all Sasuke knew, hours had passed. After the healer paused, Sasuke accepted the water Itachi offered without opening his eyes.

“And now I have to fix your circulation.” Sasuke was pretty sure he’d be hearing the healer’s voice in his nightmares for a very long time. Instinctively, he tried to curl into himself. Of course, he barely managed a twitch. If only two ANBU weren’t immobilizing him.

He still flinched when he felt more chakra being pushed into his injured forearm. Thankfully, the pain didn’t sharpen into an acute point like it had while the healer had been reconstructing his bones. Sasuke managed to keep mostly silent, grunting only when the healer forced fluid—blood—past the bruise obstructing blood flow to his fingers. Sometimes, Sasuke felt the bigger arteries and veins twisting rebelliously. He kept his eyes closed, certain that he didn’t want to see what was happening to his arm. His mind helpfully provided an image of a glowing hand trying to squeeze toothpaste out of an old tube anyway. 

Sometime later, he felt the healer's hands moving down his arm. Hot waves of pain kept passing through muscles of his arms, like someone was spilling boiling water under his skin. Compared to what it'd felt like when the healer worked with his bones, it was practically soothing.

“There you go,” mumbled the healer, finally pushing chakra into his numb hand. He moved his hand down Sasuke’s forearm, lacing their fingers together and forcing the joints of Sasuke’s hand to twist. “You won’t be losing this arm tonight. You can let go of him Cat.” The grips on his neck and upper body loosened almost instantly. Sasuke sagged with relief and noticed that he was heaving out harsh breaths. The pain in his arm had been reduced to an achy tenderness but his headache had intensified. “The other kid said something about an explosion,” said the healer as he grabbed Sasuke’s right arm and twisted it back and forth, like Sasuke was an old toy with rusted joints. “Any hearing problems?”

“No,” answered Sasuke. He sounded decades older. He knew it was just the strain he’d put on his throat but he couldn’t help but feel like he’d aged years.

“Lucky,” repeated the healer. “I didn’t even have to bleed you to fix the swelling. And there wasn’t any bone marrow leaking out of your ulna after all and no damage to your joint and tendons.”

Sasuke certainly didn’t feel lucky. “Get off me,” he said. The purple haired ANBU had already wondered over to her commander.

“I’m not done,” said the healer. Seconds later, he pushed his glowing head at Sasuke’s forehead. Sasuke considered pushing him away but suddenly it felt like someone was gently massaging away the pressure pushing against his forehead. “It’s not safe to interfere with the nasty bump at the posterior end of your temporal bone but I can ease circulation around your head at least.” Momentarily, Sasuke had to restrain the urge to lean closer to him.

“Thank you,” he said. For the first time, the the magnitude of what the healer had done penetrated Sasuke’s pained skull. His arm was safe. He flexed the fingers of his right hand and shuddered with relief.

“Uh huh,” said the healer. He took his hand away and lifted himself off Sasuke’s hips. “Other genin!” he bellowed. “I’m ready for you.”

“They’re not injured,” said Itachi. Sasuke heard Naruto and Sakura coming their way anyway.

“You too make sure he doesn’t fall asleep for the next twenty-four hours,” the healer ordered Naruto and Sakura as they slid next to Sasuke. “Open your eyes, dumbass! I didn’t spend an hour healing you so could fall into a coma.”

Sasuke did as he was told, though the night was dark enough that there wasn’t much of a difference between keeping his eyes open or closed.

“That was a c-close call, Bastard.” Naruto sounded and looked so shaky. He even reached for Sasuke’s hand left hand and squeezed. Sasuke would’ve preferred taunts about all the screaming he did.

“Do you want more water?” Sakura offered him her canteen and Sasuke took it eagerly. His throat still hurt.

“You two call for Wasp immediately if your teammate passes out,” ordered the healer.

“Yeah,” breathed Naruto, nodding frantically.

Sasuke looked up when he felt the tall healer dragging Itachi away. It was too dark to say for sure but it looked like Itachi hesitated before letting the ANBU steer him closer to the campfire as he mumbled something about damaged eyeballs.

Notes:

So I was lazy and decided that Sasuke didn't remember his fight just so I wouldn't have to actually write it. Believe it or not, I think this will work better in the long run.

Of course, now I might have room to actually write out Kakashi and Neji's mission, which I originally planned to keep off screen. Not sure yet . . .

Chapter 9: The Great Eyes

Summary:

Kakashi returns to Konoha just in time to keep Itachi from flipping the fuck out. Also, Naruto has something to confess to Sasuke.

Cameos: Anko and Guy!

Even as a child, Kakashi was never fond of children. It probably made him a bit of a monster—evolutionarily speaking, mammals were supposed to like kids—but there it was. He just couldn’t shake off his unease at the idea of being responsible for people who required so much protection and, worst of all, guidance. It was why he’d failed all five genin teams Hokage-sama had tried to hoist off on him so far. And for their own good, too. Kakashi was convinced that any children under his command would end up emotionally scarred and poorly trained.

Five weeks of babysitting Guy’s (supposedly best) student had done little to make him reconsider that conclusion.

“So how would you describe his behavior?” Ibiki asked, leaning down towards Kakashi’s seat and making his larger frame loom even more than usual. He was never shy of using his height and broad shoulders to intimidate people but he ought to know that subtle invasions of Kakashi’s personal space weren’t going to be effective.

“Well,” started Kakashi, looking at the window Guy was standing next to and tilting his head. He put his elbows on the table and made a great show of considering the question. “He was nervous and obnoxious at first. Then he realized an S-rank mission wasn’t an automatic death sentence and became just plain obnoxious.”

“I guess it’s true that geniuses can’t even get along with each other,” said Guy solemnly, reaching upwards to rub his strong chin. His unapologetically green spandex jumpsuit seemed brighter than ever when contrasted against the office’s boring beige walls.

“Yes,” agreed Kakashi, nodding in mock seriousness.

“This is not the time for jokes,” snapped Ibiki, grunting and looking between them with a frown so deep it twisted his various facial scars. “Someone wouldn’t even be here if he’d taken his mission report seriously.”

“I thought my report was excellently succinct,” said Kakashi. Guy snorted and scratched at his awful bowl-cut, dark eyes brimming with mirth.

Ibiki glared, reached into his pocket to pull out the thin scroll Kakashi had handed in to Mission Assignment and Tracking, and ripped it open. “We went to Fire-Water border,” he started, shooting Kakashi a tired frown, “infiltrated Takeo’s little slave compound. Retrieved secret orders from suspect Fire noble. Cover compromised, absconded to Water Country to divert attention from Konoha and Fire Daimyo. Ran into and killed S-rank rogue Mist ninja Zabuza Momochi at Land of Waves. Returned to Konoha triumphantly.” Ibiki curled his upper lip in obvious disgust. “P. S. Neji got a bridge named after him. It was hilarious.” He crushed the thin sheet of paper under his large fist and shot Kakashi a last look of impatient contempt. “This is your report for a seven weeks long mission. And we only gave you three weeks.”

“Bridge?” asked Guy.

“He was very inspirational,” explained Kakashi. “You’d have been so proud.” That was a lie.

There’s no point in risking our lives for scum who’re willing to keep their heads down while their neighbors are tortured and murdered. Even if we succeed, they’ll just accept the next parasite that tries to bleed their community dry as long as the person in front of them is suffering more than they are. It’s their fate to be targets for the likes of Gato. Kakashi very much doubted Guy would've been proud but Neji’s derisive little speech had prompted the villagers to stand up for themselves, which in turn prompted the bridge-builder to name the village's bridge after him.

“Neji has a habit of forcing people to be their best,” said Guy, smiling with satisfaction. “Though I believe he is unintentionally inspiring. And you defeated Zabuza Momochi?”

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” said Ibiki, shaking his head in exasperation.

“What is the matter at hand?” asked Kakashi, irritated that he’d been summoned so soon after an S-rank mission just to soothe Ibiki’s paranoia. Why were they having a classified meeting anyway if it the whole thing was about Neji and not the mission itself?

“If you want to avoid wasting time, ask a straight question,” added Guy. Really, it’d been a mistake to try and interrogate both of them at once.

“Neji’s psychological profile is incomplete,” said Ibiki.

“Why would the Head of our Torture and Interrogations Force be interested in a thirteen-year-old genin’s progress?” asked Guy, crossing his long arms over his worn flak jacket.

“This is not my problem,” interjected Kakashi. “I’m not Neji’s teacher.”

“I need to know if Root’s been sniffing about him,” Ibiki told Guy, ignoring Kakashi’s complaint.

“Root?” asked Kakashi, not bothering to hide his confusion. As far as he knew, Danzo and Root were obsessed with Sharingan, not Byakugan.

“I think I would notice if Danzo or one of his cronies approached a student of mine,” said Guy, serious dark eyes fixed on Ibiki’s flat expression.

“Would you?” asked Ibiki, tilting his head. “It’s obvious that you’ve dedicated most of your attention to only one of your genin.”

“Well,” said Kakashi, rising to his feet before Guy opened his mouth to respond to that comment, “it seems like you guys have some confidential matters to discuss.” He searched for Ibiki’s gaze and let his visible eye crinkle with amusement. “Why don’t you send for me when we’re ready to plan our next move against this noble trying to usurp the Fire Daimyo?”

“It’s disconcerting to realize that the great Ibiki can be so grossly misinformed about a subject he appears interested in,” said Guy without taking his eyes off Ibiki. “I don’t play favorites with my students.”

“I have really important matters to go handle,” said Kakashi, walking towards the exit. “New Make-Out Paradise book coming out today, there’s a beautiful girl waiting for my assistance with a persistent ex, an old grandma needs me to carry her groceries . . . places to go, people to see, etc.” Ibiki looked utterly unimpressed and Guy’s spandex-clad shoulders didn’t relax. Regardless, Kakashi waved at them and walked out of the room, privately lamenting that he’d never manage to drain the tension out of a room in quite the same way Obito had been able to.

He sighed as he shuffled out administrative building, telling himself that Ibiki and Guy were too mature to start some nonsense spat about . . . Neji? Honestly, Kakashi was beginning to wonder if the whole world hadn’t stopped making sense at some point after the Third Secret War. Maybe everyone was just getting antsy because things had been disturbingly peaceful for Konoha during the last few years. The attempted Uchiha coup had been the last real clusterfuck they’d all had to contend with. For his part, Kakashi thought everyone ought to calm the hell down and enjoy the pleasant lack of senseless bloodshed while it lasted.

When he exited the building, he sidestepped a team of harried chunin lugging in several boxes full of scrolls. Konoha was suffering through one of the merciless heat waves that blanketed Fire Country during the summer. The sun was shining brightly, unaware or perhaps unconcerned with how much harder it was making it for the lower level ninja to carry out their assignments. Kakashi felt deeply grateful for his superb chakra control every time he spotted someone wiping sweat from their brow as they went about their daily chores.

Heat wave making everyone cranky or not, it felt great to be back in Konoha. It was good to be able to walk around town in full jonin gear—mask included—without having to worry about hopeless peasants shooting him suspicious looks. He walked through the village’s main street, smiling privately when he spotted a group of kids defying the sun and trying to play ninja versus rogues. They kicked up dry dust and made a lot of noise despite the thin film of sweat glistening over their willowy limbs. A tired old woman standing behind an ice-cream cart gazed at them, probably trying to decide if it was worth it to try and make them customers.

“I’ll buy them some ice cream,” Kakashi told her, surprising himself more than he obviously surprised her. She turned wide dark eyes on him and raised an eyebrow. “They’re risking a heat stroke,” he explained.

She shrugged and turned her gaze towards the boys. “All right, kids!” she yelled in a strong, deep voice.

“I didn’t mean call them while I’m still here—”

“—the nice ninja wants to treat you to ice cream!” she finished, smirking at him as she opened the lid on her cart.

Most of the kids seemed suspicious but they brightened up the moment they spotted Kakashi—or his mask and green vest—and rushed over, tripping all over themselves to ask questions about kunai and jutsu. Kakashi looked at the old woman for help as he subtly dodged childish attempts to grab at the bandages covering his calves but she only laughed and served the kids icy drinks.

I ought to take off and leave her with the brats, thought Kakashi, knowing he wasn’t cruel enough to lose the woman that much business. He reached into his pocket and pulled out enough money to pay her, accepted the frosted cup she offered him exchange for the wad of bills, and vanished before the amazed children’s eyes. After tasting the lady’s icy drink—lemon, thankfully not too sweet—Kakashi wondered what the hell had come over him. When did he start paying attention to what random brats were doing? With a small sigh, he set out for the Memorial Stone, thinking that maybe he was having trouble shaking off the last bit of tension weighing down his shoulders because he hadn’t visited Obito in weeks.

Or maybe he was just couldn’t dispel the feeling that he ought to know where Neji was even though he’d already turned the kid over to Guy without a single strand of his long brown hair damaged. Second reason why he didn’t want his own genin team; he knew he’d end up getting attached to the brats and feeling responsible for them. It’d happened with Neji and Kakashi hadn’t even liked him all that much. He sighed and hurried his pace to the Memorial Stone, jumping from tree branch to tree branch to avoid running into any more villagers. Other ninja would recognize his wish to be alone just by noting his stealthy movement patterns, so he didn’t bother to try and mask his chakra. He had to resist the urge to do so anyway, which told him he really was having trouble shifting his mind away from mission mode.

This is how ninja crack, he told himself, looking up at the bright blue sky and sighing tiredly. I’m back home. I’m as safe as I’m ever going to be. So is Neji. I know what to expect here. Calm down.

Almost as if to mock him, life treated him to an unusual sight the moment he was deep enough into Training Area Three to spot the Memorial Stone. He hadn’t been expecting to see Itachi’s slight frame waiting by the large kunai-shaped slab of rock, sitting by the lush green grass cradling its base. “I swear I’ll pay back all the money I owe you before I die,” Kakashi said when he got to the Stone, smiling before taking a sip of his cool lemon drink.

“Do you even remember how much you owe me?” asked Itachi, looking up at him and pushing his long dark bangs behind his right ear. “I don’t.”

“A fair point,” conceded Kakashi, dropping down beside the Stone as well. A part of him felt aggravated that Itachi was interrupting his Obito-time, but he told that part to shut up and get ready to figure out what was bugging his living friend so much that he’d actually gone out of his way to find someone to talk to. “Shouldn’t you be with your brats?”

“I sent them plenty to do,” answered Itachi, looking up to the cloudless sky. “There’re things I need to handle.”

But you’re wasting time here, probably because you want to avoid something, thought Kakashi. That’s my bad habit. “I hear your last C-rank turned S on you,” he said after a few moments of trying and failing to think of a subtle way to broach the subject.

“What are your impressions on Neji Hyuga?” asked Itachi, completely ignoring the opening to describe his last mission.

“You too?” Kakashi grunted and took a swig of his icy lemonade. Honestly, he was beginning to feel like nothing more than Neji’s bodyguard. “He was very gifted, very angry, and very scared. Though you’ll be happy to know that your position as our most absurdly creepy genius in generations remains unchallenged. Neji’s not as strong as you are. He’s not even as strong as you were at thirteen. And definitely not as mature.”

“I would argue that you were creepier than me,” said Itachi. A gust of warm wind weaved through his long dark hair and pushed it towards Kakashi’s face. “Danzo’s interested in Byakugan and he’s always been drawn to people with natural talent.”

“He’s also particular about picking minions he’s sure he can control,” said Kakashi, slapping at the dark strands trying to tickle his cheek. Itachi noticed his annoyance and gathered his dark hair into a loose topknot. “Neji’s already been Sealed," continued Kakashi. "It’s more likely that Danzo would try to recruit a Main family member. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was already a Main Hyuga connected to Root.”

“Main family members have no reason to betray their clan.”

“Most people would’ve said the same thing about you five years ago,” Kakashi pointed out, looking out for a reaction. Itachi's eyes narrowed a bit for barely a second. Though he rarely reacted to any mentions of his family, Kakashi wasn't particularly surprised. “Look underneath the underneath," he continued. "It’s not outside the realm of possibility that some members of the Main family are against enslaving their siblings.”

“True,” agreed Itachi, voice even and calm. “Still, we can’t ignore that the Hyuga sent Neji on a possible suicide mission at the same time as Danzo made a move for Byakugan.”

“If everyone’s going to be asking for my opinion on this mess, I’d really like to have all the facts,” said Kakashi, tired of trying to work out a puzzle when he was missing most of the pieces.

“Everyone?” asked Itachi, shooting Kakashi a curious look.

“Ibiki’s already interrogating people about Neji,” explained Kakashi, ignoring a small flash of reluctance to blab about what was supposed to be a secret meeting. Who was more discreet than Itachi, anyway? “He tried to question me and Guy at the same time. Insinuations about favoritism were made and I took off while they traded manly glares . . . anyway; tell me about this last mission of yours.”

After biting his lower lip, Itachi began to recount the events of his last mission. His voice remained stubbornly devoid of emotion but Kakashi heard the guilt and outright shame in his words anyway. It was enough to distract him from the near unbelievable news that a Hyuga clansman had dared to risk giving Byakugan away. Apparently, Kakashi wasn’t the only one going over every decision he’d made during the last months and berating himself for not making the choices that, in hindsight, were just so obvious. When Itachi got around to enumerating his brother’s severe injuries (and newly awakened Sharingan), Kakashi decided that trying to comfort him would be useless and started thinking about the implications of Danzo’s sudden interest in Byakugan.

“. . . And I’m going to need you to take a look at Naruto’s seal,” finished Itachi. “As far as I can tell, it’s stable but you might be able to see something I’m missing. You did learn sealing from the Fourth himself.”

“Yes . . .” mumbled Kakashi. “You’re sure that Naruto accessed the Nine Tail’s chakra?”

“He described a surge of power that healed his broken ribs and gave him enough strength and speed to defeat the Root girl,” said Itachi, staring down at his hands. “What else could it have been?”

“Point,” conceded Kakashi, shrugging and making a mental note to drop by one of Team Seven’s training sessions. For the time being . . . “Why would Danzo, after decades of perving on Sharingan, suddenly shift focus towards Byakugan? It’s not like him at all.”

Itachi turned serious dark eyes on him. “Before Sasuke was born, my parents were considering an alliance with the Hyuga,” he started while a gust of wind played with his long bangs. “Hiashi Hyuga’s wife was pregnant at the time. The plan was that I would marry the child if it turned out to be female. Or another Main family girl if not—”

“—wait!” interrupted Kakashi, shaking his head to dispel the feeling that the he was trying two force water and oil to mix. “You were engaged to Hyuga heir and you never told anyone?”

“No,” clarified Itachi, shaking his head impatiently. “The alliance fell through and I forgot about the near engagement.”

“You forgot that the Hyuga and Uchiha were planning an alliance?” asked Kakashi. “The Uchiha and the Hyuga. An alliance.”

“I was four years old,” snapped Itachi. “How many details do you remember about your fourth year of life?”

“Fine, fine!” Kakashi grunted and looked away, privately admitting that he couldn’t really recall much about his early childhood besides vague flashes of fire and blood. “Do you have any idea what the Uchiha and Hyuga elders were planning?” He couldn’t decide what was more absurd; that a Hyuga had worked up the courage to defy his fate, or that the Uchiha and the Hyuga had once tried to join forces. And for what, exactly?

“Have you ever heard of the Three Great Dojutsu?” asked Itachi.

“Sharingan, Byakugan, and . . .” Kakashi trailed off and frowned. “Apparently, I haven’t.”

“And the Rinnegan,” finished Itachi. “The Eyes of God.”

“It’s coming back to me,” said Kakashi, looking at the cloudless sky and bringing his cool drink to his lips. He gulped down the last of the lemonade and put the cup aside. “The Rinnegan grants the ability to mold all types of chakra at once and . . . a whole bunch of other nonsense. I’m guessing your almost marriage had something to do with it.”

“Well, I can’t be certain since I don’t really remember much besides a vague conversation about a husband’s duties with my mother. And it’s not like I can saunter back to her and ask for clarification.” Itachi sounded like he considered that a personal failure.

You could, thought Kakashi. He was smart enough not to say it out loud. “As fascinating as this new information is, I have to admit I still don’t understand what it has to do with Danzo’s sudden reach for Byakugan.” It was unlikely, but maybe Danzo had just discovered the Hyuga clansman’s indiscretion and decided to make a move for another bargaining chip against Hokage-sama and the Council.

“What’s happened to your wits?” demanded Itachi, making Kakashi feel like a pre-genin failing a basic reasoning test. Amusing, considering he was a decade older than Itachi. “Remember all the legends about Byakugan and Sharingan.”

“Rumor’s that Sharingan was derived from Byakugan—”

“—or that Byakugan was derived from Sharingan,” interrupted Itachi, clearly feeling impatient enough to be driven to rudeness. “I’m more interested in the one that a true Dojutsu master can shift from one bloodline to the other at will.”

“I think you’re mistaking the fairy tales you clan brats tell each other with the fairy tales the rest of us tell each other,” said Kakashi, shooting him an amused look. “I’ve never heard of that one. Aren’t you a Dojutsu master?”

“My father certainly liked to say so,” said Itachi, abruptly rising to his feet. “Truth is I was just better with Sharingan than the rest of the clan.”

Was. Kakashi didn’t miss the tense he'd chosen for that statement. He rose to stand besides Itachi and, not for the first time, was illogically surprised to find himself standing taller. “I take it that means you can’t make your Sharingan into Byakugan,” he said, trying for a joke.

“No,” confirmed Itachi seriously enough that Kakashi wondered if he’d taken the statement at face value. “I’m off to have a conversation with Danzo.”

“No,” said Kakashi quickly, laying his hands on Itachi’s shoulders. He almost braced himself for an attack when Itachi tensed momentarily and held back a sigh of relief when the kid merely shot him a glare. “You can’t go making threats when you don’t even have all the facts. Let’s just pretend that you fell for the Grass ninja feint—”

“Grass ninja proficient in Gentle and Strong Fist who just happened to be armed with Konoha weapons?” Itachi tilted his head mockingly and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not an imbecile.”

“I know you’re angry about this, but you can’t just rush into things,” insisted Kakashi, trying to steer Itachi into a sitting position. “We should investigate what the hell's happening with the Hyuga. Any idea who the proud father of your client’s fetus is?”

“Not Hoheto Hyuga,” said Itachi, reluctantly sitting back down. Kakashi kept a hand on his left shoulder just in case. “He’s been given command of my former personal ANBU squad and Miss Eiko didn’t recognize his voice.”

“That narrows it down to about ninety men,” said Kakashi, thinking of the last census Konoha had taken of its forces. “Since your client seemed genuinely attracted to the guy, we could probably narrow it down further and focus on handsome Hyuga clansmen between the ages of twenty and forty-five, give or take a few years . . . What are the chances Hoheto already babbled to his family?” If he had, the proud daddy would be killed long before Itachi and Kakashi—or Konoha—could get to him.

“Yes, I know I should’ve specified that I wanted no Hyuga in the ANBU squad sent to support me,” snapped Itachi, like Kakashi had somehow reprimanded him.

“Right,” he said, wondering if he should feel relieved or scared that Itachi had waited for him specifically before finding Danzo and ripping out his throat. “We should find Guy and bring him on this. He’s the one with a Hyuga prodigy as a student.” Kakashi almost felt a flash of relief when Itachi nodded.

“Fine,” he said, standing up again. “I have to talk to Guy anyway. And you were in charge of Neji for almost two months. You can probably consider yourself one of his instructors.”

“Well, I did teach him basic healing,” mumbled Kakashi as he followed Itachi’s lead and headed back towards the village. Mostly, he was happy to hear the usual edge of resigned annoyance to Itachi’s voice rather than studious neutrality or barely contained rage.

 

***

 

“Itachi-sensei really is an asshole,” said Naruto, glaring up at Lady Koga’s brand-spanking new mansion.

Well, it was technically an old mansion that’d she’d bought from an old jonin who felt he was close to death and had no heirs to leave his fortune or holdings to. The moss green paint job covering all three floors was doing its best to peel off the walls and reveal a previous coat of beige paint. The grass covering every square inch of the mansion’s yard was growing tall enough to scratch at Naruto’s naked calves. He could see at least two holes on the mansion’s wooden-straw roof. The concrete fence the old jonin had erected to alleviate a crippling case of paranoia was trying to withstand an infestation of honeysuckle vines.

“We should start cleaning,” said Sasuke, letting out a tired sigh.

“He could’ve at least dumped this ‘mission’ on us personally, the douche,” said Naruto. Team Seven had reported to their training grounds after taking a day to recover from their first disastrous C-ranked mission to be greeted by one of Itachi’s creepy crows. It’d landed on a surprised Sakura’s shoulder before vomiting a scroll Naruto swore had been bigger than it and disappearing in a obnoxious puff of smoke.

“I’ve been trying to tell you he’s a dick for weeks now,” said Sasuke.

Naruto grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. His arms slid against each other uncomfortably, reminding him that every pore on his skin was releasing itchy sweat. Damn the summer heat waves. “Where do we even start?”

“Go inside and see if any of the old jonin’s furniture can be salvaged,” suggested Sasuke. He didn’t take a single step forward though.

“Fuck this,” said Naruto, glaring at the mansion’s dusty front door. It felt good to say it even though he knew he’d have to clean the place eventually. Itachi wouldn’t tolerate outright insubordination. “Let’s just wait for Sakura. She’s team leader for this anyway and she’s off asking Lady Kago what color she wants the house painted.” He made a grab for Sasuke, intending to drag him towards the lonely single alder in old mansion’s yard, and then remembered his raw screams as the ANBU healer reconstructed his mangled arm.

“I told you I’m fine, you idiot,” snapped Sasuke, reaching for the orange sleeve of Naruto’s shirt before heading towards the tree. Naruto couldn’t help but look down at his right arm and privately balk at the ugly, purple-blue bruise right under the elbow. He told himself his discomfort was a response to the grass trying to stick to his sweaty calves, not the memory of Sasuke’s throat cracking after hoarse scream.

“Have you remembered anything else?”

“Flashes here and there,” answered Sasuke, folding himself into a sitting position at the base of the alder with his usual cat-like grace. The shade made the spot slightly cooler than the rest of the abandoned yard. “I remember hunting for rabbits and gathering firewood . . . and you trying to eat poisonous berries like the moron you are.”

“Hah, hah,” said Naruto. He curled his hands into fists to stop the impulse to slap at Sasuke’s head in annoyance. “I meant about the fight.”

“Nothing about that,” said Sasuke. He reached up to scratch under his headband, frowning in frustration. “I don’t understand how someone strong enough to injure me so badly lost to you.”

Under most circumstances, that comment would have sent Naruto into a rage. It did make his heart speed up and made him want to throw a punch at Sasuke’s arrogant face. He probably would’ve too if his belly didn’t clench with fear, guilt, and shame every time he stole a glance at Sasuke’s dark eyes. An image ruthlessly flashed through his mind: the creepy Grass girl grabbing Sasuke’s arm and twisting swiftly before jumping backwards and disappearing into the forest’s dense canopy. Sasuke hadn't managed to restrain a reflexive shout of pain. He’d gotten caught intercepting an attack meant for Naruto.

“What the hell’s your problem, dead last?” demanded Sasuke, clearly expecting Naruto to protest against the insinuation that he was leagues ahead in terms of skill.

“I just don’t want to start a fight while your head’s all delicate, Bastard,” answered Naruto, relieved that such a simple truth made him feel better about shying away from voicing what he was really feeling. He flopped down beside Sasuke and glared up at the mansion’s peeling coat of green paint.

“Oh, fuck you,” said Sasuke, tone dripping with disgust. “I could take you on a fight half-dead.” When Naruto didn’t take the bait, Sasuke let out a frustrated sigh and laid his head down on one of the alder’s roots. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me when Sakura gets here.” Without another word, he settled in and nestled on the tall grass, seemingly unconcerned with the leaflets sticking to his sweat-soaked skin. How Sasuke managed to ignored those kinds of annoyances, Naruto had no idea.

At least it was safe for him to sleep again. The ANBU healer had made him stay awake a full twenty four hours after fixing his broken arm. Naruto had always found Sasuke pale, but it’d always been in a vaguely jealous kind of way. Not because he particularly cared about his own face being usually tanned and occasionally blemished by zits, but because girls seemed to trip all over Sasuke’s smooth, creamy skin. Naruto doubted they would’ve been too interested in him right after the ANBU medic finished with him. Blue bags under bloodshot eyes and over sallow skin had made him look like a plague victim.

“Sasuke,” Naruto started.

“Hm?”

“I . . .” Naruto trailed up and swallowed. “What do you think will happen to Miss Eiko?” It wasn’t what he'd wanted to say even though he really was worried about her.

“Who knows?” said Sasuke. “It’s ANBU’s problem now.”

“But . . .” Naruto looked down, desperate for a way to communicate what he was feeling. Sasuke had covered his eyes with his left arm to shield himself from the bright summer sun. “Don’t you think it’s unfair that we’re holding her against her will?”

“Who cares about fair?” said Sasuke, shrugging. “She was stealing one of our bloodlines. Konoha would lose a lot of its power if any other Hidden Village got its hands on Byakugan.”

“But it’s still not right,” insisted Naruto.

“We are Leaf ninja,” said Sasuke. “Our duty is to Konoha, not righteousness.”

“Yes,” agreed Naruto. But I thought Konoha was righteous and . . . It seemed treacherous to even finish the thought so Naruto leaned his back against the alder’s trunk and decided to wait for Sakura napping as well.

It was no use.

He was too worked up to ignore the heat and fall asleep. His limbs felt twitchy and his senses strangely erratic, like there was a ghostly hand almost-but-not-quite passing a finger over his spine. It wasn’t the first time in his life he felt so jumpy. Hell, it wasn’t even an unusual feeling. He just needed to raise some hell and the antsyness would go away. Naruto looked up and tried to find some entertainment in the alder’s light brown branches and bright green leaves. That was useless too. He’d never been the type who could lose himself in the wonders of nature or whatever.

What he needed was a good fight. He felt like goading Sasuke into a deep enough rage to make him forget his supposed maturity and actually go all out on a real fight. Even if Naruto usually—all right, always—ended up bruised and beaten, it was still fun. Except that now Sasuke was recovering from a bad head injury and needed to be treated like fine porcelain and not like the warrior he was.

There was always Sakura, of course, but even if she was getting much better at fighting, Naruto just couldn’t picture himself actually fighting with her. His first instinct would always be to dodge or just accept her punches, especially because it made her angry and bold enough to brighten her beautiful green eyes. Besides, Sakura had been even wiltier than him since the awful C-ranked mission so Naruto doubted he could taunt her into a fight anyway.

His last option would be to play some ridiculous prank on the villagers or chunin or something. Except he’d promised Iruka-sensei (and himself) that he’d quit it with that shit. He was a real, grown-up ninja now. He was supposed to be training and handling real missions the rest of the time. Right now even, he was supposed to be cleaning Lady Kago’s new old mansion, not staring up at boring tree branches and hating them for not being entertaining enough.

“Sasuke,” Naruto tried again, deciding that honesty might help him put the whole thing out of his mind.

“Yeah?” asked Sasuke after a few moments of silence.

“I . . .” Naruto took a deep breath and ordered himself to stop being such a goddamned coward. “The mission . . . when we were fighting the girl . . .” The words seemed to get stuck inside his throat every time he tried to get them out.

“Come on!” said Sasuke, lifting his arm off his brow and straightening up before fixing his dark eyes on Naruto. “Tell me.”

Naruto swore his belly turned inside out. He’s going to hate me as much as the villagers and then I’ll be alone forever.

“Tell me,” repeated Sasuke, leaning forward so Naruto couldn’t avoid his gaze.

“I—your eyes turned red,” Naruto ended up saying as his belly twisted with shame.

Much to his surprise, the words seemed to knock Sasuke backwards and punch the air out of his lungs. “I . . .” he swallowed and half-raised his hand to touch his face. His eyes. “No . . . I wouldn’t forget that. I would know if that happened.”

“It wasn’t a big thing,” Naruto said quickly. “Itachi-sen—”

“—you told him and not me?” yelled Sasuke. “Did he order you not tell me?”

“No!” answered Naruto, reaching out to grab Sasuke’s arm. Sasuke slapped his hand away and looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and . . . and disgust. “I didn’t think it was a big deal! I just . . . stop looking at me like that!”

“Then why didn’t you tell me before?” demanded Sasuke.

What could Naruto say? That it hadn’t been what he’d meant to say at all? Then he’d have to tell Sasuke the real truth and it would only make him even madder. “It wasn’t even a big deal and it didn’t even look that creepy!” cried Naruto and it was actually true. “I mean, the extra little black dots were weird but it was more like ruby red instead of red red and it didn't look like Itachi thought it was a problem—”

“Forget it, then,” snapped Sasuke, shooting Naruto one last glare before rising to his feet. “It was stupid of me to think you’re my friend.”

“No, wait!” cried Naruto, jumping to his feet as well. He felt like he wanted to cry. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I was hiding! I don’t even know why it’s so important to you.”

“Then what were y—”

“Well, well,” interrupted a feminine voice. “What a sweet lover’s spat.”

Naruto stepped closer to Sasuke, remembering the healer’s orders to make sure his teammate didn’t strain himself and looked up towards the voice. A woman was standing on the strongest looking of alder’s branches. Naruto relaxed when he saw the Konoha headband tied around her forehead and wild purplish hair.

“How long have you been there?” asked Sasuke, pointedly taking a step away from Naruto. It made Naruto want to disappear off the face of the Earth, especially when he remembered that Sasuke had finally become comfortable being near him.

“Long enough to hear that we have another Sharingan in our ranks,” said the kunoichi before jumping off the tree branch.

“A what?” asked Naruto, trying and failing to not stare at the woman’s chest. She was wearing fishnet with nothing under it—or maybe she was wearing some kind of undershirt because Naruto couldn’t see her nipples. Not that he was looking for them! He was all respectful to women like the books with the Sasukes said he should be.

“Eyes up here, brat,” she said. Naruto could hear the smirk in her voice.

“What do you want?” demanded Sasuke.

“I’m looking for your sensei,” answered the kunoichi, stretching in such a way that her fishnet tightened across the barely covered breast she’d just told Naruto not to stare at.

“We haven’t seen him today,” said Sasuke before trying to stalk away from them.

“Wait!” cried Naruto, walking away from the half-naked woman to follow him.

“Hold up,” said the woman. “I outrank you brats!”

Naruto would’ve ignored her but she suddenly appeared in front of him and Sasuke. Before either of them could do anything, she grabbed the collar of their shirts and leaned down to smirk into their faces. She was so close to them that Naruto noticed that her pupils were almost the same color as her brown eyes. Weird.

“Let go!” cried Sasuke, trying to pull away and failing rather miserably. His slim eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown.

“His head’s still injured and you’re not supposed to agitate him,” Naruto told the kunoichi quickly.

“I told you I’m fine!” yelled Sasuke.

“Quiet!” said the woman. “This is no way for teammates to behave! Stop wriggling.” She wrapped her arms around their shoulders and hugged them to her chest. Naruto was too upset about his argument with Sasuke to properly enjoy the way one of her boobs nestled on top of his head. “Now tell me where Itachi’s gone,” she ordered.

“We don’t know,” said Sasuke, before adopting the resigned, long-suffering expression he wore whenever a pretty girl draped herself all over him. Because it actually happened to him all the time, the Bastard.

“This morning he just sent one of his stupid crows with orders to clean this fucking mansion instead of showing up to training!” explained Naruto.

“Douche,” said the woman, sounding oddly affectionate. She give them a last squeeze and let them go. Naruto stared at her tiny orange miniskirt and decided she wasn’t so bad after all. “You two need to learn that honesty and communication are the secrets to a fulfilling relationship.”

“Who’re you anyway?” asked Naruto, secretly feeling grateful that she seemed to have distracted Sasuke from his huffy mood.

“I’m Anko,” she answered with a happy wink. “If anyone asks, I came here for a broody booty call, all right?”

“But Sasuke’s too young for y—”

“—she means Itachi, you idiot.”

“Oh,” said Naruto stupidly, which made Anko snort in amusement. “Hey, I just didn’t know Sensei had a girlfriend!” Much less a hot one. It was probably the coolest thing about him yet. 

“A girlfriend!” cried Anko, slapping her thigh and letting out an obnoxious laugh. “That’s precious. I love genin . . .” She shook her head and puffed away before Naruto could say anything else.

“Hey, come b—Sasuke . . .” he breathed out, instantly realizing that they no longer had a common obstacle to unite them. “. . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I overreacted.” He didn’t sound like he wasn’t mad anymore.

Naruto risked a glance at him and nearly winced at the scowl dominating his face. “I . . .”

“Let’s just go into the mansion and start this stupid mission,” said Sasuke, turning towards the decrepit building. “There’s no reason to waste time waiting for Sakura.”

Naruto sighed and followed him, telling himself it wasn’t the right time to come clean about the Nine Tails.

Chapter 10: Towards the Sun

Summary:

Sakura makes a great discovery. Hinata and Hanabi's mom doesn't get ninja. Anko trolls Itachi.

Notes:

So Kishimoto didn't bother to tell us anything about Hinata's mom (or Neji's) even though their story lines were about family. *slowclap*

Anyway, I always figured that ninja clans would be smart enough not to inbreed into genetic disorders and insanity.

Sakura was hearing Sasuke’s raw screams in her nightmares. And seeing the boy whose throat Eiko had slashed moving his mouth to curse her for contributing to his death. And Itachi crying sticky red blood on her lap. It was so bad that she was beginning to miss Healthy Dream Itachi calling her an ugly failure.

“Honey, are you sure you’re all right?” asked her mother as she pushed a brush through Sakura’s pink hair. “You haven’t been the same since you got back from your escort mission. Did it get . . . violent?”

“No Mom,” Sakura lied, reaching up to squeeze her arm comfortingly. “We delivered the client to Magome-juku and then came back home, no problem! Sasuke and Naruto didn’t even fight at all.” How sad was it that she didn’t feel anything when she lied to her parents anymore?

“Oh, how I wish you weren’t a team with those two boys!” complained Shio, concern for Sakura forgotten in the face of her disdain for Sasuke and Naruto. “Honestly, how unlucky are we as a family? You got both problem kids in your team!”

It’d be too much work to come to her teammates’ defense, so Sakura let her mother finish arranging her hair into a fat braid starting at the nape of her neck. She didn’t know why she’d agreed to let Shio brush her hair in the first place. Was she so desperate to find some comfort in her mother’s care that she was willing give up all pretense of being a grown up? She certainly couldn’t talk to her about what was wrong like a mature adult. Itachi-sensei had been very clear about just how classified their routine C-ranked mission had become after they’d made it back to village. Sakura couldn’t wasn't supposed to talk to anyone about it.

Not that she’d talk to Shio if she could. If she had her way, Sakura’s parents would forever think that her work as a ninja involved nothing more dangerous than exercise and paper pushing.

But she might’ve told Ino. She almost did the first time they met after Sakura came back from Eiko’s mission. Thankfully, all she’d done was weep inconsolably while Ino wrapped her in a baffled embrace so she'd spared herself the humiliation of having to report a security breach to Intelligence. As it was, Sakura was deeply grateful that Ino was pretending the whole thing hadn’t happened instead of asking for details or even clarification. She supposed Ino had more experienced with traumatized ninja, what with being a clan brat and all.

“There you go!” said Shio when she’d finished with Sakura’s braid. “You go and keep the village safe!”

After giving Shio a good bye peck on the cheek and feeling her throat tightening at the obvious surprise in her green eyes, Sakura grabbed her lunch and set out for Lady Kago’s new old mansion. The only thing she’d be protecting for the next week or so would be her patience. Eventually, Naruto would get over the subdued air clinging to him like oil and then Sakura was sure he was going to become unbearable. Boredom was like a poison to him. A part of her was actually yearning for his irritating antics though. How could she start putting Eiko’s mission behind her when Naruto’s nervousness and uncharacteristic caution insisted on reminding her that something bad had happened to her team?

She sighed tiredly and started towards the stupid old house she was supposed to be renovating, thinking that Itachi probably knew that her father was a carpenter. The only reason she even knew what to do was that Sano used to take her along on jobs during the summer months whenever Shio asked for a child rearing respite. For a house as big as Lady Kago’s, Sano would’ve earned quite a mint. Now she understood why he resented shinobi so much. With another sigh, she told herself to hurry up and thank the spirits that the latest heat wave seemed to be over and gone.

When she opened the gate leading to the depilated mansion—damn that old jonin for being so paranoid—Sakura spotted Sasuke and Naruto sitting by the porch, both silent and facing away from each other with the moss green mansion looming behind them like a gloomy giant. Another bad sign. Sakura would’ve never guessed she’d missed their comfortable camaraderie—one time, she found them in the middle of a thumb war—but now that she could sense the tension between them, she wanted nothing more than to hear them babbling about jutsu and ramen. She smiled as she walked towards them, thinking that Naruto had clearly done most of the talking.

“Hi,” she said when she reached the porch, looking between their dejected faces. Sasuke didn’t really look that different but seeing Naruto without a big grin on his face was unnatural. “Lady Kago said she likes the moss green.”

“So we won’t have to repaint?” asked Naruto, almost brightening up. He deflated when Sasuke snorted derisively.

“We still have to deal with the flaking coat on the outer walls at least,” Sakura explained, “but I’m hoping the inside just needs a good cleaning.” She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she doubted the inside walls’ condition was any better.

“What about the jonin’s furniture?” asked Sasuke. 

“I went to see him too,” said Sakura, mentally cringing at the memory of the toothless, trembling old man mumbling to himself in Konoha’s veteran’s home. He’d asked for a weapon and warned her about Rain ninja. “He thinks he sold the furniture to Lady Kago but she wants nothing to do with it so it’s kind of ours now. As an extra reward, I guess.”

“Great,” said Naruto, shooting the house a glare. “Now we have to figure out what to do with all that junk.”

“Come on!” Sakura was tired to see Naruto of all people with his shoulders hunched under his obnoxious orange shirt. What the hell had he seen while fighting the Root ninja who’d chased him and Sasuke? Sasuke's Sharingan? Sakura thought it'd looked kind of pretty, actually. More ruby than red. I think he might be freaked about the bone fractures and explosions, personally. “Maybe we’ll find something valuable in there,” she continued, trying to sound enthusiastic and ignoring the obnoxious voice in her head. She wished she knew how to cheer them up somehow. Sasuke’s intense brooding just didn’t look attractive anymore. Really?

Well, it did since he was that absurdly good looking, but she’d much preferred it when she hadn’t know why he looked so sad and angry all the time.

“But we won’t get to train until we clean this mess up,” said Sasuke.

Sakura refrained from pointing out that he was barred from taxing physical activity until a medic determined his brain injury was completely healed. Instead, she searched for Naruto’s gaze. “Carpentry can be back-breaking work so we can turn this into a training exercise with just a bit of creativity!” she told him. “Like, we can use Shadow Clones to get all the furniture out quicker!”

“Sasuke’s not supposed to do jutsu that take lots of chakra,” said Naruto but he did shoot the mansion’s front door a measuring look.

“I can do whatever I want, dumbass,” snapped Sasuke.

Sakura glanced at the ugly bruise just under his right elbow and almost said that he really couldn’t. “We still need to search for anything valuable,” she said, trying to think of something for Sasuke to do. “I’m sure the old jonin had silver and glassware at some point and they’ll all be useless if we break them.”

“Why don’t you look for the valuable stuff?” demanded Sasuke. It was a miracle he didn’t stomp his foot like a first year Academy student.

“Sasuke please,” she said. “You’ll heal faster if you follow the medic’s instructions.”

“All right fine, whatever.” He still shot Naruto a last glare. “Moving furniture’s probably the only thing dead last's useful for anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you as usual,” said Naruto before arranging his fingers into a tiger seal. The porch suddenly became crowded with a dozen Narutos. Sakura was pretty sure the orange was visible from miles away. “Let’s get this shit started finally.”

“You should’ve done that inside the house, dumbass,” said Sasuke, passing through the narrow front door. At least it looked narrow behind so many Narutos.

“We’ll open the windows for you,” said Sakura, determined to deflate the fight she sensed brewing between her teammates.

After the mansion had been mostly aired out, Sakura tried to teach Sasuke about looking for weaknesses in a home’s structure (a task that was facilitated by the bright sunlight streaming through the many windows) while Naruto and his clones worked on clearing the floors of furniture. The place had been taken over by dust and cobwebs but that was to be expected. Possible molding and rotting wood were a much bigger concern. Sakura was exceedingly relieved every time they entered a room and detected no moist or rank scents.

“Means there might not be any fungus or the like feeding on the walls,” she told Sasuke as she opened an old drawing, hoping to find something interesting. All she found was old and blunt shuriken. “You think we could make use of these?” she asked, trying to fight an irrational wave of disappointment.

“If they’re not rusted,” he answered. “Let’s split up. I’ll go upstairs while you check the basement.”

Hey, I’m the leader for this mission, not your fine broody ass! As usual, she felt a pang at Sasuke’s implicit rejection and let out a sad sigh when he exited the room they’d been investigating together. Bet you wish you could go back to the times when his dickishness was your biggest problem.

Sakura grunted at herself and kept on investigating every nook and cranny in the old mansion, emptying any drawers she found to make it easier for Naruto and his clones to carry the old wood outside. Luckily, the walls, roofs, and floors were only dirty so they wouldn’t have to worry about making any actual repairs. She headed towards the basement after looking through an old bookcase and finding nothing besides awful porn magazines—the old sicko had organized them by date—and tried not to feel too discouraged by the utter lack of anything useful she’d found so far. Maybe Sasuke and Naruto were having better luck. Besides, she wasn’t been that unlucky herself. She'd found nothing in need of major repairs so far. 

The steps leading to the basement didn’t even creak as she walked down. It was almost disturbing for a seemingly abandoned mansion to have such a great foundation. The light bulb wasn’t working, which was downright surprising considering the almost perfect state of everything else in the house. After letting out a grunt of annoyance, Sakura started making the seals for Great Fireball Jutsu, for once feeling grateful that she didn’t have to worry about accidently blowing up the whole place. Only a small flame came out of her mouth and thanks to the rather small amount of chakra it required, Sakura was able to mold it into her hand. It’d be a nice trick to show her parents. She looked up at the room and—

“Holy shit!” she cried. Her jaw almost fell to the floor. She saw a desk full of candles of various sizes - all mounted on intricate bases - and dazedly walked towards it, not wanting to test just how long she could keep her flame going.

The basement was brimming with beautiful vases decorated with everything from elegant kanji to stylized blossoms, sleek dragons, bright stars, and fat moons. They were dyed in brilliant shades of red, purple, green, and blues—all colors of the rainbow probably. Despite the layers of dust covering them, Sakura could tell that at least some of them were valuable. She took a careful step forward, gaze fixed on a tall, emerald vase that seemed to twist like a snake. It actually was shaped like a snake . . . no, a dragon. It stood in three-toed feet with gold-tipped claws (real gold, maybe?) and was topped by a draconic mouth forever trying to breathe out fire.

“Sasuke! Naruto!” she cried, imagining the delighted look on their faces. On Naruto’s face anyway. Hell, even Sasuke might smile at her find.

“What’s wro—holy shit!” Naruto’s clone puffed out of existence before Sakura could respond to his amazement. Her smile widened further when she realized that he was learning to use the Shadow Clones’ full potential, reconnaissance abilities included. “Sakura, we’re so rich!” He sounded so happy—almost like he used to before the Eiko mess—that Sakura smiled to herself.

“Bring Sasuke!” she yelled up the stairs.

“Sent one of my clones for him!” he yelled back as he rushed down.

“Be careful,” Sakura hissed, momentarily picturing him running into one of the probably delicate vases and make it tumble into another vase and so forth . . . Naruto would be clumsy enough for something like that.

“Oh right,” said Naruto, smiling at her and slowing down. His big blue eyes seemed bright for the first time since the Eiko disaster. “Do we even have to take missions anymore after we sell these?” he asked when he stepped off the last step. “I mean, besides the fun ones of—that’s a really cool one!” he cried, pointing at a round vase coated with orange paint so bright even a film of dust couldn’t darken it.

“We won’t be able to sell these,” said Sasuke as he walked down the steps, dark eyes scanning the vases. Sakura didn’t get to see him smile after all.

“The old lady said we could keep everything we found here!” protested Naruto.

“When she thought we’d find nothing but garbage, moron,” Sasuke told him, snorting impatiently. “These," he gestured at the vases with a frown, "she’s going to want.”

“But that’s not fair!” whined Naruto. “We should steal them.”

“And do what with them?” demanded Sasuke. “Put them where? You know a lot about smuggling now? And how would you explain where you got so much money even if you did managed to sell them? How do we know that they’re valuable in the first place?”

“Goddamnit, why do you always got to suck the happiness out of a room?” cried Naruto, furrowing his blond eyebrows. “Get better already so I can beat you up!”

“Beat me up?” Sasuke smirked, looking down his nose at Naruto. “Maybe in your delusions, dead last.”

“Guys,” interjected Sakura, angry at how easily they seemed to forget that she was in the room. She realized she didn’t actually have anything to say the moment both of them turned their eyes on her. “Uh,” privately, she admitted that Sasuke was right about the vases but she didn’t think saying so would defuse the situation. “We should just get them outside for now,” she settled for ordering. “Naruto, be really careful not to break any of them.”

“Right, right,” he mumbled, making the tiger seal again. Only one clone appeared in the cramped basement. The two Narutos moved forward, bodies oriented towards one of the bigger vases up front (a large dark blue one with a silver moon painted on its belly).

“Wait,” said Sasuke suddenly, stepping off the last stair step and walking fully into the basement.

“What now?” asked the original Naruto.

“There’s something in that one,” said Sasuke, walking past Naruto and his clone.

Sakura looked closely, focused on the opening at the top of the blue base, and spotted what looked like a scroll. Sasuke reached towards it, dark eyes narrowed in concentration, almost like he expected some kind of trap.

“Well, get it!” Naruto’s clone stepped reached around him and grabbed the scroll, smirking when nothing exploded. He handed to the real Naruto with a triumphant smile in Sasuke’s direction and crossed his arms over his chest. “A jutsu scroll!” said the real Naruto. 

“What’s it say?” asked Sakura, going over to stand beside him.

“Found another one,” said the clone, which had moved to another vase. “There’s two in here!” The real Naruto rolled open the scroll he was holding. “It doesn’t even have any words!” he said happily. “Just hand seals!”

“Then it’s useless,” said Sasuke as he leaned over Naruto’s other shoulder. “How are we supposed to learn them without any explanations of what they are?”

“No, this could work,” said Sakura. Both Naruto and Sasuke shot her questioning looks. She almost blushed under Sasuke’s intense stare. “There’s a language to the hand seals,” she explained quickly. “It’s not precise, but . . . like the tiger seal, for example,” she started thinking out loud. It was the one they were most familiar with since it was used for both Shadow Clones and Great Fireballs. “It’s usually reserved to finish techniques that require a lot of raw chakra, fire, or both. And the hare’s used mostly for genjutsu and so forth . . .” Neither of them lost the skeptical arches to their eyebrows. “We could figure it out is what I’m saying!”

“. . . Let’s ask Itachi-sensei,” suggested Naruto.

“No!” cried Sasuke, almost before Naruto was done with his suggestion.

“But—”

“—do you remember what he said to us during our first day of training?” interrupted Sasuke before she could get anything else out. “He doesn’t think it’s his problem if we learn jutsu or not. He doesn't care about m - anyone!”

“He might help,” mumbled Naruto, glaring down at the scroll.

“No, he won’t,” insisted Sasuke. “He might even confiscate these scrolls—and any other we find. How do we know the old jonin didn’t write down any Forbidden Techniques?”

“You’re right,” agreed Naruto, suddenly caught between a smile and a frown. “We need to hide them.”

“But where?” Sasuke wondered out loud after a satisfied nod.

“Guys,” Sakura started.

“With my porn stash,” answered Naruto, nodding to himself. “Nobody will give them a second glance,” agreed the clone, bringing another handful of scrolls towards them.

“I really think we should just turn them over to Itachi-sensei,” Sakura said. For fuck’s sake, you’re team leader. Just order them to hand the scrolls over. “We could get into trouble,” was what came out of her mouth.

“Nah,” dismissed Naruto. “Even if we get caught, we can just play stupid.”

“There must be dozens of scrolls here. I doubt your porn stash is so big that they wouldn’t stand out,” she argued.

“Trust me,” said Naruto. “I can make it work.”

“But—”

“If we get caught,” interrupted Sasuke, “you can just say we made you keep quiet. Everyone would believe you.”

But I don’t want you guys to get in trouble either. She tried to say it out loud but they’d both looked away from her already, figuratively pushing her aside like they always did. It looks like they just made up, an angry voice whispered into her mind’s ear. Sakura ignored its bitterness and felt her stomach sinking as she watched Naruto dismiss his clone before starting to search the vases with Sasuke. Why had she even said they could try and decipher the string of hand seals? Maybe she ought to tell them that she'd been making stuff up?

"Uh," she started.

"Hey, this one has actual words! That's good right?" Naruto asked Sasuke.

It was like she was invisible. She was the worst team leader ever.

 

***

 

“You two handle Crimson Petals with more poise and confidence than most experienced healers from the Capital,” Daiyu told her young daughters, feeling both proud and disturbed at the honesty of her own statement.

“Thank you, Mother,” said Hanabi, peeling off a red petal and depositing it in the wooden mashing pot Daiyu had given her on her last birthday. The pads of her small fingers were stained with the red dust peppering the deceptively fragile-looking Crimson blossoms.

Hinata’s only response was a shy smile down at the flower she was holding. She continued to tear petals, movements more delicate and hesitant than Hanabi’s. Daiyu was almost certain her caution was born out of sympathy for the poisonous blossom rather than fear for her own safety.

Most mothers would say such hyperbolic things to encourage their children, but Hinata and Hanabi truly were slipping their naked fingers under the fat red flowers as though they hadn’t heard Daiyu’s warnings about its dangerous paralytic properties. Or perhaps they’d only heard that it could kill a grown man in just three days. She’d told them that much with a considerable amount of awe, forgetting that most shinobi would consider a poison that took three days to kill pathetically slow. Daiyu supposed it was to be expected since ninja medics could extract large dosages of poison in a matter of minutes. It was a painful procedure—she’d seen it performed on chunin and still shivered at the memory of water and blood being forced out of teenagers’ skin—but ninja considered even the most extreme of pains minor annoyances at best. Even her gentle Hinata seemed unfazed by the aches and bruises inflicted on her during training and missions.

“Why do we have to mix it with oil?” asked Hanabi as she mashed the Crimson Petals she’d just finished peeling. Her large and seemingly pupil-less lilac eyes were actually focused on Daiyu’s face instead of her mashing pot. She didn’t look down even when she paused to pour in droplets of clean cooking oil. Daiyu reminded herself that Hanabi didn’t need to orient her eyes towards any particular spot in order to focus on it. She held back a sigh, wondering how long would it take for her to truly get used to her surrogate clan’s bloodline limit. To her own daughters’ bloodline limit.

“To cook it into a paste that patients can take orally,” she explained finally.

“What would happen to someone who just ate the petals?” asked Hinata. Unlike her sister, she was looking down at her mashing pot and adding droplets of clear oil with an air of revering caution.

“The effects vary according to the dosage and the patient’s size and body composition, of course,” Daiyu reminded them, “but generally, anyone who consumes Crimson Petals experiences muscle heaviness, joint weakness, sleepiness, and eventual asphyxiation. We don’t know how, exactly, but cooking it into an oil paste transforms the poison into a mild painkiller and sedative. It’s amazing for treating the uncontrollable tremors that sometimes afflict the elderly.” Not that shinobi were particularly concerned with the elderly.

“Does someone have to eat the petals to be poisoned?” asked Hanabi. “What if they eat too much paste? Or if their blood comes into contact with the red dust itself?” Was it strange that little Hanabi was asking for instructions on how to turn a medication into a weapon without the slightest hint of shame? Hanabi was determined to become a ninja, more so than Hinata had been. Was a fascination with murder healthy for a child being trained to become a murderer? Daiyu had spoken to one of the chunin instructors at the Academy once and been surprised at his orderly and kind demeanor. Then shocked to hear his calm voice telling a bunch of children where to cut an opponent they wanted to kill quickly.

“Daiyu-sama,” Meihui, the Branch family member who’d been assigned as her bodyguard and servant the day she’d married Hiashi Hyuga, interrupted her dark thoughts. Daiyu looked up at her, not startled even though Meihui hadn’t been in the indoor garden at the beginning of Hinata and Hanabi’s lesson. She’d grown accustomed to Meihui’s inhumanly light pace a long time ago. “Hiashi-sama requests your presence in his chambers.”

Daiyu nodded before rising to her feet, smoothing the sleeves of her pale blue kimono and pushing a few strands of ink blue hair behind her right ear. “Stay here and supervise my daughters’ attempt to prepare Crimson Paste,” she told Meihui. “It’s not something children should do unsupervised.”

“Hinata’s not a child anymore, Mother,” Hanabi admonished her.

“. . . Right,” said Daiyu, remembering that according to Konoha’s laws, anyone with a headband was technically an adult. “I’m sure Meihui won’t mind indulging an old lady’s foolish desire to protect her daughters, even if one of them is a grown woman perfectly capable of protecting herself.”

“You’re not o-old, Mother,” Hinata said quickly. Daiyu smiled and reached down to pat her head, threading her fingers through Hinata’s cap of dark blue hair.

“Remember to watch your hands after you’re done working with the Petals,” she told her and Hanabi. She looked up a Meihui and noted the sparse strands of white hairs streaking through her temple. “Make sure that they do so,” she said, mind flashing back on an image of a younger Meihui with head full of dark brown hair streaked only with almost-blond highlights. They all were getting old.

After Meihui nodded, Daiyu headed towards her husband’s rooms, silently praying that he was summoning her to share good news for once. Instinctively, she knew that wouldn’t be the case. As she looked at the white walls of the spacious estate she still had trouble thinking of as home, Daiyu knew the best she could hope for was news that didn’t somehow involve Neji. Hizashi’s spirit forgive her, but the two months he’d been gone had been the most peaceful she could remember in years.

It’s foolish to blame a mere boy for the rot that’s eating away at this clan’s core, she remembered Hiashi saying after returning from a rare camping trip with Hanabi to find that Pheizi had conspired to rid the Main family of Neji in the “stupidest way imaginable”. Hiashi’s own words, not hers. In the fourteen years she’d been married to him, Daiyu had never seen Hiashi so visibly and violently enraged. Even his grieving for Hizashi had been a deeply private ordeal. If my nephew is not returned to us unharmed, I’ll tie your oil-slicked screaming corpse to a funeral pyre myself, he’d threatened Peizhi.

She paused when she reached to door to Hiashi’s chambers, briefly wishing that she had her daughters’ eyes just so she could see what was waiting for her behind the white walls. With a frustrated shake of her heard, she slid the door open and felt her chest tightening at the sight of Neji’s thick brown hair falling down his back. He can see your face even when his back is to you, Daiyu reminded herself as she walked in, scanning the rest of the room. Another clansman was standing a few steps to Neji’s right. Peizhi himself, judging by the graying streaks running through his thinning black hair. His oldest son Jinhai was beside him. Daiyu said nothing and walked around them to make herself busy preparing tea in the tokonoma behind Hiashi, for once grateful that proper Hyugas ignored her presence.

“Did you detect any killing intent?” Hiashi was asking someone. Jinhai, if the way he was looking straight down at the boy’s white eyes was anything to go by. Hiashi had to bend his neck since Jinhai’s head barely reached his father’s shoulder despite the fact that he’d slicked up his black hair with gel. He was short for a fifteen-year-old and definitely shorter than most chunin.

“H-he was being disrespectful,” answered Jinhai, refusing to look down despite the obvious tremble in his voice. Daiyu would’ve called his refusal to back away courage if she wasn’t sure he just feared his father more than he feared Hiashi.

“But did you detect any killing intent?” repeated Hiashi.

“Is disrespect not enough of an offense?” demanded Peizhi.

“Not to active the Cursed Seal,” answered Hiashi without taking his focus off Jinhai. “Disrespect or no, the Cursed Seal should only be activated only to protect your life. Assuming that you didn’t mistake a bored sparring partner for a disrespectful one, you still had no right to respond to a possible slight with something that might have caused brain damage in your cousin.”

“Jinhai is a member of the Main family,” interjected Peizhi, practically bristling. “He’s been trained in all the secrets of Gentle Fist. It’s absurd to imply that a Branch brat two years his junior would be bored in a spar against him.”

“Really?” said Hiashi, raising an eyebrow. “So Jinhai would prove to be the better fighter if I ordered a spar between him and Neji right now?”

Neji, who’d been standing as expressionless and silent as a statue, let out a small snort. Daiyu looked towards him and marveled at how much his face seemed to have changed in just seven weeks. It wasn’t the slight tan that tinted his usually pale skin, or the handful of centimeters his brown bangs had grown, or even the way his jaw line seemed to have become more masculine, like he’d shed the last of his baby fat somewhere beyond the Hidden Leaf. It was the sharper edge to his smirks that made him seem years older. It seemed like he no longer cared if he disdain for the Main family was obvious. 

Every day, he looked more like Hiashi. More like his father. Daiyu told herself she didn’t care.

“Can you really pretend that this boy has any regard for our Clan anymore?” demanded Peizhi, seizing upon Neji’s lapse as swiftly as a snake. “If not for the Cursed Seal, we’d have a traitor in our hands.”

Neji said nothing. If being accused of disloyalty affected him at all, it didn’t show on his placid face.

“Boys, return to your duties,” said Hiashi after a few seconds of silence, gaze fixed on Peizhi.

After a proper bow, Neji turned around and exited the room, pace as light and unconcerned as if he’d just been dismissed from a conversation about the weather. Jinhai bowed and scrambled away with much less dignity. Peizhi frowned and his eyes as narrowed if he’d been slapped.

Daiyu looked up at the decorative scrolls hanging on the white walls of the tokonoma, wishing she was one of the carefree dancers depicted on the largest one. Perhaps she was. Her so-called family members were certainly acting as though she wasn’t there.

“You’ll never be half the Clan head your father was,” said Peizhi after his son’s steps had wondered away from the door.

“Be grateful that I’m nothing like my father,” said Hiashi. “It’s the only reason you and your children are still breathing.”

“It’s the only reason Neji’s still breathing,” said Peizhi. “It’s clear to everyone in this Clan that you’re soft and indecisive. No one is surprised by that boy's rampant defiance anymore.”

Abruptly, Daiyu remember Hizashi explaining that other members of the Main family could challenge the Clan Head if they considered their leadership lacking. She restrained the urge to rub her forehead and told herself that Hiashi was too strong to worry about something like that. Peizhi wouldn’t dare challenge a man in his prime.

“Don’t pretend that your ridiculous habit of picking fishwife feuds with a boy young enough to be your grandson makes you a revolutionary,” said Hiashi.

“Someone has to discipline him,” said Peizhi. “You act like a mother hen protecting her chick. Have you even broached the subject of that business with the bridge?”

Hiashi actually chuckled. “That business with the bridge,” he repeated. “The only reason that business with the bridge exists is that you had the brilliant idea to send Neji off on a fool’s errand with Kakashi Hatake, of all people.”

“Regardless of how it came about,” retorted Peizhi, “the fact remains that Neji should’ve have refused to lend his name in such a way.”

Individual Hyuga do not seek personal glory. Who had told Daiyu that much? Hiashi? Hizashi? Sometimes, she couldn’t which brother was more prominent in her memories. Even their voices had sounded identical.

“And how was he supposed to refuse?” asked Hiashi. “Do you think he should have stayed in the village until the bridge was named? Killed the bridge builder?”

“If the bridge builder had enough regard for Neji to name the bridge after him, then he had enough regard to listen to his request not to do it,” insisted Peizhi. “Assuming that he made such a request, of course.”

“I don’t have time for this petty nonsense,” said Hiashi. A tactical error. He’d already given Peizhi’s complaints importance by allowing himself to be dragged into an argument about them. It was too late to pretend the bridge 'nonsense' wasn’t an issue. Nevertheless, he continued his dismissal. “Leave me. If Jinhai uses the Cursed Seal for schoolyard bullying again, I’ll take a page out of your book and send him on the next S-ranked mission the Hokage requests assistance with. And I’m intelligent enough to make sure the jonin in charge isn’t obsessed with keeping his comrades safe.”

For a moment, Daiyu was certain that Peizhi was going to argue. She breathed a sigh of relief when the aging codger settled for exiting the room without gracing Hiashi with an appropriate bow. How long would it be until a stronger Main family member started challenging Hiashi in a similar manner? She set down chawan she was holding and stood up.

“Why did you call for me?” she asked as she stepped forward, raising her arms to wrap them around Hiashi’s wide shoulders. He didn’t look tense but Daiyu knew she’d spend a significant portion of her night massaging away frustrated knots out of his spine and shoulders.

“I’m certain that Mother requires stronger Sleeping Tea and afraid that she’s too proud to admit it,” answered Hiashi.

“I’ll add more leafs to the next batch,” Daiyu assured him, burying her nose in his thick black hair and breathing in his familiar scent. She wondered if old Baozhai’s white eyes weren’t fixed on her son’s room even as they spoke. Luckily, the Hyuga’s hearing was as limited and boring as any other family’s.

“They treat him like a rabid dog and then act shocked when he bites at their hands,” Hiashi told her without any inflection. Daiyu didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. “This clan is about crumble under the weight of its own insecurities and I no longer know if I truly wish to save it, or if I even can.”

Daiyu had no words to comfort him so she remained silent and hugged him tighter.

 

***

 

“You know, all this hair is wasted on a man,” said Anko from her spot at Itachi’s back. She’d settled on the couch behind him, almost pushed him to the floor, and all but wrapped her bare legs around his hips the moment he’d started working on his latest assignment.

Itachi ignored her obvious attempts to irritate him (and the way the fingers of her left hand were gently passing over the back of his neck, randomly rubbing between his third and fourth vertebrates—exactly where a precise slash would kill him almost instantly) and tried to focus on the scroll Kakashi wanted decoded. Across the paper, rows alternated between twenty-six and twenty-four digits of seemingly random numbers. The columns were similarly arranged in alternating sets of forty-four and forty-two digits. The last two patterns Itachi had found were just the right amount of obvious and innocuous to be promising; a four was written after every seventh digit and a seven after every tenth.

“You strike me as the type who’d chop of his own bangs with a kunai whenever they tickled his nose,” continued Anko. She threaded her fingers through the strands originating at the back of his head and grunted when they got tangled in a particularly nasty knot Itachi had been ignoring for the better part of a week. “Disregard for personal grooming is a classic sign of depression, Captain Sprite.”

“My hair’s clean,” protested Itachi, perhaps a little defensively. It was true enough, though. He washed his hair twice a week and ran his fingers through it almost every day. Who had time for anything else? He let Anko pull the knot out, rolling his eyes at the brief flash of pain he felt coming from his scalp, and then turned his attention back to the scroll.

The repeating fours and sevens might be nothing. Whenever he encrypted anything, he made sure to include as many meaningless patterns as possible to throw off any enemies who might intercept one of his crows. The select few he sent messages to knew what to look for.

Because he’d told them what to look for. Itachi doubted anyone could crack his code without his help; not because it was particularly ingenious, but because he’d make sure that it was absolutely random. Maybe the author of the scroll Kakashi had stolen used a similar method to hide his messages.

No.

There was a meaning to the scroll. He—or Kakashi, Nara, Ibiki, and whoever else had gotten a copy of the thing—just needed to find it. Otherwise Kakashi had wasted two months and gotten nothing to show for them.

“Seriously, why don’t you just cut it?” asked Anko as she pulled and bound his hair into some kind of style. A braid? Then she was wasting her time. It’d come loose by mid-morning. “You could probably make a mint off wig-makers.”

“Straight long hair can be very useful for a ninja,” explained Itachi as he glared down at Kakashi’s scroll. Were the odd smudges part of another pattern, or had the chunin who’d made his copy gotten a bit lazy?

“To make you look girly?”

“Wouldn’t work anymore,” mumbled Itachi. Before going through puberty, he’d managed to pass for a peasant girl a couple of times but it really wouldn’t work anymore. He doubted he’d ever be truly imposing, but his shoulders had grown noticeably wide, his hips too lean, and his jawline too masculine for him to pass for even an ugly girl anymore. Still, he could use long strands of hair to leave messages, mold chakra through narrow openings, to distract his opponents . . .

Maybe the patterns of sevens and fours were meaningless, but he shouldn’t let that discourage him. They might be smoke and mirrors, classic misdirection, so he needed to look beyond. Underneath the underneath. Look for the patterns that were less obvious. He’d already tried to use the numbers substitutes for kanji, hiragana, and katakana but he kept coming up with meaningless half words. Which told him he wasn’t even close to the real key. Maybe a combination of all the alphabets would yield better results?

Anko pulled out another knot and Itachi resisted a brief impulse to push her away. Making his irritation known would only make her more obnoxious. It was a game they played or, to be more accurate, a game she played with him. At him. Anko had told him more than once that she liked “the stoic type” because “they were the most fun to play with”. She just wanted to see how much she could poke at him before he snapped and got aggressive, not unlike a pre-genin pulling on another kid’s hair to get their attention.

Hell, she was doing exactly that. He wasn’t sure why he was still in a relationship with her. He’d tried to break it off several times but she only laughed, kissed him, and he just . . . let her. It had to mean that he held her in some regard. The alternative was that he hated himself too much break off contact with someone he objectively shouldn’t be able to stand.

“Why are you even here?” he decided to ask, growing frustrated with the jumble of numbers in front of him. “It’s not even Friday.”

“Can’t a woman just visit her boyfriend now?”

“Your what?” He must have misheard.

“It’s what your brats think I am,” Anko told him as she grabbed his bangs, way more roughly than was necessary. “Your brother’s cute by the way, but apparently too stupid to notice that he awakened Sharingan.”

He ought to send a crow to watch his team restore Lady Kago’s new mansion.

No, that would be a waste of chakra. If he couldn’t trust that Sas—that the kids to be safe in the heart of Konoha, then his situation was truly hopeless.

No one’s ever safe. A ninja does not cower from the truth.

Did you follow your own advice, Mother? I almost outright told you what I planned to do. Why didn’t you smother me in my sleep?

Anko laughed and leaned her chin on top of his head. “Anyway, the kiddos called me your girlfriend and I thought, hey why not? Sure would show all the assholes who said no man would ever stand me after a couple of fucks if I bagged myself a clan brat!” She pulled at the hair on the back of Itachi’s head until he was forced to look up and meet her smirking brown eyes. “Do you think you still count as a clan brat?”

Itachi pulled his head back down, not even slightly concerned with the possibility of losing a good chunk of his hair. Anko probably cared about it more than he did because she let go of the strands she was holding with a mocking laugh and simply tightened her grip on his hips. He resolved to ignore her until she went away and focused on the numbers again. They had had to correspond to some kind of alphabet, otherwise they’d be useless. Not all the patterns he’d spotted could be feints. He just needed to look for the least obvious one . . .

Or maybe the most obvious ones.

Sometimes, the best way to hide something was to shove it in people’s faces. Since substituting all the numbered patterns with kanji, hiragana, and katakana didn’t even yield complete words, it meant that he needed a simpler alphabet to substitute. Something with just a bit more straightforward . . . suddenly, he remembered another system of letters. One so rarely used that only rich nobles would have the time and resources to bother to learn it. A, B, C, D . . .

“I can’t believe you don’t have a single senbon hidden in all this hair!”

Itachi planned to ignore her but then he felt something coming towards his temple. Before he’d made a conscious decision to do so, his hand shot out and grabbed Anko’s wrist. A long needle, probably a poisoned one, was held between her thumb and index fingers. She laughed so he squeezed her wrist tightly enough to press the bones of her forearm together. When she tried to wrap her legs around his waist he stood up, suddenly eager to put some distance between them.

“I told you violence is not foreplay for me,” he snapped, rolling up the scroll and sliding it into his pocket. “Get out,” he ordered as he reached for the flak jacket lying on the table in front of the couch Anko was still occupying with a feral smirk on her round face.

“I was wondering when the monthly break up attempt was coming,” she said, crossing her legs and putting on a great show of making herself comfortable.

“I have to go to work and I don’t want you in my apartment alone,” said Itachi, thinking that it actually was as good a time as any to tell her they shouldn’t see each other anymore. He told himself he didn’t want to risk getting into a fight.

“Oh,” said Anko, shooting him an exaggerated pout. “That hurts my feelings.”

“I’m so sad,” said Itachi, trying to work out why he felt so off. It was his hair. For once, his bangs weren't tickling his nose and cheeks. “Get out,” he said when Anko snorted at his half-aborted reach for the strands at his temple. They just might get into a fight anyway. He’d make it quick.

“Before I go, there’s business we need to talk about.” Suddenly, her expression was more serious than Itachi ever remembered seeing. “The Hyuga offered to marry you to one of the Branch girls after your clan disowned you, right?”

“I disowned my clan,” corrected Itachi, ignoring the voice in his head pointing out that the specifics hardly mattered. “But yes, they did.” So did every other clan in Konoha. Sharingan was such a coveted bloodline that everyone was willing to welcome a known traitor into their midst just to get a hold of his genetic material. The thought made Itachi want to smirk.

“Ibiki wants to you to take them up on the offer,” said Anko.

“No.” The refusal came to his lips before he truly comprehended what she was saying.

“Or at least pretend to,” insisted Anko, rolling her eyes. “We need to find out what the hell’s going on with the Hyuga and no one could get access to the compound easier than you.”

“No,” repeated Itachi. Konoha had finally found the line he wouldn’t cross for them. No children of his would ever be branded with a Cursed Seal. And he’d be expected to have children if he ever married a Hyuga. Obviously. “Whose idea was this?”

“As far as I know, it’s coming from Ibiki’s twisted brainpan,” answered Anko. “Just think about it,” she said as she stood up and reached for her jacket. “We need to know what the fuck’s going on over there. You could always back out at the last moment. It’s not like anyone expects you to honor your agreements anymore.”

“Has Miss Eiko named the father of her fetus?” asked Itachi. They could question him.

“He committed suicide before we got to him,” said Anko, slashing at her neck with her thumb. Or Hoheto told his family about Miss Eiko and the proud father had come to his inevitable end. “Like I said, think about it.” Anko disappeared before Itachi could voice another adamant refusal.

He knew he couldn’t do it. Konoha could ask nearly anything out of Captain Crow or the nameless jonin they called Itachi, but Itachi Uchiha had completed his last mission five years ago.

He set out for the Hokage Tower wondering he’d have to refuse the same mission from Hokage-sama himself.

It would explain why he’d officially summoned Itachi for a private meeting when he could’ve simply passed by Team Seven’s training area. Maybe he had and Itachi was being summoned to explain why he’d dumped a decrepit mansion on his genin so he could scheme with Guy and Kakashi unmolested by teaching responsibilities. After dragging Kakashi to Naruto’s apartment so he could take a look at the Nine Tails' seal and pronounce it perfectly functional, Itachi had pushed his team towards the back of his mind without even discussing Sharingan with Sasuke. He didn’t feel even slightly guilty about it. Sasuke was still recovering from a bad head injury and couldn’t train anyway.

But Naruto and Sakura were in perfect condition to train, so he should probably be feeling guilty about disregarding their needs. As he made his way through the village streets, he resolved to stop by Lady Kago’s new mansion after his meeting Hokage-sama and teach them a basic jutsu or two. Maybe practical applications would help them with chakra control. Naruto would be so delighted he’d probably forgive Itachi for the odious cleaning mission on the spot.

He was still trying to decide with jutsu might be best when he raised a hand to knock on the door to Hokage-sama’s main office. Telling himself to prepare for whatever was coming; he knocked and waited to be invited inside the spacious beige room. By the time Hokage-sama’s pipe-roughened voice ordered him to come in, his face was deliberately blanked of all emotions.

Hokage-sama was sitting behind his desk, glaring at a scroll. “I need you to remain silent throughout the meeting,” he said after Itachi had closed the door without looking up from the paper. “And pay close attention.”

So he was there to . . . what? Look imposing and offer advice? That was Ibiki’s job, not his. For one, he was too short for it.

“Do you want me to marry into the Hyuga Clan?”

If the widening of Hokage-sama’s dark eyes was genuine, then the idea hadn’t come from him. Idly, Itachi wondered why he suddenly doubted if it was. Because he’s the one who insisted that you take your last 'C-ranked' mission. Be honest with yourself.

“Ibiki,” Hokage-sama said finally. “It would be the least suspicious way to insert a jonin into their compound.” At least he hadn’t said easiest. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“I wouldn’t do it,” said Itachi without bothering to point out that it wasn’t a move that would work if the situation got any more volatile. It was now or never, as they said. “If I ever shackle myself to another clan, it certainly won’t be to one more restrictive than my last one.”

“A mere name doesn’t shackle you to anything,” said Hokage-sama, reaching for his pipe. “You of all people should know that. Go stand behind my desk and no matter how angry you get, say nothing.”

“Who else is coming?” asked Itachi as he complied, resisting the urge to protest some more at the marriage plan.

“Danzo.”

Notes:

I've seen Latin letters (and English words) in the Naruto manga. That being said, I felt weird calling it the Latin alphabet when I there's no Rome in the Naruto world.

Chapter 11: Brighter than a Star

Summary:

Sasuke's life sucks in every way.

Notes:

This is long. Probably too long. I read it two times hoping to be able cut something and have the story make sense.

Also, I kind of robbed real life genetics for this (don't worry, you're not going to get a science lesson). My original plan was to rip off genetics and make up different words for real life laws of heredity. Then I thought, "would magic ninjas know about cellular biology?" My mind's answer: why not? They had computer that randomized the chunin exam tournament!

Like almost everything lately, the crisp scent of disinfectant permeating the hospital exam room grated on Sasuke’s nerves. He looked down at calluses on the palms of his hands and wished that for once the healers wouldn’t keep him waiting. It wouldn’t be long until Sakura and Naruto got worried and then he’d have to spend the rest of the day trying to ignore poorly disguised worried glances.

Someone finally pushed opened the door and a tall man wearing the customary medic’s white coat walked into his exam room without so much as looking up from Sasuke's chart. “Where does it hurt?”

That voice. “You . . .” Sasuke had been hearing that deep, impatient voice in his nightmares since the mission. It was the same ANBU medic who’d mended his arm. He was sure of it.

“Headaches?” asked the medic, walking towards the exam room’s cabinets and putting Sasuke’s chart aside before reaching for some latex gloves. “Stomachaches? Dizziness?”

“No,” answered Sasuke, staring up at the man’s dark, messy hair. So what if it was him? It wasn’t like ANBU were allowed to talk about their missions to outsiders.

“Nothing?” The healer turned skeptical grey eyes on him and Sasuke tried to remember if he’d noticed anything behind the ANBU medic’s porcelain mask.

“Not for the last three days,” said Sasuke. Before that though, it’d been a trial to hide his queasy stomach and occasional bouts of dizziness from Mikoto. And Naruto. Probably Sakura too. He held the healer’s gaze as the tall man walked forward and decided those details were unimportant.

“Arm.”

When Sasuke offered his injured arm, the medic pulled down his white arm warmers and examined his elbow. The dark bruise over the mended fractures had faded to a sickly yellowish tint and it’d been days since Sasuke had been surprised by brief flashes of pain coming from the area. Nevertheless, he had to hold back a wince when the healer’s brown-skinned hand started glowing blue with chakra, briefly remembering the excruciating pain he’d endured as the ANBU healer reconstructed his bones.

“It’s fine,” the presumably new healer told him, sounding more exasperated than comforting (just like the ANBU medic). He pulled his glowing hand away, making Sasuke feel nothing more than an irritating feather-like touch passing through the meat and skin over the bones of his elbow. “Lose the headband,” the healer ordered as he bent Sasuke’s arm in all directions to make sure it really had healed correctly.

Sasuke pulled his headband off, ignored the few strands of hair he pulled from the back of his head, and tried to decide if it would be a good idea to ask the healer if he’d been the ANBU to treat him in the forest. Was it even worth it to ask knowing that the ANBU squad had gotten to his team after he’d woken up? He’d have to hope that the healer would be willing to bend regulations and give mission details to a genin. Assuming that he was the same healer at all. He was way too tall and broad to be called a Wasp. But the ANBU who’d treated him had been tall.

As he felt the medic feeling around the spot where his head bump had been, Sasuke realized just how desperate he was getting. He glared at the hospital’s light green walls and, for what felt like the millionth time since waking up an amnesiac, tried to force himself to remember. Nothing. Like trying to will a stone to bloom flowers. It seemed like he needed to accept that all he’d ever get back from his first real ninja mission would be vague flashes of hunting rabbits with a delighted Naruto.

A Naruto who seemed worlds away from the guilty, hesitant, and haunted one who’d been trailing him since they’d returned to Konoha, though it seemed like he was getting more comfortable with his lie every day. Whatever the lie was. Maybe he’d just been upset about keeping the whole thing with Sharingan to himself? Sasuke doubted it. He needed to find out what the hell had happened. He’d wracked his brained for hours and decided that it must have involved the Nine Tails. How else could Naruto have defeated an enemy strong enough to nearly kill him?

He felt the medic pushing chakra past his head and forced himself not to react to the sudden feeling that someone was pressing on the very essence of his life force. “You must be the luckiest bastard alive,” said the healer as Sasuke felt the odd weight on his mind receding. “Your brain’s completely back to normal and there’s only a bit of bruising left over you cranium.”

“So I’m cleared for full active duty?” asked Sasuke, watching the man reach for his medical chart.

“Almost,” said the medic as he scribbled away. “I just need to do a basic cognitive exam and have a few words with your jonin-sensei—”

“—why?” interrupted Sasuke. Why did Itachi suddenly need to be involved in every, aspect of his life? Personally.

“Standard TBI follow-up procedure,” explained the medic, looking up at Sasuke. “Gotta make sure there’s been no drastic changes in your personality or behavior since you got head-slammed.”

“But . . . TBI?” asked Sasuke, trying to buy some time.

“Traumatic brain injury,” clarified the medic. “Is Itachi with you?”

“How do you know who my sensei is?” That was another sign that he was the same medic as the ANBU who’d originally treated him, wasn’t it?

“It’s in your file,” said the medic slowly, employing the kind of tone someone might use to explain that water was indeed wet. “But this is good info, actually. Would you say that you’ve always been prone to asking stupid questions?”

“I haven’t seen Itachi since we got back from the mission where I got injured,” said Sasuke, choosing to ignore the dig at his intelligence. It had been a stupid question anyway. Itachi’s name was probably plastered over all his files by now, if it hadn’t been before.

“That’s too bad for you,” said the healer, not sounding particularly concerned. After a slight yawn, he gestured at the door. “You can go now. Come back with Itachi and someone will clear you for duty.”

With a low grunt, Sasuke slid off the uncomfortable hospital examination bed. “Can you least give me a note saying I’m fine so my teammates will stop treating me like I’m made of glass?”

“Sorry, we don’t have a ‘get my teammates to stop worrying about me’ no—”

An older medic burst through the door with her brown eyebrows furrowed into a deep and tired frown.

“Eiji,” she gritted out.

Immediately, Sasuke felt a niggling flash of recognition. He knew the name, but from where?

“—you’re not supposed to just barge in here when I’m with a patient,” reprimanded Eiji. “What if I’d been checking him for an STD? Or hemorrhoids?”

The older woman took a deep, calming breath. Apparently, it didn’t help her at all because she ran her fingers through a short cap of graying dark hair and seemed to growl. “Did you tell a patient that it’s possible to get pregnant by sharing a bathtub with your brother?”

“Kind of,” answered Eiji with careless shrug. “I said it was perfectly possible as long as she fucked her brother in that bathtub, preferably vaginally but not necessarily.”

“You—” The woman took another deep breath before turning narrowed brown eyes on Sasuke. “Get out.”

Sasuke put his headband over his head and hurried to the door, thinking that he hadn’t been expecting to get cleared for duty anyway. The older medic’s angry voice followed him through the hospital hallway. “Are you so deluded that you think being mildly talented means you can get away with such shitty bedside manner? I should . . .”

Well, Sasuke doubted that a healer who had trouble with authority could be in ANBU so it was probably a good thing he hadn’t asked Eiji anything about the mission. There was no reason to give the impression that he was unbalanced. He made his way out of the hospital’s main lobby, briefly glancing at a thin man being held back from a short girl by an annoyed looking medic before slipping into Konoha’s busy streets. The desire to remember why Eiji was a familiar name niggled him, perversely pointing out just how fucked up his memory was.

The villagers were finishing their lunch breaks and hurrying back to work, sometimes bumping into each other in their haste, so Sasuke scaled one of the buildings nearest to the hospital and decided to make his way to Lady Kago’s new mansion via rooftop. Sakura was probably already back there but he might still be able to beat Naruto to their mission site. He didn’t want to answer questions about why he was later than usual. Ideally, he didn’t want to answer questions about anything ever again, even if he was getting so much practice at lying that telling the truth now felt strange.

When he realized he was pushing himself a little too hard, he decided it was the perfect time to test just how much he’d recovered from the stupid head injury—TBI. By the time he was hopping over the mansion’s honeysuckle infested fence, he was breathing a bit hard but there was no dizziness or pain. He smiled at the sign of his returning health even as he spotted Sakura rushing towards him with her green eyes widened in obvious concern.

“Are you all right?” she asked, reaching for him before remembering that he hated being touched.

“I’m fine,” he said, pointedly taking a step back, “like I’ve been trying to tell you for the last week. Is Naruto back yet?”

“Yeah,” answered Sakura, almost looking away from him. “He’s with the scrolls.”

Telling himself that he didn’t care how rude it was, Sasuke walked past her and rushed towards the mansion. Frustrating as they were, the scrolls were the only interesting thing that’d happened to him in . . . well he didn’t know since he was still missing eight days of his life.

What about Sharingan? an odd voice whispered into his mind.

Resisting the sudden urge to stump on the mansion’s recently cleaned first floor—Sakura was tentatively following him and would be worried by the gesture—he hurried to the newly emptied basement. They’d moved the antique vases to a secluded parlor in the third floor since they couldn’t decide what to do with them. Handing them over to Lady Kago seemed like such a waste.

Naruto was sitting on the cleared basement’s floor, glaring at a scroll and surrounded by several more. He looked almost comically frustrated as he wiped a thin film of sweat off his creased forehead, and probably not just by the many candles that were flooding the still dusty basement with light. “This is awful!” he cried when he spotted Sasuke walking down the basement steps. “The ones with words’re actually the worst.”

“Let me see,” snapped Sasuke when he reached Naruto’s side. He snatched the scroll away and looked down. Even as he thought that Naruto was too stupid to enjoy a good puzzle, the shaky characters scrawled on cheap paper mocked him with their apparent senselessness.

The snake (serpent seal) strikes the birds (bird seal) and no one escapes the wrath of the bones (tiger seal) watch out for death (4) . . .

“This is nonsense,” he said, recognizing some kind of encryption.

“I tried to tell you,” retorted Naruto.

“Actually,” Sakura mumbled tentatively, “the scrolls about anatomy are kind of useful, mostly because it’s not necessary to crack the encryption to get something out of them.”

“Who cares about anatomy?” yelled Naruto. “We have to ask Itachi-sensei for help with all the hand seals.”

“I told you that’s a stupid idea,” gritted out Sasuke. “He’s just going to take the scrolls before we figure out anything useful about them.”

“We’ve spent the last couple of days in this basement and we’ve figured out jack shit,” argued Naruto with narrowed blue eyes. “Even you two supposed book-geniuses are stumped.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Naruto was right. Even with Sakura’s pointers about what the seals usually meant, they weren’t getting anywhere. Randomly stringing hand seals together without knowing what exactly they were trying to do with their chakra was about as effective as trying to write a story with an alphabet that they only vaguely understood.

“Well, I’ve got a couple of things about blood circulation,” said Sakura in what she probably thought was a placating tone.

“But we haven’t figured out a single jutsu!” complained Naruto. “This is nothing like how I learned Shadow Clones.”

“And how do you expect us to get anything with you complaining every five seconds?” demanded Sasuke. “I’m thinking that if one of goes to the library and gets some basic jutsu scrolls, we might be able to work out what these are for.”

“That’s a good idea!” said Sakura. “Jutsu tend to build on each other so we might be able to work out some common hand seal sequences and apply them to these unknown ones in the scrolls.”

“All right, even I can tell that’s a long shot,” said Naruto. “For all we know, this old bastard jonin didn’t write down his seals in the right order so we don’t actually have any sequences in the first place. Why can’t you both just admit that without any help, these things,” Sasuke watched him grasp a couple of the scrolls scattered about him and angrily wave them in his and Sakura’s faces, “are useless. We haven’t actually trained since we found them. We’re just wasting time reading shit we don’t understand. I wish Itachi would get back already so we could start learning stuff again!”

“Oh yes, because Itachi was being so helpful before dumping us with this awful old house.” Sasuke didn’t care that his voice was getting shrill. He was tired of hearing Naruto whine that he wanted Itachi to come back, especially since all he’d done before Itachi disappeared was complain about what an asshole Itachi was.

“That’s not entirely fair,” said Sakura. Sasuke turned his glare her way but she was looking down at her hands. “Itachi-sensei was helping us with taijutsu, chakra control, and evasive skills.”

“I could teach you all that stuff if you guys would just let me,” said Sasuke, resisting the urge to pull out his own hair.

“But your head’s all fucked up,” Naruto told him, looking at him like he thought Sasuke had forgotten.

“Not anymore!” said Sasuke. “I stopped by the hospital on the way here and the medic who checked me said I’m fine now.”

“So you got cleared for duty?” asked Sakura, finally looking up at him with her big green eyes widened in hope.

“. . . Not exactly,” Sasuke admitted, certain that Sakura at least would be smart enough to ask for the scroll declaring him fully recovered. “But—”

“—he’s lying,” interrupted Naruto with an obnoxious eye roll. “Medic probably told him he should still be in bed.”

“He said I’m fine,” insisted Sasuke, feeling his hands curl into fists. “It’s just . . . I need my jonin-sensei there because I recovered from a head injury.”

“Then maybe we should go to the Tower?” suggested Sakura. “We haven’t seen Itachi-sensei for more than a week . . .”

“I bet we could get him trouble,” said Naruto, smirking widely. “It’d serve the bastard right for abandoning us.”

“Look, can we just not draw attention to ourselves?” Sasuke hated the pleading edge to his voice but he didn’t want to see Itachi any time soon. Not until he figured out how to awa—reactivate his Sharingan, at least.

“Can’t you get over yourself for five seconds?” demanded Naruto. “You need Itachi as bad as we do!”

“I don’t need Itachi!” shouted Sasuke, not caring if he sounded hysterical.

“I disagree.”

The sound of Itachi’s voice almost made Sasuke scream. In a poor attempt to hide the rage he was sure was written all over his face, he stared at the dark floor. Why was Itachi always so silent? Why?

“Sensei!” cried Sakura. The startled shrill in her voice almost made Sasuke go cross-eyed.

Goddamned it! Did Itachi’s mere presence have the power to exacerbate brain injuries? For a wild moment Sasuke seriously considered the possibility. He certainly felt a headache coming for the first time in days.

“You!” yelled Naruto, shooting up to his feet and aiming an accusatory finger at the spot on the stairs Sasuke assumed Itachi was occupying. “Where the shit have you been?”

“Busy,” answered Itachi. “Why isn’t this mansion clean yet?”

“Uh . . . don’t try to turn this around on us!” yelled Naruto. “You’re the one who disappeared. And what the fuck did you do to your hair?”

Fighting back the urge to take an obvious calming breath, Sasuke forced himself to look towards Itachi’s voice. For the first time since their very first day of their training, Itachi was wearing standard jonin gear, bulky flak jacket included. That would have been odd enough by itself but it was practically mundane when compared to the intricate set of braids keeping Itachi’s bangs out of his face. Someone (Sasuke had trouble picturing Itachi doing it for anything other than a mission) had parted his hair around his left temple and braided the black strands usually guarding his eyes towards the back of his head. A few stubborn flecks of hair had escaped from their proper place and hanged down his cheeks, but they only served to make Itachi seem oddly menacing, like he’d just finished a fight.

“They’re called braids, Naruto,” said Itachi, taking the last few steps into the basement before turning his eyes on Sakura. “Why hasn’t this mission been completed yet?”

Sakura’s eyes widened for a few and then she visibly tried to swallow. Sasuke could almost imagine the nervous lump that had lodged itself in her throat. She wasn’t used to getting reprimanded by teachers. “This is a three-floor mansion,” he interjected before consciously making the decision to draw Itachi’s attention away from her. When Itachi turned naked dark eyes on him, he almost regretted his words. Itachi looked angry. Sasuke didn’t think he’d ever seen Itachi angry. Except . . .

“It’d take about a dozen carpenters to get this house done in about three weeks even if there wasn’t something to actually repair, which there is,” ranted Naruto. He was just parroting the angry screed that had exploded out of Sakura’s mouth the day they’d found a section of the back end of the roof rotting, but it was just as well. He doubted Sakura was in the right frame of mind to rant at Itachi. “We’re gonna have to replace most of the roof at the back and since Lady Kago wants everything to match, it means we have to replace the whole roof! For 50,000 ryo, which we’ll have to split three—four ways, if you’re gonna be more of an asshole, that’s practically slave labor.”

“And I suppose I found you working so diligently because you understand the extent to which you’ll have to push yourselves if you want to take another mission before the year’s end,” said Itachi. His voice—his usually calm, emotionless voice—was vibrating with disdain. “What are these?” he asked, glaring down at the scrolls scattered at Naruto’s feet.

“Uh . . . jutsu scrolls,” answered Naruto, shifting from angry to nervous in seconds. “Which we got from the library.”

“Naruto, it’s obvious they’re not from the library!” cried Sakura, somehow managing to find her voice before Itachi had finished raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Sensei, I’m so sorry about this. I know I’m supposed to be leading this mission and I take full responsibility—”

“Sakura!”

“—shut up, Naruto!” she snapped with an angry glare Naruto’s way. Without so much as pause for breath, she shifted her attention back towards Itachi. “You see, we started working diligently, like you said . . .” Sasuke tried to fight off a growing sense of hopelessness as he heard Sakura compose a blasted dissertation about everything they’d done over the last week. She even threw in a bunch of technical carpentry terms that Sasuke doubted Itachi understood anymore than he did.

Whether he understood or not, Itachi didn’t ask for any clarifications. He didn’t even bother to steer Sakura back on topic the few times she started babbling about her personal life, not even when Sakura explained that her mother had recently become obsessed a new romance novel author. He actually nodded when Sakura told him that Ino was pursuing an upperclassman (a Hyuga, no less and her father was livid because of it). Like Itachi cared. Sasuke recognized the classic interrogation technique. Why interrupt your target when she was spilling her guts out to you unprompted? he thought.

“Oh man,” mumbled Naruto, shuffling over and laying his blond head on Sasuke’s shoulder. Sasuke imagined that some of his own frustration was ebbing out with Naruto’s careless display of emotion. The heat from the candles was finally making him feel sweaty and uncomfortable, but that was minor annoyance compared to the rage he was feeling thanks to Itachi’s sudden arrival. He didn’t manage to hold back a frustrated grunt when Sakura finally told Itachi they’d been planning to decipher the old jonin’s encrypted scrolls to teach themselves ninjutsu.

“Work on making your oral reports more concise,” Itachi said when Sakura finally finished her rambling speech. The admonishment made her balk and look down at her feet in obvious shame.

“Don’t be such a dick,” snapped Naruto. “She just told you everything.”

“Gather all these scrolls and take me to the room where you moved the vases,” ordered Itachi, ignoring Naruto’s resentful reprimand. “And extinguish these candles when you’re done.” He turned without another word and headed up the stairs, seemingly free of the anger that had been weighing him down before Sakura’s detailed speech.

Sasuke couldn’t help but notice how much shorter his hair looked when it was braided and how much older the jonin gear made him look. He looked like—

“—hey, you can gather scrolls too, your highness,” said Naruto.

With a slight shake of his head, Sasuke bent down and began to pick up some of the scrolls. He tried to think that they probably wouldn’t have managed work out how to read them, hoping to chase away any disappointment about losing them to Itachi so soon. Naruto let out a frustrated sigh which made Sasuke look up at both his teammates. Sakura was letting her long pink bangs hide her eyes, pointedly avoiding their gaze. He didn’t know what her problem was. Even Naruto was keeping any and all accusation of snitching to himself.

“Let’s go,” he said when they’d gathered the scrolls. Despite the resolve he managed to inject into his tone, he couldn’t talk himself into making his trek up the basement stairs anything more than reluctant and despondent.

Itachi waited for them by a window in front of the door leading to basement stairs looking formal and adult. Sasuke couldn’t help but frown at the sight of him, for some reason deciding that he preferred it when Itachi wore casual clothes and kept his long black hair loose.

“Hand me one of the scrolls,” he ordered when they reached him. When Sakura quickly stepped forward, Sasuke felt a bit of relief that Itachi hadn’t specified who the order was for.

“The vases are this way,” Naruto mumbled, heading towards the largest living room so they could start up the main stairs and towards the third floor. At least they’d cleaned that room before getting utterly distracted by the promise of all the unknown ninjutsu hidden in the old jonin’s scrolls. “We just didn’t wanna give them to that old hag, all right.”

“Don’t call Lady Kago a hag,” ordered Sakura. Her voice lacked its usual strength.

When they got to the relatively spacious room where they’d hidden the precious vases, Itachi seemed utterly unaffected. Sasuke felt a momentary flash of satisfaction about how thoroughly they’d cleaned the room—and the gleaming vases—of dust, and then quickly berated himself for it. He shouldn’t care about following Itachi’s orders.

“So,” said Naruto, “aren’t they awesome?”

“Do you remember in which vases you found each scroll and how the vases were positioned in relation to each other?” asked Itachi.

“Huh?” asked Naruto.

Of course, thought Sasuke, suddenly wanting to slap himself.

“Oh,” said Sakura, shame and sadness about failing to lead the mission properly momentarily forgotten. “That was part of the encryption!”

“Most likely,” agreed Itachi.

“Ah shit,” said Naruto, somehow managing to sigh and grunt at the same time. “Sasuke, do you remember?”

“No,” said Sasuke, thinking that if only he had Sharingan . . . but he wouldn’t have activated Sharingan to look at some vases any—no, he would have examined them with Sharingan to check for traps.

“I’m sorry sensei,” mumbled Sakura, once again sounding deflated. “It was my idea to move them because I didn’t want us to break them accidentally while we . . .” she trailed off without mentioning their attempt to learn possibly forbidden ninjutsu again.

“Let this be a lesson to you,” said Itachi, gazing back at all three of them. “Next time you find something suspicious during a mission, report it to your superiors before altering the scene unless you absolutely have to. What if these vases had been riddled with traps?”

“Oh, give us break! We’re not that stupid,” snapped Naruto, depositing the scrolls he was holding under a large table occupied by most of the smaller vases. “I had one of my clones touch them first.”

“I suppose I must be glad for any iota of common sense you choose to employ,” said Itachi with a slight shake of his head. “Let’s go outside,” he continued as he turned back towards the door. “Leave the scrolls here.”

“But can we still look through them later?” asked Naruto as he complied and followed Itachi out of the room.

Sasuke waited for Sakura to put the scrolls over Naruto’s before placing his own scrolls down on top of hers, taking a few moments to arrange them into some kind of order (fattest ones on the bottom). Then he started following Itachi, wishing his belly didn’t suddenly feel so hallow. He forced his feet not to shuffle, unwilling to fall into a pointless habit of sulking just because he’d been stupidly hoping that Itachi had been sent on some long term mission. Itachi was his jonin-sensei. They’d be seeing each other on a regular basis until Sasuke passed a chuunin exam.

Take advantage of his nearness, he heard Mikoto’s voice telling him as he walked down the mansion’s stairs, carefully remaining a few feet behind Sakura. Watch his fighting styles and learn his weaknesses.

That wasn’t going well at all. Itachi was always carefully blank around them. The earlier display of anger was an anomaly. As for observing his fighting style . . . If anything, sparring with Itachi was demoralizing. How could Sasuke goad him into revealing anything about the way he engaged a true opponent when he was so far beneath Itachi’s level that the bastard rarely adopted a fighting stance against him? Mikoto would tell him to be strong, that he had the might of the Uchiha clan behind him but . . .

But Itachi defeated the Uchiha clan when he was scarcely a year older than you are, an ugly voice whispered into his mind’s ear.

Sasuke felt his legs slowing down as though they had a mind of their own. He looked up at Sakura’s pink hair and, for one stupid moment, he wanted to call out to her without knowing what exactly he wanted to say. What could he possibly say to avoid joining Itachi? How could Sakura help him? How could anyone? He bit his lower lip and forced his legs to hurry, refusing to let his wish to be as far away from Itachi as possible turn him into some irrational baby. His heart thudded nervous—angrily in his chest despite his silent struggle for resolve.

When he finally stepped out of the mansion, he scanned the backyard and instantly spotted Naruto’s ridiculous orange jumpsuit hunched by the trunk of the yard’s lonely alder. Itachi was sitting in front of him, apparently explaining something. Sakura rushed forward the moment she realized Itachi was talking, probably horrified at the idea of missing one of his rare lessons. Sasuke tried to rush forward as well, but his bones and muscles seemed to have a mind of their own and were refusing to hurry towards Itachi.

“. . . so Miss Eiko will most likely be allowed to leave Konoha once her child is born,” Itachi was telling Naruto by the time Sasuke was close enough to hear the conversation. The tall grass that had taken over the yard scratched his naked toes as he took the last few steps towards his teammates.

“And what about the baby?” asked Naruto.

“That depends,” said Itachi.

“On what?”

“On whether it’s born with Byakugan or not,” explained Itachi.

“But I thought all Hyuga had Byakugan,” said Sakura, looking up at Itachi with a silent question written in her wide green eyes.

“Almost all,” mumbled Sasuke, finally sitting down beside Sakura and forcing himself to look Itachi’s way. He knew he was glaring, but he didn’t really care.

“But I thought the blood jutsu were passed down by parents,” said Naruto, scratching his blond head in confusion.

“Well yeah, but according to typical patterns of genetic inheritance,” said Sakura, looking at Naruto with a confused frown of her own. She then looked back at Itachi. “But Byakugan is an autosomal dominant trait so Eiko’s baby doesn’t have good chances, does it?”

“That’s a matter of perspective,” said Itachi. “If the father had a heterozygous genotype, then there’s a fifty percent chance that Miss Eiko’s child will not inherit Byakugan. Since the bloodline is obvious from birth, she’ll not have to wait until long after her baby is born for a realistic assessment of her options.”

“Wait,” interrupted Naruto, looking at all of them with his blue eyes still narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You didn’t pay attention when you were being thought about kekkei genkai at the Academy?” asked Itachi.

“Of course not,” said Sakura. “Naruto never paid attention to anything.”

“Well fine whatever, I didn’t pay attention,” admitted Naruto, glaring at no one in particular. “You can explain it to me now.”

“. . . All right,” agreed Itachi, with a slight head tilt. “How much about genetics do you understand?”

“Uh . . .”

Nothing, Sasuke could’ve answered for him. He didn’t want to speak in front of Itachi though, certain as he was that his voice would be shaking with anger if he tried to. His throat actually hurt when Itachi was around. It was psychosomatic, he knew, but . . . Sasuke was learning that there wasn’t much of a difference between psychosomatic pain and “real” pain.

“Just in case, let’s pretend I don’t know anything about it,” said Naruto with a sheepish grin.

Itachi stared at him for a few moments before launching into a technical explanation about single base substitution mutations since most experts agreed that was probably what resulted in Byakugan. He actually called it a “single base substitution mutation”, which predictably made Naruto ask for clarification. It wasn’t long after that before Naruto admitted that he didn’t know what gene was "exactly". When Itachi started a technical explanation about DNA, neuclotides, and chromosomes, Sasuke had to fight an urge to sigh tiredly. Sakura tried her best to simplify Itachi’s explanations, going as far as trying to construct simple analogies and comparisons to help Naruto understand, but Naruto was getting too angry and frustrated to understand anything.

“This is not as complicated as you’re making it sound to be,” said Itachi finally, pushing a long strand of hair that had escaped from its braid behind his left ear. “Let’s start from the beginning again—”

“—forget it, forget it!” interrupted Naruto, shaking his head. “I’ve always been too stupid for book stuff.”

“They’re just bad at explaining,” Sasuke said suddenly, feeling inexplicably angry at the despairing furrow in Naruto’s eyebrows. “It’s the terminology—they just have to use plain language and then it’s simple. Listen,” he told Naruto. “Everything you are comes half from your father and half from your mother. So Eiko’s baby will either have Eiko’s eyes or its father’s eyes. Understand?”

“. . . yes,” said Naruto, staring at him with wide blue eyes.

“Good,” said Sasuke, nodding. “There are rules about how your body decides whether it wants to copy your father or your mother. I’ll explain those later.”

Naruto stared at him with eyes and smiled a little tentatively. “Thanks, Sasuke.”

He ought to be happy at the deeply grateful edge to Naruto’s voice—he was supposed to be getting Naruto to love him, after all—but it just made him angrier. Sakura was staring at him with a look of surprise. It’d be annoying enough on its own but next to Itachi’s blank expression, it was downright infuriating.

“Anyway,” started Itachi, “I want you to report to our training grounds first thing in the morning. We’re going back to our regular training schedule.”

“And this mission?” asked Sakura.

“You will work at it all afternoons until it’s done.”

“But payment!” said Naruto. “We haven’t gotten any money since coming back to Konoha.”

“We won’t take a new mission until you complete this one,” said Itachi. “Consider this a lesson in budgeting. Be sure not to waste your compensation for completing Miss Eiko’s mission too soon.”

“But—”

“—let it go, Naruto,” interrupted Sakura before nodding at Itachi enthusiastically. “Don’t worry, sensei. We’ll get to work right away and we’ll even tell Lady Kago about the vases so we don’t have any distrac—”

“Why would we do that?” asked Itachi before Sakura could get carried away into another rambling speech.

“Well,” started Sakura, looking unsure of herself once again, “the old jonin said he doesn’t want his furniture and Lady Kago initially said we could keep everything we found but Sasuke thinks she’ll want the vases so . . .”

“Those vases are implicated with a series of scrolls filled with potentially sensitive information. They’re ours now,” explained Itachi. “And even if they hadn’t been holding scrolls, there would be no reason to tell Lady Kago of their existence. They’ll make a nice addition to Konoha’s budget.”

“So you think we should steal them,” said Naruto. There was a huge grin splitting his face. “I knew it was the right thing to do!”

“It's the most convenient thing for us to do,” agreed Itachi. “You can get back to work now.”

Sasuke shot to his feet faster than Naruto even, and then tried not to blush as he waited for his teammates to stand up as well.

“Guess Bastard’s really eager for work today,” mumbled Naruto as he stood, shooting Sasuke a delighted smile.

“Sasuke, stay back for a bit,” Itachi ordered when Sakura had also risen and all three had turned towards the mansion, readying themselves to for an afternoon of dusting and disinfecting. Naruto hesitated but Sakura grabbed his arm and dragged him away, shushing his protests and carefully avoiding Sasuke’s gaze. Sasuke didn’t even hate her for it. She’d just spared him the difficulty of having to lie and say that he didn’t mind being alone with Itachi for a few moments.

After they’d gone, Sasuke turned back towards Itachi and fell back into a sitting position in front of him, making sure to be as graceful and dignified as Mikoto had taught him. And Itachi too.

“Have you managed to activate Sharingan again?” asked Itachi without preamble.

“No,” Sasuke admitted, stubbornly looking straight at Itachi’s impassive dark eyes despite the fist of shame squeezing his belly. Stupidly, he started hoping that Itachi was planning to help him.

“That’s unprecedented,” said Itachi after a few moments. “Have you told . . .” For the first time since Sasuke could remember, Itachi seemed to stumble over his words. “. . . Anyone else?” he finished.

Can’t even bring yourself to say their names, can you? Sasuke felt his eyes narrowing. He didn’t try to hide his expression. “No,” he answered, wishing he had something more to say.

He had more to say. Why did you do it? Why? The question almost clawed its way out of his throat.

“Do your eyes hurt?” asked Itachi and, for a second, his voice sounded softer.

“No,” answered Sasuke.

“Well,” started Itachi, expression still blank and smooth, “as long as you’re not in any pain, it’s nothing to be concerned with.”

Yes it is!

“You can get back to work,” Itachi finished before rising to his feet. “Keep Naruto and Sakura on point. Procrastination will only make your workload heavier.”

Procrastination will only make your workload heavier. Sasuke didn’t remember which one of their—his parents first told him that, but it didn’t matter. He suddenly realized why he hated to see Itachi’s long bangs braided away from his face. Without a curtain of dark hair to hide behind, Itachi managed to look like both Mikoto and Fugaku at the same time. It was sickening. Sasuke wanted to burn the birthmarks under his eyes.

He spent the rest of the day in a fog of anger and frustration. Sakura was determined to finished the get the mansion’s interior ready to start actually painting the next afternoon so she spend most of the time nagging Naruto and his clones about not getting distracted. Sasuke made a couple of clones of his own, pointedly ignored Sakura’s concerns about his head injury, and tried to ignore the deep scowl in his doubles’ featured.

“Forget him, Sakura,” one of the Narutos said as he carried a crumbling old chair out of the room they were clearing out. “He’s in a mood.” At least Sakura had the common sense to listen to Naruto and mostly left Sasuke to his own devices for the rest of the afternoon.

At sundown, he mumbled something in response to Sakura’s half-hearted good-byes and tried to rush home, not letting himself become deterred by Naruto’s clumsy attempts to talk him into getting dinner with him because “they had to talk about something.” Naruto always had something to talk about and it was almost always something stupid. Sasuke shrugged him off and headed back to his house as quickly as his legs could carry him, deciding that he didn’t want to tell his parents that Itachi had finally shown his face again. What was the point? Itachi had done nothing but fail to explain simple genetics to Naruto. He didn’t even stop by Uchiha Senbei to see his aunt and uncle because he was certain he was wearing his ugly mood like an armor. Instead he went straight home, moving silently so Yoshie wouldn’t detect his presence.

If he was lucky, he wouldn't have to face his parents until dinner, after he’d had a chance to meditate and hopefully gotten his bad mood under control. He walked through his home’s pristine hallways like a ghost and almost whispered a silent prayer of thanks to the spirits when he got to his bedroom door without running into Fugaku.

Of course, he found Mikoto standing by his dresser, looking down at whatever she was holding with her living hand. Something she’d found while cleaning, probably. Sasuke held back an undignified whine and tried to remember what the hell he’d put in his drawers that was awful enough to stop her dead in her tracks.

“Mother,” he said finally.

Mikoto was too much of a ninja to make her surprise too obvious, but the fact that he actually had to speak to make his presence known spoke volumes about how off-balance she probably was. “Sasuke,” she said in a seemingly placid tone before turning towards him with a smile. “How was your day?”

“It was fine,” he answered without stepping forward. “We cleaned.”

“And your brother?” She still called him that whenever she was sure Fugaku wasn’t around to hear.

“He came back today,” answered Sasuke, forgetting about his decision to lie. “He didn’t explain where he’d been. He tried and failed to teach Naruto about genetic inheritance.” The mechanical way in which he delivered the report was probably rude, but he didn’t have the energy for anything else.

With a gentle smile, Mikoto handed him what she’d been looking at before he arrived. Sasuke looked at her extended hand, spotted what looked like a picture, and knew before grabbing it what it was. His official team photo. He barely remembered taking it, much less why he’d decided to put it in a place he must have known Mikoto would find it.

“He looks content,” Mikoto said as Sasuke looked down at it.

What could Sasuke say to that? That Itachi wasn’t? He certainly looked happy enough, smiling softly at the camera with his right hand lying on a grinning Naruto’s shoulder. Sakura was standing to his left, also grinning happily despite the sweat that had made her pink hair limp and soggy. The only person on the picture who looked miserable was Sasuke himself. He didn’t remember doing it, but he’d stood slightly separate from his teammates and shot the camera a ridiculously pouty glare. Is that what he looked like when he was angry? No wonder nobody took him seriously.

“Your teammates like him?” asked Mikoto.

“Sakura likes all teachers on principle,” answered Sasuke, looking away from the photograph and walking towards his dresser. “Naruto likes anyone nice—” He stopped talking abruptly, fully realizing what he’d said, and put the picture down. Itachi smiled softly and made him want to tear the photograph into tiny little pieces. 

“Go on,” Mikoto prompted, raising her left arm and laying it on his shoulder.

“I thought I’d imagined him being nice. Or that I was remembering wrong,” Sasuke said, looking up at her. To his horror, he felt his eyes filling with tears. When he tried to look away, Mikoto tightened her grip on his shoulders and smiled gently. “But he doesn’t do anything . . . mean, not ever,” continued Sasuke. Father’s more critical and judgmental than him, he thought but didn’t say. “Not even when we make mistakes or when we don’t understand what he tries to teach. I know he’s a monster, I know. I know that.”

“Sasuke—”

“But if that’s how a monster acts,” he interrupted, “then what’s everyone else? What am I? I broke another kid’s jaw just because I was angry. Naruto tried to be my friend for years and all I ever did was insult and hit him. Sakura and all those girls who said they love me—they’re stupid but I must have made all of them cry at some point. And they’re annoying and I hate them. I hate them.”

Mikoto drew him into a one-armed hug and he realized he was ranting through hysterical sobs. All the scene needed to become truly perfect was for Fugaku to walk into the room and find his heir sobbing into his mother’s kimono. Even that awful image didn’t stop the flood of words from escaping his mouth.

“And Itachi,” he continued, “I hate him too but it’s not for the reason I should. He’s quiet and keeps to himself and you don’t even know he’s there most of the time. It’s like he’s a ghost. Or like you spent so much time preparing for a monster that you can’t believe that the real thing is him. He’s just like a ghost. Like a stone. Nothing affects him. He’s the way I should be and I wish everyone else was like him. I hate him because he won’t let me hate him.” 

He didn’t know how long he held on to Mikoto’s waist sobbing more than a little hysterically. A part of him was disgusted by the whole thing and wanted to stop. It was a small part though, only a tiny beam of clarity that couldn’t hope to cut through the rage clouding his mind.

Eventually, he calmed down and Mikoto removed her arm from his shoulder, signaling that she wanted him off her person. Sasuke let go of her and took a hasty step back, trying not to see the tear stains on her shirt. He avoided her gaze, feeling both ashamed and ridiculously relieved. It was like he’d spent the day training until his limbs were loose with satisfied exhaustion.

“Sasuke, look at me.” Mikoto waited until he’d forced himself to meet her gentle, dried-eyed gaze. “I wished you’d shared these feelings with me sooner.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You’ve spoken enough today,” she interrupted. The reprimand was soft. It didn’t mean much. All her reprimands were. “And I do not want you to regret your honesty. Ninja have to lie enough as it is. It’s foolish to lie to your family. Lying to yourself would be courting madness. Let’s go have tea before dinner.”

“And Father?” asked Sasuke, praying that he wouldn’t be there. As long as he was being honest with himself, he might as well admit that spending time with Fugaku was a form of psychological torture.

“He’s meditating,” said Mikoto. “Don’t worry.”

By the time they’d walked into kitchen and Mikoto set a steaming teapot on the table, Sasuke had done his best to work himself into a suitable state of regret and shame. Not even the realization that he barely remembered what he’d babbled—nor the consideration to maybe confess that he’d apparently awakened Sharingan but didn’t remember doing it thanks to a brain injury that blotted out more than a week’s worth of his memories—made him feel as desperate as he remembered feeling before his outburst. For all he knew, he was still “freaking out” as Naruto would put it and it was now manifesting as a defiant refusal to even care about it.

“Your brother told me that he was going to put a stop to the clan’s rebellion,” Mikoto said as she poured tea on his cup.

Sasuke knew that she expected some kind of response but he was stuck wondering if he’d misheard. “How . . .?”

“You’re not the only who has trouble making sense of Itachi’s actions,” Mikoto continued, pouring tea on her own cup. She turned her dark eyes on Sasuke and offered him a small smile. “I didn’t believe that he would ever rebel. He raised his sword against me and a part of me still didn’t believe it. I woke up a cripple who couldn’t accept that her own son had crippled her. Fugaku never confirmed my theory, but I suspect Itachi also warned him about what his intention to cut ties with the clan.”

“Mother—”

“—let me finish, Sasuke. I let you finish,” she said taking a sip of tea with another small smile. “Itachi always seemed a bit unreal. It was like he’d been born knowing things. He beat your father at Go for the first time when he was four. He beat me about a month later. He awakened Sharingan when he was a five. There are no records of any Uchiha awakening it at such a young age. Our elders said he was brighter than a star.”

Sasuke didn’t know what she was trying to tell him, but if a speech about Itachi’s many gifts was going to be the only thing he'd have to endure because of his outburst, he ought to consider himself lucky. He was at least used to speeches about how Itachi was perfect at everything. He’s an awful teacher, he thought sullenly, like that mattered.

“That’s not particularly important, though,” Mikoto continued. “It’s not unusual for intelligent children to become rebellious. Your father and I prepared for that much. If anything, we worried he didn’t seem to rebel. Bouts of subtle sarcasm were the only signs of discontent Itachi ever expressed before betraying us. In every other way he was perfect; always bringing glory to the clan, always kind and always obedient, if a bit reluctant to follow unsavory orders. Your father worried that he was too passive to ever be a proper Clan Head. There’s a difference between an enforcer and leader, he used to say.”

Sasuke stared down at his untouched cup of tea and tried to imagine the old Fugaku complaining about Itachi. It was difficult, like trying to picture a world where the ground was made of clouds and the sky made of dirt.

“Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” Mikoto asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

“. . . Not really,” admitted Sasuke, looking at her and offering and apologetic shrug. “Everyone was shocked by Itachi’s actions. And he is brilliant.” It wasn’t exactly new information.

“He is also difficult to hate,” said Mikoto. “Do you think you’re the only one who wastes hours trying to forget the Itachi who used to smile poke your forehead?” she demanded, voice suddenly harsh. “I carried that boy in my womb for thirty-eight weeks and spent fifty-two pained hours bringing him into the world. I let him drink my milk for a year. I taught him to read and write. I gave him his first set of shuriken and taught him how to use it. Do you think my hatred for him is natural? Or easy? Do you think that what your father feels for Itachi doesn’t eat at him day after day?”

The speech sucked the air out of Sasuke’s lungs and left him feeling more empty than ashamed. “No,” he said somehow, wanting to apologize despite being certain that ‘I’m sorry’ would only make Mikoto angrier.

“I didn’t think so,” said Mikoto. She reached out and ran her hand through his hair with a smile, pausing on the spot where Sasuke’s head suffered its traumatic blow. Her fingers tightened briefly, not enough to pull on his hair, but enough to make him wonder if she knew about his injury. “Don’t obsess with manufacturing more hatred for Itachi and don’t bother to deny that you love him, especially not to yourself. What you must do is remember that he is your enemy and that you must kill him. Do not forget that regardless of how many smiles he gives you or how many jutsu he teaches you. He would kill you. He would turn around and rip out your eyes to achieve his goals. Do you understand?”

“. . . Yes,” answered Sasuke, though he couldn’t help but feel like he understood the words but not the meaning behind them. Not really.

“Good,” said Mikoto, smiling her usual gentle smile before letting go of his hair and taking her hand away. “Now go meditate and get ready for dinner.”

Notes:

I don't know how many potential readers noticed, but I've been posting little side stories for this fic. It's my attempt to get rid of some of the padding my brain insists is totally part of the story.

I want you guys to know that you can request for little stories to be written. Is there any part of this fic that you wish was more detailed? Tell me so. I can't guarantee that I'll write what you request, but I can guarantee that I'll think about it.

Chapter 12: Amalgamation

Summary:

Itachi decides to make an attempt at teaching and Kakashi wishes his friends were a little more laid back.

Notes:

This is very dialogue-heavy. I wanted to see if I could write one of those 'conference' scenes. Not sure I managed it . . .

Also I may have mangled electricity but . . . magic ninjas so whatever.

Cameos (haven't done this in a while): Guy, Kurenai, Asuma, and the previous Ino-Shika-Cho team!

There was blood plastered over his nostrils. Naruto tried to focus on that rather than the taste of raw meat spread over his tongue or the excitement pulsing through his muscles and speeding up his heartbeat. A surprisingly resilient target was refusing to admit defeat and actually making him work for his victory. Kind of. He ran through the dark forest and growled triumphantly when his burning red chakra suffocated plants and smothered night-blooming flowers.

Naruto was almost sad about having to kill the upstart responsible for his fun.

Naruto was also shaking with fear and revulsion (there was raw meat stuck between his jagged front teeth) and he wished his legs would just stop moving. He was begging them to. They were his legs. Why weren’t they listening to him? All his limbs felt so heavy that he didn’t understand how he was moving them at all. His feet crushed the rocks scattered over the forest ground and—

—A shrill scream made him stop in his tracks and open his eyes.

It was actually his clock, screeching in insistent alarm so loudly and quickly that Naruto knew he’d over slept. He tried to sigh and realized that his heartbeat was still too fast and breathing still too harsh, like he’d really been running rather than just dreaming about it. About hunting.

Forcing himself to disregard the faint trembling assaulting his joints, he clicked his off alarm clock and got out of his futon. Itachi-sensei was finally back from wherever he’d fucked off to after Eiko’s mission. Naruto didn’t want to be late for training especially since it was his turn for a spar. Itachi’s promise to teach a special Shadow Clone technique to the first one of them to land a hit on him still shone like a beacon in Naruto’s mind. He made his way to his bathroom while taking in deep breaths and going over any ideas about how to catch Itachi off guard.

His subdued pace quickened when he saw his toothpaste. The sight of the minty-green tube suddenly made him realize that the memory of raw meat still tingled his mouth. In an attempt to chase away the taste, Naruto squeezed way more green paste than necessary over his toothbrush and immediately started passing it over his tongue. He slowed down when he caught a glimpse of frantic blue eyes reflected off his bathroom mirror.

It was only a nightmare, he told himself, deliberately loosening his grip on handle of his orange toothbrush. All ninja have nightmares. It doesn’t mean anything. He slowly moved his brush over his front teeth, hoping that he hadn’t bruised his own tongue while he panicked.

Try as he might, Naruto couldn’t forget how vivid his dream had been. Or his vivid excitement and joy (his?) at the terror he’d been inspiring on whatever poor soul had been unlucky enough to cross his (his?) path. Maybe he ought to tell Itachi-sensei about it?

No.

Itachi had already brought that lanky masked jonin to check his Cursed Seal. They’d come to his apartment the night after Eiko’s disastrous mission, taken him to a deserted training area, and forced him to mold chakra until he depleted his absurdly high reserves. Afterwards, Naruto had been terrified of turning into the same vicious monster who’d ripped out that strange girl’s throat and--she'd tried to rip out Sasuke's eyes; it wasn’t his fault—but he’d only felt weak and trembly, incapable of accessing the overwhelming power that had almost boiled his blood in the dense forest.

Point was, the lanky jonin had declared his Cursed Seal “perfectly functional” and flickered away after Naruto had failed to access any . . . foreign . . . additional . . . After he’d failed to mold any red chakra. Then Itachi had offered him a chocolate bar and escorted him back home without saying anything else about the whole thing other than to eat a large breakfast. Naruto had been too shaken to verbalize any of the questions that had been fogging his mind.

He looked at his face—at the strange whisker marks on his cheeks (were those because of the Fox or because of genes?). He hoped that they weren’t always so noticeable and wondered why he’d been chosen to be the Nine-Tails’ vessel for what felt like the millionth time since the mess with Mizuki. Why had the Fourth picked him? Had he just been the nearest available baby? Who had volunteered him? Did his mother? His father? Had no one cared?

What did it matter? Naruto shook his head took a deep breath before starting his rush towards work. He needed to get to Training Ground Seven sometime before dinner. After putting on his usual orange jumpsuit, he realized that there was no time for even instant ramen so he grabbed a box of the nasty “strawberry” granola bars Sasuke had insisted on leaving behind at his apartment and decided to test whether it was possible to run and chew at the same time.

He did make it to Training Ground Seven before dinner but not before his team had gotten so impatient that they welcomed him with accusatory scowls. Apparently only Sasuke would be greeted with relief after being late.

“Where have you been?” Sakura demanded when he slowed down in front of her.

Thankfully, the rush through the village and over their staid pond seemed to calm him down so Naruto was able to meet her narrowed green eyes with a happy grin. “I overslept. Sorry you missed me so much,” he explained with a shrug. Just to make her madder, he looked her up and down and plastered a leer on his face. “Nice dress by the way, but I like you in red better than green.”

“Now that Naruto has decided to grace us with his presence,” said Itachi just as Sakura raised her arm to slap Naruto’s shoulder, “we can start today’s lesson.”

“So you actually plan to teach something today?” asked Sas—Sasuke?

Naruto glanced over at him, surprised that he’d actually said more than a single word to Itachi unprompted. He heard Sakura let out a tiny gasp as he stared at the angry pout Sasuke was aiming in Itachi’s general direction, trying to decide whether he was amused or worried. Naruto usually enjoyed tearing Sasuke’s cool and aloof façade apart but he wasn’t sure if watching Sasuke blow up at Itachi would be funny or terrifying.

“I like to think I teach you something every day,” said Itachi, gracefully dropping to a sitting position after taking off his large green bag and setting aside at the foot of the tall alder they were using for shade. He gestured at them to sit in front of him.

Naruto did, sitting between Sasuke and Sakura and noting that Itachi was back to wearing his usual regulation blacks and simple shirts instead of full jonin gear. Maybe it was a sign that he wasn’t as busy anymore? Probably not, since he’d strapped his katana to his back and brought it to training for the first time.

“So what are we doing today?” asked Naruto.

“Your chakra control has improved significantly over the last three months,” Itachi told them as Naruto eyed the thin black gloves he was wearing. Even the pads of his fingers were completely covered, which was strange since ninja hated to limit any of their senses in such a way.

“I finally walked up our waterfall,” Naruto said to no one in particular. He’d managed to focus on the boring task the previous day, mostly because any and all trains of thought not focused on climbing the stupid waterfall had eventually circled back to the red chakra and the dreams he’d started to have a few days after returning from Eiko’s mission.

“Yes,” agreed Itachi, pushing his bangs behind his right ear. “In light of that, I’d like to turn our attentions towards your possible chakra affinities.”

“Our what?” asked Naruto.

“The kinds of nature transformations we’d have the easiest time with!” answered Sakura with a bright smile. “But I heard that testing or that is really expensive and difficult.”

“It’s expensive but not particularly difficult,” corrected Itachi, reaching into his right pocket. He pulled out an innocent looking white envelope and held it over his knee. “I’ve bought three pieces of chakra-sensitive paper. Do any of you know how it’s made or what it’s used for?”

“Paper made from a tree that’s been infused with human chakra every day since it sprouted,” answered Sasuke. “It’s very difficult to make because it . . . does something whenever it comes in contact with the skin of a living person.”

“What does it do?” asked Naruto, eyeing the enveloped between Itachi’s gloved fingers.

“It depends on that person’s nature affinity,” said Sakura, using what Naruto had dubbed her ‘teacher’s voice’ not long after Team Seven was formed. “Fire makes the paper burn, water turns it wet, wind slices it in half, earth turns it to dirt, and lighting wrinkles it. Sensei, where did you get the paper?”

“I bought it,” answered Itachi with a shrug. “Hopefully, it’ll enhance our ninjutsu training.”

“Wait,” said Naruto, telling himself not to get too excited. “You’re actually going to teach us ninjutsu? Because that means you’ll have to teach us jutsu.”

“I plan to teach you jutsu for all the natures you display affinities for, yes,” agreed Itachi, “but that’s only because I’ll need at least one practical tool to focus your training, not because specific techniques are necessary for practicing ninjutsu. In fact, attempting to learn too many techniques at once might be counterproductive.”

“All right, all right!” said Naruto, satisfied with getting ‘at least one practical’ jutsu out of Itachi. “Give us this paper!”

“But Sensei,” interrupted Sakura, “what if one of us has an affinity that’s opposite to yours?”

“I know several techniques for each of the basic transformations,” said Itachi.

“I thought it’s impossible to master a technique for your opposing affinity,” said Sasuke so lowly it was practically a mumble.

“Not impossible,” corrected Itachi with a gentle shake of his head, “just very difficult. What’s almost always impossible is to perform multiple nature transformations simultaneously, though there are kekkei genkai that allow people to do just that.”

“But—”

“—can we just get this paper thing?” Naruto interrupted Sakura so she couldn’t ask whatever she wanted to ask. Honestly, could she and Sasuke forget about the nitty-gritty technical details until after they got their cool and expensive paper things?

“I already know my affinity,” snapped Sasuke, shooting him a narrowed-eyed glare.

“Oh?” said Itachi. He tore open the envelope’s seal so Naruto decided not respond to Sasuke’s scowl.

“Almost everyone in my family’s attuned to fire,” Sasuke told Itachi and, for some reason, his tone made it sound like some kind of super-defiant statement.

“Almost,” repeated Itachi as he reached into the envelope and pulled out a completely innocuous square piece of white paper.

“That doesn’t look anything special,” said Naruto, regarding the little piece of paper with suspicion.

Itachi tilted his head and offered it to him. Naruto made a grab for it but Itachi took it back until he laid the palm of his hand open between them. With a smile, Itachi dropped the little piece of paper on Naruto’s opened hand and—

—something sliced it into two clean pieces before Naruto could do anything at all.

“Well that was anti-climactic,” said Sakura, reaching over or one of the pieces, brushing Naruto’s palm with her fingertips. “It feels just like regular paper,” she said as she rubbed it between her index and thumb.

“So I’m . . .” Naruto trailed off and tried to remember Sakura’s list, rubbing the piece of paper Sakura had left behind. It really did feel like mundane, everyday paper now.

“Wind,” Sasuke told him with a tired sigh.

“Wind!” Naruto half-shouted, ignoring Sasuke’s tone once again and focusing his attention on Itachi. “So what’s my jutsu?”

“In a moment,” said Itachi with another small smile. “Sakura.”

Beaming, Sakura extended the palm of her hand and nodded. Itachi reached into the envelope, pulled out another square, and then dropped on Sakura’s naked palm without any preamble or fanfare. For a second, Naruto thought that nothing had happened but Sakura gasped and smiled before he could ask if something was wrong.

“It got wet!” she cried, closing her fist, crumbling the paper, and the opening her hand again to reveal a sticky-looking white clump.

“Water!” said Naruto, glad that one was so obvious.

“Water,” agreed Itachi, nodding at Naruto in approval. He paused for a moment and then looked towards Sasuke.

“Your turn, Bastard,” Naruto said after Sasuke tilted his head and glared for a couple of seconds.

Raising his chin, Sasuke extended his palm and waited for Itachi to reach into the envelope and drop what Naruto assumed was the last piece of paper on his opened hand. The moment the white square touched Sasuke’s noticeably calloused palm, it wrinkled rather aggressively.

Naruto chuckled, not caring how immature it made him sound. “It doesn’t like you, princess,” he said.

“But . . .” Sasuke trailed off, glaring down at his little white square like it was somehow offending him. Or his mom or something.

“Lightning jutsu are really amazing,” said Sakura gently.

“Yeah . . .” agreed Naruto, certain that it was true even though he’d never actually seen a lightning jutsu. But thunder was fearsome and impressive and wind . . . well, he supposed a strong wind might be able to knock someone off their feet. “Hey, I want a do over!”

“The results would be the same,” Itachi told him before rising to his feet. He removed his black gloves and shoved them into his pocket together with the envelope. Then he waited for them stand up and gestured towards the pond. “We start with water transformation.”

“Yes!” yelled Sakura before rushing towards the staid surface. She kicked off her black sandals and then walked on top of the water, turning around and gesturing them over to her with a happy wave. The spray of water at the foot of their waterfall seemed to frame her in white.

Naruto heard Sasuke grunt and then shot him a smirk. “Think your family’s going to disown you ‘cause you’re a lighting guy?”

“Stay focused,” said Itachi, forestalling Sasuke’s undoubtedly pissed off answer. “We’ve already lost enough time.” He looked at Naruto with narrowed dark eyes before starting his way towards Sakura. “Bring me some leaves,” he ordered.

‘Cause you took off, Naruto didn’t say. He settled for grunting in annoyance and trotting after him, bending down to grab as many fallen green leaves on the way and looking back at Sasuke to make sure that the prissy bastard hadn’t worked himself into another incoherent hissy fit.

“Pay close attention,” Itachi said when all four of them where standing on the calm water. A moment later, he crouched down and laid the palm of his hand on the pond’s surface. Slowly, he raised his hand and straightened. It took Naruto a couple of seconds to see the sunlight reflecting off a very thin strip of water attached to the center of his palm, as if he’d somehow grabbed a string of the pond’s surface like it was a transparent bed sheet.

“Uh,” said Naruto, rubbing his thumb over the dry surface of one of his larger leaves, “that’s cool, I guess, but how’s it useful?”

“Nature transformation is the most difficult aspect of chakra manipulation and control,” Itachi answered as he raised his hand over his head. The strip of water lost contact with the pond and passed between Sasuke and Naruto. Itachi held it over his head, straight as a long, thin blade, and then let the water collapse and form and messy glob around his hand. Almost immediately after, the water morphed into a perfect sphere and hovered over Itachi’s palm like a floating air bubble. “You must learn to mold your own chakra in conjunction with the elements surrounding you until you can control them as if they were extra limbs. It requires both stamina and precision but if you master it, you will never be without a weapon.”

“Unless we’re suffering from chakra exhaustion,” interjected Sasuke, crossing his arms over his chest with an indignant huff. Naruto smirked to himself, thinking that Itachi probably didn’t expect any of them to disagree with him while he performed his fancy tricks.

“As long as you’re alive,” started Itachi, smiling down at Sasuke, “you have chakra. Exhaustion would just make it more difficult to use.” He turned his dark eyes on Sakura and let the water sphere lose its form and fall back to the pond. “The trick is to infuse the pond’s surface with your chakra and then raise your hand. The water will follow if you strike the correct balance. Eventually, you should be able to manipulate it as completely as I did.”

“Yes, Sensei,” said Sakura with a serious nod, bending down to try and mimic what he’d done.

“Wait until we’ve gone over wind and lightning transformations,” Itachi said, gesturing at her to get back on her feet. “Naruto, the leaves.” He extended his right palm and Naruto walked forward.

When he let his handful of green leaves fall over Itachi’s opened palm, Naruto realized that they would flow past his hands and fall on the pond’s surface. He almost moved to grab them off the air but Itachi waved him off. As Naruto took a step backwards, the leaves began to circulate about Itachi’s hand in wide arcs. Naruto frowned, looking for any sign of Itachi’s chakra. He couldn’t feel, much less see how he was molding it. Abruptly, the leaves flew towards Itachi’s arm and plastered themselves over his pale skin. Invisible blades sliced them into several smaller pieces; much like something had split Naruto’s chakra paper in half.

“True masters of wind transformation can slice the leaves without touching them,” said Itachi as he shook the leaf fragments of his arm. “I’m not attuned to wind, though.”

“So how do I do that?” asked Naruto, frowning. “It doesn’t look like a jutsu.”

“Start with a single leaf,” said Itachi. “Mold chakra into the surface of your skin, like you do when you want to stick to steeply inclined surfaces or walk on water, then focus your chakra into a single offensive line and cut through the leaf. It’s not exactly like wind transformation but it helps because . . .” He trailed off and narrowed his dark eyes before letting out a tiny, frustrated grunt. “Air molecules are very far away from each other. Spatially, I mean. Do you understand?”

“. . . Sure,” said Naruto, though he felt air touching his skin in every single spot not covered by his clothes. It certainly didn’t feel like the air ‘molecules’ were far away from each other at all.

“That’s why you have to learn to mold your chakra quickly enough to shift it into a kind of energy blade,” explained Itachi with a satisfied nod. “So you can ensnare millions of air molecules under your control even though the molecules themselves have very weak attractions to each other. Comparatively speaking, that is.”

“Right,” said Naruto, not wanting to ask any questions just to avoid a repeat of the genetic inheritance fiasco. He stole a glance at his teammates, wondering which one of them he would ask for help later. Sakura was looking at Itachi with a concentrated frown furrowing her pink eyebrows, nodding to herself at odd intervals. She probably did understand what he was talking about but she was even worse at explaining things than he was. Besides, she’d want him to read stuff so he turned his gaze towards Sasuke.

The Bastard had adopted the blank expression that Naruto was beginning to suspect meant he was sleeping with his eyes open. He was staring in the general direction of Itachi’s torso with a completely relaxed look on his pretty face, arms hanging by his sides not even slightly curled into tense fists. Naruto recognized it as proof that Mr. Top Genin was spacing out. A thinking Sasuke was a scowling Sasuke. It was a miracle that wasn’t comically startled when Itachi said his name.

“Yes,” he said when it became clear that Itachi was waiting for an answer.

Itachi tilted his head and looked Sasuke up and down. “Let’s move off the pond,” he said, starting to walk away back towards the tree. “It’s dangerous to practice lightning jutsu too close to the water unless you’re already a master.”

Naruto followed him, excited to see what he’d do to demonstrate lightning transformation. “You think we’ll get to see any thunder?” he asked Sakura.

“Probably not,” she answered after a moment of hesitation. “I think he just wants us to learn the basics of nature transformation for now.”

“Yeah, but—”

“—does it even matter?” interrupted Sasuke with an impatient scowl before hurrying towards Itachi.

“Dick,” mumbled Naruto, rolling his eyes at an exasperated Sakura before hurrying as well.

Itachi unsheathed his katana when they reached his side, pushing his dark bangs away when the wind blew them into his eyes. Naruto stared at the sword’s sharp edge, narrowing his eyes when the sun gleamed on its surface and waited for Itachi to start Sasuke’s demonstration.

“Before anyone can master lightning transformation, they must learn to touch an electrified surface without getting shocked or burned,” started Itachi. Naruto heard something cackling and immediately looked down at Itachi’s sword. Short sparks of gleaming white static surrounded his fist and seemed to travel down the katana’s sharp edge. “The human body is made up almost entirely of water, one of the best electrical conductors in the natural world.”

“So sparking up a sword is lightning’s fancy trick?” asked Naruto, thinking that maybe wind chakra was cooler than lightning after all.

Instead of answering, Itachi raised his arm slightly and let his katana hang in front of Naruto. Almost before he heard the resounding crack, a sharp glowing current passed through the sword and shattered it into dozens of pieces. Naruto jumped to doge a few stray fragments and saw Sasuke and Sakura do the same, both wearing looks of shock on their faces.

“Wow . . .” breathed Sakura, staring down a sparking piece of katana that had landed at her feet.

There were stray fragments all over the training ground, some of them still cackling with left over energy and burning the grass they were on. Even Sasuke was staring at the pieces with wide dark eyes. “I bet he’s not upset he gets lightning now,” Naruto mumbled to himself, not caring if no one else could hear him.

“Come closer again,” he heard Itachi saying. “And be careful not to touch or step on the sword pieces.” Naruto complied, side-stepping a few of the fragments between them and wondering what exactly Sasuke would be expected to do. Explode a kunai? That was great. He’d spend fuck only knew how long staring at a leaf while Sasuke learned to make a metal bomb.

“As I hope you saw,” Itachi started when the three of them were standing around him, “lightning is not safe. It’s used almost exclusively as a weapon. Some masters modify it into barriers but I find that inefficient since lightning can and will turn on its user.” He focused his gaze on Sasuke and narrowed his dark eyes. “That’s the first thing you must learn to deal with. Any lighting you mold or generate will kill you if you don’t know how to divert it towards another conductor. The trick is to use your chakra to divert the electrical current away from your blood. Start working with the charged katana fragments. The idea is to mold your chakra over any part of your body touching electricity into a kind of insulator. Once you can touch the fragments without hurting yourself, we can work on teaching you to generate your own lightning.”

Sasuke nodded and looked at the charred fragment closest to him with furrowed eyebrows. “How long should this take to learn?”

“. . . I don’t know,” admitted Itachi.

“Well, how long did it take you?” asked Sakura.

“I don’t know,” repeated Itachi, looking off into the distance. “I think I could mold water by the time I was four or so. I don’t remember when I started trying to do it.”

“Wait, but . . .” Naruto trailed off, trying to remember if he'd even realized he had chakra when he was that young. “Who taught you? Were your parents nin—you don’t even have a family name.”

“Nobody taught me,” said Itachi, avoiding their gazes, “at least not at first. I didn’t realize what I was doing. It was just . . . I could feel the elements, like they were borrowing under my skin and I . . .” He frowned and, for a moment, Naruto was sure he was going to start fidgeting. “But I’m an unusual case,” he said suddenly, shaking his head slightly. “I hear the amount of time it takes varies so don’t concern yourselves with that yet.” He nodded at all three of them and schooled his features into a placid expression. “Sakura, pond; Naruto, leaves; and Sasuke, sword fragments. Do you remember what your assignments are?”

“Yes,” Sakura said quickly, beginning to turn towards the water.

“What’s your affinity?” Sasuke asked Itachi, prompting her to stop on her tracks. Naruto was surprised too. He didn’t take he’d heard Sasuke ask Itachi a single thing since their team was formed.

“. . . Water,” Itachi answered after a moment.

For some reason, the answer seemed to satisfy Sasuke. He nodded before turning away and walking towards one of the katana pieces several feet away from the pond.

“Be careful,” Itachi mumbled, lowly enough that Naruto wondered if he hadn't imagined it. Then Itachi wondered over to his green bag and pulled out a scroll. “Get to training you two,” he ordered, startling Sakura into rushing towards the pond with a small gasp.

Naruto stared at him for few more moments before looking towards the ground, trying to decide whether a larger leaf would be better than a small one.

 

***

 

Kakashi was deeply grateful that he’d given up on perfection sometime before hitting twenty. There was an immeasurable degree of freedom in being able to look upon any clustefuck of a situation and decide that things could’ve been worse. He only hoped Itachi learned that perfection was an unattainable goal before driving himself mad at some point before exiting puberty.

Really, most people would come to the conclusion that a disastrous fight with a blind ninja had been an aberration that almost certainly wouldn’t repeat itself ever again. Itachi, on the other hand, had decided that it’d been life’s way of telling him that he obviously needed to learn fighting while blindfolded. Which would also help him “work out how to trap opponents in illusions without having to rely on their visual pathways”. Kakashi held back a sigh and looked up from his Make-Out Paradise novel (the sun had almost completely set so it was getting harder to read anyway). He wondered if the absurd sparing session between Guy and Itachi was anywhere close to over.

Apparently not.

Guy was throwing random punches and kicks at a blindfolded Itachi, making sure to throw in several feints. Itachi managed to block and evade most of them, except for one unexpected punch at his temple that Guy had downgraded to a slap at the last moment. The kid even managed to throw in a few attacks of his own. Guy dodged them all of course, but the fact that he’d had to at all meant that Itachi was learning where to aim even though he couldn’t see.

“You must stop guessing where the next strike is coming from,” Guy commanded.

Suddenly, he began to move just a little bit faster, making his moves just a bit more random and nonsensical. Itachi managed to keep up with the change for about a minute. Then Guy aimed a punch at right side of his face . . . and took a hold of a few stray locks of long black hair instead. Immediately, Itachi tried to grab at the offending hand but Guy let go of him and flickered to his left side before sending him to the ground with a kick.

“The enemy will not dance around you stringing together predictable Strong Fist kata,” Guy admonished.

“I know that,” snapped Itachi, violently ripping off his blindfold and shooting Guy an indignant glare. “You weren’t either.”

Kakashi leaned back against the memorial stone and guessed that he was watching Konoha’s Wraith struggling to learn something for the first time in his life.

“Which makes all the more impressive that you’ve managed to guess where I’m going to attack anyway,” said Guy, beaming down at Itachi’s scowl.

“I was listening,” argued Itachi, curling into a cross-legged sitting position.

“You were strategizing,” corrected Guy, crossing his long, spandex clad arms over his chest. “It’s why you lost your balance the moment I grabbed your hair, isn’t it? You weren’t expecting something like that from me.”

Itachi didn’t answer but he didn’t need to. Even Kakashi was mildly surprised at that little stunt. Guy babbled about the honor of fair competition and youth so much that it was easy to forget that he was ninja sometimes.

“To learn the art of fighting in the dark,” continued Guy, “you must learn to trust your baser instincts—rely on what you hear, where the air touches your skin, the sound of the enemy’s breathing patterns, the scent of their breath—not what your brain tells you your opponent is most likely to do next. You must stop thinking.”

Kakashi snorted, deciding that Guy would have better luck asking fire to stop being hot. “I suppose I should say we have a meeting tonight,” he said before Itachi could rise to his feet and wrap that strip of black fabric over his eyes again.

“Why weren’t we notified?” asked Guy.

“I told the chunin I’d pass on the message,” said Kakashi, slipping his novel inside his flak jacket.

“They send the chunin messenger to you?” asked Itachi as he rose to his feet.

“No,” admitted Kakashi, leaning away from the Memorial Stone. “They send him to Guy but I said I’d tell him the news.”

“And he believed you?” Guy sounded almost comically incredulous.

“It was probably a new guy,” said Kakashi, not bothering to even pretend to be offended. “Anyway, we’re supposed to be there at six-thir—”

“—it’s nearly eight,” interrupted Itachi. “You think people enjoy wasting hours waiting for you?”

“Calm down.” Kakashi took his sweet time to get to his feet. “They’re not waiting for us. We’ve just skipped the boring parts.”

“This is most definitely the least cool and hip thing about you,” said Guy with a sad shake of his head. “We must hurry.”

“I can’t get there early,” started Kakashi when Guy moved forward, “I have a reputation to maintain.”

All his protests were met with surly silence. Guy felt terrible about keeping his comrades waiting and Itachi said something about despising anyone who interfered with efficacy. Kakashi still complained the whole way and rolled his eyes as they rushed into the Hokage’s Tower. He was only rushing because Guy and Itachi refused to slow down even though what was the point? They were already late. Besides, Guy ended up crashing through the usual conference room like they were rushing towards a life-or-death situation instead of a meeting about administrative bullshit.

“Kakashi intercepted our summons!” he practically yelled before entering the room and really? Wasn’t that way more irritating than slinking in a few hours late? Even Itachi sighed tiredly before following Kakashi into the room.

“It wasn’t intercepting,” argued Kakashi when he entered, wishing his smile at all the glares welcoming them was visible. “I just told the kid I’d tell you guys about it.”

“What kind of asshole would give Kakashi the summons?” demanded Inoichi Yamanaka, glaring out of narrowed blue eyes. “We ordered them to be delivered to Itachi or Guy.”

“Don’t look at me,” mumbled Shikaku Nara as he glared at a copy of the scroll Kakashi had recovered during his last S-rank. “I’m jonin commander.” He scratched at the scar above his right eye and looked up at them. “Well, what’re you assholes waiting for? Sit the fuck down.”

Guy bowed quickly and took a seat right next to a sleepy-looking Asuma. Kakashi smiled to himself and sat by a smirking Anko’s left side only so Itachi wouldn’t have to sit right next to her. Brat was already in prickly mood.

“Cock-blocker,” Anko told him with a snort.

“Child molester,” responded Kakashi. He made sure to ruffle Itachi’s bangs as the kid sat down on the last empty chair to his right with his face stubbornly blank.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone,” started Shikaku, “but we’ve got a lot of shit-lathered shuriken flying straight at us.”

“You are a poet,” said Kurenai from her spot beside Asuma. Anko let out an amused chuckle.

“So you’re in the general management meetings now?” Kakashi asked. “My condolences.” Kurenai sighed and pushed stray curly bangs behind her left ear.

“If you wanted to waste time with small talk you should’ve shown up on time,” snapped Inoichi. Kakashi made sure ot shrug at him.

“First thing,” Shikaku said pointedly, “the brewing Hyuga fiasco. It’s optimistic to say we’re unprepared for them to implode.”

“Numerically speaking, they make up less than fifteen percent of our forces,” said Kurenai.

“But they’re involved seventy-three percent of all reconnaissance missions,” pointed out Guy. “The number jumps to ninety-seven percent if you exclude anything lower than a B-rank.”

“It’s more dangerous than that,” added Choza Akimichi, leaning his elbows on the table. “During the ninja wars, Konoha relied almost entirely on intel gathered by the Hyuga. Our enemies believe that we don’t know how to fight a war without their help and I’m not entirely convinced that they’re wrong. If the Hyuga clan disintegrates, Konoha will almost certainly face an invasion and probably by a concerted force from more than one of our rival villages.”

“People said as much right after the Uchiha mess and no one invaded,” said Asuma with a shrug.

“Well, that settles it then,” said Inoichi with a mocking nod. “I guess that means we just sit back and let the Hyuga self-destruct.”

“Do we know what Danzo wants with them?” asked Guy, deftly interrupting a possible argument.

“Why does anyone want any bloodline limit?” Anko rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“So he goes after one fetus?” said Kurenai, shaking her head. “It’d take him about fifty years to build anything resembling a Byakugan force by breeding, even if that artist’s kid turns out male.”

“Hopefully, the fucker will be dead by then,” said Asuma. Kakashi nodded, thinking that Danzo was the worst kind of asshole (a self-righteous one).

“It’d take him much less time if he confirmed that Byakugan can be transplanted like Sharingan,” pointed out Itachi, glancing Kakashi’s way.

“But the Seal,” protested Kurenai.

“Seals Branch members' Byakugan when they die,” said Itachi. “It’s perfectly possible to gouge out someone’s eyes while they’re still alive.”

“Seriously, Danzo needs to die soon,” repeated Asuma. “At this point, I don’t understand why we don’t just kill him.”

“Root is the real problem and Root will not die with Danzo,” said Shikaku. “For the time being, it’s best we use him as a stabilizing force.”

“I feel very stabilized right now,” said Anko, nodding at everyone at the table. “I mean, Root’s only instigating shit with our largest clan and outright attacking non-Root Leaf ninja.”

“How did the meeting with Danzo go?” Inoichi asked Itachi.

“He said that Root was only trying to protect Konoha’s secrets and that I attacked his Root squad, not the other way around,” answered Itachi. Kakashi could practically see the aura of rage around Itachi, expressionless face be damned. 

“What a shocker,” said Anko, rolling her brown eyes.

“We could make the whole thing look an accident,” said Asuma, turning towards Itachi. “You can make people kill themselves, can’t you?”

“Which is why no one would believe it even if Danzo did commit suicide,” said Choza. “So let’s hope he doesn’t.”

“So what exactly is our plan?” asked Kurenai.

Kakashi bet they didn’t really have one. They’d been stuck with Root for so long that it’d grown into a cancer.

“For the time being, keep our eyes open for any opportunity to get the upper hand on Danzo. We need to identify all of Root’s higher ups and kill them,” said Shikaku. “Then kill Danzo.”

“Easier said than done since we can’t question any Root members we find,” said Inoichi, like it was a personal failure. “I really hate Cursed Seals.”

"Luckily," Shikaku started, shooting his long-time partner a grim smile, "we might have a lead for the first time in years. Nobou recently retired and sold his mansion, which we've been contracted to renovate. The mission was picked up by Team Seven." Kakashi tried to meet Itachi's dark eyes and sensed almost everyone at the table do the same.

"I think Nobuo was a Root recruiter," Itachi said, letting his gaze pass over everyone at the table. "My team found a series of heavily encrypted scrolls hidden in a collection of very distinctive and valuable vases. I reviewed the scrolls and recognized certain references to Danzo's philosophies."

"Holy shit," said Anko.

Holy shit, indeed, thought Kakashi. A Root recruiter's tongue wouldn't be Sealed.

"If we find a recruiter, we might be able to fucking interrogate a Root member for once," said Inoichi.  

"Unfortunately, Itachi's brats moved the vases around and fucked up the encryption," said Shikaku.

"We can still seat them down," said Kurenai. "Try and coax them into remembering the exact positioning of the scene."

"No," said Itachi. "My team's convinced they found encrypted ninjutsu scrolls and I want to keep it that way. If we bring them in, we'll have to explain why care about the scrolls in the first place. Not to mention that in-depth interrogation is unpleasant even if the targets are cooperative."

"Well, we wouldn't want to inconvenience or scare your kids a little bit," said Asuma. "Not even to get an upper hand on the shadowy organization trying to turn Konoha into a totalitarian nightmare."

Before Itachi could retort, Shikaku intervened. "If an Interrogation Squad suddenly develops and interest in Itachi's brats after they spent a week skulking around one of their recruiter's mansions, don't you think they'll suspect we're on to something? They'll tighten their security, comb over all the information Nobuo was aware off to purge anything that might lead us to other Root members."

"What about Nobuo himself?" suggested Anko. "Let's just go straight to the horse's mouth."

"Tried," said Inoichi, sighing in frustration. "He was always batshit but now he's medically batshit. I'm still not fully recovered from my trip down the shithole that asshole calls a subconcious."

"That explains why you're radiating so much sunshine today," said Kakashi.

"Point is," continued Inoichi, ignoring the comment, "torturing Nobuo would be waste of time."

"So what do we do?" demanded Kurenai. "If we're not going to question the recruiter or Itachi's kids, then it's like we've found nothing."

"Not quite," disagreed Choza. "We still have the scrolls and we've confirmed that Root recruiters aren't Sealed. Now we must be patient." 

“Speaking of Cursed Seals,” interjected Guy, “what about the Hyuga?”

“Quite frankly,” started Shikaku, “we don’t give a shit if the clan disintegrates as long we get to keep all our ninja and everyone with Byakugan stays in the village. So for the time being, we wait. If the Main family starts killing too many Branch members we can justify interfering with their business.” He raised a hand to forestall Guy’s indignant protest. “Next,” he continued, probably realizing that they could babble about Root and the Hyuga until the sun exploded and not come up with any real solutions, “we’re hosting the next chunin selection exams in five months.”

“Excellent!” said Guy.

“For fuck’s sake!” cried Asuma, rubbing his forehead. “Why?”

“The Council has accepted a request from the Fire Daimyo,” said Inoichi. “We can’t refuse without looking weak.”

“Who gives a shit if we look weak right now?” demanded Asuma. “We’re swimming in money and missions.”

“Uh, if we look weak, the tide of money and missions will turn away from us,” explained Anko. “Just like your Academy sensei tried to teach you.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” argued Kurenai. “As long as we keep our large clientele satisfied, we’ll have little trouble with missions even if we refuse hosting the exams.”

“What part of ‘we’re hosting the next chunin selection exams in five months’ sounded like an invitation for an economics debate to you people?” Shikaku asked with an impatient shake of his head. “The decision has already been made. I just bring it up because we’ll need skilled genin to showcase our strength.”

“My team is ready,” Guy said with a wide and confident smile. Kakashi was certain he was right about Neji, at least.

“They better be,” said Anko with a smirk. “You’ve been babying them for more than a year.”

“Sasuke and Naruto will probably perform well enough,” said Itachi, leaning his elbows on the table. “Sakura’s chakra reserves are still too low and she’s not vicious enough for traps and genjutsu.”

“There are ways for ninja to excel even if they were not blessed with high stamina,” Guy told him.

“Sakura would not respond well to your training program.” Itachi looked sounded like he was reciting a mathematical truth when he said that.

“Two out of three isn’t bad,” said Inoichi, before looking at Asuma and Kurenai. “What about your teams?”

“Shino and Kiba are progressing quickly,” answered Kurenai with a confident nod. “I have doubts about Hinata, though.”

Asuma sighed and shook his head tiredly. “I have no doubt that Ino can pass the first two parts of the test without much problems but she won’t handle a one-on-one fight against a competent opponent very well. Same for Choji. Shikamaru's the one will probably pass if he can be persuaded to take the test seriously.”

“It’s a good thing he has such an accomplished jonin-sensei to persuade him,” said Shikaku, crossing something out on the scroll in front of him.

"I wouldn't bet on that," said Asuma, showing the palms of his hands in defeat.

"It's your job to manage your students' shortcomings," snapped Shikaku.

"Really?" asked Asuma, raising an eyebrow rather dramatically. "I've been in charge of Shikamaru for three months and all of a sudden I'm the only responsible for the fact that he's lazier than a cat on heroin? Interesting. If only there'd been people over the last twelve years in a position to correct the poor boy's behavior. I don't know . . ." Asuma looked at Shikaku with an expression of exaggerated confusion, scratching his stubble thoughtfully. "Maybe his previous teachers. Or his father."

"Oh, snap," said Anko before bursting into a short fit of snorts and giggles.

"Let's not turn this into a scene," said Choza.

"That ship has sailed," said Kakashi with a small snort, telling himself that it was all right as long as he was a bit more mature than Anko.   

“Finally," continued Shikaku, settling for shooting Asuma a glare, "we have the mess with unknown asshole samurai trying to start some shit with the Fire Daimyo.”

“I finally know why I’m here,” said Kakashi, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Not so sure about you, though,” he added with a look Anko’s way.

“Somebody’s gotta summarize this meeting for Ibiki and Hokage-sama,” Anko told him.

“And I’m too fucking busy,” added Shikaku, as he pulled out another scroll. “Between the three of us,” he continued with looks at Itachi and Kakashi, “we managed to work out a few bits of information from this thing.”

“It was horrible,” said Kakashi, remembering all the rows of seemingly nonsensical numbers. “I look forward to murdering whoever came up with that encryption.”

Shikaku nodded and opened up a map of Fire country before sliding it to the middle of the table. “To make a long story short, we think one of the lesser samurai lords has found a coal mine and is using child slaves from border settlements for mining labor.”

“And selling the coal to our enemies,” added Inoichi, furrowing his blond eyebrows into another scowl. “It’s likely he wants to use the profit to fund an uprising against the daimyo.”

“Very shinobi-like,” said Anko, nodding in approval.

“We don’t enslave children,” protested Guy.

Itachi snorted. “We only give them headbands and call them adults.”

“Our genin our valuable assets,” said Choza. “We do not work our children to death in dirty caves.”

“Anyway,” continued Shikaku, reaching over and pointing at a spot Northeast of Konoha on the border between the Land of Lightning and the Land of Fire, “we think the new mine is around here so we’re sending Kakashi and Guy to investigate.”

“And I was hoping to get another junior teammate,” Kakashi told him. “I hear there’s impressive some talent still at the Academy.”

“Your petty sarcasm is duly noted and quickly disregarded,” Inoichi said.

“Why’s Guy going specifically?” asked Kurenai.

“Nanba, a small village in the area, is where I was born,” explained Guy, smiling fondly. “I have to admit I don’t remember much of the place, though. I’ve been in Konoha since I was five.”

“Someone might remember your parents,” said Choza. “It might make enlisting the villager’s aid easier.”

“Either way, I’m excited to take the mission,” said Guy, smiling brightly. “My team hasn’t had a serious assignment in a while.”

“Your genin aren’t going,” said Shikaku, shaking his head firmly as he took back the map. “We can’t risk Neji being recognized.”

“And he would be recognized,” said Kakashi, remembering the spectacle at Takeo’s compound with light shudder.

“But this mission might take weeks,” protested Guy. “My team can’t idle for that long!”

“Leave them in another jonin’s custody,” said Choza with an encouraging nod. “They’ll be fine.”

“They’re practically chunin anyway,” added Inoichi.

“But—”

“—for fuck’s sake, Guy!” interrupted Anko. “They’re not your babies.” With a shake of her head, she pushed her chair back and stood up. “This meeting feels over. I’m out.”

“We need to go as well,” said Choza, rising to his feet a second after Shikaku.

“One of you three take Guy’s team,” Shikaku ordered, gesturing at Kurenai, Asuma, and Itachi. “Doesn’t really matter which.”

Kakashi considered following in their examples as he watched them exit the conference room but the despairing look on Guy’s face was close to hilarious. It was all right to be amused because Guy was exaggerating, looking at his fellow jonin-sensei like they were planning to torture his kids rather than trying desperately to think of a reason to disqualify themselves from additional babysitting duties.

“I—” Guy looked he wanted to argue but Kakashi bet that he needed to take the mission, if only to make sure that his deceased parents’ home wasn’t being abused. Kakashi guessed that he knew it would be stupid to ignore that responsibility just because he’d miss his team.

“Not it!” cried Asuma, apparently realizing that no one could force him to take an additional genin team. Technically.

“You can’t just yell ‘not it’,” argued Itachi with an annoyed frown. “This is not a playground.”

“I can’t do it because Hinata has . . . issues with Neji,” said Kurenai. Kakashi hoped the other too didn’t pressure her into taking Guy’s team anyway. He hated to think of Neji being tortured by a Main family member. For some reason.

“That leaves Itachi,” said Asuma, actually patting Itachi’s shoulder.

“It does not,” said Itachi, shrugging him off.

“I’m your senior officer,” said Asuma.

“I don’t care,” retorted Itachi.

“While I understand your reluctance to take responsibility of another trio of children in need of guidance,” started Guy, clearly accepting that he’d have to part with his team, “I think one of you will be surprised at my team’s efficiency.” He looked at Itachi and Asuma and grinned. “Why not engage in a friendly contest to decide who will earn the honor of working with Lee, Neji, and Tenten?”

“A contest sounds good,” agreed Asuma, nodding at Itachi. “Loser gets the kids?”

“Sounds fair,” said Itachi with a nod of his own. “What kind of contest?”

“I suppose that will work as well,” mumbled Guy.

“Taijutsu?”

“Genjutsu,” said Itachi.

“As if.” Asuma snorted. “I’d never beat you at genjutsu.”

“But you have the advantage at taijutsu and a ninjutsu contest would result in too much property damage,” said Itachi.

“How about a race?” suggested Kakashi.

“He’s built like a goddamned sprite and thus is obviously faster,” protested Asuma.

Kurenai sighed tiredly. “I’m thinking of a number between one and twenty,” she interjected, looking at Itachi and Asuma with an air of exasperation. “Each one of you pick one.”

“Eleven.”

“Nineteen.”

“It was twelve,” said Kurenai. “Congratulations, Itachi.”

Notes:

So I know the "most" Uchiha have affinities for Fire but I thought it'd be cool if neither Sasuke nor Itachi did for reasons I can't really explain. They're black sheep? They don't have a confirmed affinity in canon though, so again . . . whatever.

And I made up Sakura's affinity.

Chapter 13: All Seeing

Summary:

Team Seven is making progress. Kind of.

Notes:

So I uploaded the rough draft of the previous chapter instead of the previous chapter. Oops. This is kind of embarrassing. You don't have to go back and read the whole thing. Just start at the part where the conference dialogue began and you'll find the extra scene pretty easily.

If you don't want to do that, just skip to the end notes and I'll tell you what I accidentally left out last chapter.

In other news, I graduated college! And also finally decided on a title for this AU.

It wasn’t until Naruto started shouting that his leaf “moved” that Itachi realized that maybe he hadn’t explained nature transformation very well at all. “Naruto!” he called after a few seconds of watching the boy jump up and down with a large, intact leaf grasped between his right index and middle fingers.

“Sensei!” Naruto answered, turning towards him and grinning brightly before rushing forward. “Look, I can do it!” He took the large, browning leaf and pressed it against the tanned skin of his right forearm. After staring at it with narrowed blue eyes for a few moments, the leaf did move. It jumped of his skin and gently flowed through the air, past Naruto’s arm, and towards the grassy ground. “See?”

“That’s not what I told you to do,” said Itachi, shaking his head at Naruto’s widening eyes.

“But it’s kind of like what you did!” protested Naruto.

“You’re just pushing enough raw chakra past your pores to lift a little leaf,” said Itachi. Which obviously isn’t very difficult for you to do.

“But how’s that not like what you did?” asked Naruto, looking up at him with an air of betrayed confusion.

“The point is to learn how to mold your chakra into the air,” explained Itachi, holding back a sigh as he gestured Naruto to sit down in front of him. “First, you must learn to shift raw chakra from one point to another quickly because air is a gas and gas particles are very far apart from each other . . .” Itachi trailed off, waiting for a nod or any kind of indication that Naruto understood.

“But if I’m pushing a lot of chakra out of my skin, isn’t it touching all the air particle things?”

“. . . Yes,” answered Itachi, relieved to hear that Naruto was at least thinking about the problem. “But,” he qualified when Naruto began to grin, “did you control the movement of the air?”

“The leaf moved!”

“But not because you controlled the air,” Itachi almost snapped. He paused and took an even breath, willing himself to be patient as he tried to figure out what exactly Naruto was having so much trouble with. “Listen,” he started, waiting for Naruto to nod, “the point is to mold air using your chakra, which requires an extreme amount of precision. And what does precision require?”

“Uh . . .” Naruto glanced at the floor and narrowed his eyes. “Chakra.”

“Control,” Itachi told him, trying to tell himself that Naruto wasn’t as stupid as he seemed. And failing. “And how much control you have over your chakra is inversely proportional to the amount of chakra you try to mold at one time. You do know that, right?”

“Not exactly,” Naruto admitted, almost curling into himself as he avoided Itachi’s gaze.

“The more chakra you try to mold at once, the harder it is to control,” clarified Itachi.

“I know that!” cried Naruto, looking up at him with furrowed blond eyebrows. “Why couldn’t you just say that?”

“I did—never mind.” Itachi refused to waste time arguing vocabulary with a kid who seemed to be only barely literate. “Give me your arm,” he ordered.

Naruto gazed at him obvious suspicion before offering his arm. Itachi pushed at the orange fabric of Naruto’s shirt and wrapped his fingers around Naruto’s elbow, making sure to align their forearms as comfortably as possible. “Don’t tense up,” he said when Naruto’s fingers started to press into the muscles of his forearm. He reached down and grabbed the leaf to lay it on the crook of Naruto’s elbow, placing it so that it touched Itachi’s thumb. “Pay attention,” he mumbled, trying to focus. He might end up slicing Naruto’s skin together with the leaf (wind wasn’t his element) but he could think of no other way to explain the procedure.

Reminding himself that he knew basic healing, Itachi quickly molded a thin chakra blade and used it to cut a clean slice through the leaf lying on Naruto’s arm.

“Oh!” cried Naruto, picking up the pieces with his free hand and bringing them closer to his eyes. “That’s . . . I get that!”

Itachi nodded, looking down at Naruto’s skin to make sure he hadn’t broken it. A thin red line of a bruise ran over the spot where the leaf had been, like Itachi had tried to cut the skin with a blunt razorblade. The bruise disappeared as Itachi stared at it a few seconds; leaving behind a few sliced tiny blond hairs as the only evidence that Naruto had been cut. Biju chakra, thought Itachi as he let go of Naruto’s arm.

Naruto took his arm back, seemingly unconcerned with Itachi’s thoughts now that he had a better idea of what to do. “It’s hard,” he complained as he glared down at the leaf section on his palm. “How do you make it go down on a straight line like that?”

“Practice,” said Itachi, deciding that he needed to personally check Sakura and Sasuke’s progress as well. There was no guarantee that they hadn’t completely misinterpreted his lesson too.

He left Naruto with the leaf and looked over at his other two genin. Sasuke was showing his back, as usual. All Itachi could see was dark and spiky hair over the Uchiha fan on a navy shirt as Sasuke worked with the shuriken Itachi electrified for him earlier in the sunny morning. Sakura was sitting cross-legged on the surface of the pond, dutifully laying both her hands on it and slowly raising them. Itachi decided to check on her first, mostly because dealing with Sasuke’s resentful glares was getting more and more difficult.

He hates you but he’s still alive, Itachi told himself as he sauntered towards the pond.

Sakura tensed the moment she noticed his approach and quickly straightened to her feet. Itachi stared straight into her green eyes, mostly to see how long she’d be able to hold his gaze. Not long. She gulped and looked away before he even made it to the pond. Try as he might, Itachi couldn’t work out where her chronic timidity came from. She had good grades, consistently above average IQ scores, a seemingly functional home life, and suffered from no obvious disabilities or deformities.

“Show me exactly what you’re doing,” he ordered when he reached her, raising his voice slightly so it could be heard of the sound of the streaming waterfall.

With a nervous nod, Sakura fell to her knees and laid the palms of her hand over the surface of the pond. It took her a bit longer than Itachi thought necessary, but when she raised her hands a thin film of water covered her palms. She showed him, annoyingly avoiding his gaze, like she was afraid he would strike her at any moment. But since she had grasped his instructions, Itachi mumbled “Good.”

Sakura beamed, like the simple word had been an epic poem laden with praise for her. “Thank you, Sensei!” she said with a rather dramatic bow.

“. . . It’ll be easier if you dip your entire hand into the water at first,” he suggested.

“Uh . . .” mumbled Sakura, looking down at the water and biting her lower lip. “Because . . .”

“Because?” prompted Itachi, wanting to see just how well she understood the concept behind water transformation.

“Because it’ll increase the amount of surface area the first layer of water has to stick to!” she cried, nodding up at him with a great deal of enthusiasm.

“Yes,” agreed Itachi, smiling down at her. “Good work.” Again, the slight praise made her smile so brightly that Itachi wondered what she’d do if he ever gave her any profound compliments. “Be careful not to get carried away, though,” he warned her. “If you want to practice alone, always do so while standing on solid ground. Don’t forget what happened when you were learning to walk on water.”

After a slight blush, Sakura nodded and bent down again. Itachi watched her dip her hands into the water and realized that he hadn’t given Naruto or Sasuke any instructions about practicing safely. He watched Sakura work with the water for bit, wondering if maybe his IQ tests weren’t mistaken. How much of a genius could he be if he forgot something as obvious as safety instructions when teaching his students?

Well, I was doing this before the Academy and with no guidance. Somehow I managed not to kill myself, he thought.

Not quite.

As he watched Sakura raise her hand, green eyes narrowed and pink eyebrows furrowed, Itachi admitted that he had almost drowned himself once. The details were fuzzy—Sasuke hadn’t been born yet—but Itachi remembered it hadn’t even been a case of sudden chakra exhaustion. If he closed his eyes, he could see Fugaku’s strangely young face looking down at him with a deeply concerned frown. Why did you do that? Why? he’d asked and Itachi suddenly felt large, phantom hands gripping his thin shoulders. Not that he was thin anymore. The water told me to, he’d answered calmly.

In retrospect, that had probably been the day Fugaku realized that there was something off about his firstborn. He’d taught Itachi how to swim not long afterwards, right after ordering that he never be left alone. Itachi met Shisui soon after because his mother had been assigned the bulk of the babysitting duty. He’d been a newly graduated genin at the time and it’d actually taken Itachi a while to separate him from the crowd of dark-haired teens who buzzed around the Uchiha compound. Silent as cat, aren’t you? he told Itachi once. You’ll be an excellent ninja.

A sudden grunt from Sakura brought Itachi back to the present. He looked down, watched her pass her hand over the surface on the pond, and decided to stop dallying. It was stupid to put off talking to Sasuke by losing himself in old memories of the clan anyway. With one last glance at Sakura’s glistening hands, he started walking towards Sasuke and the electrified shuriken.

The moment he was close enough to spot Sasuke’s hands, Itachi had no choice but to flicker down in front of where he was crouching. “What are you doing?” he snapped, reaching for Sasuke’s fist and forcing him to let go of the electrified shuriken he was holding on to despite the static sparks coming off it.

“I’m touching it!” answered Sasuke, glaring as he tried to get his hand out of Itachi’s grip. The shuriken fell on top of the grass and zinged a patch of green leaflets black. “Like you said.”

“I did not tell you do this,” argued Itachi, ignoring the part of him that pointed out how vague his instructions about nature transformation had been. “You were supposed to tap the metal. The point is to divert the electric current in an instant.” He twisted Sasuke’s wrist until he had no choice but to uncurl his fist and show his palm. There were pink burn marks all over his pale skin, some of them severe enough that blood was pooling under the bruises and causing inflamed bumps.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” said Sasuke with a glare, like Itachi was the burned hands, not him.

Shaking his head slightly, Itachi pushed chakra towards his free hand and thought that the years of putting up with Eiji hadn’t been a waste after all. Healing jutsu weren’t easy to learn, not even with Sharingan. “Stay calm,” he ordered when Sasuke tried to wriggle away. “This will not hurt as badly as mending fractured bones.”

“I’m not scared!” Sasuke snapped before thinking a short breath and holding still, glaring at Itachi’s chakra-infused skin. With a sigh, Itachi laid his glowing palm on Sasuke’s burned one, slowly pushing chakra into the wounds and doing his best to stimulate and enhance the Sasuke’s wound healing mechanisms. Sasuke furrowed his dark eyebrows but bravely held back all the winces Itachi was sure were trying to hunch his shoulders. “Other hand,” said Itachi after he was done. Sasuke glared and Itachi wondered if hadn’t hadn’t started practicing with other parts of his body after burning through his palms.

He hadn’t—thank the spirits for small favors—but that didn’t stop him from going off to sulk with Naruto after Itachi told him he needed to wait three days before trying lightning transformation again. His palms needed time to fully heal. Somehow, pointing out that he hadn’t been molding lighting right in the first place hadn’t made Sasuke’s glares any less intense. Itachi worried that he might try to practice on his own but then realized that he’d need someone to electrify metal for him. And finding someone to do that would involve going to one of the Uchiha ninjutsu masters and explaining that he’d messed up in training. Itachi was certain Sasuke wouldn’t do that.

As he watched Sasuke talking to Naruto, Itachi laid the tips of his fingers on the shuriken and diverted the electric current circling its surface into the ground. Naruto threw a leaf away and rose to his feet with an enthusiastic nod at Sasuke. Apparently both of them were going to postpone practicing nature transformation. Maybe it was for the best. Itachi still needed to go over safety precautions with Naruto but he decided to watch them spar first.

They jumped a few feet away from each other and then Sasuke immediately leap at Naruto with his newly healed hand curled into a fist. Naruto sidestepped and arranged his fingers into a tiger seal. Two bright orange clones—he’d finally grasped that less clones were more effective in clean spars—appeared beside him and surrounded Sasuke.

Sasuke aimed a trio of shuriken at all the Narutos but only managed to hit the clone to his left. The real Naruto deflected the shuriken with a kunai and rushed forward. Sasuke dodged a punch and used the momentum to strike the remaining clone—which had tried to hit his back—into a puff of smoke. The real Naruto took the opening and aimed a punch at Sasuke’s face . . . which he downgraded into a slap at the last moment. A slap that Sasuke didn’t manage to dodge.

For a few seconds they simply stared at each other.

Sasuke retaliated with kick at Naruto’s right calf. Naruto just barely jumped backwards and then Sasuke was in the offensive. Not very long after, Naruto found himself on the ground, rubbing at a cheek Sasuke had punched. He stood up right away and made another batch of clones. Itachi watched them for a couple more minutes, eager to confirm what he’d been suspecting for a bit.

Naruto had yet to recover from the psychological repercussions of Eiko’s mission. He was still not as fast or skilled as Sasuke on a bad day but he had been steadily improving his taijutsu for weeks. He ought to be putting up a much better fight against Sasuke and, in a way, he was. Sasuke was having more trouble than usual, not really connecting with his strikes, and Naruto was getting much better at using his clones as diversionary tools.

But he either missed or refused to take advantage of any openings in Sasuke’s defenses. Sasuke was getting more and more frustrated and becoming faster but more erratic as a result. Instead of the mockery Itachi (and probably Sasuke too) would’ve expected before the Eiko disaster, Naruto responded with by becoming clumsier and slower, like Sasuke’s imbalance was somehow his fault. It was a disaster.

In an attempt to diffuse the ugly fight he felt brewing, Itachi ordered them to spend the rest of the morning racing up the waterfall. Racing was indirectly competitive, at least when compared to outright sparring, so hopefully it’d help them restore their previous confrontational but oddly friendly dynamic. They needed something to do while Itachi sparred with Sakura anyway (a task that hadn’t grown any less unpleasant or any less boring over the last few months).

“And Naruto!” he called out and waited for Naruto to turn around and nod expectantly. “Don’t practice wind transformation alone. You could slice open your muscles and tendons.”

“Don’t worry, Sensei,” Naruto told him before following Sasuke. “My cuts heal quick.”

Of course, thought Itachi, sighing a little.

“Sakura!” he called, noting that she was the only one he actually had to yell for when it was time for sparring. She stood on the pond, shot her teammates a longing look as they raced up the waterfall, and then shuffled his way dejectedly. He couldn’t help but compare her approach to Sasuke and Naruto’s, who gazed straight at him with grim determination and happy determination respectively before their turns to spar.

When she was standing a few paces from him, he did nothing besides stare just to see how long it’d take her to adopt a fighting stance. Eight seconds. Two more to actually try and attack. It was the standard length of time she needed to brace herself for . . . Itachi didn’t know. It wasn’t like he’d ever hit her. He didn’t even employ genjutsu against her anymore. The simple truth was that her taijutsu was so poor that he wasn’t sure how to address the problem. All she ever did was run through the same repetitive kata regardless of how many times they failed her.

Itachi gave her fifty seconds to show anything even remotely approaching improvement—a slight deviation from a simple kata would’ve satisfied him—but she just kept throwing mechanical punches and kicks at him. It was obvious that she didn’t expect to ever hit him and was only going through the motions of sparring because she was afraid of refusing to do so. He let out a small sigh and grabbed her forearm. After a few seconds of Sakura waiting tensely instead of trying to counterattack or even take her arm back, Itachi pushed her to the ground. He tried to look her in the eyes but saw nothing but pink bangs.

She laid on the ground for three seconds, took two to rise to her feet, three more to adopt a fighting stance, and an additional two before trying to attack again. Ten seconds wasted for no good reason.

Itachi’s first impulse was to push her to the ground again but he instinctively knew that wouldn’t help her. Someone who was overly receptive to faint praise would also be crushed by even the gentlest of constructive criticisms. Itachi didn’t know how to be gentle so he continued with the pointless dance, knocking her down every fifty seconds.

It was one thing to have weaknesses in taijutsu. Itachi himself wasn’t particularly impressive at it but he was so fast that it hardly mattered. The same couldn’t be said for Sakura. Taijutsu wasn’t just her weakest area—she was so bad at it that he wondered how she’d passed her Academy exam at all.

It’s very possible that her performance against me specifically is worse than usual, thought Itachi as he watched her take too much time getting to her feet for what felt like the hundredth time since the beginning of their session. Hundred-and-twentieth time, actually.

“That’s enough for today,” he said before she made another half-hearted attempt to attack him, wondering if he shouldn’t ask Guy for advice regarding her situation. He stared at her hunched shoulders, feeling vaguely irritated and disappointed with her. And himself. Maybe she’d be doing better with another teacher. “Collect Sasuke and Naruto and head to Lady Kago’s mansion.” He expected her to bow and bolt away from him but she merely fidgeted as she avoided his gaze. “Is there something you need?”

“Uh . . .” she mumbled, pushing her arms behind her back. “I was looking at the requirements for signing up for training as a medical ninja and . . .” she trailed off for a moment before sneaking a glance at his face. He was probably not wearing an encouraging expression because she instantly lowered her gaze and focused on his chest. Did she think that simple trick hid the fact that she still couldn’t look him in the eye during training?

“And?” he prompted, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

“And . . . and I want you to sign my application to be permitted into the classes!” she declared with a furious blush.

“No,” said Itachi, hoping that she would argue.

“Oh . . .” she mumbled, visibly deflating. Her shoulders hunched even more deeply and she gazed at the floor. “All right, then; sorry to bother you.”

“Sakura,” he said as she started to turn around. She paused but didn’t raise her head. “Why do you want to be a medic?”

“Because,” she started, taking in a deep breath and forcing herself to look up at him with wide green eyes, “I have e-excellent control of my chakra, I enjoy learning about human anatomy and healing, I want to help my teammates, and—” Almost as if she knew that whatever she was going to say next would not do her any favors, she looked away again and let her pink hair hide her eyes.

“And?”

“I don’t want to fight,” she answered with a small shake of her head. “I’m not any good at it and . . . even if I was, I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Shinobi must fight. Shinobi must be vicious,” Itachi said as he wondered (and not for the first time) why Sakura had become a ninja. “Healers especially must be ready to defend their lives more often than most. They will always be attacked first. Enemies know that as long as a team’s healer is functional, they’ll restore any non-lethal damage done to their teammates.”

“But there are many who work exclusively at the hospital!” insisted Sakura, turning hopeful green eyes at him.

“The ones who’ve been in the field for many years and honed their skills to such an exceptional degree that they cannot be risked,” explained Itachi. “They’re needed to train a new generation of medics, but if there’s another war they’ll be among the first deployed directly to the frontlines. You can’t avoid fighting by becoming a medic. A ninja can’t avoid fighting. Ever.”

“. . . I still want to do it,” said Sakura, nodding firmly.

“You don’t have the stamina for it,” Itachi told her. “Medics must have exceptional chakra control and exceptional chakra reserves because field surgeries that rely entirely on Healing jutsu can require hours of constant chakra manipulation. You tire out in minutes.”

“Training raises stamina,” argued Sakura.

“Training that you’re not willing to engage in,” said Itachi. “We’ve been sparring for a hundred and twenty minutes and you’ve spent twenty of them standing up and adopting the exact same fighting stance. Not even your breathing rate was accelerated by the end of it. We both know you realized that your approach wasn’t working weeks ago.”

“It’s important to pace yourself during a fight!”

“If we’d been fighting you’d be dead.” Itachi didn’t think that had been a gentle admonishment and, judging by the way she balked, neither did Sakura. Still, it was his duty to let her know shinobi life would never be peaceful. “I can’t request a spot in a medical training class for someone who doesn’t have the appropriate stamina and seemingly no motivation to correct the problem. Ask me again once you’ve increased your chakra reserves and improved your taijutsu.”

Itachi thought he’d been firm but encouraging, especially by making it clear that he would sign Sakura’s request for medical training if she showed improvement, but she looked like he’d gleefully crushed her hopes anyway. Her eyes welled up with unshed tears before she whirled around and rushed towards the pond. Sasuke and Naruto were still racing up and down the waterfall, Sasuke in silent determination and Naruto laughing or grunting depending on when and where he slipped. As usual, they took too long to acknowledge Sakura’s approach so she had plenty of time to compose herself. Maybe that was part of the reason she was so insecure? Naruto and Sasuke always seemed too wrapped up in each other to notice her.

There was nothing he could do about that. If Itachi tried to force Naruto and Sasuke to interact with her, they’d likely end up resenting her. Or maybe not. What did he know about social interactions among children?

He waited until his genin had exited the training grounds and set out for home. The image of Sasuke’s burned palms followed him there, taunting him about just how awful a teacher he was. Maybe he ought to tell the Council that he was out practice with his Sharingan and that Kakashi should really be the one in charge of Naruto. By the time he reached his apartment door, his thoughts had already shifted towards Sasuke’s Sharingan. Towards Sharingan in general, which was something he usually liked to keep in the back of his mind, like the possibility of an invasion or a hurricane.

The scent of boiled seaweed assaulted his nostrils the moment he walked through his front door. “Welcome home, sunshine,” Kakashi greeted him when he entered his kitchen.

“Did you move in here while I wasn’t looking?” demanded Itachi, looking over his kitchen and feeling a wave of annoyance rising in his mind. Kakashi had cooked. There was a tray of moist onigiri lying on his counter.

“You only wish,” answered Kakashi as he dipped one of the rice balls in soy sauce. “I’m staying until I finish this mission from hell and then I’ll look for another place. There has to be a compound or two I haven’t been evicted from yet.”

Itachi considered making a comment about the absurdity of Kakashi’s financial irresponsibility but he knew it’d be a waste of time. He settled for glaring briefly and walking towards the counter. Seaweed rice balls were his favorite. It was probably Kakashi’s roundabout way of saying ‘thank you for letting me invade your home’. He grabbed one of them and dipped it in the soy sauce before bringing it to his lips. Kakashi cooked with more salt than Mikoto.

The thought almost made Itachi cringe. Why was he remembering so many random details about his family—and not just Sasuke—lately? He looked at Kakashi’s placid face, suddenly wanting to make small talk. And neither of them was particularly good at it. It was more comfortable to just watch Kakashi’s pale jaw chewing and his single visible dark eye staring off into the distance. He did so for a few moments and then his eyes shifted to Kakashi’s headband and the Sharingan it was hiding.

“Does it hurt?” Itachi realized he’d never asked Kakashi about his Sharingan right after voicing the question.

“I have one eye that requires more chakra than the other,” answered Kakashi after swallowing a bite of onigiri. “On good days hurts and on bad days I consider gouging the damned thing out myself. I don’t think anyone appreciates just how difficult it is to maintain my sunny disposition under the circumstances.”

What was Itachi supposed to say to that? Mine hurt too so I stopped using them. Kakashi couldn’t turn his off. And he probably didn’t know that Sharingan could hurt Uchihas too. And not just former Uchihas, either.

“The legends say that first Sharingan was a defective Byakugan. A Hyuga woman fell in love with a man from a distant land and . . . laid with him against her family's wishes, to use the legend's own words. She birthed a child with red eyes. He suffered from terrible headaches and temper tantrums,” said Itachi, thinking that he wanted to talk about Sharingan and a ninja did not cower from the truth. “The Hyuga didn’t understand about genetics so they simply waited until the boy was old enough to hunt and abandoned him in Fire Country’s most dangerous forest.”

“I guess even mythical Hyugas are dicks,” said Kakashi, rolling his visible eye and grabbing another rice ball.

“They expected the boy to die,” continued Itachi, “but his eyes let him ensnare animals in eternal illusions. Soon, all the great cats in the forest were his loyal servants. The hunted for him, defended him from other predators, and kept him warm during the winter months.”

“If I’ve had the power to make tigers into my loyal pets all this time and you didn’t tell me I’m going to be really upset.”

“Tell you?” asked Itachi, momentarily derailed from his story. “The elders didn’t tell you about Sharingan when they agreed to let you keep Obito’s?”

“Seriously?” asked Kakashi with an incredulous look. “Minato-sensei got into a huge fight with your elders about the whole thing. They finally agreed to let me keep the eye as long as they got custody of my eventual corpse should the village get a hold of it once I finally got myself killed. All they told me was that the Sharingan would turn off by itself if I was lucky. But probably it would kill me. I think they expected me to drop dead of chakra exhaustion in a week or so.”

Why did you keep it? Why do you keep it? Itachi knew better than to ask. “The abandoned Hyuga boy grew strong,” he continued instead, dipping an onigiri in soy sauce. “Eventually he was confident enough to wonder into cities and villages. The story gets fuzzier after that. Some say he was so beautiful that women begged for the chance to share his bed.”

“Lucky fellow,” mumbled Kakashi.

“Others say he used his eyes to make people believe he was beautiful.” Itachi remembered some of the more idiotic rumors about him and couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Either way, most accounts agree that the boy fathered hundreds of children.”

“Which is why Sharingan is such a common thing,” said Kakashi before taking a last bite out of the rice ball he was holding.

“Eventually the boy grew old and bitter,” continued Itachi. “Maybe because age made him ugly.”

“Inconsistent with one version of the story,” said Kakashi. “If he’d been making himself look beautiful, then he could’ve made himself look young.”

“Something must have made him unhappy,” said Itachi. “He turned into a trickster and started using his eyes to mimic villagers and frame them of heinous or petty crimes against their neighbors. Or heinous and petty crimes.”

“Are we sure this isn’t the ‘young and douchey teenager’ stage of our hero’s life?”

“I admit that the timeline makes little sense,” conceded Itachi. “The important part is that every death supposedly made the boy—old man more powerful. The blood of his victims made his eyes redder and redder, until he cried blood every time he tried to use their power.”

“My Sharingan has yet to be empowered by the blood of my fallen enemies,” said Kakashi. “Perhaps I’m not using it right.”

“Mine hasn’t either,” said Itachi. Except for that one tim—no. Shisui wasn’t my enemy. “The elders said that I’d have to kill the right people.”

“The fuck?”

“That the legends said the boy had to kill the right people,” corrected Itachi, though he knew the clumsy misdirection wasn’t going to work.

“The elders actually told you that killing ‘the right people’ would make your Sharingan stronger?” Kakashi sighed and rolled his eyes before pulling his mask over the lower side of his face. “Honestly, what is it with clans and their kekkei genkai? The Byakugan doesn’t just see chakra pathways and far away things, it looks into the future and reads people’s minds. Sharingan doesn’t just enhance genjutsu, it turns their users into gods with dominion over time itself.” He snorted and shook his head. “It’s just mutations and chakra, not magic.”

“Many dojutsu abilities make no logical sense,” pointed out Itachi.

“We don’t understand many dojutsu abilities,” argued Kakashi with another impatient shake of his head. “Just because we don’t understand the explanation for something doesn’t mean that the explanation doesn’t exist. You should know that, genius.”

“I’m not saying I believe the story,” said Itachi with an impatient sigh of his own. Not all of it anyway. Once, I believed none of it. “For starters, if Sharingan had derived from a mutated Byakugan there would be red-eyed Hyugas running around.”

“Yeah, that’s the definitely the stupidest part of the story,” said Kakashi, rolling his eye again.

Despite Kakashi’s obvious irritation, Itachi felt like he needed to finish the story. But it’d probably be for the best to skip the parts about the Mangekyo. “The legend ends with the boy killing the most powerful man in the world and gaining God’s All-Seeing Eyes as a reward.”

“The Rinnegan again?” asked Kakashi.

“I don’t know,” admitted Itachi with a shrug. “They killed him. The new eyes ate away at his chakra and body. He died blind, choking in his own blood.”

“. . . It’s only a story,” said Kakashi, awkwardly reaching over to pat his shoulder. “You—your brother’s not . . . well, he might. But not because of Sharingan.”

“I’m not . . .” a child, he almost said. It’d sound hollow since he had brought up the ridiculous legend. “He can’t remember how to activate Sharingan,” he said finally, deciding that it’d probably been what he’d wanted to talk about all along. “I know I’m supposed to be helping him with it but I don’t know what the problem is.” And I hope he never activates it again.

“Scare him,” said Kakashi with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Adrenaline awakened his Sharingan once. It can do it again.”

Then he’ll tell our parents that he’s got Sharingan and they’ll tell him he’ll have to throw away his humanity if he wants to become as powerful as I supposedly am.

“I’m not a very good teacher,” said Itachi before biting into a seaweed rice ball.

“Of course you aren’t,” agreed Kakashi with a sage nod.

“Your lack of surprise at my inadequacy is oddly comforting.”

“You should be comforted,” dismissed Kakashi. “It’s your students that are inadequate, I bet. Most people are so stupid.”

“I take it that humility is not one of your virtues either,” Itachi told him with a short laugh.

“That’s not what I meant,” argued Kakashi and his dark eye narrowed into a glare. “When I was younger . . . I didn’t copy those thousand jutsu exclusively from enemies. People besides Guy used to ask me to practice with them sometimes. They all got angry at me when they failed to learn the jutsu I tried to teach them in exchange for letting me copy their techniques. I wasn’t ‘explaining right’ they told me, like demonstrations after demonstrations wasn’t enough. They didn’t have Sharingan but they weren’t blind.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong,” mumbled Itachi after Kakashi paused for a breath. “I tried to show them what to do but they didn’t understand. Sasuke burned his palms because he didn’t grasp that he was supposed to tap electrified metal. And Naruto didn’t understand that the goal was to mold air, not move the leaf with chakra until I explicitly told him that.”

“There you go,” said Kakashi. “You’re welcome for the advice.”

Itachi doubted that Kakashi could help him figure out how to verbalize explanations for so many of the things that came naturally to them. He’d risen through shinobi ranks even faster than Itachi, after all. “When am I getting Guy’s kids?” he asked suddenly, mostly to change the damned subject.

“Tomorrow,” said Kakashi. “They’ve been ordered to report at Training Ground Seven at first light."

"First light?" repeated Itachi. "My team starts practicing at 8:00 AM."

Kakashi merely shrugged. "Expect Guy here later with a long list about their individual needs.”

“I can barely contain my excitement.”

“Nobody does sarcasm like you. It always almost sounds like you’re not bullshitting.” He got off from the counter and stretched. “I’m out or I might spend my last night in Konoha having an epic arm wrestling match with Guy.”

“Any news on Danzo?” Itachi asked him before he flickered away.

“We both know he’s going to lay low until the disaster with that pregnant girl blows over, the slimy fuck,” answered Kakashi. Before Itachi could say anything about the search for Root recruiters, he was gone.

Itachi sighed and decided to spend the rest of the night going over one of the stupid scrolls his genin found in Lady Kago's mansion. 

Notes:

So remember all those vases and encrypted scrolls that Team Seven found? Itachi realized that they'd probably been written by a root member but didn't tell the kids about it because of clearance issues. The jonin talked about that at the conference.

Now I have to fix this mess over at FF.net.

In other news, I finished the first request for a side story that someone made. If any of you would like to ask about another potential scene, ask me about it and I might end up writing it.

Chapter 14: Key of Light

Summary:

Sasuke decides to fix Naruto's apparent stupidity and Sakura meets her rival in chakra manipulation.

Notes:

So I'm assuming that kids in Konoha went to regular school where they learned to be functioning members of society and that the ninja Academy was a separate thing that met after or before regular school.

The palms of Sasuke’s hands felt tender and inflamed, like he’d spent hours scrubbing them with rough sandpaper. More than once, he’d resisted the urge to rub them together to relieve the burning itch tickling his skin.

“I can’t believe you burned yourself, asshole,” Naruto said, smirking at him.

Sasuke grunted and looked towards Sakura. She was standing several feet away shaded under one of Konoha’s taller alders. Daisuke was staring up at her, seemingly enraptured by her explanation of basic hand seals despite the fact that he must have learned all of them before learning to speak properly. Rei shot her brother an annoyed glance and began twirling one of the short, blunt kunai Academy kids were issued during their first year of training. It looked like Sakura had a new admirer.

“Hey, I still need you to come over to my apartment.”

“Not going until you tell me why,” said Sasuke, watching as Daisuke went through all the hand seals for Sakura. She beamed when he didn’t make a single mistake.

“I told you; I can’t talk about it in public!” said Naruto, sighing impatiently. “It’s better if I just show you.”

“And I told you I’m not going to just go where you tell me to without a reason,” said Sasuke.

“I’m giving you a reason!”

“A good reason,” clarified Sasuke.

“I’d go somewhere if you asked me to,” said Naruto, like that was supposed to guilt him or something.

“That’s because you’re a moron.”

Before Eiko, that comment would have earned him a lazy punch or, at the very least, a half-hearted “Bastard”. Now Naruto simply rolled his eyes and lied down on the ground beside Sasuke to look up at the darkening late afternoon sky. It was so irritating it made Sasuke consider stringing together a more vicious series of insults just to see how patient Naruto could be. At some point, he’d have to stop treating Sasuke like he was made of fragile porcelain.

And to think that Sasuke had swallowed his pride and asked Itachi to accompany to the hospital just so he could get cleared for duty faster. Training he could’ve still done with or without official permission but his teammates’ obvious concern had been getting on his nerves. He’d put up with Itachi’s gentle suggestion to take a few more days off and the two hours of awkwardly sitting together in the hospital waiting room mostly because he’d wanted to erase the looks of helpless worry on Naruto and Sakura’s faces.

Unexpectedly, it’d been Sakura who’d taken the scroll declaring him fit for duty as a sign that she could stop acting like he was about to drop dead at any second. She’d let out a sigh of relief and congratulated him, tentatively reaching to pat his shoulder. A little grudgingly, Sasuke had let her. Then he’d immediately regretted it because the small concession made her face turn as red as a ripe tomato. He was beginning to think she’d never get over her stupid crush.

Naruto had also seemed relieved at first. And then they’d tried to spar. Sasuke knew that he was still the better fighter, but he’d gotten use to the Naruto who refused to let that keep him from trying his very best to win every single time they fought. That’s how it’d been in the Academy even, when Naruto could barely follow through the motions of a simple kata without tripping over his feet. It’d been annoying back then. When Naruto actually started getting better, Sasuke had begun to use the constant fighting to gauge how much he was improving. If Naruto ever got good enough to beat him, then it’d be a sign that he was slacking off.

Of course, that would only work if Naruto actually tried beat him. For days, he’d been treating their “spars” like evasion exercises, doing his very best to dodge all of Sasuke’s attacks and making nothing more than token attempts to strike back.

Sasuke wished he knew how to force Naruto to be his old self again and wasn’t that ironic? Three months ago, he would’ve done things immoral even for a ninja to make Naruto just a bit meeker. Now he was considering asking Mikoto for advice about how to deal with a spooked teammate even though it’d involve coming clean about all the lies he’d been amassing since becoming a genin. And he didn’t want to do that until he figured out the Sharingan mess.

He wasn’t having any luck there. Sasuke had tried all the meditation techniques he knew, wasted hours reading about brain injuries and amnesia, and even resorted to glaring at his own reflection while pushing chakra towards his stubborn dark eyes. He’d gotten nothing more than headaches for his troubles.

“Guys!” Sakura’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’m meeting with Ino today so watch the kids.”

Sasuke watched Rei saying something—probably that they didn’t need to be watched—as Sakura patted her and Daisuke’s heads before motioning them towards him. Sakura then waved her arm and headed towards the village street nearest to the forest clearing where Team Seven had been wasting the late afternoon, looking significantly happier than she’d had at Lady Kago’s mansion. At one point, Sasuke almost asked her what Itachi had said that made her so depressed but he rather liked that she’d stopped asking him out on dates and didn’t want to do anything that might possibly encourage her to start again.

“Sasuke-sama, shouldn’t we be going home?” asked Rei when she reached the tree Sasuke and Naruto were using for shade. Not that they needed it anymore. The sun was nearly past the horizon.

“Yes,” mumbled Sasuke, rising to his feet.

Naruto made some kind of grunting snort and Sasuke rolled his eyes. Maybe he’d just keep refusing to go to Naruto’s apartment until the idiot stopped being such an idiot. He waited for Rei and Daisuke to say their goodbyes, sent Naruto an irritated glare, and started heading towards the Uchiha compound.

The twins tried to engage him in conversation on the way back to the Uchiha compound but Sasuke wasn’t in the mood for it. Images of the charged shuriken kept flashing through his mind, almost as if electricity itself was taunting him. He remembered Itachi’s briefly worried gaze at the sight of his blistering palms and had to shake his head a little to clear it. Better not to think about things like that. He’d probably just imagined it anyway—seen something he’d desperately wanted to see.

What had Mikoto said? Don’t bother to deny that you love him. It was only normal that Sasuke’s stupid heart was trying to look for any signs that Itachi was more like the nice brother of his memories and less like the monster the evil bastard actually was. Obsessing about the urge would just make Sasuke’s life harder and distract him from the things he really needed to focus on.

Like Naruto.

The years of sleeping in class were finally catching up to him and Sasuke was tired of having to translate Itachi’s sparse and shitty lessons. He looked down at the leaves scattered on the dry road and ignored the voice in his head that pointed out that teaching Naruto things was probably helping him more than Naruto himself. It didn’t really matter. In fact, it was why he needed to figure out a better solution. Naruto couldn’t hope to rely on him forever.

“You two go on by yourselves,” he told Rei and Daisuke, suddenly stopping in his tracks. “And stop by my house and tell my parents I won’t make it home tonight.”

Rei’s dark eyes widened with confusion. “Why not?” she asked.

“Mission stuff,” answered Sasuke, already half-turned back towards the village. “Hurry and get back to the compound before it gets too late.” It wasn’t entirely an excuse to avoid going home and facing Mikoto’s knowing eyes for one night.

Naruto had a problem and Sasuke was supposed to be steadily gaining his trust. Was there a better way to go about it than helping him solve that problem? Sasuke had already decided that Naruto’s apparent stupidity was the kind that could be fixed so they better get to fixing it sooner rather than later. If his taijutsu, ninjutsu, evasive skills, shurikenjutsu, chakra control, and tactics could be improved, then so could his awful academic skills.

But first Sasuke needed money.

He knew just were to go. With a snort, he jumped to the nearest tree and headed towards the Konoha’s red-light district. It was still relatively early but that wouldn’t make things any more difficult for even the clumsiest ninja. He jumped from rooftop to rooftop, taking the long way and not bothering to run very fast so more of Konoha’s businessmen had time to get to the brothels. Once he spotted the first red-glowing window, he jumped down to one of the grimy alleyways. He needed to take off his shirt and turn it inside out to hide the Uchiha fan on its back. Besides, it’d be easier to wonder to one of the busiest street from the ugly and poorly lit alleys.

Spotting the ninja wondering in and out of the brothels was easy enough. They were the ones walking without the slightest bit of shame in their gazes and probably watching out for wondering hands. The civilians were another matter. Most of them avoided everyone’s eyes and hunched in on themselves, like they thought that if they took as little space as possible it would mean that they weren’t really there.

Sasuke hid behind a dumpster near a medium-sized brothel, ignored the younger clients—they probably didn’t have much money on them—and waited for the first middle-aged civilian in a semi-expensive kimono walking into the place unaccompanied. He saw a balding one approaching with his hands hidden at the small of his back and his gaze trained on his toes. Judging by the fine needlework of his red kimono, he’d have fat wallet.

When he passed near the Sasuke’s dumpster, Sasuke rushed forward and purposely ran into him. The man instantly shot him a vicious glare out of beady dark eyes and Sasuke braced himself for a possible fight, cursing his bad luck and poor judgment. Apparently the guy wasn’t so ashamed that he’d pretend not to notice being rather obviously mugged.

Thankfully the man decided to walk away with nothing more than a mumbled curse, maybe because he spotted Sasuke’s headband. Or maybe he just didn’t want to waste the time it would take to get ANBU involved when it was common knowledge that they hated dealing with petty crime. The civilians had learned to let many things go since they were left without a proper police force.

As expected, the old bastard’s wallet had plenty of cash. Sasuke wondered why the idiots came with so much money to what was probably the least safe place in Konoha. Did the prostitutes really charge that much? Hopefully, they did. Sasuke took all of the man’s money and made his way towards another street, deciding that he might as well get enough cash to get him through the awful mansion renovation. He liked having disposable income and it wasn’t like he could make trips to the red-light district often, though if he got caught now at least his parents wouldn’t be contacted.

An hour later, he’d robbed three other old guys without any unexpected trouble. It must have been the end of a pay cycle among the civilians or something because he’d gotten more than enough money for all the things he needed before most of Konoha’s shops closed for the night. He hurried towards the markets anyway, jumping from rooftop to rooftop with all the speed he’d forgone when heading towards the red-light district.

What Naruto needed the most was a goddamned dictionary so Sasuke headed towards Konoha’s largest bookstore. He just barely remembered to fix his shirt beforehand, ignoring the stray thought that it might make the night easier to hide his clan’s symbol everywhere he went. Regardless, Sasuke refused to act like he was ashamed of his family. If some patrons shot him dirty looks as grabbed a plastic basket and started looking through the shelves, then it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.

Getting supplies wasn’t difficult. He grabbed three clean notebooks, a set of multicolored pens, a calculator, that dictionary he’d been thinking about getting since the genetic inheritance incident, a few clean scrolls, a highlighter, and a set of sticky notes. Selecting the right textbooks, on the other hand, proved to be a challenge. Just how far behind had Naruto fallen? School wasn’t the same as the Academy so it wasn’t smart to assume that Naruto had been as much of a mess there. Sasuke hadn’t been in the same school classroom as Naruto since . . . he’d never been in the same classroom as Naruto.

After considering the problem for a few minutes, he decided to use the Academy exam as a gauge of how much Naruto didn’t know. As stupid as Sexy Jutsu was, it took a simple Transformation Technique to a higher level so Naruto must have fucked up the written portion of the Academy exam pretty badly to not earn a headband.

In the end, Sasuke spent some time gathering facsimiles of the sixth-grade textbooks and scrolls. If turned out they were too advanced for Naruto, they could always come back and get the fifth-grade ones. Or whatever grade Naruto needed. On the way to the counter, he spotted the section on ninjutsu and decided to look around even though it was doubtful that a civilian bookstore would have anything particularly thorough on nature transformation. Itachi’s lesson had been so bad that even a cursory explanation might be useful.

Scrolls on the five basic natures were prominently displayed at the beginning of the shelf so Sasuke didn’t have to spend too much time there. Immediately, he grabbed a fat scroll on the theory behind lightning transformation. Then one about wind transformation. After a moment of hesitation, he also grabbed a copy of the water one. He could give it to Naruto and Naruto could give it to Sakura.

Paying for everything he got at the bookstore only used up the funds from one of the guys Sasuke robbed so he decided to buy a change of clothes on the way to Naruto’s. He still needed to shower. As he handed the young woman behind the counter of the clothes store payment for his new outfit (bag from the bookstore hanging over his shoulder to avoid putting weight on his still hurting palms), Sasuke felt his stomach growling and realized he wanted dinner. Ichiraku’s was nearby Naruto’s apartment so he might as well make a last stop there.

By the time he was knocking on Naruto’s door, he was trying to work out how exactly to talk Naruto into studying. He was sure the idiot was going to say something stupid about how “book smarts” weren’t important and if Sasuke lost his already frayed patience, then—

“You came!” Naruto beamed at him before spotting his bags and frowning in confusion. “You moving in here or something?”

“No,” snapped Sasuke, glaring at Naruto’s bright blue eyes as he barged into the small apartment.

“I gotta show y—I smell miso ramen!”

Sasuke put the bag with all the books on the floor and the bag with ramen cups on the counter of Naruto’s kitchen. He’d never been at the place after sundown so he was surprised by how dim the light bulbs were. He stared at the strangely yellow tint hitting the white walls of Naruto’s kitchen and got sleepy just thinking about studying under such poor lighting.

“So why did you come?” asked Naruto, eyeing him with worried blue eyes as he grabbed his cup of ramen. “Is your . . . everything all right?”

“My family’s fine,” said Sasuke. “I’m here because you have a problem and we need to address it.”

“No, you’re gonna see!” Naruto said, somehow speaking in between inhaling noodles. “I really do have something important to show you!” He’d probably already had dinner tonight. How he ate so damned much was a mystery to Sasuke. Maybe it had something to do with the Nine Tails.

Sasuke grunted and opened his Shoyu ramen cup and started eating at a much more dignified pace, pausing to savor the sundried tomato bits he’d asked Ayame to add as a topping. His fingers itched anywhere they touched the chopsticks but Sasuke pretended not to notice. He could feed himself. Naruto finished his cup first, of course, so he beamed at Sasuke again before hopping off his stool and rushing to his bedroom. Moments later, he came back holding a large scroll Sasuke recognized instantly.

“That’s—”

“Shhh!” Naruto hissed, tentatively walking forward.

One of the scrolls from Lady Kago’s, Sasuke finished in his mind. He had to remind himself to close his mouth after realizing he’d let it hang open as though he were a fish. A stupid fish.

“It was the biggest one I could sneak out and if Itachi-sensei finds out I got it, we’re gonna be elbow deep in shit for the rest of our lives,” continued Naruto. He sort of cringed a little before climbing on his stool and laying the scroll on the counter. “I’d tell Sakura but she’d rat us out right away. It’s not her fault or anything!” he added while shaking his head, like implying something about Sakura that might be construed as negative went against everything he believed in. “She’s just . . . you know. She doesn’t really stand up to teachers. Ever.”

“Open it up,” said Sasuke, lifting his chopsticks out of the ramen cup and putting the lid back on it. No point in risking damaging the scroll with soup.

“You’re not going to believe what I found!” said Naruto, as he rolled the scroll open. “It’s—I asked Iruka-sensei to remind me about incrip—”

“—encryptions,” corrected Sasuke. “And you told Iruka-sensei that you stole from Itachi?”

“No, you asshole!” snapped Naruto as he laid the scroll on the counter and keeping it from folding again. “I was just ‘hey, sensei, why don’t you remind me about how to read encrypted messages’ and he said that you need a key—”

“—obviously—”

“—so I—would you let me finish, Bastard? Geez.” Naruto shot him a glare before rolling his big blue eyes. “Anyway, Iruka-sensei said that the key needed to be random enough that your enemies couldn’t work it out but also simple enough that your friends could work it out. And this,” he jabbed his index at the scroll, “is so not fucking simple. There’s numbers, hand seals, random as fuck pictures, like three types of characters, more than one language—it’s a fucking mess!”

“I know,” said Sasuke, remembering his frustration at the wasted hours trying to read the damned things. “We messed up the key anyway. None of us remembers how the vases were arranged, much less which scroll was in which vase.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” cried Naruto. “I don’t think the vases were part of it at all! Itachi-sensei said that they were ‘most likely’ part of the key, not that they definitely were.”

“It makes sense that they were, though,” said Sasuke. “Whoever found these scrolls was going to be more interested in the vases and fuck up the key before they realized that the scrolls were more valuable.”

“Why put more bullshit on top of all this bullshit?” demanded Naruto, gesturing at the scroll. “Iruka-sensei said that a good encryption puts in fake patterns to hide the real patterns. You know, like using a smokescreen to hide some shit you don’t care about so your enemy wastes time with that while you steal what you really want.”

“But the guy who wrote these scrolls is crazy.”

“He was only crazy by the time Sakura met him,” argued Naruto. “He used to be a jonin medic, right? So it’s not like he was crazy his entire life. The scrolls look old. He was probably sane when he wrote them.”

“Hmm,” mumbled Sasuke, glaring down at the scroll even as he thought that Naruto actually had a point. For once.

“Admit it, Bastard!” Naruto puffed up a little and smirked. “I figured this out after you gave up on it.”

“You have a theory that might have some merit,” said Sasuke. “You’ve hardly figured anything out.”

“No, I—” Naruto frowned before looking around them for something that wasn’t obvious to Sasuke right away. “This would’ve been way easier if you’d just come while the Sun was still out like I asked you to.”

“I was busy getting—what are you doing?”

Suddenly, Naruto got off his stool, grabbed the scroll, and started walking up one of his apartment walls. “Come on, we can maybe use the light bulb,” he told Sasuke. Once he reached the bulb at the center of the kitchen's roof, Naruto crouched over it and held the scrolls over the dim yellow light, shrouding the already poorly lit apartment in a dimmer tint.

Realizing what Naruto was trying to show him, Sasuke climbed up the wall himself until he was also crouching over the bulb. “See?” asked Naruto, pointing at oily stains that were only visible when the scroll was held near a light source.

“Invisible ink,” said Sasuke, berating himself for not seeing it back at Lady Kago’s mansion. They’d been surrounded by fucking candles. Though maybe he had seen the odd stain and simply assumed they were just more signs of the scrolls’ age. They’d been so careful not to accidentally burn the blasted things.

“I must’ve stared at this shit for hours,” said Naruto. “Then I went up to the roof when the Sun was still out—”

“—weren’t you afraid of being seen?”

“Please,” said Naruto. “People avoid me like I’m carrying a fucking plague. I just didn’t tell you during work or training ‘cause Itachi still comes by like a fucking ghost and if he catches us we’re gonna be doing D-rank missions for the rest of our lives.”

“Best case scenario,” mumbled Sasuke as he scanned all the stains on the scroll. His first instinct was to look for some kind of overall picture but then Naruto started talking again.

“I think the invisible ink’s showing the important words,” he said. “Like it’s all the names of animals or hand seals, which are animal names t—”

“—go grab a notebook and pen from my other bag,” ordered Sasuke, suddenly seeing what the invisible ink was highlighting.

“Wait, what’re you seeing?”

“Just go get what I asked for,” repeated Sasuke, reaching to take the scroll out of Naruto’s hands.

For a moment, Naruto tensed. Sasuke wondered if they were about to start fighting but then Naruto grunted, gave up the scroll, and fell from the roof. Sasuke heard him shuffling towards the bag with all the books and huffing indignantly while staring at the invisible ink stains marking the odd animal name on the nonsensical scroll. Not all the animal names were marked and some of the marked ones were repeated in unmarked spots. He was looking at a list, he was sure of it, but . . .

“Who’re all the books for?” asked Naruto when he got back, handing Sasuke a notebook and a black pen.

“For you,” answered Sasuke as he passed over the scroll. It’d be difficult to copy what he needed while working against gravity and ignoring the insistent itch of his healing burn wounds, but a good ninja worked well in spite of petty discomforts.

“But we don’t have to go to school anymore,” said Naruto.

“You need to catch up anyway,” Sasuke told him. “Now let me work.”

After letting out another annoyed sigh, Naruto held the scroll over the light bulb and Sasuke began trying to recreate all the spots on a blank piece of notebook paper. It’d have been easier if they’d known which end of the stupid thing began the real message but since they didn’t, Sasuke wasted four pages before he got to what he was looking for.

“I got it,” he mumbled as he connected all the black dots he’d copied onto the blank paper.

“Root?” asked Naruto once the character was finished. “The guys who tried to kidnap Eiko before we had to?”

“Maybe,” said Sasuke, starting to copy down the animal names on the appropriate spots. Spider, Snake, Bear, Jaguar, Piranha . . . “It’s possible I’m just seeing what I want to see.”

“So they weren’t ninjutsu scrolls at all?” asked Naruto.

“I don’t think so,” said Sasuke. Now that he thought about it, why would a jonin go through the trouble of encrypting jutsu he already knew in the first place?

“You’re telling me I risked pissing off Itachi and wasted fuck only knows how many hours of my life for a list of names?” demanded Naruto. “How’s this even useful?”

“. . . I don’t know yet,” admitted Sasuke, unfazed by Naruto’s indignant disappointment. “But knowledge is the best kind of power.” He rolled up the scroll and closed the notebook. “Now let’s go teach you how to study.”

 

***

 

Sakura met with Sasuke and Naruto on the way to their training grounds. Sasuke’s only greeting was a low grunt but Naruto waved before rushing to her side and pulling a fat scroll about water transformation out of his pocket. “I got it yesterday!” he said as he handed it to her.

“Thanks,” said Sakura, shooting Sasuke a look out of the corner of her eyes. He glared back at her and then walked ahead of them, hands hidden inside his pockets.

Sakura sighed and pushed the scroll inside her bag. It wasn’t that Naruto wasn’t generous. He was. But he was way more likely to bring her food, weapons, or offer to teach her a jutsu he might’ve learned in some clandestine fashion. She imagined the scroll had been Sasuke’s idea and he just wasn’t comfortable giving it to her himself.

While walking beside Naruto and trying to take comfort from the warmth of the morning sun, Sakura decided that was mostly her fault. Sasuke probably still remembered her continued attempts to ask him out on dates no matter how adamantly he refused. Had that really been less than four months ago? It felt like a lifetime had passed. She’d been so dumb, somehow incapable of seeing that Sasuke must’ve found her as unbearable as she’d found Naruto.

“He can be nice in his own way,” said Naruto suddenly, gesturing at Sasuke’s back. “You don’t have to be sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

“Yeah, you are,” insisted Naruto. “I can tell.”

“All right, I am,” admitted Sakura with a small smile. “But it doesn’t have anything to do with him.” No more than usual, anyway.

“Oh,” said Naruto as his eyes widened. “That’s goo—I mean, it’s not good that you’re sad but it’s good that it’s not about him ‘cause he’s n—” Judging by the way he suddenly stopped in his tracks, he couldn’t really bring himself to say that Sasuke wasn’t worth it anymore. “Uh, I gotta talk to him anyway.” Without another word, Naruto rushed forward and started mumbling something to Sasuke’s ear.

Sasuke pushed him away with a mumbled “I already know, moron.” Any other time Sakura would’ve wracked her brain trying to figure out what he “already knew” but now she just sighed and watched Naruto babbling more nonsense.

She worked out that Sasuke had spent the night at Naruto’s apartment—it was probably why the back of his dark shirt had no Uchiha fan on it—and that they’d been working with books and scrolls. They’d tried to teach themselves about nature transformation, most likely. Sakura considered telling them that she already knew the basics since she’d read ahead of what they were expected to know for the Academy exam.

What was the point? They probably didn’t want her around and it was better if they taught it to themselves. Sasuke had a much easier time explaining things to Naruto anyway.

Sakura looked down at her feet and sighed tiredly. After complaining to Ino, she’d decided to ask her teammates for help with stamina exercises. Both of them enjoyed sparring and both of them and had superb energy. Naruto especially seemed to have more chakra than their entire class combined and he would jump at the opportunity to spend time with her. Now that she was standing behind them, Sakura couldn’t bring herself to ask for help.

There was what could only be called an emotional component to most training regime designed to increased stamina. Most of them involved inducing exhaustion and then looking for a partner to spar with. The idea was to force the human body past its limits so the sparring partner had to be ruthless. Sakura couldn’t imagine either Sasuke or Naruto being ruthless in a fight against her. Even a mock fight. She was there when they had to spar with her too, after all.

Sasuke always looked downright bored and Naruto never looked like he was taking her seriously. She’d have better luck making a lonely clone and trying to fight herself.

. . . Maybe she ought to do that. The Shadow Clones took so much chakra that just making them at all was a stamina exercise so—

“Hey, there’s some people waiting by our training grounds,” said Naruto, interrupting her thoughts.

Sakura looked away from her toes and rushed forward to stand beside her teammates. She followed Naruto’s gaze and spotted three other kids waiting by the entrance to Training Ground Seven. One of them was wearing a . . . bright green jumpsuit? A tight bright green jumpsuit. Sakura couldn’t believe it.

“What is he wearing?” demanded Naruto. The fact that he could even say that without making Sakura burst out with a comment about burning orange was a minor miracle.

“They’re here!” shouted the boy in green as he waved enthusiastically. “Welcome, Team Seven!”

“The shit?” said Naruto, rushing forward. “Hey, this is our training grounds!”

The boy’s teammates looked downright normal, which was remarkable since the other boy had the pupil-less grey-white eyes of a Hyuga and the best kept mane of long brown hair Sakura had ever seen on a ninja. Even Itachi’s long black tresses would’ve looked unkempt and tangled in comparison. Sakura realized she was staring when the boy actually turned his eerie eyes directly on her face and raised an eyebrow. She looked away quickly and tried not to blush.

“Who're you guys and what are you doing here?” asked Naruto.

“We were told to report here at first light,” answered the other team’s girl. She was definitely the most normal looking one in the team. Her eyebrows were slim, her eyes a downright mundane brown, and her dark hair was tied into twin buns. She wore a simple sleeveless pink shirt over standard black pants.

“But—”

The boy in the green suddenly rushed forward and offered Sakura a deep bow. “My name is Rock Lee,” he said after straightening up. For the first time, Sakura noticed that his eyebrows were so bushy they could’ve been used to make brillo pads. “You are my one true love and I promise to protect you with my very life.”

“What?” demanded Naruto at the same moment Sakura screeched and took a step behind an incredulous Sasuke.

“Well, there goes our good first impression,” said the Hyuga boy.

“Who says things like that?” asked Sakura, hoping that she’d never sounded so stupid when she’d asked Sasuke out on dates.

“And you,” continued Lee, pointing at Sasuke, “are the top genin in the last graduating class.”

“So they tell me,” said Sasuke and Sakura realized that he wasn’t pushing her away. Maybe he was jealous?

“We still don’t know who you are,” interjected Naruto. He was still looking at Lee with a mixture of suspicion and exasperation.

“Team Guy,” answered the girl. “Like I said, we—”

“—Sasuke Uchiha,” interrupted Lee. “I challenge you to a duel for Sakura’s heart!”

“What?” cried Sakura.

“What, you think the Bastard owns her or something?” asked Naruto.

“Lee, you’re being ridiculous,” said the Hyuga boy. “We’re not here for your romantic drama.”

“Defeating one of Konoha’s top genin will be my first challenge in winning Sakura’s love!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” said Naruto. “You should want to beat Sasuke ‘cause he’s a dick. It has nothing to do with Sakura.”

“He’s not one of Konoha’s top genin,” added Sakura. Both Sasuke and Naruto looked her with wide eyes, clearly surprised. “What, he’s not! Ino’s overall scores were higher than his.” She refused to look at Sasuke as she clarified the issue and instead focused her gaze on Lee’s teammates. “Sasuke has top scores in ninjutsu, taijutsu, shurikenjutsu, and tactics. His stamina and chakra control are second highest because I have better control and Naruto has better stamina. He has the lowest score in cooperation. Lower than Naruto’s even.”

“You heard her,” said Sasuke with an ugly smirk. “Ino Yamanaka’s a better ninja than me.”

The Hyuga boy smirked and the girl laughed a little nervously. Sakura felt her cheeks heating but she refused to back down. She was tired of living in a world where the only kind of strength that was recognized as valuable was Sasuke’s kind of strength. To be fair, Sasuke had never claimed to be the best in their class. But he never corrected other people when they said it for him.

“Allow me to correct my previous statement,” said Lee, cutting through the uncomfortable silence. “Defeating one of the genin ranked highest in taijutsu will be my first challenge in winning Sakura’s love.”

“Look,” said Naruto, rolling his eyes. “The Bastard can’t even fight today ‘cause he burned his palms yesterday and now he’s all handicapped again.”

“I’ll show you handicapped,” snapped Sasuke.

“You burned your palms?” asked Sakura, trying to look at his hands.

“Again?” asked the Hyuga boy.

“I see,” said Lee. “It certainly wouldn’t be fair to fight him while he’s not at his best. Perhaps if I burned my palms—”

“—No!” snapped the girl, shaking her head tiredly.

“You’re crazy,” said Naruto. Even Sasuke was looking at Lee a half-opened mouth.

“Nobody’s burning their palms,” said Itachi, appearing as suddenly and with as much warning as he always did. Even the Hyuga boy seemed surprised by his arrival.

“Sensei, these guys are trying to take our training grounds,” said Naruto.

“They’re doing no such thing,” said Itachi, sighing. He gestured at all six of them to follow him past Training Ground Seven’s entrance and led them towards the waterfall. Sakura made sure to stand between Sasuke and Naruto and pointedly avoided looking at Lee because he blew a kiss her way whenever their gazes met. Why couldn’t he be more like his teammates who were both much more concerned with their new surroundings?

When they walked past the pond (Lee was the only one who had to walk around it), Itachi sat down under their usual alder and gestured at them to do the same.

“So who’re they?” asked Naruto, gesturing at Lee.

“They’re Might Guy’s students and they’ll be under my custody until he returns from a special mission,” answered Itachi. “Tenten, Neji Hyuga, and . . .” He trailed off when his gaze fell on Lee and smiled. “You already know Rock Lee. For the time being, they’ll be cooperating with you during training and missions.” He looked back at the newcomers and smiled again. "We start training at 8:00 AM."

Sakura didn’t understand why they couldn’t have just said that and then realized that Tenten had tried to say as much. She’d just been interrupted by Lee’s odd confession and subsequent challenges.

“Does that mean will have to split Lady Kago’s pay seven-ways now?” asked Naruto.

“Six-ways,” answered Itachi. “I haven’t participated on that mission.”

“You three get to complete missions on your own?” asked Tenten. “Impressive.”

Sasuke snorted. “You’ll change your mind this afternoon.”

“We’re studying nature transformation,” Itachi told Team Guy as he put on thin black gloves. Sakura wondered just how rich he was.

They had another minor lesson on the subject and then Itachi started testing for Team Guy’s affinities. Neji was water, Tenten was wind, and Lee was fire. “Two out of three isn’t bad,” Itachi said, making Sakura realize that he was planning to split them into pairs. She stole another glance at Neji, thinking of how jealous Ino would be when she heard about this. It just so happened that he was the Hyuga Ino was currently fixating on.

“Itachi-sensei,” said Lee right after Itachi finished his explanation. “I can’t mold chakra. I’m a taijutsu specialist by necessity as well as choice.” Sakura almost said something about it not being a choice since he couldn’t do anything else, but she didn’t want to be needlessly mean.

“We’ll make sure to always have something for you to do,” said Itachi with a nod. “Sasuke can’t practice lightning transformation today, so you two can spar. Do not burn your palms,” he ordered when Lee looked down at Sasuke’s hands. “I said spar, not duel.”

“Don’t worry, Sensei,” said Tenten with a shake of her head. “We’ll make sure Lee doesn’t do anything that dumb.”

“You two will be too busy to babysit your teammate,” said Itachi. “Sakura, you’re in charge of teaching Neji water transformation. Naruto and Tenten, follow me,” he added as he stood up. “I believe I have a better explanation of wind transformation now.”

“Well good,” said Naruto as he stood up. “Your last one sucked.”

Tenten stared at them with a half-smile and then nodded at Lee and Neji. “I think he’s less batshit than Guy-sensei,” she said before following Naruto and Itachi deeper into the woods.

“We usually spar on a clearing a few meters from the pond,” said Sasuke with a look in Lee’s direction as he stood up.

Lee nodded enthusiastically and bowed to Sakura one last time before standing up as well, following Sasuke with a promise to not use his hands during their spar.

“I suppose we should go to the pond,” said Neji after a few moments.

Sakura blushed and stood up as well, wondering why she was preemptively panicking about maybe looking like a dumbass in front of her new and temporary partner. Itachi had trusted her to explain water transformation to Neji so that must mean she was doing it well. And even if she wasn’t, why did she even care about Neji’s opinion so much? Why couldn’t she be as confident as Naruto? He always stared at people straight in the eyes no matter how often he messed things up and he messed things up often.

As she walked towards the pond with Neji trailing her, Sakura thought that maybe if she was a bit more like Naruto Itachi wouldn’t have refused to sign her up for training as a medic ninja. She stared down at the water beneath her fight and held back a whine. That was unlikely. Naruto’s loudness didn’t get him what he wanted. Especially not with Itachi.

“Well?” asked Neji.

So much for not looking stupid in front of him. Sakura bit her lower lip and started to explain the properties of water, putting a lot of emphasis on its capillary action and hydrogen bonding. Briefly, she considered the possibility that Neji wouldn’t understand her. Ino’s voice reminded her that Neji actually had been the top genin in his class so she dismissed the probability.

“. . . So can you show me?” said Neji after she’d finished the long explanation so maybe he hadn’t understood her very well.

“I’m still learning myself,” Sakura said as she bent down, wishing she knew how to make her demonstration as impressive as Itachi's, and dipped her hands in into the water.

“I see,” said Neji after Sakura had taken her hands out of the water.

Sakura looked up and lost her grip on the thin film of water covering her hands. The veins around Neji’s eyes were trying to bulge through his pale skin. That’s just how Byakugan works, thought Sakura, suddenly realizing that she’d never seen Hinata doing it. Had she just not paid enough attention?

As she stared, Neji bent down and laid the palm of his right hand over the surface of the pond. Sakura was about to tell him that dipping his hands into the water might help but then he lifted his palm. Tendrils of water were sticking to his skin and connecting his hand to the water like transparent ropes glowing blue with chakra.

“You’re pushing chakra into the pond too forcefully,” Neji explained as he pulled the water he’d ensnared with his chakra away from the pond. “Just let your chakra flow and it’ll travel through the water’s . . . hydrogen bonds, I believe you called them. Then gently pulled the chakra back and the water will follow.”

“Oh,” said Sakura, pushing her hands back into the pond and feeling a bit unbalanced though she really couldn’t say why.

It’s probably because you considered yourself the best at chakra control and this kid blew you out of the water in about thirty seconds, her mind provided helpfully.

Well, he should be better than me since he has a bloodline limit designed for the control and manipulation of chakra, Sakura argued with herself, trying to remember that Neji didn’t need to be looking at her to notice her bitterly jealous expression. She tried out his advice and simply some of her chakra go into the pond without trying to dictate where it went.

Maybe it worked. It was difficult to tell since she couldn’t really “pull her chakra back”. She tried and it felt like . . . like she’d let out a scream and then tried to call the sound back into her mouth.

“Don’t let it go so far that you can’t feel it anymore,” Neji told her.

Sakura looked at his hands again and tried not frown. He was trying to mold the not inconsiderable amount of water he’d gathered into a glowing sphere. “Itachi-sensei did it without making the chakra he was using visible,” she told him, though she didn’t know if it was a helpful comment or not.

“So he minimized the amount of chakra he used,” said Neji, laying his left palm over the sphere on his right. When he lifted his left hand, the surface of the sphere was almost devoid of unstable bumps. “This is a very useful exercise in chakra control but I’m not sure if it would help much in a fight. The degree of concentration required for it is immense.”

“Sensei said he’d teach me—us a jutsu when we got it,” said Sakura, thinking that Neji certainly made it look like it didn’t require much concentration at all.

“That makes more sense,” said Neji. “Will he teach us more than one jutsu if we master the first one?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Sakura. She’d been so focused on getting the one right that she hadn’t thought about anything beyond it. The idea had been to impress Itachi by being the first one among her teammates to get it but that ship had sailed.

With a tiny sigh, she dipped her hand into the pond again and tried to follow Neji’s advice. It wasn’t like she’d considered herself the best in the world at chakra control, or even the best among her peers actually. And it certainly wasn’t Neji’s fault that he was better at it than she was. He was actually offering useful advice even though he could probably tell that she was jealous. It’d be petty and stupid if she didn’t take advantage of his assistance.

Notes:

I don't think Neji can actually see the hydrogen bonding (his Byakugan's good but not that good). It's more like he can sort of spot the pattern and maybe guess what the bonds might look like when someone's trying to infuse the water with chakra (like how scientist "visualize" compounds by staining them with GFP).

Finally, Neji always seemed like he could cooperate with his teammates just fine even at the height of his raging douchebaggery. He just never seemed particularly concerned with gleefully showing them up at every opportunity.

Chapter 15: Welcomed Truths

Summary:

Naruto starts studying, Itachi finally meets a student he likes, and Sasuke blows up. Again.

Notes:

I had notes for this but the html gave me so much trouble I totally forgot them.

Oh well, they must not have been that important.

The only books Naruto enjoyed reading were the ones with nearly naked ladies on their covers. They were hidden at the back of the bookstore, where girls passed by with stacks of books from other shelves while avoiding everyone’s gaze. Sure, there were some words in them that he didn’t get but he could always skip them without losing track of what was going on in the story. And there was a story. None of his school textbooks ever had stories. Or porn.

All of them would be very improved by some stories but none as much as the history ones. Naruto thought that history ought to be the greatest story in the world and he was still bitter that the textbooks about it were all so dry. Why focus so much on population numbers, geography, the weather patterns, weapons costs . . . everything but the people who fought the damned wars the books loved to describe.

What did they feel, all those guys from Konoha and Iwa, as they prepared to leave their homes and possibly die? Probably die, if the number of deaths were anywhere close to accurate. What about everyone in Kusa? They must not have liked it that their village was Konoha and Iwa’s battleground. The textbook Sasuke had gotten him wasn’t interested on any of that, though. It just said that both the Fire and Earth Daimyos were upset about the Fire-Earth border tariffs—well shit. Another word he needed to look up.

Stopping every time he didn’t get a word made reading the stupid books an even bigger chore but Sasuke insisted that it was the only way he’d ever improve his vocabulary. Naruto grabbed the dictionary and started leafing through the T section, wondering why he hadn’t told Sasuke to take all his books and go fuck himself.

Tariff: (noun)

1. an official list or table showing the duties or customs imposed by a government on imports or exports

Sighing, Naruto reached for his words notebook and copied the definition down. “And now to write down the sentence . . .” he mumbled to himself, remembering Sasuke’s instructions. Once you can use the word in a sentence, you know you really understand it. If that was the case, than Naruto didn’t understand tariff at all because fuck him if he could come up with a sentence for it. Nothing besides Konoha and Iwa were fighting over tariffs, which told him nothing about what the word meant.

Reluctantly, Naruto stared down at the definition again. Imports or exports was talking about things going in and out of somewhere . . . he checked the textbook and noted that Konoha and Iwa were fighting about the tariffs along the Earth-Fire borders, where Kusagakure was located. So . . . money? Naruto glared at his definition again and decided that he was not going to look up what “duties or customs” meant. He knew those words, damn it all.

After a few moment of failing to come up with a sentence, Naruto grunted and gave up. He leafed back to the D section of the dictionary, telling himself that he still wouldn’t add an entry for duties in his notebook. Something that one is expected or required to do by moral or legal obligation. So a tariff was something people were expected to do—like pay a fucking fee—if they wanted to take something in or out of a country. Fucking hell, why couldn’t the dictionary just say that? Wasn’t language complicated enough without assigning twenty different meanings to a single word?

Eventually, your verbal skills will be so good that you won’t need a dictionary because you’ll be able to figure out what a word means by using contextual clues.

“Fuck you, Sasuke,” Naruto mumbled to himself as he wrote down a sentence under his entry for tariff. The Fire and Earth Daimyos were fighting about the tariffs on moving stuff through the Fire-Earth border so they hired Konoha and Iwa to get into a douchey proxy war for them across Kusa. Out of all the words he’d learned so far, proxy was his favorite. It sounded funny and it was easier to say than “as a substitute for” something. With a smile, he raised his head, looked at the clock hanging over his desk, and had to hold back a whine.

An hour? It’d been a whole hour and he’d learned . . . what? What tariffs were and that the larger Hidden Villages were kind of assholes. This was why he hated book studying so much! In an hour, he could’ve practice that leaf trick and maybe gotten it right finally.

Well, nobody was forcing him to follow Sasuke’s stupid schedule—Sasuke had written a goddamned schedule for him—so Naruto snorted and left the stupid desk. He walked over to his bed and pulled out his latest novel, thinking that the leaf trick wasn’t any more interesting than slaving over some boring history textbook.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t really focus on his supposedly not-boring story either. Maybe it was because its Sasuke resembled the real Sasuke a little too much for comfort.

Not really, though. The Sasuke in the story was heroically trying to teach a beautiful peasant girl to read, but he was being really nice about it. He hadn’t shown up at her hut out of the blue with a pile of textbooks and notebooks, a studying schedule, and an annoyed declaration that maybe if she just bothered to work a little bit she wouldn’t be so stupid. And maybe his Sasuke was right. Naruto had to admit that he’ always hated homework. At first, it’d just been really dull and then . . . then it’d gotten too difficult.

Wondering if Sasuke hadn’t used some kind of mind jutsu on him, Naruto put his book away and walked back towards his desk and the bright lamp Sasuke had ordered him to buy. He could get through a couple more pages in the textbook before going to bed. Maybe he could “clean his notes” too so they’d be easier to read later. Hell, he was planning to actually read them later. If Sasuke was wrong; if all the boring reading didn’t make him less d—if it didn’t work, Naruto was going to knock his teeth right out of his pretty mouth.

That night, he dreamed of hunting again. It was a different forest and a different target. A different season, too. The earth under his paws—feet was looser, like it’d been raining for a long time. Instead of black fur and pale flowers, his read chakra smothered someone with a pale white coat. The girl screamed when Naruto’s blood tipped claws caught her hind leg—

—it was the alarm clock again. Naruto gagged as he reached over and turned it off, desperately trying to get his breathing and heart rate under control. Instinctively, he looked down and took account of his thighs and groin, wondering if he hadn’t injured them somehow. Stupid, he thought as he focused on the odd feeling coming from his lower body. Once he recognized what it was, he dry heaved and ran towards his bathroom.

It probably would’ve been easier and faster to . . . get rid of it with his hands instead of cold water, but Naruto could still taste blood and feel bits of meat stuck between his teeth. His stomach felt so queasy even after showering that he had to force himself to down a serving of ramen. He wouldn’t have eaten anything at all if he didn’t know that training on an empty stomach was almost always a waste of time.

It was only a nightmare and all ninja have nightmares . . . it was only a nightmare and all ninja have nightmares . . .

No matter how often he tried to tell himself that, it didn’t chase away the shroud of dread weighing down his shoulders. Spotting Sasuke waiting for him by their usual spot a few blocks away from Training Ground Seven didn’t exactly make him feel better either. An image of red eyes followed by a phantom memory of crippling rage suddenly made his muscles seize and lock in terror. That hadn’t been just a nightmare so he didn’t bother to say it to himself. He watched Sasuke hop off the tree panch he was waiting on and wondered why he couldn’t move.

“Moron, who died?” asked Sasuke after he’d sauntered over to him.

You almost did, thought Naruto, looking into his mercifully black eyes. “Come on,” he said instead, finally forcing his limbs to move forward. Maybe he ought to take his dictionary to one of the secret libraries and see if he could learn something about Sasuke’s blood thing. Hadn’t Sasuke himself said that understanding things made them less intimidating?

But it’s not Sasuke’s eyes I’m afraid of.

“So what did you learn last night?” asked Sasuke as they walked.

Naruto’s first instinct was to tell him to shove it, but he just didn’t want to get into another argument with Sasuke ever again. “The Third Ninja War started because the Fire and Earth Daimyos were arguing over tariffs and hired Iwa and Konoha to smuggle goods past the Fire-Earth border.” It was so hard not to argue with Sasuke, though. He was such a dick. “At first, Konoha had the advantage because of higher population numbers and some treaties with Kusa,” continued Naruto. By the time they’d made it to the entrance of Training Ground Seven, he was babbling about how The Fourth’s four man squad destroyed the Kannabi Bridge and turned the tide in favor of Konoha again during the last years of the war.

And he had to admit that he was feeling better. He’d learned enough about the war that Sasuke nodded grudgingly right after Lee shouted his usual welcome at them. Naruto smiled and waved back at Lee as he rushed forward. Team Guy, Lee included, wasn’t so bad. They’d been training together for three days already and Naruto had to admit that practicing the leaf trick was less unbearable when he had a partner in whining.

“Tenten!” he called. “Oh, hi Sakura,” he added, waving at her as he walked over to where Tenten was talking to Neji about something.

“Hey,” answered Sakura, smiling at him as she finished gathering her pink hair into a high knot. There was a dejected air hanging about her shoulders, maybe because she was hunching into herself on the railing she was sitting on.

“Neji got the water trick,” said Tenten, motioning them over.

“No way,” said Naruto as he walked towards them. “Sensei said it was so hard.”

“It is,” agreed Neji. “And I haven’t completely mastered it,” he added as he raised his right hand. It took Naruto a couple of seconds to notice that it was gloved by fat layer of water that glowed blue with wisps of chakra. Suddenly the glove shifted into a perfect sphere over Neji’s hand and then changed into several strips of water that seemed to coil around each other before threading themselves through Neji’s pale fingers.

“Looks like you mastered it to me,” said Tenten and Naruto nodded in silent agreement. It looked more-or-less like what Itachi had done.

“Yes,” agreed Lee, grinning at his teammate. “Congratulations!”

“I should able to do this using significantly less chakra,” said Neji, frowning down at his hand before taking out a flask and directing the water into it.

“I bet it’s good enough that Itachi-sensei will teach you the jutsu he promised,” said Sakura from her spot a couple of paces from everyone else.

Naruto heard the sadness in her tone so he didn’t bother to ask if she’d gotten the water trick. He also didn’t bother to point out that Tenten called Neji a “prodigy” (a word he didn’t like since he didn’t think it was any harder to say that Neji was really smart for his age). “How about you Bastard?” he asked Sasuke with a smirk. “Can you touch lightning yet?”

“. . . No,” admitted Sasuke, furrowing his eyebrows.

“But he can touch it without burning his palms now,” said Lee, like he thought Sasuke would find it encouraging. The Bastard glared at him and Lee responded with a pight smile and a thumbs up before looking towards Neji. “Maybe you can give everyone else some advice since you’ve already managed to complete your assignment.”

“Maybe,” said Neji, glancing at Tenten. “Can you show me what you’re trying to do?”

As it turned out, she couldn’t. Neither could Naruto or Sasuke. Sakura didn’t even try to which made Naruto think that she wasn’t enjoying practicing with Neji at all. It was a shame. He was getting along with Tenten great. They’d even agreed to exchange jutsu once they got wind transformation. She knew a lot about weapons and he . . . well, he knew Shadow Clones. Not Great Fireballs but since he’d worked out that it was his opposite nature, he didn’t feel so bad about it anymore. And Sasuke and Lee seemed to be getting along just fine too even though Sasuke was Sasuke. Maybe it was because Lee seemed too optimistic to complain about any kind of training.

“Have you read any of the scrolls I suggested?” Sakura asked Neji. She’d finally walked over to them and Naruto bet that she just didn’t want to risk missing a chance to learn something no matter how much she was hating her new partner.

“You already told me what’s in the scrolls,” said Neji.

“I also told you that you might be able to understand something I missed,” argued Sakura, looking away from him and glaring at nothing in particular.

“That’s unlikely since it sounded like you were quoting them to me,” said Neji without looking her way. Naruto decided that they definitely weren’t getting along. “Maybe if I asked Itachi-sensei to show me what he wants you to do . . .” mumbled Neji.

“Which reminds me,” interjected Naruto, trying to catch Tenten’s gaze, “we get to spar with Itachi today. He said he’d teach the first one of us to land a hit on him a special Shadow Clone technique!”

“Does he ever just teach you anything because it’s his job?” asked Tenten, sighing and rolling eyes at the same time.

“I think it’s quite noble that he makes his students prove their worth before sharing his wisdom,” said Lee.

“I think he should just do his damned job too,” said Naruto, sharing a slight headshake with Tenten, “but whatever, I guess all the sparring's helping too. Did you two do good against him yesterday?” he asked Sasuke.

“We did excellently!” answered Lee as Sasuke opened his mouth. “Or we thought we were doing excellently before we noticed that he’d used a genjutsu and made us fight each other.”

“Don’t worry,” Naruto told him with a shrug. “Sasuke and I fell for that one too.”

“Lately he just stands there and dodges when we try to hit him,” added Sakura, narrowing her green eyes. “So I guess it’s kind of a compliment that he actually bothered to use genjutsu during your spar.”

“Perhaps he found our combined efforts challenging?” Lee asked Sasuke.

Sasuke snorted. “We challenged him so much that he was trying to decrypt a scroll while we attacked each other like morons.”

“Well, that’s just rude,” said Tenten. When Naruto turned his eyes on her, she frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “How’s he supposed to correct our mistakes if he’s not even looking at us when we spar?”

“I can multi-task, you know,” answered Itachi.

Tenten balked and then blushed so pink her cheeks matched her shirt. Naruto shrugged, silently trying to let her know that Itachi didn’t really care about being insulted as long as he wasn’t interrupted. When Tenten still looked a little anxious, he turned his gaze towards Itachi and glared. “Are you going to teach us something cool if we ever notice you coming?”

“Excellent, Naruto!” said Lee. “You understand that the will of fire prompts us to nobly accept challenges!”

“I noticed him coming,” said Neji. He shrugged when everyone else, Itachi included, turned their gazes his way. “I wasn’t going to be caught by surprise twice,” he explained before looking directly at Itachi. “You weren’t hiding. You were just walking with the wind, avoided stepping on anything that would’ve made noise, and you projected no kind of intent at all.”

“Yes,” said Itachi, nodding at Neji. His bangs were hiding his eyes but Naruto bet he was amused. “You all saw me but only one of you noticed me.”

“All right, before you two prodigies start planning your wedding,” interjected Naruto with a snort at Neji, “show him the water trick. I’d like to see a jutsu, finally.”

After smirking, Neji grabbed his water flask and showed Itachi how well he could glove his hand with chakra infused water. He even added a few extra twirls to the water tendrils' dance and made them rise higher above his palm. Naruto smirked at the evidence that the probably high-and-mighty Neji wanted to impress his temporary sensei just as badly as the rest of them did.

“You should be able to do it with significantly less chakra,” said Itachi.

Naruto couldn’t hold back his amused chuckle. Perfectionist bastards, the both of them (perfectionist was an awesome word and Naruto was almost ashamed that he’d needed to read it in a book before learning it). His amusement evaporated when he realized what Itachi’s complete lack of awe at Neji’s accomplishment might mean. “Wait, you’re still showing the water jutsu, right?”

“I suppose it might not be a waste of time to show you a specific ninjutsu now,” said Itachi as he walked towards the crosswire door to their training grounds. “Sakura, have you made any progress?”

Even before he heard Sakura’s nervous voice, Naruto privately cringed. “I can’t do it as well as Neji,” she admitted.

“I didn’t as if you could do it as well as Neji,” pointed out Itachi as they walked deeper into Training Ground Seven. Naruto sighed and stared at his sandaled feet, noticing that any leaves he stepped on weren’t crushed or damaged. He really moved as silently as a ghost.

“She’s working on infusing a larger amount of water,” Neji answered for Sakura and Naruto hoped that he was doing it to be helpful. “Hand seals might make it easier for her.” Either that or he just really wanted to learn that jutsu and didn’t want to risk Itachi saying that he’d only teach them once both of them could mold water to his satisfaction.

Luckily, Itachi didn’t need much convincing. Naruto thought that maybe he was getting bored (more bored) with their training too because when they reached the pond, he ordered everyone but Neji to stand aside. Naruto stood beside Sasuke, who’d probably spaced out (disassociated was the word) at some point after Itachi arrived, and looked over at where Neji was framed by the waterfall’s white spray, patiently waiting for his lesson. For his part, Itachi was standing a couple of meters in front of him with his arms crossed at the small of his back.

Fuck, what where they waiting for? “Do something!” Naruto yelled at both—either of them.

A few seconds later—bastard was probably making sure that Naruto realized he wasn’t being obeyed or something—Itachi snorted and shrugged without uncrossing his hands. “Attack me,” he ordered Neji.

After a moment of wise hesitation, Neji adopted a blade palm fighting stance Naruto had never seen before. It looked more like a pose than a kind of defensive stan—

—Neji rushed forward and aimed weird slap at Itachi’s chest. Itachi merely stepped backwards and then sidestepped to Neji’s left. Neji instantly pivoted and struck with his left hand. Itachi dodged that too. And the right-handed strike Neji followed up with. He hadn’t even uncrossed his arms.

“Well, this is boring,” Naruto told no one in particular as he watched Neji chase an unconcerned Itachi around for a few more moments.

“And kind of sad,” added Sakura, though Naruto noticed that she sounded strangely satisfied. “I hope we don’t look this sad fighting him.”

“Unless you’re better at taijutsu than Neji,” said Tenten, “you probably look worse.”

“He’s getting faster,” said Lee.

Naruto nodded in agreement. Neji was getting progressively faster and more fluid. He also started aiming odd, long-limbed kicks at Itachi’s heels but . . . “It doesn’t even look like he’s trying to hit Sensei anymore,” said Naruto when Neji aimed one of his blade palm strikes at some spot to the left of Itachi’s temple.

“He knows your sensei’s faster than him,” said Lee, like he thought he was explaining some great mystery.

“So?” asked Naruto.

“So he’s trying to feint and aim at the spots where he thinks Itachi will be after he dodges,” explained Sasuke as Neji’s last kick just barely missed Itachi’s hamstring. At that point, Neji’s back had been to Itachi so Naruto supposed his aim was actually pretty good. “He’s not fast enough for that trick either.”

“His aim is better than you assume,” Lee said with a smile towards his teammate. “Don’t you realize he’s not trying to score a direct hit anymore?”

Naruto realized that he was missing part of that conversation (the feeling wasn’t unusual for him at all) so he decided to focus his attention entirely on the spar. A part of him wondered why Itachi hadn’t knocked Neji down yet, or even tried to counter attack. Whenever they sparred, Naruto spent half the time picking his ass off the ground. Water. Whatever. “At least Itachi uncrossed his arms,” said Naruto.

Not that he was hitting back or anything. Naruto actually yawned, which reminded him that he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep (why he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep) so he shook his head and paid complete attention to the spar again just as Itachi reached out and grabbed Neji’s upper arm. Quick as a snake, Itachi took his hand back and Neji instantly jumped backwards.

“The fuck?” asked Naruto as Itachi shook his hand like he was trying dispel some kind of shock.

“Jonin or not,” said Tenten, “nobody touches Neji without permission.”

“Except Guy-sensei,” added Lee.

“I’m sure you guys didn’t mean for that to sound the way it did . . .” mumbled Naruto. Itachi took out a couple of shuriken and launched them at Neji.

“Naruto, gross,” said Sakura just as Neji slapped the shuriken away and rushed at Itachi again.

“They’re the ones who said it,” Naruto protested, beginning to feel way more excited about the spar now that Itachi was actually doing something.

Neji’s attempt to retake the offensive didn’t go well. His sudden rushed ended when Itachi sent another set of shuriken his way. Four to be exact and Naruto didn’t even see where he got them from. To his credit, Neji was slapping them all away but Naruto could tell that he wouldn’t be able to keep blocking forever.

“So when are we going to see the jutsu?” asked Naruto, sighing when Itachi paused his shuriken barrage. “I hope sensei’s not waiting for Neji to hit him or something.” The complaint was barely out of Naruto’s mouth when Itachi suddenly brought his hands together and completed a quick series of seals.

“Finally!” cried Tenten as small whirlpools formed over the surface of the staid pond and created vicious streams of water that rushed towards Neji.

“Oh!” cried Sakura as Neji did his best to sidestep the various water drills.

Every time he dodged one, two more whirlpools seemed to appear in a random spots around him. Naruto wondered how long could keep it up and then Itachi (the dick) launched another set of shuriken at his back. Somehow, Neji managed to block them. Unfortunately, he didn’t notice the next whirlpool that appeared almost right beneath his left heel and created a water drill that hit his back. Or maybe he just wasn’t fast enough to deal with both attacks at nearly the same time.

“That’s enough,” said Itachi after Neji jumped back to his feet and fell into his weird stance. With a nod at him, Itachi gestured at the rest of them to come forward.

“That was amazing, Itachi-sensei!” said Lee, grinning brightly at Neji. “You were excellent.”

“Hardly,” responded Neji. The crazy part was that Naruto was sure that it wasn’t a case of false modesty or compliment fishing. Little genius probably thought it was no big deal to give a jonin pause for a second.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Tenten said to him. “You did great!”

“You don’t pay enough attention to the terrain right beneath your feet,” Itachi told him before shifting his attention to all of them. “That was the Water Fang Bullet Jutsu,” he explained. “Can anyone explain how it works?”

“You could,” said Naruto as he watched Neji squeeze water out of his long wet hair.

“It spins water to create enough force to strike an opponent according to the user’s aim,” explained Sasuke in a flat voice.

“Less—” Suddenly, Itachi reconsidered whatever he’d been planning to say. “I mean how is it used tactically?”

“As a distraction,” answered Neji while Sasuke scowled. “It probably takes an extreme amount of chakra to create a water drill with enough force to cause any harm, but most ninja will instinctively try to dodge them anyway.”

“The force of the strike is directly proportional to the speed of water’s spin,” said Itachi before fixing his dark eyes on Naruto. “Do you understand what I mean by ‘directly proportional’?”

“The faster the water spins, the stronger the water drill,” said Naruto with an exasperated eye roll. He resisted the urge to protest that he wasn’t stupid and that he could remember things once he understood them.

“Yes,” said Itachi, shifting his gaze towards all his students. “Any other ideas?”

“Uh,” started Sakura, furrowing her pink eyepows, “can you hide weapons in the water?”

“You could,” conceded Itachi with a reluctant nod. “But should you?”

“Only in the ones you’re sure are going to hit,” said Tenten. “Otherwise you’re wasting weapons for no good reason.”

Itachi kept asking questions about the jutsu for almost half an hour—it was best for terrains with a stable water source but strong enough jonin could use other techniques to generate their own water, it could be used to attack from all directions at once, it required less raw chakra than most high level ninjutsu because of the special properties of water—and then he ordered everyone to disperse.

“Sakura and Neji,” he started, “stay by the waterfall.” Then he nodded towards Neji. “Do as much as you can to help her.” Naruto knew that had to sting Sakura’s pride. Three days ago, she’d been the one supposed to teach Neji.

“Naruto and Tenten, go deeper into the forest and keep practicing wind transformation until 10:30, then come back to spar with me.” Tenten nodded and started walking but Naruto only shuffled behind her.

“Sasuke,” continued Itachi as he pulled out another shuriken and made it spark with electricity, “you keep trying to divert this current away from your body. Lee, stay with me so we can go over how to look out for genjutsu.”

Well, Lee certainly lucked out as far as training assignments were concerned. Naruto wondered if he would have any luck understanding Itachi’s awful explanations for everything. 

As for him and Tenten, they didn’t have any luck with the leaf even when they alternated between staring at it and just molding as much chakra as possible and trying to fashion it into a sort of slow blade. They tried it for about an hour (Naruto went as far as making a batch of clones to help him along) but he just got a damned headache for his trouble. When it was time to spar with Itachi, he was so tired and frustrated that he did worse than usual. His clones kept running into Tenten’s thrown weapons and at the end of it Itachi ordered him not to use the Shadow Clones as a training shortcut. Not that either he or Tenten told him about it.

“Let’s say you practiced for two hours with ten clones,” Itachi told him while Tenten dry heaved and wiped sweat from her brow, “then you really practiced for twenty hours and not particularly effectively since your mental capabilities were significantly reduced. It’d putting unnecessary strain on your psyche, especially because it’s a kind of training you hate. We’re in no rush,” he finished, ruffling Naruto’s hair. “Learning without the clones is easier even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“At least he wasn’t mad,” said Tenten as they headed over to Ichiraku’s. “Where do you think the others went to eat?”

“Sasuke likes nasty-as-hell vegetables,” mumbled Naruto as he rubbed his tired eyes.

He ate three servings of ramen and didn’t even care that he was running low on funds, that his rent was coming up, and that his orphan’s allowance was terminated the moment he became a genin. He could always spend a night pick pocketing at the red lights district. On the off chance that he got caught, then he could blame Itachi’s shitty D-ranked mission.

“I’m going to run out of money pretty quick if we don’t complete this mission soon,” complained Tenten as they made their way to Lady Kago’s. “This is technically a seven-person team for now. Maybe we can convince Itachi to pick up more missions for us?”

“Probably,” said Naruto even though he thought that trying to guess what would offend Itachi’s sensibilities or not was a waste of time. They didn’t have anything to lose by asking him anyway.

They were almost done cleaning the damned mansion regardless. They’d trimmed the grass before Team Guy joined them and they’d moved on to getting rid of the honeysuckle vines eating through the concrete fence and readying the roof for replacement.

Sasuke and Neji handled the fence while Naruto and Lee worked on getting rid of the moldy roof so Sakura and Tenten could start packaging as best they could for the chunin in charge of waste management. Lee was determined to see the whole thing as a challenge and, normally, Naruto would’ve been encouraged by his enthusiasm. Unfortunately, the headache he got at training made him short-tempered and mean so, by the end of the afternoon, Lee was mostly avoiding him.

“The cleaning's almost done,” Sakura said at the end of the workday. “I’ll stop by Lady Kago’s on the way home and ask for the materials we’ll need to replace the roof and repaint the house. Hopefully, they’ll delivered in the next couple of days. If we stick to it and make use of Shadow Clones, we should be done by the end of next week.”

“Would it better in the long run if spent tomorrow afternoon teaching Neji and Tenten Shadow Clone Jutsu?” asked Sasuke as he tightened the straps of his sandals.

“Maybe,” said Sakura.

“I doubt it’d take me all afternoon to learn it,” said Neji and Naruto had to hold back and angry snort. Shadow Clones were hard and he bet they would be even or Mr. Prodigy.

Apparently, no one else found Neji’s smugness infuriating because Sakura merely nodded and dismissed them all. That annoyed Naruto too even though she was team leader for the mission and fuck it, maybe Itachi was right. He should stop using the clones if they were going to super multiply his bad mood. Amplify it, the books would want him to think. Shit, how many words had he learned in just three days?

He walked home going over the list, privately marveling at how easily Sasuke had turned him into some kind of bookworm. There was something that grated about that, probably because a part of him liked to argue with Sasuke on principle alone. Maybe that was why when he got home and checked the damned schedule, he crumpled it under a vicious fist. He hated Math. Naruto would rather eat his own hand than spend all night hunched over boring averages and fractions.

Feeling both vindicated and guilty, he shuffled to his bedroom and fell face first into his futon without even taking off his sweaty clothes. A short nap would make him feel better; he was sure of it. By the time an insistent knocking sound drew him out of a fitful but mercifully ordinary dream about stale ramen, the sun was no longer illuminating his bedroom. Rubbing his eyes and wondering who the fuck would visit him after dark, Naruto shuffled to his door. He stopped by his small kitchen, grabbed a glass of water to soothe his parched throat, and felt oddly vindicated when whoever was at his door got impatient and knocked louder.

Serves you right for waking me up, he thought as he walked over to answer the knocking. He didn’t look through the peephole but maybe he should have. If he had, Sasuke wouldn’t have seen the undoubtedly confused and stupid look on his face when he opened the door.

“You look like shit,” said Sasuke before shoving his way inside.

Naruto was about to respond when the scent of pork ramen hit his nose and made his stomach growl. Settling for a glare, he grabbed a hold of Sasuke navy blue shirt and dragged him towards the kitchen. “I didn’t have dinner yet,” he mumbled.

They had dinner in silence and, for once, Naruto ate as slowly as Sasuke did. Dimly, Naruto noted how strange it was that not even a serving Ichiraku’s best ramen was doing much to cheer him up. He blamed Sasuke's sparse glares throughout the meal. Sasuke had been the biggest source of all his annoyances for how long, again?

“You’re too pretty for glaring, asshole.”

“I didn’t know you’d joined my fan club, dead last.”

“I joined your fan club?” asked Naruto, making sure to widen his eyes in exaggerated confusion. “Who’s gone to who’s house twice in a week?”

“I wouldn’t have to come if you weren’t so stupid,” snapped Sasuke. “Were you even studying before I got here?”

“Fuck you,” said Naruto, refusing to care enough to lie about what he’d been doing. “I was napping.”

“Figures,” said Sasuke before lifting his ramen cup to drink the poth. He wiped a pale hand over his lips before snorting at Naruto. “I knew Math would be too hard for you. Go get your books.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said, Bastard?” Naruto was in no mood to put up with Sasuke’s shit. “I’m gonna to fucking sleep tonight so go away.”

“Oh yes, sleeping’s going to help you, Mr. I-Don’t-Know-What-Proportional-Means.”

“I do too know what it means!” yelled Naruto, hopping off his stool. “And unlike you, I didn’t need to pay attention in Math class for seven years to get it.”

“If I hadn’t paid attention, then you wouldn’t know it either because I’m the one who explained it to you, you stupid fuck,” said Sasuke, getting off his stool and spreading his legs slightly apart. He was pacing himself for a fight and Naruto resolutely ignored a panicked urge to placate him.

“What, you think you’re the only person who could’ve taught me?” he asked. “You’re so full of yourself you’re about to fucking explode.”

“Who else would’ve explained it to you?” demanded Sasuke. “Everyone else in this fucking village hates you and wants you dead.”

Iruka-sensei, thought Naruto through the rage fogging his mind. That name would hardly piss Sasuke off, though. “I don’t know,” he said instead, looking up at his roof as though he were in deep thought. “Maybe Neji? Don’t tell me you didn’t realize he’s smarter than you. He’s so much better he even impressed Itachi.”

Instead of responding, Sasuke grabbed Naruto’s left-over ramen and threw it at him with an angry snarl.

“Asshole,” cried Naruto after dodging. He looked down at the broth spread all over his kitchen floor and felt a strange sort of giddy apprehension bubbling up in his gut. “I was going to finish that.”

“Oh, you’ll still fucking finish it.”

Naruto dodged Sasuke fist as he brought his hands together and formed a tiger seal. A pair of clones flanked him and Sasuke went for the one at his right after throwing a shuriken to the one at his left. Naruto’s first instinct was to take the chance to throw a punch at Sasuke but something prompted him to slide behind his counter.

When you’re fighting a stronger opponent, Itachi’s voice whispered in his mind, your only choice is to be smarter.

Sure, Sasuke was faster and stronger. Naruto had no trouble admitting that in the privacy of his own mind, especially as he ducked and sidestepped away from Sasuke’s punches as kicks. But Naruto had higher stamina and crazy healing powers. He didn’t quite manage to dodge a kick to his left calf but it didn’t matter because he’d barely registered the pain before his chakra rushed towards the injury and began to fix it.

He gasped anyway and then rolled behind the small orange couch on his living room. Sasuke was so mad that he’d probably make a stupid mistake if Naruto kept dodging long enough. Then . . . then he’d have beaten Sasuke in a fight and the bastard would have to start respecting him. He brought his hands together to make a tiger seal again but decided against it at the last moment. His apartment was too small. Clones would just get in the way.

“Come back out here!” shouted Sasuke. Naruto heard him stomping forward and looked around for something to use as . . . something. “Or are you a coward on top of being as stupid as a dog?”

“I don’t what’s crawled up your ass,” said Naruto, making a single clone since he really needed some kind of distraction, “but I don’t think it’s got anything to do with me and studying.”

“Really?” yelled Sasuke after Naruto sent out his clone to distract him. A few seconds later, Naruto felt the short span of the clone’s memories returning to him. Sasuke looked angry, sure, but he didn’t look anywhere close to dumb with it. “You don’t think it’s infuriating that I wasted my time trying to help you?” On the contrary, Sasuke’s dark eyepows were furrowed in the kind of concentration that meant Naruto was about to spend all night wincing as his body fixed a poken nose. Or worse. “Everyone else was right about you. There’ll be a fucking festival the day you get your stupid self killed on a mission.”

Despite knowing that Sasuke was probably blowing at him over something unrelated, Naruto couldn’t help but feel the vicious sting of his words. Sasuke was right, wasn’t he? Everyone did hate him and for something that wasn’t even—

—his thoughts were interrupted when Sasuke grabbed his right shoulder and aimed a punch at his temple. Naruto just barely dodged that and then pushed all his weight forward, knowing that it was too late to try and squirrel away, so he might as well try to tackle Sasuke to the floor. Maybe he’d twist his ankle or something. He raised a fist, blindly trying to hit Sasuke, but the asshole grabbed his arm and rolled them over.

Naruto wondered if Sasuke would be taken off guard by spit (it was fighting dirty but didn’t give a shit anymore) just as the Bastard raised his fist. He was gathering the saliva in his mouth when he caught a glimpse of Sasuke’s enraged gaze. “Your eyes!”

The sight of red irises doused his anger and determination as effectively as icy water would’ve snuffed out a fire. Suddenly, he remembered a rush of painful red chakra burning through his veins and felt his joints contracting painfully. He snapped his eyes shut and felt Sasuke’s fist slamming against the floor tiles beside his jaw.

“Why won’t you fight back anymore? Why?”

Naruto gasped and pushed Sasuke off him, trying to get his breathing back under control. He stared down at his hands, half-expecting to see red chakra boiling out of his pores, and crawled away. Sasuke snarled and stood up while he tried to breathe.

“Get out!” Naruto yelled. “Please!”

Bastard didn’t listen, of course. He headed towards Naruto’s bedroom while Naruto dry-heaved on his own living room floor, terrified that the Fox was going to get out again and . . .

He didn’t know how long his sat there with his eyes squeezed shut. Until his breath was somewhat normal and he could no longer hear his own heart beating. Eventually, he raised his head and stared at the small hallway leading towards his bedroom as confused thoughts flitted through his mind. Was Sasuke injured? Had he just gone to get his books back?

There was only one way to find out.

Telling the fear making his limbs clumsy and shaky to fuck off, Naruto struggled to his feet and started walking towards his bedroom. “Sasuke,” he called tentatively as he pushed his own door open, immediately realizing that he hadn’t spoken loudly enough to be heard. He bit his lower lip and walked inside.

Sasuke wasn’t there.

Naruto’s breath actually caught before he remembered that his bathroom was attached to his bedroom. Shaking his head, he forced his legs to carry him past his futon and towards his bathroom. He found Sasuke glaring at his own reflection with bright red eyes.

“I don’t know how to turn these on so I’m afraid to turn them off,” he said.

“. . . Are they gonna start hurting?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Sasuke. “But I’m going to fall asleep at some point.”

“Just let them go,” Naruto told him, sighing and leaning on against the wall. “It’s not like I’ll never make you mad again.”

“I can’t do anything right,” continued Sasuke and Naruto wondered if he was talking to himself. “I almost got myself killed on my first mission and then forgot about it. I can’t beat a kid who doesn’t even mold chakra in a simple spar. Now I can’t even get you to take me seriously.”

“I take you seriously,” protested Naruto.

“Then why—” Sasuke suddenly closed his eyes and sucked in a deep peath. When he opened them again, they were their usual shade of charcoal black. “Then why won’t you study?”

“I have been, you dick,” said Naruto, glaring at Sasuke’s reflection. “It’s just . . .” The studying thing would be a pointless argument anyway. He was tired of lying and he was pretty sure he was putting Sasuke in danger. “It was me,” he said, looking down at his toes.

“What?” mumbled Sasuke, sounding so disinterested that Naruto looked up. The eyes reflected on his mirror were red again.

“During the mission,” said Naruto, fighting through the invisible fist squeezing his throat. “I’m the one who hit your head. Not the Grass—Root girl.”

Sasuke’s red eyes widened on the mirror and then he whirled around. “Why?” he demanded, no longer talking like Naruto wasn’t really in the room.

“I don’t . . .” started Naruto then paused to swallow. He heard Sasuke’s voice screaming in his mind. “The girl, she tried to gouge out your eyes and . . . please don’t hate me.”

“. . . It was the Fox,” said Sasuke turning to stare at the mirror again. “But why?”

“You know?”

“Did you just get angry in general?” asked Sasuke, whirling back around to stare at him with once-again black eyes. “Or at me specifically?”

“How do you know about the Fox?”

“I figured it out—”

“—how?”

“Because everyone hates you way too much!” Sasuke growled and ripped his headband off before rubbing at his forehead. “You’re annoying but the villagers act like you’re about to rip out their throat out at any second even though you’ve never actually attacked anyone. Besides me, of course, but that should’ve make you popular. And your birthday is the anniversary of the Fourth’s death, which you’d know if you paid attention in class.”

“I do know that,” mumbled Naruto. When he was little, he’d used to fantasize that it meant he was connected to the Fourth somehow. How right he’d been . . .

“So tell me why you turned on me,” insisted Sasuke.

“I didn’t mean to,” Naruto said quickly. “I got the girl and then when I turned to look at you, your eyes were red and it . . .” He paused to take in a deep peath and told himself that Sasuke looked curious rather than angry. Or even scared.

“Go on.”

“And it was afraid,” finished Naruto, staring down at his curled fists and sliding down to the floor. “I—it though you—someone was going to make it do something so I—it tried to kill you.” Fuck, the memory was confusing even though he’d been obsessing over the whole thing it since it’d happened. “You were hiding behind a large tree—your arm as already broken because your plan with all the clones didn’t work; the girl found us—but I got angry and . . . got her. Then I went looking for you and I was so happy but . . . when I saw your eyes, the Fox got scared so I grabbed your head and slammed it against the tree trunk. More than once, maybe.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. Then I realized what I was doing and snapped out of it but you were already unconscious . . .”

“Your oral reports suck,” said Sasuke, sounding so irritated that Naruto burst into a hysterical fit of laughter.

“. . . I thought you were gonna be so mad,” he said, looking up at Sasuke’s face. Bastard was wearing such a ridiculous pout that that Naruto almost started laughing again.

“I am angry,” snapped Sasuke with a silly huff. “It’s one thing to be nearly killed by a dangerous Root operative and another one entirely to be nearly killed by you.”

“You’re such a dick,” said Naruto, reaching up to pull Sasuke down beside him. Suddenly, he felt like giving the Bastard a big hug but that would be embarrassing. “Why were you so mad anyway?”

“You weren’t doing your work,” answered Sasuke, taking his hand back. He didn’t stand up though, so Naruto smiled.

“You expect me to believe that you blew up at me ‘cause of Math?”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

“Come on, Sasuke. I told you my worst secret.”

“Not much of a secret,” said Sasuke, shrugging. “Almost everyone knows.”

“Not anyone our age—oh shit, you think other people figured it out?”

“How the fuck would I know?” said Sasuke with another pout. “It’s not like anyone besides my family talks to me.”

“I guess not,” said Naruto, realizing that he didn’t care if everyone else knew. Sasuke didn’t care, after all. “So why were you mad?”

“You’re like a dog with a bone.”

“Come on!” Naruto grabbed Sasuke’s shoulder and shook him a little. “Tell me! You’ll feel better.”

Sasuke opened his mouth but he sighed tiredly before turning his dark eyes on Naruto and grimacing. “. . . He’s my brother,” he said before swallowing and looking away.

Unbidden, the image of another Sasuke playing with his Sasuke invaded Naruto’s mind. For some reason, it made him tense up. “Who . . .”

“Itachi, you idiot,” cried Sasuke and, for a moment, Naruto felt like they were speaking a different language. “Who else would I be talking about?”

“But . . .” Naruto frowned and shook his head. He felt like someone was trying to give him a concussion. “Itachi doesn’t have a family.”

“That’s because he threw us all away to save himself,” yelled Sasuke. “Good fuck, it’s not like it’s a secret. His public file clearly states that he’s formerly of the Uchiha clan and you’ve already noticed that we look alike.”

“I haven’t read it yet,” said Naruto. “And do you just assume that people who look a little alike are brothers who just don't mention it for some reason?”

“Why would you not read your own sensei’s public file?” asked Sasuke, sagging against the bathroom wall.

“He’s a jonin. What else did I need to kno—whatever.” There was no need to get sidetracked by petty details when his entire life felt like it was shifting off center. Itachi was an Uchiha. Itachi was the traitor who was at least on Konoha’s side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because . . . because.” Suddenly, Sasuke seemed to curl into himself. “Because I’ve always been compared to him and I’ve always fell short. I can’t even be in my own house anymore because I know my parents look at me and wonder why I’m nowhere near as strong as Itachi.”

That explains why you’re suddenly obsessed with my book learning, thought Naruto.

“I guess it was nice not to be second best for a little while, even if it was only for you.”

“Sasuke . . .”

“But I knew I was,” he continued. “Just because you don’t say something out loud doesn’t make it not true.”

“Sas—”

“—what?” he snarled without looking away from his suddenly curled toes. “You going to tell me I’m just imagining things? That I shouldn’t compare myself to him even if everyone else does.”

“I was going to say that I don’t care if Itachi’s stronger or smarter than you or whatever,” said Naruto. “I still like you better even if he’s nice and you’re an unbearable dick most of the time.”

For a second, Sasuke actually froze. Naruto paced himself for an attack (it was impossible to tell when Sasuke would decide that something was a grave insult) but the Bastard just snorted and jumped to his feet. “Well, that makes everything better then,” he said before sauntering out of the bathroom, shaking his head all the while.

Naruto sighed, feeling like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Sasuke knew about the Nine Tails. He’d known for fuck only knew how long and he’d still decided to be Naruto’s friend. Everything else—the leaf trick, the villagers, the stupid mansion, how broke he was, the fucking textbooks, even his creepy nightmares—suddenly felt inconsequential.

Inconsequential, he thought and idly placed that word on the list of the ones he liked. He smiled at the thought of sprinkling his rants with a bunch of fancy adjectives in front of Sak—

“—holy shit, does Sakura know Itachi’s your brother?” He listened for the answer and grunted when there was no response. “Sasuke?” With an annoyed sigh, Naruto got up and went to look for him.

Notes:

While watching the series, I got the feeling that Sasuke was just a kid with some talent who got good grades and most people praised him more than was warranted because they felt sorry for him. In this AU, he's just 'that kid from the traitor family' so the only people lauding him are the girls who have crushes on him.

Neji, on the other hand, taught himself a complex fighting style without anyone helping him. Probably while risking his life.

TL;DR, Itachi likes the kind of student that's so smart he doesn't need a teacher in the first place.

Chapter 16: Elder Rakshasha

Summary:

Life hates Sasuke some more. Plus, Kakashi and Guy: the road trip.

Notes:

So I started medical school. Yay! For obvious reasons, I won't be able to update as quickly as I have been. I hope I'll manage it once a month or so.

'Rakshasha' is the name of one of the Personas (summons, basically) in Persona 3.

Warnings for this chapter: Talk of suicide and misogynistic language

So now he had Sharingan. Sasuke looked down at the ground to avoid the rays of the setting sun and kicked a rock out of his way. He kept waiting to feel something about it. Maybe not outright happiness, but certainly satisfaction at the very least. He was a little bit closer to Itachi now, he supposed. Not as close as Neji—hell, not as close as Lee—but closer. He’d been a little more excited about it before morning. Sasuke had assumed that having Sharingan would help him win a spar against Lee (a stupid assumption, in retrospect).

At first, it'd helped. With Sharingan activated, Lee’s lightning quick movements had looked almost slow. Sasuke had tried to take advantage of the sudden shift in his perception and started to evade Lee’s kicks—even tried to counterattack. And then Lee got faster, so much so that Sasuke’s brain hadn’t been able to process the movements his Sharingan expertly tracked.

The best part of the whole thing was that after Itachi had intervened and stopped the fight, Lee had chided him about how offensive it’d been not to give their spars his all since the very beginning. Ironic. Wasn’t that Lee himself had done? It was a bit more than a little humiliating for Sasuke to find out that a kid he’d thought “a little better at taijutsu” was so much stronger than him that he’d needed his evil older brother to protect him from an attack that would’ve probably broken a few of his ribs.

Also, Itachi now knew that he could activate Sharingan at will so he’d wasted his time swearing Naruto to secrecy during breakfast. Could his life get any fucking worse? He sighed and looked up at the horizon, thoughts about tempting fate and how much Naruto probably enjoyed seeing the skyline turning orange during the sunset mixing in his mind.

He supposed it was a testament to Sharingan’s power that he’d been able to see, much less understand, Lee’s movements at all. Already, he knew he could shift his body into the appropriate positions for advanced Strong Fist techniques. Not that it mattered. He just wasn’t fast or strong enough to keep up with all the information Sharingan picked up. Instinctively, he knew that if he tried to mimic Lee—even at a slower pace—he’d injure himself as badly as housecat trying to mimic a tiger. All Sharingan had really done was show him just how outclassed he was by apparently anyone outside his stupid Academy class. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that Tenten could take him out too.

Still, he ought to be happy about having Sharingan anyway. He was finally a true Uchiha now, or so his father would say. Sasuke was pretty sure he could predict the main points of the speech waiting for him at home, assuming his parents (Mikoto) didn’t call him out on his obvious bullshit lies. Itachi was awful, Konoha’s higher ups were rotten to the core, the Uchiha must be avenged, he must make the Nine Tails his ally (new, but distressingly common considering the Demon Fox hated Sharingan so much). And he was pretty sure Fugaku would add something about how now his real training could begin, like everything he’d been doing for the last five years meant nothing because he’d lacked Sharingan.

And if the spars with Lee were anything to go by, Fugaku wouldn’t be wrong.

Maybe Sasuke was just depressed. Unlike Naruto, he’d paid enough attention to Iruka-sensei’s lectures about stress management and basic psychological health to recognize the signs. Irritability, trouble sleeping, loss of appetite, loss of motivation . . . loss of motivation . . . loss of motivation . . .

Fuck, he really couldn’t afford not to be motivated about anything. Considering all his responsibilities, he couldn’t afford even mild depression so he shook his head and ordered himself to get the fuck over it already. He took a deep breath and decided to stop stalling before jumping onto a tree near the dirt road and rushing towards the compound.

The sooner he came clean to his parents, the sooner he could get tangible information about Sharingan. He barely knew more about it than Naruto after all. His clan didn’t share details with members who didn’t awaken Sharingan. Why give someone information that could get them tortured when they didn’t need it? They might be tortured for it anyway, of course, but they couldn’t compromise secrets they didn’t know in the first place.

The idea was that someone with Sharingan couldn’t be captured and tortured which . . . well, Lee could certainly tortured Sasuke if he wanted to. He hoped that wouldn’t be the case once he learned to use his damned dojutsu.

Sasuke still couldn’t help but slow down the moment he reached the alders scattered around the edges of the Uchiha compound. His determination felt as weak as a rotting fishing net whenever he thought about what his parents would feel once he admitted he’d been lying to them. Would they remember Itachi’s treachery?

You’d have killed to be likened to Itachi at one point.

The thought forced a bitter laugh out of Sasuke’s throat. Since the sun was still not completely over the horizon, he decided to sit on the next tree branch he landed on and think about what exactly he was going to say once he got home. He wasn’t Naruto. He didn’t rush into things without some kind of plan.

He’d have to say as much of the truth as possible. As he took in a deep breath and smelled the rich summer leaves, Sasuke barely registered the decision to keep some secrets. It wasn’t even a choice really. There were some thoughts he couldn’t decipher no matter how much he meditated (why would the Nine Tails be scared of Sharingan? Why?) They’d sound like doubts if he tried to voice them and Sasuke wasn’t doubtful. He wasn’t. He’d do whatever he needed to do in order to right the wrong inflicted on his family.

His silence would mean that his parents (Mikoto) would realize he was holding something back though, so he needed something to distract them (her). The Root list. Naruto had lost all interest on the blasted scroll the moment Sasuke said it didn’t have any jutsu instructions (which was thankfully true as far as Sasuke could tell). If he gave his parents (Mikoto) that list—if he said that Naruto had stolen it from Itachi and then given it to him—then Mikoto’s suspicions . . . disappointment might decrease. Maybe. Hopefully. It was all he had.

With a sigh, Sasuke stood on the tree branch and rushed home once again. He activated Sharingan for a few moments just to make sure that he could do it and marveled at how much clearer it made the whole world. The boundaries objects made in space seemed so sharply defined—all movements so smoothly segmented—that Sasuke wondered why he hadn’t realized that he’d activated Sharingan before Naruto’s stricken outburst.

Leaves flowed to the ground in a specific pattern related to the wind, or lack of thereof. Most homes had walls that weren’t perfectly straight and Sasuke suspected it had something to do with the cut of the wood that made up their walls. He saw grey doves flying from tree branch to tree branch and thought that if he had wings, he’d be able to imitate them easily. Without any instruction, he was beginning to understand that Sharingan copied movement without caring if it was human or—

—where was his family?

The sudden thought almost stopped Sasuke in his tracks before it made him push chakra towards his legs.

The streets of the Uchiha compound were deserted. It should’ve been the first thing he noticed the moment he spotted the first of the clan homes. It would’ve been the first thing he’d noticed if his new Sharingan hadn’t made the most mundane of sights marvelous. He passed by Uchiha Senbei repressed a panicked gasp when he didn’t see Uncle Teyaki and Aunt Uruchi lounging by the stands. No point in assuming the worst yet.

But what could he assume? Clans only gathered at the same spot for celebrations or tragedies. Sasuke would’ve been informed about any celebration and he wouldn’t have forgotten about it. He jumped off the alder nearest to the road towards his home hoping that he had forgotten someone’s birthday anyway.

When he made the turn towards his house, he spotted Uchiha fans sewn to the backs of many shirts and mentally sagged. His family was alive. Still crippled, and Sharingan cruelly pointed out the lines of tension in their shoulders and uneven stances, but still alive.

Uncle Akio noticed him first and when he turned around, most of their family members did so as well. “Sasuke-sama,” he said when Sasuke stopped right in front of him, breathing hard even though the run hadn’t been even slightly tiring. Daisuke peered from behind his father’s good leg as he held on to Rei’s hand and, for a moment, Sasuke swore Itachi’s eyes were looking up at him.

“What’s going on?” he asked, trying his best to sound like the clan’s heir and not like a terrified child.

“You’d best go and speak to Mikoto-sama,” said Akio with a blank enough gaze and a tight enough jaw that Sasuke instantly realized that something really bad had happened.

It took a ridiculous amount of discipline not to look around and question the rest of his family with his eyes. Instead, Sasuke nodded at Akio before glancing down at twins again. As he cut through the crowd (an easy task when everyone made way for him), Sasuke hoped that Rei and Daisuke would look less like Itachi when they grew older. Akio didn’t deserve to see his wife’s killer in his children’s eyes every day.

Only Yoshie greeted him at his front door. She rubbed her spine on Sasuke’s calf and meowed in the demanding tone she used whenever she felt like she wasn’t getting enough attention. Sasuke gently pushed her away and walked towards the living room. An old wrinkled woman with some strands of white hair peeking out of a purple headscarf—Elder Rakshasha, he recognized right away—glanced at him from one of the mats as she sipped from a teacup. Not good. She only came out of her home when someone awakened Sharingan.

Or when someone died.

Elder Rakshasha swallowed some tea and idly scratched under the purple sheet she’d wrapped around her head, black eyes fixed on Sasuke. “Well, go to your mother,” she ordered, gesturing vaguely with her free hand. Her clear voice sounded like it belonged to someone decades younger.

Sasuke almost forgot the appropriate vow before he whirled around and continued on towards his parents’ rooms. Elder Rakshasha had only mentioned his mother and Fugaku rarely left the house anymore. And Elder Rakshasha was in charge of funerals—

No.

Maybe Rakshasha had come because his parents had worked out that he’d awakened Sharingan and gotten tired of waiting for him to spit it out.

His heart was thundering in his ears when knocked on his parents’ door. He knew his father wouldn’t have called Rakshasha without confronting him. She hadn’t been summoned because of him. He heard Mikoto’s light footsteps as she walked towards the door and swallowed a lump that had lodged itself in his throat. Under normal circumstances, Mikoto’s footing was a light as a cat’s.

When she opened the door, the sight of her red-rimmed black eyes confirmed his worst suspicions before he even looked past her. He knew Fugaku was dead before his eyes fell on his parents’ futon. He would’ve known even if Sharingan wasn’t helpfully noting how Fugaku’s chest didn’t rise with every breath he took. Because he wasn’t breathing.

Sasuke walked past Mikoto, slowly sucking air through his nose and letting it out of his mouth, and carefully fell to his knees beside Fugaku’s supine body. To his Sharigan, there was no difference between his father’s head and the pillow it was lying on. Because he wasn’t breathing, or twitching, or doing any of the little things that living creatures did. The empty right sleeve of his red kimono was lying under his loose left arm. It was like staring at a picture. Or a statue. Suddenly, Sasuke was terrified of letting his eyes return to their usual black.

“Sasuke,” started Mikoto in a strained voice.

“How?” he asked, reaching into his thigh holster.

“Fugaku was in pain for a very long time,” she answered.

“How?” repeated Sasuke, gently laying a kunai over his father’s heart. To drive off evil spirits Sasuke didn’t think existed in the first place. And it was Rakshasha’s job anyway.

“You must not judge your father too harshly,” said Mikoto. “He—”

“—what happened?” demanded Sasuke. A tiny part of him pointed out that he was speaking to his mother and should remain appropriately respectful, but it was a small, tired part.

Mikoto gracefully fell to her knees and laid her left hand on Sasuke’s shoulder. “He drank too much Sleeping Tea at once,” she answered.

“He made a mistake . . .” mumbled Sasuke, staring down at Fugaku’s closed eyelids. For the first time in years, his father looked utterly relaxed.

“I don’t believe he did,” said Mikoto, squeezing his shoulders.

“No.”

Mikoto tried to draw him into a hug but Sasuke jumped to his feet and took a couple of steps backwards.

“Sasuke,” said Mikoto. “We must face the truth. Your father was crushed after Itachi—”

“—he was mad,” shouted Sasuke, feeling his hands curl into tense, useless fists. “He’s been mad for years, I know. But he wasn’t suicidal.”

“And how would you know the difference?” demanded Mikoto.

“Suicidal people don’t speak of the future or, if they do, they only do so in fatalistic terms,” answered Sasuke, remembering Iruka-sensei’s lecture about looking out for signs of suicidal depression among comrades. “Father,” Sasuke swallowed down a scream, “he wanted justice and vengeance and—”

“—wanting isn’t planning,” interrupted Mikoto. “Wanting isn’t even expecting.”

“I would’ve—” started Sasuke, feeling his eyes beginning to water and hating himself. “I’m going to make things right. I’ll kill Itachi.” Fuck. Itachi’s father was dead. What would he feel when he heard? Would he feel anything at all?

“Sasuke,” repeated Mikoto without taking her eyes off Fugaku’s corpse, “you must not focus only on whatever your father did or didn’t do anymore. Our entire clan is relying on you.”

“But . . .” Sasuke trailed off with a pained gasp. Did everyone else in the clan believe that Sasuke would never be able to beat Itachi? Did they think it would be easier to di—no, no, no! Fugaku hadn’t killed himself. Sasuke knew it. And he didn’t accidentally overdosed either. “Somebody killed him.”

“Sas—”

“—somebody killed him!” insisted Sasuke. He pushed his hands through his hair and yanked past any odd knots he encountered. “Somebody killed him and we have to find out who.”

“What for?” asked a clear voice coming from the hallway. Sasuke whirled around just as Elder Rakshasha wondered through the door in her oddly stilted gait. She closed the door behind her and fixed her gaze on Sasuke without sparing Fugaku’s body a glance.

“Because they need to pay,” answered Sasuke. “Father would’ve wanted to be avenged.”

“Bah,” dismissed Rakshasha, snorting derisively. “Nobody who hates us would’ve killed Fugaku. His refusal to honestly evaluate our situation held us back. Quite frankly, anyone who might’ve killed him did us a great favor.”

“Grandmother!” cried Mikoto as Sasuke forced his limbs to stay still. He doubted he managed to hide his rage.

“What do you expect us all to do?” demanded the Elder. The deep brown wrinkles around her eyes creased and her crooked nose scrunched up as she smirked at Sasuke. “Save your transparent lies for outsiders and always be honest with yourself, unless you want to end up like your noble and maddened father.”

“You’re one vicious old cunt,” said Sasuke, resisting the urge to hide his fists behind his back.

Elder Rakshasha laughed as she stepped forward, staring at Sasuke’s eyes with a suddenly red gaze. Three tomoe surrounded her pupils. “Shisui’s spirit must be so amused,” she said as she grasped Sasuke’s chin.

Without warning, Sasuke remembered laying his chin on Itachi’s head, feeling elated and guilty as they left a funeral. Guilty because he was grateful that a family member had died since it meant Itachi was willing to spend time with him. Guilty because a part of him wished the one who’d died had been the cousin with a big nose, messy black hair, and a seemingly perpetual grin shuffling beside them. Back then, it’d felt like Itachi spent his every waking moment with Shisui.

“Rakshasha’s one vicious old cunt,” Shisui had said that day, glaring up at the orange horizon.

Itachi had been scandalized and made Sasuke promise never to call people cunts. Especially not women. Especially not an Elder. Shisui had snorted and ruffled Sasuke’s head before suggesting that he certainly should never say it front of Rakshasha. Maybe he was possessing Sasuke now. Sasuke had certainly never even thought—much less said—the slur before.

“Already two tomoe around both pupils,” Rakshasha continued. “How long have you been keeping these,” she pulled down on Sasuke’s chin and nodded at his eyes, “to yourself?”

Right. Sasuke remembered that he’d been lying about Sharingan for almost a month, but he shrugged at Rakshasha anyway. It didn’t feel important anymore. If pressed, he’d explain his amnesia.

The old woman chuckled before shooting at pointed glance at Fugaku. “At least he’s not alive to see his obedient second son lying and scheming.”

The jibe made Sasuke wrench himself away from her grasp and take a few steps back. He buried his face in his hands and told himself that he wasn’t glad that his father hadn’t learned of his lies. Fugaku would’ve been delighted to see his Sharingan and he would’ve understood why Sasuke had been too embarrassed to come clean right away. He would have.

“Mikoto,” started Rakshasha, “prepare the body for the funeral pyre and gather the rest of the elders. I have to give your brat the talk. Come along, spare.” With one last smirk in Sasuke’s direction, she walked out of the room.

“Go with her,” ordered Mikoto after a few moments.

Sasuke sucked in a deep breath, stared at Mikoto’s dark ponytail, and exhaled. Anyone who awakened Sharingan needed to meet with Rakshasha regardless of what else might be going on (he didn’t know what was so urgent, but he supposed he was about to find out). Besides, he was sure that being around Mikoto would just make him feel more impotently enraged. His mother didn’t need a hysterical son to soothe so he closed his eyes and forced his Sharingan away. Without daring to look towards the futon, he followed Elder Rakshasha.

He found her waiting by the kitchen, fiddling with the red beads wrapped around her neck. “Open it,” she said, glancing at the door leading to the backyard.

Sasuke glared before reminding himself that everyone in the clan was supposed to show an elder obedience and respect, especially if that elder happened to be his great-grandmother. Even though he felt like punching her, he did as he was told. Rakshasha had been a great kunoichi in her day and could probably still defeat a genin. He watched her walk through the door, noting how she rested most of her weight on her left leg. She was shorter than him. Had that always been the case? Sasuke followed her, remembering that she didn’t limp because of Itachi.

They walked past the small pond behind his house, Sasuke wishing that Rakshasha would hurry all the while. He looked at the calm surface of the pond and felt his breath catch when he remembered Fugaku taking the time to teach him to swim almost as soon as he learned to walk. Itachi had almost drowned there once. Mikoto used to say as much whenever she warned Sasuke to stay away.

“Why did my brother not cripple you?” he asked, looking at the tanto strapped to Rakshasha’s hip. He’d attacked all the other elders. Several had not survived.

“Because I was already crippled, you imbecile,” she answered.

So was Uncle Teyaki, thought Sasuke. He swallowed and thought that Fugaku wouldn’t have wanted him to start a pointless argument with an Uchiha elder on the day of his death. He resolved to say as little as possible for the rest of the meeting though, and kept quiet even when Rakshasha made her way towards the fat tree branch concealing the road that connected the main house of the Uchiha compound to the shrine located a few minutes away from the Naka River. He always assumed only members of the head family knew about it.

“How’s Itachi?” asked Rakshasha, letting the tree branch go so suddenly that it almost hit Sasuke in the nose. Maybe that was why he answered before he noticed that Rakshasha had said Itachi’s name.

“. . . Fine.” What else could he say? That Naruto made Itachi smile often? That Neji Hyuga had impressed him?

Rakshasha chuckled. “Itachi won’t be fine until he kills you.”

It was strangest thing anyone had ever said to Sasuke. He couldn’t even come up with a response so he glared down at the flowering weeds overtaking the linear clearing leading to the Naka Shrine. It wasn’t like Rakshasha had been boasting that Itachi ought to be afraid of him like Fugaku—Sasuke swallowed back a scream—would have. She didn’t seem to be trying to scare Sasuke either. Itachi won’t be fine until he kills you. She’d said it without any particular tone, like she’d been talking about leaves or the weather.

“They brought him to me a couple of years before he awakened Sharingan,” continued Rakshasha. “Fugaku was worried that the brat was slow-witted because he refused to talk.” She snorted derisively. “I told him that the kid was fine and that world could use more men unwilling to run their mouths at every opportunity.” Sasuke heard a fond chuckle. “I always did like Itachi. He’s the smartest among the multitude of idiot great-grandchildren the spirits cursed me with.”

Sasuke didn’t know what to make of the absurd speech. Did Rakshasha honestly go about the compound telling people that she liked Itachi? No wonder everyone hated her. It strained Sasuke’s throat just to think about it. Still, he resolutely pushed thoughts of Fugaku out of his mind anyway and almost laughed when he realized thinking about Itachi was less painful than thinking of his father.

“They say laughter is the best medicine,” said Rakshasha, making Sasuke realize that he must have actually laughed. Or actually giggled. Maybe he was already going as mad as Fugaku had been. Had been. His father was dead. Dead. He kept realizing it at odd intervals on the way to the shrine and felt like someone had punched the air out of his lungs every time it happened.

Rakshasha asked for help on the way up the few steps leading to the shrine’s main hall, though Sasuke wondered if she hadn’t requested help only to force him to touch her. Old hag certainly seemed more than strong enough to move around without aid. She snorted when he practically jumped away from her the moment both of her feet touched the main first hall’s tatami mat.

“You could always try and kill me, brat,” she dared him. “Just tell everyone I insulted your father’s sainted memory.”

Then she might kill him. Or worse—she might humiliate him and fracture one of his bones or something. Sasuke still woke up clutching his right elbow some nights, the memory of the ANBU medic’s chakra searing his bones pulsing through his mind. He settled for glaring down at Rakshasha’s wrinkled eyes and quickly walking into the shrine proper ahead of her.

“You’re conflicted, spare!” she called, laughing at his back. “Do I need to pepper this session with sage advice about how to achieve serenity?”

Sasuke decided that Rakshasha must rival Lady Tsunade in strength, otherwise she’d have pissed off someone into killing her long ago. He bit back a grunt and looked at the empty shrine, wondering why they’d come. Buddha was standing over several wreaths of flowers in varying levels of decay, holding a bejeweled bladed staff and staring down at visitors with a challenging expression. Sasuke prayed for patience. He didn’t even bother to hope for enlightenment.

“Lift the seventh rightward tatami,” ordered Rakshasha when she reached his side.

After nodding at the Buddha, Sasuke turned towards the right and looked for the correct mat. He was too tired wonder at the command, much less question it. When he lifted the tatami and found that it led to a secret chamber, he was only vaguely surprised. Nothing felt important enough to get worked up about. Rakshasha approached his back again and then grunted at the obscured room.

Sasuke jumped down, hoping that the shrew would have no choice but to order him back up if only to highlight that she was old and broken. She merely jumped down behind him, confirming Sasuke’s earlier suspicion that she’d only asked for help at the front steps to provoke him. He ignored her and the grating sound of her beads tinkling, looking at the unadorned shrine at the head of the dusty, door-less room.

“Go light the candles,” said Rakshasha. “I trust you can mold a fire without charring us both.”

Charring her was a tempting thought and Sasuke almost tried it out of spite. He shook his head and walked forward, abruptly remembering the small fireballs Sakura mustered when she attempted Great Fireball Jutsu. Fuck it all, Sakura would start showering him with painfully emphatic glances from behind pink bangs the moment she heard of Fugaku’s—Sasuke gulped—death. He swallowed and lit the candles before Rakshasha could make another derisive comment. The candles flooded the room, which was much bigger than Sasuke originally assumed, with a dim shroud of weak light. Stylized Uchiha fans framed by elegant characters adorned the walls.

“Get the scroll hidden under the shrine,” ordered Rakshasha before he could take note of any characters besides the one written right under one of the fans. Brother, it said. Itachi’s face flashed through Sasuke’s eyes. “You must activate your Sharingan to read it.”

Trying his best to push memories of Itachi aside, Sasuke felt under the shrine. Immediately, the round edge of the scroll Rakshasha told him about brushed his fingertips and he pulled it out, letting the chakra necessary to activate Sharingan rush towards his eyes.

By reading the words on this paper, you are taking the first step in the road that will take towards God and his Eyes, Sasuke read. You must have suffered a great deal already. Be assured that you will suffer more, but do not fear. There is no limit to the amount of suffering the human body can endure.

“How old is this?” he asked Rakshasha, rubbing the pads of his fingers over the paper. It felt strong and dry but the tiny characters were written in a very old-fashioned style. Some of them, Sasuke couldn’t read at all.

“Who knows?” She shrugged and wrapped the string of red beads around the bony fingers of her right hand. “Everyone asks that when they first read it, me included. Old Kiyoshi told me it was as old as time itself.” It was difficult to say in the dim light but Sasuke swore Rakshasha rolled her eyes. “I told him that was bullshit and he backhanded me so hard he broke my nose in three places. Talk about vicious old cunts. That scroll does sound like deranged bullshit. You might as well skip to the part it instructs you to murder your best friend.”

“What . . .” breathed Sasuke as he looked down and scanned the scroll for the word 'friend'.

“It’s further down,” said Rakshasha, “under the stuff about controlling the Nine-Tails.”

And it was afraid, Naruto’s voice told him.

“So it was true,” mumbled Sasuke, momentarily unable to read the scroll at all. “An Uchiha did lead the Nine-Tails to Konoha.”

“For the most part,” agreed Rakshasha.

For so long, Sasuke had believed that it’d been another one of the Council’s lies. It was what both his parents had said—that the Council had needed an excuse to drive the Uchiha clan to the edges of Konoha and to strip them of all their governing power. That the Hyuga had supported the lies because they envied the Uchiha’s privileged position as one of Konoha’s founding clans.

“You know what,” Rakshasha suddenly interrupted his thoughts, “forget the stupid scroll. It’ll all be faster if I just tell you the legend of God’s Eyes . . .”

***

Kakashi really hated the Fire-Lightning border and not only because Kumo insisted on trying to kidnap Hyuga brats and starting wars at every opportunity. All of that was more professional rivalry than anything else. Every other village was full of assholes and Kakashi could deal with them just fine. The Land of Lightning, on the other hand, was special. The closer they got to the mountainous hellhole, the more irritating the terrain seemed to get. It’d be fine if they only had to contend with the rocky earth and occasional murderous bear; those weren’t too bad.

The dangerous and difficult to see pits of watery earth he could do without. They’d gotten so frequent that he and Guy had no choice but to let Lanfen Hyuga—the young chunin they’d enlisted—take the lead earlier in the day. Her eyes were good enough to spot the infernal pits, though even she had to be relatively near them before she could see them.

The least said about all the mud colored poisonous snakes twisted under the gravel, the better.

“I’ve found the mine,” said Lanfen, suddenly jumping to a tall rock a few meters to her left. “Yes, I see it!”

“So soon?” asked Guy as he followed her.

“Soon?” repeated Kakashi, sighing in exasperation. “We’ve been in this fuck-forsaken mountain range for nine days.” He didn’t bother to follow Lanfen since it wasn’t like he’d be able to see whatever she was seeing anyway.

“Two kilometers this way,” said Lanfen, gesturing north of the rock. “I need to get closer before I can see any specifics.”

“I was hoping to get to Nanba first,” said Guy, hopping down from the rock.

“It’s most probable that the mine is close the village,” said Lanfen, seeming to lean a little bit north.

“If you don’t have to go too far,” Kakashi told her, “go a bit ahead on your own and then come back with more details.”

“And if you think it’s safe for you to go on your own,” added Guy.

Lanfen turned her veiny-white gaze on them—a courtesy probably—and bowed until the black bangs that had escaped from under the black hat she was wearing partially obscured her eyes. “I know how to stay out of sight,” she said. Even wearing a standard green flak jacket, she looked small.

“How long will you need?” asked Kakashi.

“Two hours,” she said as she took off the heavy backpack strapped to her shoulders. She set it at the base of the rock she was using to stare off towards the mine and then looked towards them.

Kakashi nodded and she instantly jumped to another large rock north of the one she was standing on. Moments later, she was out of sight.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” said Guy, staring at the direction she’d gone off to. “It wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility for her to run into Kumo ninja.”

“She’ll see them long before they see her,” Kakashi reassured him. “And she probably knows well enough not to try and approach anyone on her own. We should set up camp while she’s away.”

Guy beamed with approval. “Your faith in your comrades is inspiring,” he said.

“Uh.”

“It’s inspired me to make a challenge!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have sent her alone,” said Kakashi. Lanfen had apparently been the only thing keeping Guy from being . . . Guy-ish and throwing absurd challenges his way. She wouldn’t have been able to keep up with two jonin racing each other anywhere.

“Whoever gathers the most firewood in the shortest amount of time wins!” declared Guy before blinking out of sight.

“Uh . . .” Kakashi was pretty sure that if he sat right where he was, Guy would probably set up camp on his own. And then he would start complaining about how insulting it was to let a comrade win in a friendly competition and really, it’d be much easier to play along.

With a sigh, Kakashi started looking for firewood as well. It was much more difficult to do so near the foot of a mountain range, where hardy shrubs dominated and tall trees were few and far in between. Not to mention, if Lanfen reported people nearby and the wind was uncooperative, they wouldn’t be able to light a fire at all. At least the area was a relatively dry and relatively devoid of predatory insects. Telling himself that it could always be worse, Kakashi kept on looking.

He came back to their rest site in about half an hour and found Guy waiting for him with a respectable bundle of firewood at his feet. As it turned out, it was too hard to judge who won the competition. Guy had more wood branches but Kakashi’s were bigger. “Draw?” asked Kakashi. He would’ve been okay with offering to lose but he knew better than to think that Guy would be appeased by a forfeiting competitor.

“I suppose,” mumbled Guy, scratching the back of his bowl cut in irritation. He looked on in direction of Lanfen’s solo trip and sighed. “Have missions always been this soul-crushingly boring?”

“Pretty much,” answered Kakashi. “You’re probably missing your genin, though.”

“And they say you’re emotionally stunted,” said Guy, smiling a little. “Do you think Itachi’s treating them well?”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Kakashi sat down and decided not to mention that he wouldn’t be surprised if Itachi had left them to their own devices and started investigating . . . anything. Children made Itachi feel ridiculously inadequate, which was sad considering Itachi himself was only barely past childhood.

“There won’t be much a genjutsu and ninjutsu specialist will be able to teach Lee,” said Guy, sitting down in front of Kakashi.

“Shurikenjutsu,” pointed out Kakashi.

“Hm?”

“Itachi could teach him shurikenjutsu,” repeated Kakashi. “It can also be done without molding chakra.”

Kakashi doubted that the kid had any particular interest on it—he’d have learned it from Tenten otherwise—but Guy seemed reassured by the reminder that Itachi would probably know what to do with Lee anyway. They kept on talking about the children and Kakashi tried to ignore a growing sense of dread. Guy obviously loved his team. There was nothing artificial or manufactured about the affection and pride in his voice when he spoke about them. Kakashi supposed he’d always known that but it’d never been so viciously apparent before. He remembered Obito, Rin, and Minato-sensei and hoped Guy would never have to endure losing his kids.

“Soon we’ll have to go looking for Lanfen,” said Kakashi, glancing up at the setting sun. He’d be really annoyed if she proved incapable of carrying out basic recon on her own.

“She still has about fifteen minutes to spare,” Guy said.

Ten minutes after that, she approached without making any effort at stealth. Most likely, she wasn’t even slightly worried about the possibility of being followed. All in all, it was a sign that the mission was going well so Kakashi let himself relax the moment Lanfen stopped in front of them and bowed before walking towards her ruck sack.

“I can make a rough map of the area,” she said as she reached for her backpack.

“Nanba?” asked Guy.

“Three kilometers east of the mine,” answered Lanfen, walking towards them and crouching down to clean a patch of earth of gravel so she could lay down the scroll. “I would advise against starting a fire just to be on the safe side.”

Kakashi understood the unspoken request and molded a flame on the palm of his hand. Not only was it small, there was also no risk of smoke revealing their location.

Lanfen nodded and drew a dot on the western edge of the scroll. “We’re here,” she started and then quickly moved her hand northeast of the paper. “The mine’s here,” she added, drawing a star-shaped dot and circling it. “There’s a two floor mansion with a twelve-by-ten kitchen and fifteen-by-eight conference room on the first floor; eight six-by-nine rooms and three separate bathrooms on the second floor. I believe this is where the leader resides.”

“Specific,” said Kakashi.

“I’m providing approximate measurements,” said Lanfen, apparently assuming that Kakashi doubted her report. He half-expected that she’d remind him that Hyuga where trained to accurately judge spatial dimensions by sight alone. “There are two sets of barracks around fifty meters from the mansion,” she continued, drawing two smaller dots a bit south from the circled star. “One is three floors, thirty-five feet long, and twelve feet wide.”

“That’s not an inauspicious size,” said Guy, scratching his chin and furrowing his large eyebrows.

“It’d made up of five-by-four rooms outfitted with small futons,” said Lanfen, narrowing her eyes. “Most likely, it’s where the children are housed.”

“And the second barrack?” asked Kakashi, choosing to forego asking for details about the children’s condition for the time being.

“About half the size and made up of rooms twice as big,” answered Lanfen. “It’s where the mine guards are probably housed.”

“The mine itself?” asked Guy.

Lanfen drew another star and circled it with a square below the dots representing the barracks. “About a kilometer from the mansion,” she answered, “I spotted what looked like the entrance to a mine. I was unable to glean any particular details but, considering its proximity to the barracks and the two rogue ninja acting as sentries, I can’t think of what else it could be.”

“They’re wearing headbands?” If Kakashi ever found himself a rogue, he’d hide as many traces of Konoha off his body as he could but for some reason, most rogue ninja liked to advertise which village they’d betrayed.

“I was too far away to tell,” said Lanfen. “I noticed they were shinobi because of the ordered patterns to their chakra flow.”

“Let’s hope they’re not particularly skilled,” said Guy. It was a testament to how much he despised the abuse of children that he wasn’t hoping for a good fight.

Lanfen graced Guy with a nod and then moved her hand east of the star representing the mine. “I managed to see the outskirts of a village I assume is Nanba here,” she said, drawing another star and circling it with a triangle. “It’s about two kilometers away so I couldn’t see any details about the state of the villagers,” she added with an apologetic frown in Guy’s direction.

“We’ll learn more than enough tomorrow,” Guy told her.

“Nanba’s where we’ll go first,” added Kakashi, staring down at the rough map Lanfen had drawn. He was about to ask for details about the terrain when she spoke again.

“There’s more.” She drew a line that bisected the empty space between the mine and Nanba. “Someone’s built train tracks which I assume are supposed to connect to the main line between Magome-juku and the Capital.”

“Well, that’s not good,” said Kakashi.

“Your talent for understatement is unmatched,” said Guy. He glared down at the Lanfen’s straight line and grunted. “How could we have missed something like this?”

“We’ve always been more concerned with the Fire-Earth and Fire-Wind borders,” said Lanfen. “Kumo would have too difficult a time mounting a stealth attack.”

“Still . . .” mumbled Kakashi. He trailed off without making any specific complaints, but he wasn’t happy to learn that their information networks had missed a goddamned train line. Ibiki was going to shit barbed bricks.

“It’s one thing for a random noble to blow a hole in the earth and call it a mine, and another one entirely for him to build a train line,” said Guy. “This took years of planning and considerable investments.”

“Yes,” said Lanfen. “I didn’t see the start point myself but it must be relatively close to the mine.” She marked a spot above the northeastern end of of her straight line. “It’s most likely around this area. I believe it’d take me a day to investigate.”

“We’ll make finding the start point a priority,” said Kakashi. “If we’re lucky, we might find the proof we’re looking for there.” Going to Nanba might not be necessary, he thought. Guy would want to go. He would want to stop whatever horrors were being inflicted on the slave children at the mine and the people living in his parents’ village. But their client would not want them to interfere if it meant they might warn the miner about Konoha's involvement.

“I don’t want to steal a scroll for some noble and leave this situation as is,” said Guy, confirming Kakashi’s suspicions.

“We should sleep,” said Kakashi, wanting to avoid an argument for as long as possible. He wasn’t sure he disagreed with Guy anyway. “We’ll decide what to do once we have more information," he added before snuffing the small flame dancing on the palm of his hand.

Notes:

So for some reason, my html (and all my corrections) kept getting messed up. I did my best to fix it. Sorry about that.

Chapter 17: Blood Tear

Summary:

Eiji hates Itachi most of the time, honestly. Also, Neji would like to remind the audience he's a dick.

Notes:

I survived the first month of medical school and all I've got to show for it is a vague understanding of the muscles of the back, chest, arms, and legs! Some of them anyway.

Anyway, I believe I got what is referred to as a "writer's block" while working on this chapter. That's never happened to me before (though I've only been writing fiction for just under a year and this is only the third big story I've tried to write).

At first, I tried to write the first scene from Itachi's POV, but that didn't work out. Before I started writing last year, I remember reading that a way to work through a writer's block is to try and write a scene from a different character's POV. So I tried to write this through Eiji's (an OC's) POV and . . . it actually worked.

Best of all, Itachi's fights look like they last a second to an outsider. Goes hand in hand with my distaste for writing fight scenes.

The dead cannot be treated. Keep your patient alive no matter what it takes and figure out the rest later. And if the patient’s already dead, destroy the body if necessary and then move on to the next patient. Do not get overly invested. Most importantly of all, do not forget that you cannot defeat death.

It was the first thing Takeshi Akita had said to Eiji—well, to the batch of newly promoted genin who’d been selected for medical training the year Eiji made chunin. The man wouldn’t have wanted to be left in his own living room floor, sprawled in a way that made it obvious he’d been dead before hitting the pale brown mats.

Eiji passed his hand over Takeshi-sensei’s unseeing black eyes as he remembered the man’s clear, stern voice. He was not the master of death. If he let himself fall apart over someone he’d found as a corpse, then he’d be of no use when he found someone about to become a corpse.

“Status?”

“Dead,” answered Eiji before he even realized that it was Itachi who’d asked the question. He didn’t even care that the ghostly bastard had somehow materialized right behind him while he examined Takeshi-sensei’s body. Through a fog of irritated apprehension, he wondered who’d sent ANBU’s former Commander to personally investigate the murder of Konoha’s Head of Medical Corps.

“A rather succinct way of putting it,” said Hawk, who’d planted himself by Eiji the moment they entered Takeshi’s private and modest home.

“I do hope you’ve got more,” Itachi told them.

“He was already dead when we got here,” snapped Eiji as he moved Takeshi-sensei’s limbs into a more ordered position. He had to bite back a grunt Itachi’s vaguely affronted tone. It'd been stupid of him to assume that he'd never have to stand in front of the bastard explaining why he hadn’t managed to perform to genius-level expectations again.

“Why are you here?” demanded Cobra in a tone that practically dripped with hostility. Eiji noted that he was still standing by the living room’s entrance and wondered if he’d sensed Itachi coming.

A slurping sound coming from the spot Itachi was standing on finally prompted Eiji to look away from Takeshi-sensei’s slack wrinkles.

“Nara’s orders,” answered Itachi after pushing the bubble-gum pink straw away from his lips. Triple-Threat Berry Milkshake-Flavored Frost Drink!! shouted the cartoon tiger on his super-sized bottle.  Itachi's hair was loose and some strands tried their best to stick to the bottle when Itachi took it away from his mouth. “Cause of death?” he asked, looking down at Eiji with big, unconcerned black eyes.

“Internal bleeding due to a ruptured right subclavian artery,” said Eiji, wondering if maybe he wasn’t going mad. Itachi liked sweets, yes. Gourmet ones made entirely of fruits, nuts, brown sugar, and cocoa. Not processed junk crap. And he’d ever brought candy to a crime scene before. “What the fuck are you drinking?”

“Triple-Threat Berry Milkshake-Flavored Frost Drink,” answered Itachi. Under any other circumstances, Eiji would’ve laughed at his serious tone. “How was the artery ruptured?”

“My guess is the killer went for his aorta, Takeshi-sensei tried to dodge and wasn’t fast enough,” said Eiji, frowning. “Seriously, there’s more sugar on that water than water. I’m surprised it hasn’t burned through your refined palate.”

“How many medics in the village are skilled enough to kill Akita using a chakra scalpel?” asked Itachi, ignoring the comment about his beverage. He took another sip while Eiji gaped at him.

“Eighteen—nineteen if you count me,” said Eiji, thinking that maybe Itachi would’ve spent all his ANBU missions snacking on junk food like some kind of thin Akimichi if he hadn’t been such a stickler for the masks. What the fuck did he know? “With some luck, I mean. If we caught him by surprise.”

“Any other injuries?” asked Itachi a moment before sucking on the straw.

“No . . .” mumbled Eiji.

Itachi glanced around the apartment briefly as his slim throat worked to swallow the icy sugar, probably catching everything about the room—the pastel green coat painting the walls (fuck only knew why Takeshi-sensei had kept his living room looking like a hospital), the lone painting of a flock of pristine white doves hanging off the longest wall, the large bookcase dominating the most interior wall, and the vase full of blooming, yolk yellow roses adorning a lonely mahogany table.

“No signs of a struggle in the room or on the corpse,” said Itachi after finishing a gulp of the awful red sludge (Eiji had chugged the things plenty of times after long surgeries just for the sugar rush). “Whoever killed him was more skilled than he was.”

“You’re saying Lady Tsunade murdered our Head Medic?” asked Eiji. “Because no one else in the village was better than him with chakra scalpels.”

“Maybe the killer was a better fighter,” suggested Cobra from his spot at the living room entrance. His tone of voice broadcasted the disgusted look he was sending Itachi even as his green-tinted porcelain mask tried to hide it.

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Hawk. “Even our bad medics are capable of healing their own bodies at accelerated paces. They’re notoriously difficult to kill instantly.”

“Are you three the only ones here?” asked Itachi, forestalling whatever Cobra had been about to say.

“I sent Cat to question Akita’s civilian neighbors,” said Hawk. “It’s improbable, but one of them might’ve seen something unusual and simply disregarded it.”

Itachi nodded. “Cobra,” he started, “take the body to the hospital, tell the attending jonin to conduct a thorough autopsy, and inform him or her that Eiji will be needed elsewhere today.”

“Wait, what?” interrupted Eiji. For fuck’s sake, he had plans and he didn’t even want to think about how Cobra would phrase that message. Eiji’s been called away for dick-sucking duties, probably.

“Then come back here and sort through all of Akita’s papers,” continued Itachi, like he hadn’t heard Eiji’s protest at all. “Makes four copies of everything and deliver them to me. If you find anything that looked like it was written by someone else, make a note of it. And I mean personally. Do not delegate.”

This is why jonin hate you, thought Eiji, privately surprised that Cobra managed to hold back a flash of killing intent in response to the odious assignment. Fuck help him if Takeshi-sensei had kept a diary.

“And the new Commander?” asked Hawk.

“Five copies,” amended Itachi, shaking his red ice-water.

For a moment, Eiji considered arguing for the right to handle Takeshi-sensei’s body. He watched Cobra walk forward; head turned towards Itachi’s deceptively slight frame, and decided that it’d be a waste of time. It wasn’t like it mattered much who dragged Takeshi’s vacant meat bag to Konoha’s morgue and it certainly wasn’t like he had the clearance necessary to personally perform the autopsy anyway. If he wasn’t an ANBU medic, he probably wouldn’t have seen Takeshi’s body at all.

“And he’s been in such a good mood since you left,” Eiji told Itachi after Cobra puffed away with the body.

“Hawk, are you able to differentiate between different types of chakra flows?” asked Itachi.

“Byakugan can tell something like that?” Eiji wondered out loud. Wouldn’t the ninja in question have to be actively molding chakra, at least?

“Mine can’t,” answered Hawk. “Certain Main family members might be able to do so.”

“Then return to the Hyuga compound and tell Hiashi that if he were to find an unidentified healer among our ranks or civilians I’ll . . .” For the first time in a long time, Eiji heard something that could be called hesitation in Itachi’s voice. Briefly, his dark eyes narrowed. “. . . I’ll be in his debt,” he finished, taking another swig of the sugar water. “After, start constructing a time line of Akita’s last week of life. I want to know where he went, who he spoke to, which patients he attended, what clerks he conducted business with, everything.”

As proper as he always did, Hawk bowed and then disappeared without a sound.

“Among the medical corps,” Itachi started, shifting his black eyes towards Eiji, “who will benefit from Akita’s death?”

“Every fucking one,” answered Eiji. “It’ll be a domino-effect sweep of promotions. Fuck it; I’ll probably get promoted because of this," he mumbled to himself, looking down at his toes. He so didn't want to be a jonin. "But none of our surgeons would’ve killed Takeshi-sensei for a promotion," he continued, looking back at Itachi's face. "He trained all of us.”

Did Itachi understand what that meant; that it’d take a special kind of asshole to turn around and murder the man who’d given them the power to save people’s lives? Had anyone taught Itachi anything? Sometimes, it seemed like he knew things by magic.

“This doesn’t feel like a crime of passion,” continued Itachi, letting his gaze roam over the orderly room once again. “Someone gained something by killing him. Or maybe someone was trying to keep him quiet.”

“He’d have gone to Hokage-sama immediately if he’d known anything,” protested Eiji, shaking his head.

“People who’ve been in a position of power for a long time sometimes overestimate their own capabilities,” said Itachi and really, Eiji just had to snort at that one. “We must focus on the people closest to him because if he found that one of them was a spy or a traitor, he might’ve tried to confront them personally before going to Ibiki or Hokage-sama.”

“Takeshi-sensei was more a priest than a ninja,” said Eiji. “Almost all jonin and chunin with high clearance came to him for counseling at one point or another, so if you’re trying to narrow the list of suspects to people ‘closest to him’, you won’t narrow down shit.”

Itachi’s slim eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Then finding his killer will be essential for our troops overall psychological well-being,” he said. “Nara informed me that plans to create an official police force out of ANBU members are being drafted. The new Commander isn’t among the members I suggested, is he?”

“If you’re asking if he’s one of Danzo’s, then I’m almost certain the answer’s yes,” said Eiji, not even slightly surprised at the sudden shift in topic. A propensity to treat conversation partners like sounding boards was just another one of Itachi's annoying little quirks. “Danzo’s got at least half the Council’s support so it wasn’t hard for him to get his nominee selected over all the ones on the list you left behind. Now he’s pushing everyone he can’t control out of the regular ANBU corps.”

“I’ve been ordered to sort through ANBU ranks for everyone most suited for police work,” said Itachi. “Nara’s expecting me to place several leaks in Danzo’s inner circle, especially now that we’ve confirmed that not all Root members are sealed.”

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Eiji, suddenly needing to suppress an urge to stick his fingers in his ears. He was a medic, not a politician. “I already filed my resignation from ANBU anyway ‘cause I don’t want to be one of Danzo’s tools.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Itachi, shooting him a narrowed eyed look.

“Excuse me for not consulting you about my life choices,” snapped Eiji. “Clearly I should’ve considered whether you planned to use me as your little snitch before telling Danzo to go fuck himself.”

“Danzo approached you?”

“The moment rumors about you and me fucking started,” answered Eiji, wondering if Itachi was actually surprised about that one. Eiji himself hadn’t been.

“I mean since that one time,” clarified Itachi, stepping closer and somehow managing to look menacing despite the stupid bottle he was still holding. “Has he tried to question you since then?”

“When I had that fight with Anko,” said Eiji, grunting in exasperation. “Which, by the way, had nothing to do with you and everything to do with Anko being an unbearable asshole who blamed me for that mission going to shit. Never mind that I was there in a purely supportive role and made no command decisions about anything, including letting those Grass bastard kill those two girls—”

“—recently, Eiji," interrupted Itachi. "Did Danzo approach you recently?”

“No,” said Eiji. “What the fuck could I tell him, anyway? All the secrets you whispered into my ear between bouts of tender lovemaking?”

“Now’s not the time for your stupid sarcasm,” said Itachi, gesturing at him with the pink bottle like a teacher admonishing a moody student. “There’s plenty you could say and you know it.” He took another swig of the awful drink and then started towards the living room’s exit in unnaturally silent steps even though he was shaking the ice in his bottle. “Come on.”

“You’re not my boss anymore,” said Eiji, deciding that he was in no mood for Itachi’s bullshit. Bastard no longer had any right to be ordering him to do anything. “You can’t just decide that to drag me along wherever you want.”

“Loose the mask and cloak,” Itachi said, like he hadn’t heard Eiji’s protest at all. “Put on your medic’s coat and follow me.”

“I don’t have a medic’s coat with me,” he said, sighing in exasperation as he followed Itachi and taking off his mask and black ANBU cloak. Maybe Itachi would order him to go back home for it and then Eiji could shake him off.

“Then just follow me in your ANBU gear,” said Itachi, dashing that hope.

Eiji supposed it was his own damned fault for getting personally involved with Itachi in the first place so he settled for letting out a loud and long-suffering sigh as they exited Takeshi-sensei’s home, stuffing his mask and cloak on the large bag on the large bag he always carried with him. Now it'd take him a second longer to reach his medical supplies. And he’d been in such a good mood even though he woken a full two hours before his alarm clock had been due to go off. It was the height of summer still and he’d been determined to enjoy the heat before it was replaced by the muggy humidity of early fall.

“How’s your brother?” he asked Itachi after second of hesitation.

“Why do you care?”

“Maybe because he was my fucking patient,” snapped Eiji, ignoring some thoughts about Itachi’s over protective paranoia.

“Yes, because you’re known for your exceptional bedside manner and deep empathy,” said Itachi before bringing the pink straw to his lips.

Eiji sighed. “Call it professional curiosity,” he said, remembering the mess of weird chakra he’d felt flowing through Sasuke’s cranium that night at the forest. “I’ve never seen a brain injury that severe heal itself that quickly before.”

“You said he was fine,” Itachi all but threatened.

“He was,” placated Eiji, not liking Itachi’s glare at all. “I just wasn’t expecting him to be.”

Before Itachi asked any more questions he looked around Takeshi-sensei’s pristine, rich civilian neighborhood. For some reason, he felt a pang of something he couldn’t identify at the sight of a pair of girls playing with a bright pink ball in the front yard of one of Takeshi-sensei’s neighbors. He’d never be able to have children of his own, would he? No, he’d probably just die violently and alone, just like old Takeshi. Assuming he made it to old age in the first place. Minus the prestige, of course. Konoha’s best ninja wouldn’t be sent to investigate his death.

Stupidly, he wondered if Itachi would investigate it anyway. He snorted, glancing up at the early morning sky. Fat chance. Itachi only looked for him when he wanted inventory reports sorted out or when he needed injuries healed. Ironically enough, he rarely got hurt in missions but often exercised into dangerously exhausted states. Eiji couldn't begin to guess what he wanted at the moment.

Well, maybe he just wanted to get laid.

Eiji did the math and decided it was about the right time for it. Itachi worked in cycles and it’d been close to two weeks since they’d been together last. He started to raise his arm, intending to pull Itachi into a loose hug as they passed a pair of teen girls walking a yellow puppy.

“Don’t touch me,” said Itachi, throwing the empty pink bottle in a trash can as Eiji glowered in frustration and let his arm drop.

“How come we never fuck when I want to?” he demanded, ignoring the chorus of giggles from the girls behind them. Not that he was in the mood for sex but since Itachi was there, why the hell not?

“I don’t recall ever coercing you into having relations with me,” said Itachi, pulling out a cheap, caramel-filled chocolate bar.

Eiji ignored the sudden urge to just walk away. It was unlikely that Itachi would try to stop him but if he did, then Eiji would have to suffer the humiliation of being easily overpowered by a thin kid that barely reached past his shoulders.

“All right, what’re you eating now?” he asked instead.

“Caramello,” answered Itachi before licking a string of thick, sticky-sweet brown sugar off his index finger. As Eiji watched, he practically inhaled the cheap candy and tossed the brown plastic wrapper into the next trash can they walked by.

Something began to nag at the back of Eiji’s mind. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Itachi was loading up on sugar in preparation for some kind of huge, heavy duty jutsu that required a very high amount of raw chakra. The Akimichi (and even the Inuzuka) cooked pills that gave people brief boosts in stamina and they all worked best when taken with a high-calorie meal. He wished he’d paid enough attention to say whether Itachi had taken any pills while downing the berry drink, especially when he suddenly grabbed Eiji’s arm and made a turn towards the thick forest surrounding the street they’d been walking on.

“What the fuck?” he asked, pulling his hand away and almost sagging with relief when Itachi let him go. Instead of answering, Itachi took a step forward and grabbed the collar of Eiji’s tank top. “Stop it,” Eiji half-cried, suddenly scared of whatever it was Itachi was planning. And he could count the times he’d been scared of Itachi on one hand. But if he was preparing for a fight so bad that he thought he’d need drugs to help him, then shit was about the hit the fan pretty badly.

"Stop behaving like a child," ordered Itachi, pointedly stepping into his personal space. "Ninja with much less skill and strength than you display more courage."

"Most ninja are idiots," said Eiji, looking him up and down to make make sure Itachi understood that he was too.

Against his better judgment, Eiji followed Itachi’s lead anyway and wrapped his arm around the moron's waist, deciding that the sudden display of “affection” was nothing more than a ploy to whisper intel to each other.

“We need to go deeper into the forest,” Itachi whispered, close enough that Eiji could smell the sugar in his breath. “There are two Root ninja following me—jonin level, at least. I don’t want to risk involving civilians.”

Well, that explained why Eiji couldn’t feel where they were. But . . . “So what?” he asked Itachi, searching his black eyes for an answer. “Why are you . . .” trying to draw them out? “What do you need me for?”

“You’re a medic.”

“But . . .” Sometimes, it felt like that was the only reason Itachi was aware he was alive.

Holding back a sigh, Eiji pushed Itachi away and then dragged him deeper into the forest, pausing only when he had to start using his hands to push away any branches that started trying to hit his face. He didn’t want any civilians stumbling into an ANBU inter-pissing contest either. When they reached a small clearing, he pulled Itachi back into a hug and moved down to kiss him.

“This is a stupid attempt at a cover,” he mumbled after pulling back and burying his nose in Itachi’s dark hair, grimacing at the taste of processed sugar on Itachi’s lips. "Anybody who knows anything about you knows you wouldn't go looking for sex in the middle of a work day.

“I just need them to come close enough,” said Itachi.

“You could’ve just . . .” ambushed them, Eiji had been about to say. He’d finally looked down at Itachi’s eyes and noticed that they were bright red except for three dark extra pupils surrounding the one at the center.

Not pupils, he thought, abruptly realizing that he’d never seen Sharingan before. “Itachi, what—”

—his question was interrupted by the sudden arrival of two masked ninja—both male, average height, moving quickly enough that Eiji only noticed them when they appeared behind and in front of him and Itachi, dark cloaks flowing with the wind and porcelain masks reflecting the morning sunlight.

“After I kill this one,” started Itachi, gesturing at the one in front of him, “I’m going to try and interrogate the second one.”

“Please, tell me your plans slower and more carefully,” Eiji said, rolling his eyes as he pushed chakra towards his palms. “And louder too just in case one of them’s hard of hearing.” Through the adrenaline suddenly rushing through his blood, he wondered how Itachi planned to interrogate ninja with sealed tongues.

“The technique I’ll use is likely to drain me so you’ll have to see to me until I recover,” finished Itachi.

“I don’t—”

Once again, Eiji wasn’t even allowed to finish his sentence. He felt the one behind him rushing forwards and prepared to dodge, unwilling to trust that Itachi would just protect him. Or trying not to, anyway. He heard a despairing scream before his back was to the tree trunk he’d decided to use for cover. When his eyes fell on the Root ninja behind him, they guy was already writhing on the floor and clawing at his on face.

Thinking that he might as well make himself useful, Eiji rushed towards him and struck at his left carotid, severing the connective tissue that constructed the critical blood vessel. The Root ninja stopped twitching almost immediately after and then the porcelain mask slid off his face, revealing wide open and terrified brown eyes. Eiji passed the palm of his hand over the man’s—kid, really—eyes and allowed himself a second of regret that someone so young met his end so violently.

The other Root guy tried to make a noise but it seemed like he died mid-scream. Eiji stood up with a stream of insults and complaints against Itachi already half-formed on his tongue but they all died in his throat when he spotted Itachi doubled over, right hand grasping his right knee and hand over his left eye.

“Shit,” Eiji whispered harshly to himself, heading over to Itachi as he remembered the night he’d mended Sasuke’s forearm bones. The other Root ninja laid face down on the forest ground still as the dead. Probably because he was dead.

Eiji tried to suppress all his anger and frustration the moment he was close enough to reach for Itachi’s shoulder to avoid any giving off anything that might be mistaken as killing intent. It’d be way too pathetic if Itachi killed him in the middle of an exhausted psychotic break. “I need to check your eyes,” he said gently as he tried to straighten Itachi up. Thick red blood was trickling down his left cheek and mixing with his bangs.

“Three days,” mumbled Itachi, slipping an arm around Eiji’s waist so he could lean most of his weight on Eiji’s side. Good fuck, he must be on the verge of passing out. “The limit’s three days.”

“Uh huh,” said Eiji as he laid a glowing blue hand over Itachi’s left eye, beginning to repair the ruptured superficial arteries. If he were a better ninja, he’d probably take advantage of Itachi’s disorientation to ask more questions about the genjutsu he’d just used. “I need to check your left optic nerve, all right?” he warned instead, staring looking at Itachi’s bloodshot right eye. That one didn’t look unfocused so it was probably fine. Or as fine as it could be under the circumstances. “It’s going to hurt really bad.”

“How unexpected,” said Itachi before sucking in a deep breath that turned into pained, hacking cough. When he took his right hand off his mouth, it was covered in red spittle. Eiji’s heart stuttered before he remembered the Triple-Threat Berry Bullshit-Flavored Drink. It wasn’t blood. It was just sugar dyed red.

“And your lungs too, apparently,” he mumbled, beginning to mold chakra past the vitreous humor of Itachi’s left eye.

He pushed past the sensitive photoreceptors, inflamed ganglion layers, and found an optic nerve burning with excess chakra. Mentally wincing, he began the delicate process of restoring the chakra flowing through the axons there. How Itachi didn’t burst into pained screams—or even struggle away from Eiji’s hand—was a minor miracle. Knowing him, he probably thought it was shameful to tense up and curl a fist around Eiji’s belt.

“It worked,” he bit out. It took Eiji a moment to realize he was talking about the interrogation plan.

“That’s fucking great,” said Eiji, trying his best to strike a balance between pushing all that excess chakra out of Itachi’s optic nerve and not pushing so much of it away that he ended up doing more harm than good. Living tissue needed chakra almost as much as it needed oxygenated blood, after all. “Whatever that jutsu was, you can’t keep using it.”

“It’s not like I’m planning to turn it into my signature technique.”

“If you go and tell Ibiki what you did here, that’s what’ll end up happening.” Fucking hell, what had Itachi done? Eiji wouldn’t be surprised if the occipital lobe had had been forced to endure a sudden influx of excess chakra too.

“It’s worth using to glean invaluable information.”

“Have you met Ibiki?” demanded Eiji, carefully pulling his chakra out of Itachi’s eye. “He’d probably consider a chart of our ranks’ shitting habits invaluable information.”

“He doesn’t have that much authority over me,” argued Itachi. “. . . I’m hungry but . . .”

“You wonder if you’ll ever keep anything down after that awful drink,” finished Eiji, wanting to roll his eyes despite everything. “Here,” he added, pulling a pack of rations out of his pocket and handing it to a frowning Itachi before moving on to his right eye. He repeated the same procedure and was relieved to note that its state wasn’t as poor as the left one's. But still . . . “Itachi, you can’t keep using whatever that technique was. It’ll blind you before you hit twenty-five if you do.”

“I know,” mumbled Itachi as he bit off pieces of jerky.

“You definitely shouldn’t have used it against some annoying Root bastards,” continued Eiji. “I doubt this is the first time Danzo sent someone to tail you.”

“Actually,” said Itachi, “it is. I needed to know why.”

“. . . Why, then?” Eiji asked, curiosity getting the better of him for once.

When Itachi answered, his voice was soft and studiously devoid of emotion. “Because my father died yesterday.”

****

For the first time in weeks, Sakura ran into Naruto and didn’t immediately see Sasuke glaring by his side. She shook her head to dispel the sudden flash of worry and hurried to Naruto’s side. Her teammates weren’t fused at the hips no matter how much of their free time they spent together. Sasuke was probably just running a bit late.

“Hey!” she called out to Naruto as she reached him.

“Hi,” said Naruto, glancing at her with worried blue eyes. “You haven’t seen Sasuke, have you?”

“No,” said Sakura, feeling a stronger pang of concern. “Why do you ask?”

“He wasn’t where we usually meet,” said Naruto, shrugging. “It’s probably nothing, though. How’s your water training going?”

“Badly,” admitted Sakura with a tired sigh. “I think a baby has more chakra than me . . .” In an attempt to not obsess about Sasuke being late, she began to tell Naruto about how much trouble she was having. She even started complaining about Neji out loud, hating how irrational she sounded. Hopefully, Naruto’s puppy love would stop from realizing just how petty it was to whine about feeling stupid because Neji was so much better at chakra control than she was.

“Don’t worry about it,” Naruto told her, scratching his left calf with his right foot. “I haven’t gotten the wind thing yet either but Iruka-sensei said it’d be strange to get it in under a week. Even Itachi doesn’t seem all that impatient about it.”

“I guess . . .” mumbled Sakura, raising her arms over her head and yawning. The morning sun was warming her bare arms pleasantly. She hoped they wouldn’t have to deal with a muggy heat wave later in the day.

“Besides, Tenten and I agreed to sneak in other kinds of practice today,” said Naruto, smiling brightly. “She’s gonna teach me—hey, there’s the Bastard!” Naruto pointed at a few feet ahead of them just when Sakura saw Sasuke and beamed. “Bastard!” he called out.

Sakura rolled her eyes at the odd pet name and ran forward, trying to discern if Sasuke’s shoulders were slightly hunched or if she was imagining things. Naruto trailed her closely and Sakura heard a relieved sigh coming from him. “Is everything all right?” she asked when she was in front of Sasuke, staring into his dark eyes.

“Why are you late?” demanded Naruto before Sasuke could answer.

When Sasuke swallowed and turned a serious gaze on her, Sakura knew something really bad was happening to him. “I need to tell Itachi I’m not going to make it to training for the next three days.”

“Why not?” cried Naruto. “Are you sick or something?”

“My—” Sasuke swallowed so harshly it looked a little painful. His eyes looked red. Not because of Sharingan—the whites of his eyes were decorated with bloodshot little arteries, like he hadn’t slept or like he’d been crying.

“Are you about to cry?” asked Naruto in a careful tone. It probably would’ve been better if he’d been mocking.

“My father’s dead,” Sasuke practically spat out, shooting Naruto an ugly frown.

“Oh,” said Sakura, feeling her eyes well up with tears. The man had been a traitor; she knew that. From the looks of it, it didn’t seem like Sasuke cared about it.

“. . . I’m sorry,” said Naruto, making an attempt to pat Sasuke'sarm. The look on Sasuke’s face must have prompted him to drop his arm before making contact with anything. “Um . . .” he started to say while Sakura tried to think of the right words to comfort Sasuke. “. . . Shouldn’t you tell sensei yourself?”

“We can pass on the message,” Sakura interrupted, desperate to feel a little bit useful. She could guess why Sasuke wanted to avoid Itachi more than usual under the circumstances.

“I mean,” started Naruto, looking away from Sasuke in an uncharacteristic display of something that Sakura would’ve called shyness in anyone else, “he was Itachi’s dad too.”

Sasuke growled and raised his fist, making Sakura step in front of Naruto as tears spilled from her eyes. She prayed for enough strength for stopping her teammates from getting into an ugly fight, at least. Sasuke looked devastated enough without getting into a huge argument with the person Sakura was certain was his only friend outside the Uchiha compound.

“Don’t,” she begged, reaching for Sasuke’s shoulder and pulling him to a hug. “Sasuke, please,” she added when he tried to scrambled away, wrapping her arms around him more tightly.

After a second that felt like a small life time, Sasuke sagged against her. He didn’t return the hug but he did lay his chin on her forehead. Sakura tried took a deep breath and worked on stopping her tears, thinking that Sasuke might not find them sincere. She’d never met his father, after all. Naruto wrapped his arms around them both and sighed while she gasped for composure.

So many little things made sense now. Sasuke and Itachi’s uncanny resemblance, their obvious discomfort around each other, Itachi’s tense and shame-tinted concern, Sasuke’s odd mixture of rage and . . . and jealousy. Of Itachi. Of anyone Itachi seemed to like. Sakura wondered why it took her so long to recognize it for what it was.

“How did he die?” Naruto mumbled into her shoulder.

“None of your business,” answered Sasuke, sounding so empty Sakura almost started crying again. She wasn’t prepared for him to push her away when he did suddenly and probably would’ve tripped if Naruto hadn’t been holding her. “I have to get back,” he said, whirling around and jumping to one of the trees near the road.

“Wait—”

“—let him go,” Sakura interrupted, grabbing Naruto’s shoulder. “He’s probably going back to his mother. When did he tell you Itachi’s his brother?”

“The day before yesterday,” answered Naruto, still looking at the tree Sasuke had vanished to. “I thought you knew.”

“No,” said Sakura, beginning to feel a bit jealous of her teammates’ friendship and hating herself for it. She ought to be happy that Sasuke had a friend, finally. “We should head to our training grounds.”

They didn’t say anything else on the way there. For Naruto at least, it was strange to stay silent for so long. Sakura wondered if it was a sign that he was maturing, or a sign of just how affected he was by Sasuke’s pain. Both probably. She hadn’t thought of Naruto as an annoying, immature jackass for a quite a while. It made her sad all of a sudden to think that it’d only taken a handful of months as a ninja to rob Naruto of his exuberance and optimism.

“He’ll be all right,” Naruto said suddenly, like he'd heard Sakura thinking that he wasn’t as bright and determined as he’d always been. “Sasuke’s strong and parents die all the time. Other people deal with it; so can he.”

From anyone else it would’ve sounded insensitive but Naruto said it with such earnestness that it filled Sakura with a rush of fragile hope. “You’re right,” she agreed, offering him a small smile. It probably felt like the end of the world to Sasuke but soon enough he’d see that death was natural. Hopefully. Sakura tried her best to convince herself of that much as their made their way to Training Grounds Seven, finding that her worries about not being as good as Neji at water transformation sillier than ever. You’re probably the most dramatic ninja in the village, a part of her huffed. It was right.

Lee greeted them with his usual level of enthusiasm when they made the last turn towards their training grounds. His happy wave made Sakura smile sadly. She wondered if Lee had to work at being so positive or if it came naturally to him. If he weren’t creepily professing love for her, she would’ve asked him.

“Where’s Sasuke?” he asked after bowing to Sakura.

“He had a . . . thing,” answered Naruto, shrugging and shooting Sakura a helpless look.

“He won’t be here for the next few days,” she added.

“Is he well?” asked Lee, furrowing his ridiculously bushy eyebrows. “I hope he is.”

“He’s fine,” said Naruto firmly.

“You sure?” asked Tenten. “Both of you look pretty shook up.”

“It’s nothing,” said Sakura. “Where’s Itachi-sensei?” she asked mostly because she wanted to change the subject. it didn't work since it made her realize that she and Naruto would have to think of a way to inform him that his father was dead.

“Late,” answered Neji. “Guy-sensei was never late, at least.”

“What do you mean at least?” demanded Lee, turning to aim a dark glare at his teammate.

“I mean that despite his many, many flaws,” started Neji, looking at Lee with a supercilious arch to his eyebrows “Guy-sensei was never late.”

“Here we go again,” said Tenten, rolling her brown eyes a sighing up at the sky.

“Guy-sensei is the best ninja in the village,” declared Lee.

“Guy-sensei’s ridiculous and embarrassing,” argued Neji. “And he wastes his time with losers."

With a mixture of amusement and apprehension, Sakura watched as Lee and Neji engaged in a heated debate about whether or not Might Guy was perfect or utterly insane. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but they sounded stupider than Sasuke and Naruto during their ridiculous arguments. Sakura doubted he realized it. She wondered if she wore a long-suffering frown similar to the one Tenten was wearing when her teammates started with their stupid fights.

“Guys,” warned Tenten, stepping in front of Lee to keep him from rushing at Neji in response to a derisive comment about green spandex. “This is unprofessional and dumb.”

“It is,” agreed Naruto, looking at Lee and Neji with wide blue eyes. “I mean really. Are you guys twelve or something?”

“Naruto, we’re twelve,” Sakura reminded him.

“Oh right,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you guys civilian twelve?”

Neji rolled his eyes. “I’m going to train,” he said before walking towards the cross-wire door fencing Training Grounds Seven from civilians. “I don’t need a babysitter to I do it.”

“We might as well follow him,” said Tenten, dragging Lee towards the door. “I doubt Itachi-sensei will get too mad if we start without him.”

Sakura doubted it too so she nodded at Naruto and started following Team Guy. Maybe a good workout would help her clear her mind.

“Naruto and I aren’t doing the wind thing today so you can train with us,” Tenten told Lee when they reached the waterfall. “Come on,” she added with a gesture towards Naruto. “We can use the trees for target practice.”

“Yeah, all right.” With a grin in Sakura’s direction, Naruto followed Lee and Tenten.

“You can go with them if you like,” said Neji before starting towards the water.

Sakura huffed. “I have my own training with water to do,” she said before turning towards the opposite end of the pond.

Unfortunately, her refusal to let Neji discourage didn’t help her make any progress with the stupid water. For what felt hours, she struggled against the same block keeping her from molding enough water to actually do anything. The fact that she kept seeing Sasuke’s grief-stricken face no matter how much she tried to focus on her chakra wasn’t helping either. All she could manage was to glove her hands with a thin film of water. Thanks to Neji’s previous advice, she knew how to take that small amount of water and force it into different parts of her hand, but that hardly meant that she was ready to perform any real jutsu yet. She was on the verge of giving up when she sensed Neji walking towards her.

“This is frustrating,” he said when he was in front of her. “Do you want to spar?”

Two separate trains of thought flitted through Sakura’s mind as she gaped up at his eerie white eyes. One, he was frustrated even though he was working on making water drills already and two, he was asking to spar with her. Sakura had gotten into a few fights in the Academy like every other kid, of course, but she didn’t remember anyone ever asking to spar with her. Even Ino thought she was a hopeless fighter. Not an unreasonable assumption, Sakura admitted. She’d lost all the fights she'd ever gotten into or simply fled towards the teachers.

“Well?” demanded Neji.

“Ah . . . all right,” said Sakura, standing up even as she remembered Neji being good enough at taijutsu that even Itachi had seemed somewhat impressed. She’d read a lot about Byakugan and Gentle Fist, though. Neji’s fighting style wouldn’t be based around brute strength. Maybe she could perform better against him. “Here?”

“Where else?” he asked, sighing impatiently. “I’ll give you the first strike.”

Sakura rose to her feet, carefully eyeing Neji as she fell into an uncomfortable fighting stance. Neji tilted his head to the right and smirked without bothering to adopt any kind of stance at all. It made Sakura fume. Why had he asked her to spar if he didn’t plan to take her seriously?

“Are you going to attack or not?”

Not caring if she looked dumb, Sakura rushed forward and aimed a punch at Neji’s stupid and smug face. He evaded just like she was expecting so she followed up with a kick to his side. It didn’t work. Neji practically danced around her futile punches and kicks. Goddamn it, why could she never connect with anything? Even Naruto managed to surprise his opponents sometimes. No wonder Sasuke refused to waste a second of his time with her.

In a desperate attempt to surprise Neji at least, Sakura quickly formed the seals for Great Fireball Jutsu even though neither she nor Neji had mentioned ninjutsu before starting their spar. Maybe her anger would fuel her techniques. No such luck. Only a small puff of fire formed when she breathed through her mouth. Neji’s large eyes widened rather comically at the sight of it.

“That’s really embarrassing for you,” he said before suddenly rushing forward.

Sakura tried to adopt the defensive stance that Iruka-sensei had taught them, hoping to block a few of Neji’s attacks. She could barely see him move, though. She felt a slight pressure on her right shoulder and elbow before a strike to her chest pushed her to the ground—water. Pain bloomed on every spot Neji had touched. Worst of all, she momentarily lost her grip on her chakra and sank a little before she managed to regain control of herself.

“Did you really just try to attack me with a simple Academy kata?” asked Neji. “I have trouble believing you thought that would actually work.”

Sakura looked away and sucked in a deep breath. Her belly churned with humiliation and self-disgust. “Well, what else could I do?” she cried.

“I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve actually surprised me with that question,” said Neji, snorting at her.

“Academy taijutsu’s all I know!” shouted Sakura, struggling to her feet even though her arm still hung uselessly at her side.

“I wouldn’t say you know it,” said Neji before turning away from her. “I’m going to go see if I can join Tenten and Lee.”

“Well fine, then!” screamed Sakura, wishing she was strong enough mold the pond—the waterfall into a violent wave and send it his way. “I can’t even stand you, you smug, arrogant, clan brat!”

Abruptly, Neji stopped in his tracks. “You’re jealous of that?” he asked in a soft voice.

“No—”

“—you think your life would’ve been easier if you’d been born into one of the ninja clans?”

“Oh please,” snapped Sakura, no longer interested in denying that she was jealous of him. “This is a ninja village. Only people with fancy jutsu and bloodline limits get any respect. The rest of us just cater to the likes of you.”

“You’re an exceptionally stupid girl and you’re not fit to be a ninja,” said Neji without turning around. “If you cared about Uzumaki and Uchiha at all, you’d turn over your headband and give your spot in Team Seven to someone who won’t hold them back so much.”

“No!” she yelled, finally making sense of what he was saying. She might be insecure but she wasn’t a quitter. “I’m not going to quit no matter how hard—”

“—oh yes, you’re life is so hard,” interrupted Neji. Sakura couldn’t see his face, but she bet he rolled his eyes. “You’re the precious only child of a well off carpenter in the most peaceful ninja village in the world. You had a stay-at-home mother seeing to your every need during your entire childhood. You could quit being a ninja this instant and your parents would probably sigh in relief and shower you with support. It’s a wonder you find the strength to get up every morning.”

Sakura didn’t exactly have an answer for that speech, did she? Compared to most people, she was ridiculously privileged, wasn’t she? Her teammates might be more talented than her, but they were both struggling against things she barely understood. Naruto was an orphan inexplicably despised by the entire village and Sasuke . . . Sasuke’s traitor father had just died and she very much doubted it’d been a peaceful death. If not being able to do water transformation was the biggest thing she had to whine about . . .

“I—”

“—you’ve never had to struggle for anything in your life,” said Neji, actually turning around to look at her. Sakura knew he didn’t need to, but he probably wanted her to see the contempt in his gaze. “Considering your IQ, you probably sailed through civilian school with ease. With your exceptional chakra control, you mastered every single D-ranked jutsu taught in the Academy in record time. It’s made you so lazy and entitled that you start whining the moment something doesn’t come to you naturally.”

“What do you know?” demanded Sakura, trying to force the fingers of her right hand to curl into a fist. “I had to study every day to get the grades I did. I spent hours going over those kata just to get proficient at it.” She spat out the word, knowing perfectly well that it was a euphemism for mediocre. “ And I didn’t have Konoha’s entire recon division to help me out.”

Neji snorted again before aiming an ugly smirk at her. “You’ve become so certain of your own supposed intelligence that you don’t bother to review your facts before making clinging to your ridiculous feelings of martyrdom,” he said, turning back around with a dismissive hand wave. “I’m going back to my teammates. Even Lee’s stupidity’s preferable to this.”

Sakura’s left hand went for the weapons strapped to her thigh before she told it to. She hesitated the moment her index finger found the handle of a shuriken, but Neji only laughed without turning around. Only the certainty that he’d easily be able to block it stopped her from raining a clumsy barrage of shuriken at his retreating back.

She growled and flopped to the surface of the pond. No matter how infuriating he was, Sakura wasn’t going to sink to the level of a bitter bully who attacked a retreating sparring partner. Especially since he was a Hyuga and would see exactly what she was doing. It’d be stupid as well as small and petty. Besides, she’d be in trouble if he decided to seriously retaliate.

Her first instinct was to curl up into a miserable ball and spend the rest of the day despairing about how difficult everything was, but that would just prove the smug bastard right. So, after allowing herself only a few moments of self-pity, Sakura laid her left hand on the surface of the pond and tried to force her body to produce enough chakra to mold a significant amount of water.

Notes:

A couple of things:

1) When I first thought up Eiji, the only thing that came to me was "really tall medic". I'm 5'9, so "really tall" to me is around 6'4-6'5. So I made Eiji around there before realizing that it made him taller than everyone in the Naruto series, including Kisame. I thought about changing it but that would've been too much work. 6'5 is big for a human but not impossible so whatever.

2) I think Sakura needed some honest, constructive criticism but none of her teammates were willing to risk making her cry or something. Sasuke and Itachi think she's fragile and Naruto thinks she's perfect. Neji, on the other hand, doesn't think think she's perfect and doesn't really give a shit about her feelings. Plus, she'd take insults from him as challenge.

Chapter 18: Pot of Ashes

Summary:

Fugaku's funeral. Also, Naruto and Sasuke talk, which ends like it always does.

Notes:

So when I started writing this story, I'd hadn't yet gotten to the part in canon where the Nine Tails turns out to be . . . basically a victim of Madara's/Tobi's/whoever it is' trolling. In my outline, the Nine Tails is not "evil", exactly. It's just not human. It's no more capable of empathizing with a human than we are of empathizing with the cows used to make the hamburgers we eat (substitute whatever animal product you consume here).

Anyway, I just wanted to clarify that.

When Itachi was five years old, the Nine Tails razed through the Uchiha compound. Most people remembered that it'd attacked Konoha and, when his family was lucky, forgot that it'd arrived at the Uchiha's doorstep first. The ones who didn't forget assumed that the Uchiha had brought the Nine Tails to Konoha in the first place.

Itachi supposed that was true enough, but his family had suffered as much as any villager all the same. If not more.

He remembered Mikoto shoving a sleeping bundle into his arm - something she'd never done before - and ordering him to hide and then stay quiet.You can be so careless and Sasuke's still so frail, she'd say whenever he asked to hold the baby before that day. Itachi had just looked at his mother's wide dark eyes and known that the day would get bad.

So he'd taken baby Sasuke and, when the air got acrid and red with inhuman chakra, he'd started towards the forest as quickly as his short limbs could carry them. The forest - its calm animals and stalwart maples - had always been his refuge.

The Nine Tails had changed all that.

Its chakra had made the air heavy and acidic, which in turn made the forest angry and scared. Instinctively aware that if he ran into one of the forest's larger denizens he (and the baby) would be eaten, Itachi sat at the foot of a maple with no burning leaves. I need a moment to think, he remembered telling himself.

He'd needed a moment to stop panicking, actually.

Itachi had been born during the last years of the Third Secret War. He didn't remember a time when he didn't need to be prepared for some kind of ambush. Even when he'd noticed his mother's fear, Itachi had assumed he'd be able to handle whatever would come. It wasn't like he'd never been scared before. In the middle of an ambush by angry Kusa ninja, being scared made the senses sharper.

Before the Nine Tails, Itachi had considered fear a gift. Then he was forced to breathe air tainted with biju chakra and felt mind-numbing, paralyzing terror for the first time in his life.

He hadn't known it at the time, but the Nina Tail's exuded such vicious killing intent that even remnants of its chakra were enough to make random bystanders choke. The day it (he) attacked, all of Konoha had no choice but to feel the Nine Tails' intense and impotent rage. Everything. The ninja, the civilians, the animals, the very trees that made the village famous. Even baby Sasuke.

Even Itachi.

He'd huddled under the maple with a screaming infant in his arm, trying not to crush it against his chest. Desperation had made Itachi's eyes burn red for the first time (he hadn't realized what'd happened though; the brief flash of pain had only made his heart quicken and stutter). Meanwhile, Mikoto's order to stay quiet had echoed in his ears like a perverse chorus to Sasuke's wails. In his fear, Itachi had looked into baby's Sasuke's eyes and willed him to stop crying.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't scream. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't scream.

Itachi had stared into Sasuke's big dark eyes and chanted the words in his mind, more insistently the quieter Sasuke got. It'd given him a rush of power to cling to during his moment of helplessness. He could make Sasuke stay quiet somehow - a task that even Mikoto had trouble with sometimes.

His parents had found him like that; huddled beneath the tree using genjutsu to force his baby brother to be quiet. To say that Mikoto had been enraged was an understatement. Itachi hadn't just forced Sasuke into silence - he'd forced Sasuke into breathing at the same rate as him. It'd put a dangerous strain on Sasuke's still-developing lungs.

Why, Itachi? Why would you hurt your brother in such a way?

It was an accident. I didn't know.

How could you not know? Who taught you genjutsu?

No one. I don't know. I just wanted him to stop crying.

He'd just wanted to be good; to do as Mikoto herself had ordered. Still, Itachi understood his mother's skepticism. Or at least he had years later. What kind of five-year spontaneously figured out genjutsu?

Strangely enough, it was Fugaku who came to his defense all those years ago. Under most circumstances, he'd told Mikoto, I'd agree with your assessment of the situation. But there were extenuating circumstances. The boy was terrified and didn't even realize what he was doing. Let's wait until he starts torturing his brother out of anger or boredom before putting him under lock and key.

As he watched Rakshasha perform his father's funeral rites from a tree branch above the Naka Shrine's funeral pyre, Itachi wondered how often Fugaku had regretted not putting him under lock and key. He supposed it didn't matter anymore. Fugaku's spirit . . . he couldn't know, but hopefully it wasn't obsessing over him anymore. Maybe none of his family members were.

Itachi had to bite his lips to stifle a snort. No need to alert the clan that he was there. He didn't want to imagine Mikoto's reaction. Or Sasuke's.

Burning flesh smelled horrifyingly like cooking meat so Itachi wished he'd eaten before his abrupt decision to attend Fugaku's wake. I should go restock on confectioneries after this, he thought, almost laughing once more. Maybe he was hysterical. Hopefully he was. Where was his grief? He'd loved Fugaku once, hadn't he? Fugaku had loved him too at one point. Hadn't he?

When the funeral pyre stopped giving off smoke, Rakshasha gestured the most senior members of the clan towards Fugaku's bones. Dressed in pitch black, Mikoto walked forward with a pair of chopsticks and blood red urn cradled in the elbow of her healthy arm. Sasuke followed her and started looking for the bones of Fugaku's feet, depositing them in the urn with a somber look on his face. Eventually, Mikoto gave him the urn to hold and the rest of the clan limped forward to look for bones. Rakshasha supervised the procession with her arms placed at the small of her back.

At least there's not much wind, thought Itachi as he stared at the younger members of his family. Besides Rakshasha and Sasuke, anyone who wasn't crippled was a stranger to him. He was probably one of the monsters in the closet to all of them. Maybe the baddest one even.

Fugaku's bones were found without much effort (the Uchiha clan might be crippled but they were still efficient) so his family began making their way back home after offering Mikoto and Sasuke their condolences. Try as he might, Itachi couldn't deny that they all looked like the walking dead. Where was their grief? And even if they'd lost all respect and affection for Fugaku, where was their anger?

Nowhere Itachi could sense, much less see. Everyone wondered away with dry eyes and pained shuffles, looking more like desolate and hopeless peasants than like proud warriors. Even Mikoto - who resembled the most beautiful and poised woman in the world in Itachi's memories - looked like a drained husk of her former self. Did they believe that Fugaku had killed himself?

Itachi wasn't sure if he believed it. It was difficult to accept that the hard working, goal oriented to the point of stubbornness, resilient Fugaku of his memories would've ended his own life. Or rather, it was difficult to believe that Fugaku would've chosen to end it by overdosing on sedatives. At the very least, Itachi thought that his father would've turned a kunai on his own belly. But then again, Itachi would've said that the Uchiha wouldn't be content to wallow in their own powerlessness but it sure looked like that was what they were doing.

Well, what did you expect to find? his mind asked in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Shisui's. Most people can't face disgrace with dignity. There's no shame in that.

And it's my fault they're like this in the first place, agreed Itachi, flashing on a memory of cousins (some of whom he'd seen at the funeral) demanding to know why he wasn't taking his duties towards them seriously? Asking him if he wasn't about to turn traitor even as they asked him to betray all his comrades among Konoha's ranks.

It wasn't like he'd ever much liked his family in the first place.

"Spare," started Rakshasha after the last of the clansmen had left, almost startling Itachi out of his reverie.

Who . . .

"Yes?" said Sasuke without glancing at her.

"Give your mother some privacy and escort an old woman while she prays."

Itachi had hoped that his betrayal would mean that Sasuke would never have to endured being referred to as a spare again. He watched Mikoto bending to kiss Sasuke's forehead and tried to be happy that Sasuke seemed unaffected by the word, at least.

"You could've just said you wanted to talk to me," protested Sasuke once Mikoto was out of ear shot, the pot of ashes and bones still laying on the crook of her left elbow.

"I wouldn't say I want to talk to you," said Rakshasha before sitting on the funeral pyre's dais. She motioned at Sasuke to sit beside her and sighed. "I have to try and talk some sense into you, even though I don't think you've got much sense. And someone's got to help me clean the pyre."

"Mother already explained all about Sharingan," said Sasuke, sitting down as far away from Rakshasha as the dais allowed, making sure to not look her way.

"To hell with Sharingan," said Rakshasha, rolling her eyes like she was the teenager.

"Why're you always so . . ."

A gust of wind blew some strands of white hair in front of Rakshasha's wrinkled eyes. Together with the twin set of purple beads around her neck, they'd stood out against all the black hair and dark clothes at the funeral. "Stupid eyeballs are more trouble than they're worth."

"I don't understand why you're an elder," said Sasuke.

"Because I'm old," explained Rakshasha. "You get to a certain age and you get to say whatever comes to mind. At this point I'm just walking around daring the world to kill me."

". . . so what did you want to tell me?" Apparently Sasuke didn't find Rakshasha amusing in the slightest.

"Mikoto tells me you're attuned to lightning," said Rakshasha, lifting one of the bead necklaces over her head. "So was I. So am I," she corrected herself, shaking her head. "No need to talk like I'm dead already."

". . . How long did it take you to learn?" asked Sasuke, looking over at Rakshasha for the first time since sitting beside her.

"Longer than it should have," answered Rakshasha, putting the beads beside her on the dais and staring up the sky. "Those are made of metal that's best for electricity conduction. I was dumb when I was young, so getting to the point where my beads were of any use took me close to a year. All the wars left us short on teachers. Not that there were many who knew of lighting transformation in the first place. I had to see a stray Kumo ninja molding it after I awakened Sharingan before I managed to stop burning my hands."

"I don't burn my hands anymore," said Sasuke, making Itachi smile.

"Good for you," said Rakshasha tonelessly. "Have you thought about Madara's scroll?"

Itachi's stomach sank. He'd hoped . . . he didn't know what he'd hoped.

"Not much to think about," mumbled Sasuke but it didn't think an expert in body language to see that he just didn't want to talk to Rakshasha about it. He'd looked and focused on his black sandals.

"I said that too when I was your age," Rakshasha told him. "I had a sister back then. We didn't get along, but I would've never considered killing her for power even if I had believed Madara."

"How touching," said Sasuke.

"Not at all," said Rakshasha, choosing to ignore the jab. "Sati was nowhere near as loyal. She tried to kill me when I was twenty. The sad part was that killing her didn't even awakened my Mangekyo."

". . . she had the Mangekyo?" asked Sasuke, looking up.

"She didn't want to kill me over Sharingan, obviously," dismissed Rakshasha, shrugging up at the heavens. "Sati never awakened hers at all. She wasn't much of a fighter, old Sati."

"So why did she want to kill you?"

"I forgave her eventually and it was a relief," said Rakshasha, ignoring Sasuke's question. "Sati did what she felt was necessary. We all do what we feel is necessary." For the first time, Rakshasha fixed her dark eyes directly on Sasuke. "You'd do well to remember that."

"Are you telling me I should forgive Itachi?" demanded Sasuke. Itachi could practically hear his brother's heart speeding up in protest.

"Hardly," responded Rakshasha. "I prefer to avoid wasting time when I can help it."

"Then what the hell are you telling me?"

"Calm down," ordered Rakshasha, looking up at the clouds. "Itachi will always be in your memories. You'll tear through your belly with an ulcer unless you start to think of him as a blessing."

"What." It wasn't even a question. The word was practically a curse.

"You asked my why he didn't cripple me?" - because you'd have fought until I killed you- "I don't know why. I expected him to. It doesn't matter anyway. The more important question is why he didn't kill you."

I didn't kill Sasuke because I couldn't. I just could not do it. I didn't want anyone else to kill him either.

"He needs my eyes," said Sasuke.

Itachi wanted to wince. Talk about things that were painful to hear . . .

"I suppose he does," agreed Rakshasha. "Either way, you have the advantage.

"I do?" The idea had probably never occurred to Sasuke.

Rakshasha nodded. "He needs you but you do not yet need him," she said. "Unlike my dear sister, he didn't bother to uphold an illusion of familial bonds with you."

Sasuke snorted. "I'm so lucky," he said.

"You are. Even if you're not smart enough to realize it," insisted Rakshasha, before rising to her feet. "When the time comes, you'll know that your brother can't kill you until you've taken the same road as him. So don't. Don't kill your most important person and simply wait for him to waste away in his own power."

"So you want me to let Itachi die of old age?" demanded Sasuke. "How's that justice? How's that fair?"

Rakshasha shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I've grown tired of you. Take the beads and go. I'll handle Fugaku's mess myself." She started walking towards the cooling pyre while Sasuke stared at her limping back.

Sasuke watched the old woman mold air to manipulate the small amount of ashes remaining where Fugaku's corpse had been and then hurried towards the purple beads. "Will he really die?" he asked abruptly. "Without my eyes, I mean. He said he rarely uses Sharingan, so will he die?"

You think that'd make your life easier, little brother? I'm the only thing standing between you and a pack of vultures.

"We will all die," said Rakshasha.

"Itachi can't die before I kill him."

"Try to be less stupid, spare," said Rakshasha. "Itachi could die right now. You could die right now."

Suddenly, Itachi remembered that there was no real reason for him to be there. Being careful to remain hidden, he flickered away from the tree and started heading home. What right did he have to be angry? He was a traitor. Did he expect Rakshasha to . . . what? Be on his side? To defend him? To tell Sasuke to ignore Madara's rantings?

He thought about it all the way back home and decided that yes. That'd been exactly what he'd expected, stupid as it was. He remembered Rakshasha telling him Madara's scroll was nonsense when he awakened his Sharingan. It's just the delusions of a madman. Pay it no mind. Of course, he'd been five at the time. Five and still relatively carefree.

Maybe you ought to be feeling a little guilty about driving your father to suicide, suggested the part of him that sounded a little bit like Shisui. You can't exactly blame Danzo for this one, though I'm sure you'll try to. Strange, since he doubted Shisui would be telling him to feel guilty.

Maybe it wasn't all that strange. Itachi had trouble remembering Shisui's face sometimes. The spirits only knew how much of Shisui's personality his mind had mangled over the years. A depressing and useless thought, especially when he had so many other important things to be concerned with. Danzo's reach for the regular ANBU Corps. Tsukuyomi and just how much he could get away with using it (it lasted three days for him too and that was a problem, to say the least). Akita's murder. Naruto and that incident yesterday.

He was mentally reviewing his schedule when he wondered to his apartment's front door and ran into Hiashi Hyuga.

 

***

 

Naruto wished Sasuke would come back to training already. Tenten was an all right sparring partner all things considered but . . . but she wasn't Sasuke. He missed almost violent air of competition around his training sessions with Sasuke. That sounded incredibly sappy, so Naruto was happy nobody could read his mind.

It was much less embarrassing to miss Sasuke because the bastard already knew about the Fox. Naruto hadn't exactly thought about it since he'd found out about the Nine Tails himself, but he'd been expending most of his time trying not to do anything . . . Foxerish out of fear that it'd make the villagers exile him or something. Which was hilarious because one; the villagers had been trying to get rid of him all his life and he didn't think he'd ever done anything Fox-like, and two; almost everyone who didn't avoid him like he was carrying maggots didn't know that he was the Nine-Tails.

The Nine-Tails' container. He was the Nine Tails' container, not the Fox itself no matter how many creepy dreams he had. They were just dreams.

Naruto wished he really believed that. With a tired sigh, he turned face down on his futon and tried to take a nap. He hadn't slept a full night in what felt like a lifetime. It must be the reason everything was making him so mad, even if he could tell that it was mostly silly things. He was pretty sure Lee's general Lee-ness hadn't made him want to explode the first day they'd met, but he'd actually picked a fight during lunch when Lee tried to pester Sakura into a date. Again. He'd lost, of course, (Lee was faster than the Bastard even) and the disappointed look on Sakura's face had let him know that he'd been the asshole of the episode. The sooner he slept, the better it'd be for everyone.

But there was an alarm in his head snapping him awake every time he was just about to drift off. An memory - usually of ripping into meat (still attached to living things' bones) - startled him wide awake and made hims start the whole process of falling asleep again.

"Fuck it," he mumbled to himself before getting out from under his tangled summer sheet. "Might as well get some reading done."

Though it was difficult to admit on principle alone, Naruto was actually enjoying his independent studies more than he would've ever thought possible. He liked reading about history most of all, especially now that he had the resources to look up any concepts he didn't understand. Worst came to worst, he could always ask Sasuke to explain anything he couldn't work out on his own.

It was both depressing and satisfying to discover that what he'd been suspecting for as long as he could suspect anything was right - people were idiots. People in charge seemed to be idiots more often than not. Reading about all the wars and feuds (most over money and some - fuck help them all - over "honor") made Naruto feel like . . . he didn't know.

Was the world really like that? Naruto looked at his flowchart of the disputes that lead to the annihilation of one of Konoha's merchant clans and frowned. Had almost two hundred people really been killed because two teenagers decided that they didn't want to get married? Grown ups did that?

Yeah, actually. The knowledge made Naruto want to give up on everything.

Fuck, he didn't want to be that guy - the one who used other people's assholishness as an excuse to turn into an asshole himself. They were the villains of the story; the ones who cried about how it was all right that they hurt other people just because they'd been hurt when they were young or something.

Naruto had been hurt when he was young too, but that just made him want to make sure that what'd happened to him never happened to anyone else. That's why he wanted to be the next Hokage - so he could stop the villagers from picking on orphans. And families from killing each other over a wedding gone wrong.

Except it was getting harder and harder not to be that guy. The feeling he got in the dreams - wanting to kill and destroy, knowing that it was his right- he sometimes got when someone did something annoying. Just for tiny seconds, but tiny seconds were more than enough to fuck everything up. It'd made him throw a chopstick at Lee's face when the moron had leaned so close to Sakura that she recoiled closer to Neji of all people. Sakura hated Neji.

And then what'd happened during wind transformation training . . .

A series of knocks on his front door startled him out of his worried trains of thought. Naruto swore under his breath as he stood up, ready to chew out the neighbor who'd been coming to whine about nonexistent noises for days. "I've been studying," he started to snap as he opened his door.

"That's good to know," said Sasuke, rolling his dark eyes before pushing into Naruto's apartment and heading towards the kitchen.

Naruto spotted the middle-aged neighbor who'd been complaining about fuck only knew what opening her front door to glare. At one point, the old bat threatened to go to the village ninja. Well, I'm a fucking ninja now, Naruto had shouted. And I'm telling you that you must have gone batshit and started hearing voices. What was she doing in the hallway, staring at Naruto like an angry and prunish b--

Naruto shot her a glare and slammed his door shut. "Sasuke?" he called.

As usual (and it warmed Naruto's heart a little to realize that Sasuke came to his apartment often enough to have a usual), Sasuke had brought two servings of Ichiraku's best ramen. Only thing different was that he was dressed all in black except for a cord of purple beads hanging around his neck.

Naruto stepped closer as Sasuke poured the ramen cups into proper bowls and arranged his kitchen counter into something resembling a proper table. He should say something - ask how Sasuke was doing, how the funeral had gone, how he was feeling. Something. At the very least, he should make a snide comment about how Sasuke was acting like a fussy housewife.

"You look like shit," Sasuke told him before he could decide on what to say.

"And you look as pretty as ever," Naruto responded without any bite, relieved that they could go back to their usual banter. He sat down, noting that Sasuke was looking more like his old self (no red-rimmed black eyes, shaking shoulders, or trembling fists), and went for the pork ramen.

They ate in silence, not avoiding each other's gazes exactly, but not really making any effort to engage either. Naruto's head hurt, though the ramen was making him feel better. Maybe he'd sleep better that night.

"Going back to training tomorrow," Sasuke mumbled suddenly.

"That's good," said Naruto, feeling like the air had become lighter. "Neji . . . we thought you might not come back since . . ."

"Since?"

"Well, you're your family's new clan head, aren't you?"

"No, you moron," said Sasuke, dark eyebrows furrowing. "My mother is."

"Oh." Naruto almost asked what his mother was like before remembering that they just didn't talk about Sasuke's family. The subject always enraged Sasuke, and not in the funny way that made him pout and bristle all over the place.

"How's training?"

Naruto made an impatient noise and took a big mouthful of noodles. Training was shit, basically. "I hate wind," he mumbled as he chewed cooked meat. A part of him wanted to whine about what'd happened in the morning but . . . but a bigger part of him really didn't. "What's with the necklace?"

"It's from Elder . . . my great-grandmother. Supposedly, it'll help me with lightning transformation." Lucky Sasuke. "How's training?" he repeated.

"It's shit," wailed Naruto, not even bothering to comment about Sasuke wearing old-lady jewelry. "I . . ." he trailed off, gasping and remembering Tenten's wide and scared brown eyes.

"Just tell me what happened," ordered Sasuke.

"It was your fault anyway," snapped Naruto, feeling a fist of rage pounding his head in response to Sasuke's impatient tone. "You and your fucking scrolls."

"Just tell me what happened," repeated Sasuke, lifting his chin to look down his nose at Naruto.

Naruto almost threw the little broth left over in his bowl at his face, but he remembered Sakura's disappointed stare earlier in the morning and deflated. Hadn't he just been thinking how much he didn't want to be a dick? And Sasuke was probably just trying to help in his own Sasuke way. So Naruto told him what'd happened."

"I went to the library," he started, hoping that Sasuke grasped that he'd been trying to be smart, "because I wanted to read about chakra control. And it took like an hour to get a scroll that talked about having too much chakra because it's super rare or something and it said that it'd be easier to practice after you're exhausted."

"All right, I get it," interrupted Sasuke, shaking his head. "You went and tried it like an idiot."

"You don't get it!" snapped Naruto, tired of how Sasuke acted like his problems didn't matter. Or like he was a stupid baby all the time. "I told Tenten and she said that maybe I should try Lee's endurance exercises because they'd tired out an ox." It'd all started out like great fun actually. Lee had lent him weights to strap to his calves and he'd run up an down the waterfall with Tenten trailing behind him, encouraging him even as she snorted when Naruto slipped and she had to lend him a hand. "And it was fine until I started getting really tired. Then when I went for my chakra . . ." Despite his anger, Naruto felt panic churning in his belly just at the thought of voicing what'd happened.

"You got the Fox's," finished Sasuke evenly, tone so neutral they might as well be talking about what to have for breakfast.

"Do you even understand what that means?" shouted Naruto. He didn't know what would've happened if Itachi hadn't been there to push the chakra back. Or if even Itachi would've been helpless if he didn't have Sharingan.

"I asked . . ." started Sasuke before rolling his eyes. "I investigated how jinchuriki - which is what you are, by the -"

"I know what I am!" interrupted Naruto. "But I'm beginning to think you don't."

"Point is," continued Sasuke, like Naruto hadn't said anything at all. "Your seal is designed to allow biju chakra to enter your pathways when you're nearing exhaustion or when you're attempting a jutsu beyond your natural stamina. You just need to learn how to control it."

"No . . ." For the first time in his life, Naruto was standing in front of an obstacle and thinking that he should whirl around and run away as fast as he could. "I can't."

"Great ninja you're going to be," snorted Sasuke. "Do yo think you won't get tired or upset in real missions?"

"I . . ." It'd already happened, hadn't it? Sasuke might have forgotten, but Naruto was never going to stop having nightmares about how he'd screamed while that ANBU medic fixed his bones. "This isn't fair!"

"Yes, how unfortunate for you," said Sasuke, putting down his chopsticks. "You've got a near limitless source of raw chakra tied to your life force."

"Shut the fuck up!" yelled Naruto, hopping off his stool and turning away. "You don't understand anything! That thing has a mind of its own."

". . . That might make everything easier," said Sasuke. "Can you talk to it?"

"Talk to it . . ." parroted Naruto. (Parroted. Another word he really liked.) "It doesn't want to talk; it just wants to kill every human in miles."

"Well, of course it's mad," said Sasuke. "Nobody wants to be stuck inside someone else but it's not like it can do anything to you. If you die, it dies."

"And it didn't matter that you were huddled down with a mangled arm," continued Naruto, ignoring Sasuke's annoyed grunt. "It grabbed your head and tried to crush it. I couldn't stop it. It only stopped because it got the idea to gouge out your eyes to eat them."

"Stop being so -"

Someone else started knocking on his door and Naruto was glad. He didn't think he'd have managed to keep himself from trying to break Sasuke's nose if the bastard kept acting like the Fox was some kind of gift. Naruto shot him a dejected glare and walked the few steps to his front door, wondering if the old bat had been listening to their argument. Great ninja they were, shouting what was probably classified information to a gossiping old crone.

But it was Itachi waiting for him at the door, wearing his customary even expression. "Sensei . . ."

". . . We need to speak privately," said Itachi as Naruto stepped aside to let him in.

Sasuke didn't make a sound. He just stared at Itachi for a few moments with his lips pursed. Naruto wondered if they'd seen each other at all since Sasuke's - their father died. "Um," he started, hoping that the right thing to say would just come to him.

It didn't. Naruto stared between his sensei and his best friend helplessly, berating himself for not realizing they were related sooner. Looking at them was like staring at a Before-and-After kind of advertisement. Drink our vitamins and . . . Well, they were both . . . . neither of them was hideous or fat or anything, so there wasn't much they could advertise.

"I was just leaving," Sasuke said suddenly, getting off his stool.

"I expect you back at training tomorrow," Itachi told him as he walked towards the door.

Sasuke made a noise that Naruto supposed could be taken as agreement and then disappeared to the hallway.

"Uh," tried Naruto, frowning. "This is so weird."

"I take it you finally got around to reading my file," said Itachi, gesturing towards Naruto's small living room and kneeling at the table.

". . . Yeah," mumbled Naruto, following his lead and kneeling down as well. "Do . . ." you still love Sasuke? ". . . what do you need?"

"We need to discuss what happened during training today."

Not for the first time, Naruto wished Itachi's face were a little less blank. He couldn't even tell if Itachi was angry, or disappointed, or anything. Hell, he wondered if the odd strands of dark hair that'd fell over his eyes weren't tickling his nose. "I'm sorry," he said, flashing on Sakura's scared expression for the umpteenth time since lunch. "I just thought . . . the scrolls said . . .

"Naruto, if I thought that exhausting yourself would help, I'd order you to do it."

"Would you?" asked Naruto before he could stop himself.

Itachi tilted his head a little to the left, but he didn't frown. Not that it meant much.

"It's not like you say much about anything, ever," protested Naruto. "I thought you wanted us to just figure things out on our own." He also thought Itachi was kind of lazy - if not outright bad - at teaching, but he was already in deep shit and there was no need to make things worse.

"I never meant to give you the impression that you can't come to me for help," started Itachi, "though I do encourage you to try and be as independent as possible."

"I think I've had plenty of independence."

"The point is, I need you to come to me before you attempt to access the Nine Tails chakra," said Itachi. Naruto's stomach flipped. "It's not safe to do it on your own and, to be honest, I don't think you should try to until you've mastered your natural chakra flow - "

" - you think I went for that thing's chakra on purpose?" interrupted Naruto.

". . . Didn't you?" Itachi's eyes narrowed briefly. "What were you trying to do?"

Naruto sighed. "The scrolls said . . ." and he went on to explain his idea, glossing over most of the details because he wanted to ask . . . "but I can control the red chakra? There's a way?"

"Of course," said Itachi. "The Council would've never allowed you to attend, much less graduate, the Academy otherwise."

And just like that, Naruto felt like a brick and been lifted off his chest. "You can help?"

"That's the idea," agreed Itachi. "I've been putting it off . . ."

"What's wrong with you?" snapped Naruto when Itachi trailed off. His relief was quickly being crushed under a wave of incredulous anger. "You knew I had this thing in me - and what it could do - and you just decided to put off teaching me how I can control it? What if I'd killed someone?"

"I wouldn't have let you hurt anyone."

"Just like you didn't let me almost crush Sasuke's skull?"

It took Naruto a couple of moments to remember that Itachi probably didn't know that little detail.

"That . . ." Itachi's expression didn't change, exactly, but Naruto thought he was ashamed regardless. "I made a mistake during that mission. It won't happen again."

"I fucked up that mission too," said Naruto. "I know you're a jonin and that you were babysitting us, but the point of all this training is to get us to the point where you won't need to babysit us anymore. We won't get any better if you keep deciding that we're too stupid to learn."

"I didn't think you were too stupid," argued Itachi. "It'll be a rigorous and painful training program and - "

" - so I'm too weak to do it, is that it?" Naruto didn't even care about interrupting him anymore. Itachi was being a dick.

"No," said Itachi. "I . . ."

"Some genius you are," said Naruto. "Do you have any idea what the fuck you've been doing the last four months?" He thought about how strong Neji, Lee, and Tenten were. Naruto doubted Guy-sensei had spent a year reading scrolls and lazily making silent clones for them to spar with.

"You've all gotten better," said Itachi. A small smile graced his lips. "But I suppose you all could have made more progress, you most of all. I didn't want to pressure you."

"That's great," said Naruto. He wasn't even mad anymore, he realized. Itachi was probably the first teacher who'd decided not to teach him something out of some weird compulsion to be nice to him. Most just decided Naruto was dumb and a waste of time. Even Iruka-sensei, who'd always treated him well, had an infuriating habit of acting like Naruto reinvented the wheel whenever he didn't completely fuck something up. "Well, I want you to start teaching me for real now. And Sakura and Sasuke too. Don't try to get out of it by pretending you're too soft to make us cry or something."

Itachi smiled. Again. Naruto wondered if his face muscles would be exhausted for the rest of the night. "Well," he said, "very few people have ever accused me of being too soft."

Notes:

Anyway, this chapter took forever and nothing happen. I hate it when it feels like nothing happens in a chapter. Then again, I feel like nothing happens in every chapter. Maybe I'm paranoid.

Chapter 19: Free Will, or Something Like It

Summary:

Kakashi makes a decision. Neji's life might actually suck more than Sasuke's.

Notes:

I apologize for the lateness. Many things happened this month: I started my first official semester in med school, I moved (and it took three weeks to get my internet up and running), I stupidly and irresponsibly started writing other fanfics, Kingdom Hearts 3D came out, etc.

Oh yeah, and old computer crapped out and took my chapter outlines for this story with it. No worries, it's just a minor (and very annoying) set back. But still a set back so it'll take my a while to pick up my old pace.

Cameos (I keep forgetting to do this consistently): Ino and Anko!

As it turned out, Nanba was doing really well. Extremely well, actually, especially for a small settlement with no significant connections to any ninja village. Once they'd reached the place, Kakashi had observed the clean roads, laughing children, and tidy street vendors with a mixture of relief and apprehension. Relief because it wasn't like he'd wanted to find a mirror of the Land of Waves or that awful slave compound of Takeo's.

Apprehension because he knew it'd hurt Guy's feelings to see his parents' home obviously benefiting from the hellhole located a couple of kilometers away. Kakashi thought it irrational, of course, but he knew how Guy's mind worked.

"I don't like this place," said Lanfen from the window of the little room they'd rented. Like most places in Nanba, it was wooden, cramped, and clean.

"You found nothing suspicious on your recon run?"

"No," answered Lanfen, turning to look at him, probably so he could see her narrowed white eyes. "Which, ironically enough, is suspicious."

Kakashi sighed and nodded. He supposed that it was a good thing for Nanba that whoever was running the coal mine had been smart enough not to make enemies near his base but . . . well, it wasn't good for them. Dealing with idiots was always easier.

"It's unlikely we'll find someone willing to help us here," said Lanfen.

"Too early to say that for sure," mumbled Kakashi just before someone knocked on their door.

The same young girl - daughter of the sour-looking man who owned the tiny inn - who'd guided them to the room entered with a tray full of creamy stew. Fish, unless Kakashi's nose was mistaken. The girl glanced over at Lanfen, furrowed her eyebrows at the curtain of dark hair falling over the girl's back back, and then placed the tray on the smooth brown table about a foot away from the two futons taking up most of the space in the room.

They'd all shed their headbands and ninja gear before entering Nanba, anticipating that the mine's proprietor would have eyes all over the town. Kakashi had donned a simple eye-patch and foregone his mask altogether, admitting that the it drew more attention to him than his idiotically attractive face would. Guy had wondered off to search for some of his parents' old friends not wearing an awful green jumpsuit for the first time in years, though he'd ignored Kakashi's playful jabs at his bowlcut. Still, it was Lanfen who drew the most attention and not even because of her eyes. Most people didn't like to see a pretty girl wondering around with two men who didn't resemble her one bit, especially if asked for a room at an inn and didn't care that it had only two beds.

The young server lighted a couple of candles and then wondered out after offering Kakashi a humble bow, pointedly ignoring Lanfen's back. It was just as well that they'd decided not to concern themselves with attracting generic negative attention. Even the stuffiest of villagers wouldn't jump to the conclusion that the three odd newcomers were ninja right away.

"These people are anxious," Kakashi said after the server's footsteps faded. "They know what's happening at that mine and they must know it'll bring this town nothing but trouble eventually."

"And most of them'll decide the trouble is us," said Lanfen.

There wasn't much Kakashi could say to that so he started on his serving of creamy fish food. It'd been cooked just right, with a nice proportion of water, salt, and spices. There were soft chunks of potatoes surrounded by strips of fish salty fish. Lanfen hadn't reported any body of water large enough for fishing and, though Kakashi was no farmer, he doubted the seasoning had been grown anywhere near Nanba either. Most be nice for the merchants to be so far away from the bigger cities that organized bandits payed them no mind, at least now that there was a train line connecting them to a bigger clientele.

After a few minutes, Lanfen walked towards the table and grabbed one of the bowls before going back to the window, apparently unconcerned with decreasing visibility. She was probably looking for relevant chakra flows. "The guards gather at a tavern at the west most-edge of the town," she said about an hour after the sun had set.

Kakashi nodded brought his left thumb to his mouth, deciding that they needed ears. A small ninja dog could get right under the nose of experienced fighters in a way that Lanfen couldn't hope to. When Pakkun appeared in a puff of smoke on the the table, he responded to Kakashi's smile with the usual bored expression, deigning to narrow his black eyes only when Kakashi started to removed his headband. "Infiltration mission," Kakashi said as he removed Pakkun's blue vest. He gestured at his leftover soup so Pakkun could eat while Lanfen told him how to get to the tavern.

"I like this one better than the last white-eyed one," said Pakkun, scratching the brown fur behind his left ear after Lanfen finished telling him where to go.

"Neji was younger," Kakashi told him, consciously noting that Lanfen's field of vision was significantly larger than Neji's for the first time since the mission started. Though now that it came to mind, he decided that he should take the time to learn just what he could expect from Lanfen. "How close would you have to be to see what someone's writing on a scroll?" he asked her after she'd opened the window to let Pakkun out into the night.

"Ten meters if the lighting's good," she answered.

Interesting. Though Kakashi hadn't asked outright, he'd estimated that Neji could see around one hundred meters in every direction and that he had little trouble making out faraway details. Lanfen probably could see farther away than him but -

"You must have known that Elders expected Neji to die." Lanfen's words interrupted his thoughts and prompted him to look towards her. Her back was to him but Kakashi was certain that she was focusing all her attention on him.

"I don't work for your Elders," he said simply. He could've added something about how Guy made him promise to keep Neji safe, but that truth was that he'd have protected the kid regardless.

Lanfen didn't say anything else about Neji, or about anything at all. She leaned her elbows on the window pane and watched out for something. For what, Kakashi couldn't guess. He was considering ordering her to rest when Guy wondered into the room, bowing to avoid hitting his head against the door frame.

Kakashi offered him a small smile, hoping that he was misreading the dejected air hanging around his friend. Guy smiled back, but it was an unenthusiastic smile that didn't reach his eyes. Maybe it was just because it was easier to focus on his face when he was wearing a simple black yukata with a merciful lack of neon green, but Kakashi couldn't help but see a couple of wrinkles around his eyes that hadn't been there earlier. Guy reached for the last bowl of fish soup without saying anything, so Kakashi decided that he hadn't met anyone helpful on his short trip.

"Good soup," he said after downing a few swallows. "My father probably wouldn't have taken off for Konoha if they'd had this back then."

"No luck, huh?" Kakashi needed some kind of report before deciding if Nanba was going to be of any use.

Not surprisingly, Guy hadn't found the old friend his father used to babble about the few times he mentioned Nanba. "He eventually joined this town's council of elders," Guy told them with a fond smile, "and vehemently disagreed with the decision to trade with the miners. He even spoke out against using the train line."

Kakashi listened to the rest of the story even though he'd already worked out what must have happened. Everyone else had pointed out that Nanba's only options were to cooperate with the miners, or become their enemy. They'd all agreed to turn a blind eye to the proceedings in exchange for the right to go on with their lives unmolested. The train line was built (around two years before) and the merchants started making use of it, which in turn had signaled the miner's guards and workers to wonder into Nanba to make merry. Lanfen made note of a small Red Lights Street on the western edge of the town, which Kakashi bet was a relatively new addition to the town.

"For the most part, Nanba prospered," finished Guy, shrugging helplessly. "My father's friend continued to protest and eventually, he was . . . silenced."

". . . My condolences," said Lanfen, gazing at Guy with an unreadable expression.

Guy nodded at her in acknowledgement. "Regardless, we won't find help here. Nanba is content with the situation."

"We should wait until Pakkun gets back before we settle on a plan," Kakashi told them. Hopefully, the clever old dog would get lucky right away and learn of someone or something that could get them inside the mine.

Pakkun returned about three hours later, demanding another serving of food before making any reports. Kakashi called the serving girl feeling only a little bit like an ass - it was probably way past bedtime, but it wasn't like the service had been all that stellar anyway. Almost as if trying to prove his point, the serving girl made sure to shoot Lanfen an obvious, disdainful frown as she delivered another bowl of fish stew.

"Good news," started Pakkun after the serving girl had wondered off and he'd downed almost half the bowl. "There was an explosion at the mine about a week ago so The Boss' looking for new guards."

"That'll spare us the trouble of having to manufacture vacancies among their ranks," said Guy.

"Not entirely," corrected Pakkun as he licked his nose. "The Boss' importing his guards from - " And there, Pakkun seemed to run out of words. Kakashi imagined an old man frowning in frustration. " - the Dawn?"

"You mean some kind of organization?" asked Lanfen while Kakashi aimed narrowed eyes at Guy.

"Akatsuki," said Guy, resting his chin on the back of his hands.

Lanfen tilted her head at him but Pakkun went on talking before she could ask for clarification. "They called it that," he agreed, lapping at the stew. "Point is, you can't just wonder up to him and ask for a job."

"That's less than ideal," said Lanfen. "We don't have the time to find this Akatsuki and infiltrate them."

So their next step should be to find out who in Nanba had the most dealings with the miners . . .

"Fortunately," Pakkun interrupted Kakashi's thoughts, "I did hear something useful."

"You could've started with those news," Kakashi told him, smiling lightly.

"One of the Captains - yes, there're Captains," again, Kakashi bet Pakkun was doing the dog-equivalent of an annoyed sigh, "Has a certain weakness for whores," he finished.

Guy grunted, reminding Kakashi just how much he hated it when a mission went kunoichi-style. He always pontificated about how it was demeaning to pressure a comrade into letting some repulsive bastard paw her. But . . .

"I'm not cleared for sex-based infiltration," Lanfen reminded Pakkun. Lucky her, for once.

"I know," said Pakkun, shaking his head at her. "This Captain seems to like boy whores."

"Oh," said Kakashi simply, resolutely ignoring the sinking weight of apprehension suddenly pulling on his stomach. He sighed. "Well, it's been a while for me, but I suppose it's like cooking in a way."

"How's it anything like cooking?" asked Lanfen, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"You never forget how to do it?" tried Kakashi.

"Why do you assume you'll be the one trying this approach?" interrupted Guy, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "I find the idea distasteful, but I'll do my duty."

"Um," started Kakashi. He was trying to decide whether Guy would take a declaration that he was the more attractive of the two as some kind of challenge when Pakkun decided to make his views known.

"All you humans look more or less the same to me," he began without care, "but if the reactions Kakashi gets when he's not wearing his mask are anything to go by, he's one of the prettier ones."

"Not that you're not also magnificent," Kakashi placated Guy quickly.

"But Kakashi is more conventionally attractive," added Lanfen. Kakashi aimed a a frustrated look her way. Couldn't she see he was doing damage control?

"His exceptional looks are precisely why he's not the right choice for this," argued Guy without an iota of manufactured, overly-dramatic despair in his tone. He was in a worse mood than Kakashi had first assumed. "Nanba's hardly a place that attracts high-end escorts. This guard will wonder why such an attractive prostitute is not warming some rich noble's futon."

"He's a desperate farmer down on his luck," suggested Pakkun, making Kakashi ridiculously glad that he'd taught the old dog to read with Make-Out Paradise books.

"And when this man demands to see you naked?" Guy impressive eyebrows furrowed. "How will you explain your numerous and very obvious battle scars? How will you explain your Sharingan?"

"This Captain's a woman anyway," corrected Pakkun.

". . . That'll make things easier," said Kakashi, though he didn't think it'd make much of a difference. Ideally, he'd have to jump into bed with a beautiful woman, but he'd take an attractive man over an ugly woman any day. Forget looks actually; he'd prefer jumping into bed with a kind person, but what were the chances that a kind person would be overseeing slave children working themselves to death?

"The Captain's gender hardly eliminates all the other problems with sending you into her bedroom," argued Guy, either seeing through Kakashi's gambit or not caring about it at all.

Kakashi sighed. "As difficult as it might be to believe I have handled these kinds of problems in the past and I can handle them again." He knew he wasn't being entirely fair - Guy, after all, was only worried about him. Endearing? Yes. But also kind of irritating. Last time he checked, he was one of Konoha's best jonin. "In any case," he continued, leveling a steady gaze on Guy, "there's not much else you can do here. You and Lanfen should start heading back to Konoha as soon as possible."

"I could provide you with a more detailed map of the mine if I go a little closer," said Lanfen.

Guy spoke before Kakashi could agree to escort her on a more daring recon run. "I'm not going rest until this matter's settled to my satisfaction."

Many cogent and persuasive arguments cross Kakashi's mind at that moment - it'd take a very long time, the situation was looking so bad that it was unlikely it'd end in anything close to satisfying, they had much to report to Ibiki - but in the end, he settled for making the comment he was sure would chase Guy back to Konoha. "Then I hope Lee's getting used to having Itachi as his jonin-sensei."

***

Sometimes Neji felt like there was more resentment in his veins than blood.

He was kneeling behind Hinata-sama and Hanabi-sama keeping his face as blank and pleasant as a statue. Since he was living in Hiashi-sama's house, he was expected to attend each and every one of the family meetings even though his presence was less than required. Daiyu-sama sat kneeled beside him (rather blatant an insult to her) with her hands folded on her lap. Neji stared at the complex pattern of midnight-blue leaves on the sleeves of her white kimono and wondered if she found the whole thing as tedious as he did.

"And finally," said Hiashi-sama, "we must discuss Itachi Uchiha."

. . . Maybe his presence would be required for once. The Hyuga were too proper to burst into any kind of excited and disorganized chatter, but Neji could feel the sudden wave of excitement that passed through the room anyway. Like most ninja in Konoha, his family tended to discuss Itachi - Sharingan master, clan traitor, ANBU commander, genius, Hokage-sama's enforcer, Konoha's Wraith - like he was a fictional character. Neji wouldn't be surprised if he was asked to deliver some kind of . . . psychological assessment. If so, he'd have to choose his words very carefully.

"Oh yes," said Peizhi, stroking his chin. He was kneeling to Hiashi-sama's left side ramrod straight, speaking in a voice loud enough to carry to the very end of the rather large conference room and probably beyond. Neji wished someone would tell him that speaking louder than Hiashi-sama didn't actually prove anything. "What did the traitor have to say for himself?"

The woman kneeling a couple of people after him pursed her lips. "It's not like he has to say anything to us," said Yuanfang with an eye roll so tiny only the best of Byakugan could detect it. As far as Main family members went, she was all right if only because she had a zero tolerance policy for Peizhi's pompous nonsense.

"He'll have to say plenty if he hopes to join our family," said Peizhi.

"I thought we were the ones hoping he would join us," pointed out Yuanfang.

"And he should be honored," said Peizhi.

"He's anything but," said Hiashi-sama. "Nevertheless, he has agreed to meet with some of our Branch daughters of marriageable age."

"I wish Fugaku Uchiha was alive to learn of this," said Xue from her spot at Hiashi-sama's right. "May the judgmental prick be drowning in his unwarranted self-importance in the afterlife."

"Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing?" asked Delun, the broad-shouldered man kneeling beside Peizhi. He was only a few years younger than Hiashi-sama and one of the strongest fighters in the clan. Rumor had it - rumor that Neji was supposed to be deaf to - that he wanted to be the next Clan Head. "Do we actually believe that Itachi Uchiha suddenly decided that he misses being part of a clan?"

"Of course not," responded Hiashi-sama. "Hiruzen is rather obviously trying to position an agent in our compound."

"And I assume you don't know why," said Delun.

For a second, Neji didn't know if he was addressing Hiashi-sama directly even though Delun was openly staring straight at him. His tone was so far away from deferential that it was practically a challenge.

"Do you?" asked Hiashi-sama mildly.

"No," admitted Delun, narrowing his eyes. "And it bothers me that I don't."

"I'm hardly happy with the situation myself," said Hiashi-sama. "But I'm sure that if we act intelligently, we'll figure out what the Hokage wants and finally introduce Sharingan into our family tree."

"Reintroduce," corrected Elder Baozhai-sama from her spot just behind Hiashi-sama. "Sharingan is nothing but dilution of our bloodline." Hiashi-sama's mother - his own grandmother - was just as insufferable as she was small.

"Reintroduce," Hiashi-sama corrected himself smoothly instead of arguing that despite all the speculation, there was no proof that Sharingan and Byakugan were in any way related. "Right now, we can only make certain that whatever girl he chooses to carry out this charade will know how to take advantage of the opportunity presented to us."

They went on discussing Itachi, but Neji was rather stuck trying to work out Hiashi-sama's reasoning. Did he really think that Itachi would be dumb enough to . . . accidentally get a woman pregnant? Or did they plan to drug him? Either way, it was a stupid plan. On the off chance that everything went well, they'd still have to deal with an enraged Itachi in the morning. So to speak. They could always kill Itachi afterwards, but then they'd have to answer to Hokage-sama and the chances of getting a woman pregnant in one . . . attempt were less than ideal.

It was a good thing no one was going to ask his opinion because if they did he'd have to think of a way to call them all stupid while still sounding subservient.

"Thankfully," started a voice that made Neji repress a sudden urge to swallow nervously, "one of us has been spending a significant amount time with Itachi lately."

Meirong was kneeling three people away from Xue wearing a deep red kimono that, because they could see though clothes, they all knew was the only thing standing between her skin the world. She was the closest thing the Hyuga had to a traditional kunoichi and she always put Neji on edge. Not because she liked to wear clothes improperly - Neji wondered how Daiyu-sama went through the day wearing so many layers of silk and cotton - but because he couldn't read her. Meirong always looked at Neji with a smirking tilt to her lips, but he had no idea why. She was only technically a member of the Main family - a half-Hyuga whose voice barely held more weight than a servant's - and she had no idiot children who couldn't beat Neji in a spar no matter how hard they tried. What interest could she possibly have on him?

"Hoheto's hardly infallible, so it might be useful to hear another's opinion on the brat," said Peizhi, turning his gaze towards Neji. "Come forward."

Neji waited for Hiashi-sama to echo the command more out of confusion than any sense of familial loyalty. As he rose to his feet and walked past Hanabi and Hinata ramrod straight backs, he wondered just how much longer until Hiashi-sama dealt with Peizhi's obvious disrespect. If he didn't do something soon, Baozhai-sama was going to pull one of her many invisible strings and Peizhi would choke on his own ambitions before he even realized what'd happened.

"What do you make of Itachi?" asked Hiashi-sama asked him when he was kneeling in front of the three main branches of the Main family.

Maybe because he wasn't used to anyone in the Main family asking his opinion on anything, he said the first thing that came to mind. "He wishes he could be kinder."

Almost before the sentence was out of his mouth, he recognized it as tactical misstep. Hiashi-sama didn't visibly react, but Peizhi tilted his head and Xue snorted. He waited until someone asked him another question, grateful that he'd had so much practice keeping the muscles of his face neutrally relaxed regardless of whatever emotions crossed his mind and hoping that no one decided that had been some kind of twisted compliment to Itachi.

"Elaborate," ordered Peizhi.

Fucking hell, Neji hated him. "It annoys him when we make mistakes, but he refrains from reprimanding us." A person required no less than expert understanding of body language to notice that Itachi's eyes narrowed very slightly when his students didn't grasp what he was trying to teach them right away, and that he was always pausing before speaking. Basically, he was constantly trying to think of ways you saying you suck without actually saying you suck.

"Go on," said Xue, looking like she was getting the best gossip she'd heard in years.

"He has a lot of trouble speaking with us, probably because he has no idea how to teach beyond bare demonstrations with minimal explanations - a teaching method inadequate for most students." Neji purposely didn't say that near-silent demonstrations were more than enough for him because he was hoping to keep some of the things Itachi was teaching him to himself. It'd be much easier if his family assumed he wasn't learning anything at all. "Teaching bores him, which makes him feel guilty because he knows he's not carrying out his duties to the best of his abilities and boredom is hardly justifies mediocrity."

"What does a traitor care about duty?" snorted Peizhi.

If Neji was stupider, he'd have said something about how Itachi had carried out his duty towards Konoha faithfully, if not his clan. As it was, he recognized the comment that led to Peizhi's question in the first place as another fuck up on his part. Peizhi might not be subtle enough to notice, but Xue was regarding with shrewd eyes, probably aware that his assessment of Itachi's personality lacked an appropriate amount of disdain. Hiashi-sama's gaze remained unreadable and Neji didn't even want to think about Baozhai's wrinkled, penetrating gaze.

"Is that all?" asked Xue.

There was a lot more Neji could say. Itachi had a particular fondness for candy from an specific tea-and-sweets shop in the center of Konoha (a really expensive one frequented mostly by merchant housewives, jonin, and kids who saved for months to take girls out on fancy dates) and would often eat some between meals or as dessert. He was attuned to water and threaded his chakra through the pond at Training Grounds Seven like it was an extension of his body. He was decrypting some scrolls on the side (hell, Neji could probably reproduce some of them). There were countless other details that he'd gleaned over the last few weeks. Most importantly of all, Itachi could barely stand looking at Sasuke in the eye unless he braced himself for it first.

But even though he didn't feel any real kinship with Itachi - all the idiot rumors comparing them be damned - the thought of selling anyone out to the Main House left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Nothing else I'd consider particularly important." There. That didn't exclude the possibility that there was something else, but it gave him a potential excuse for not mentioning it. I apologize; I didn't think that detail relevant, and so on. "I spend most of my time with Sakura Haruno anyway," he added, hoping that everyone would jump to the conclusion that Itachi was ignoring him. Which was, for the most part, true enough.

"And what's he teaching you?" asked Peizhi, putting just enough emphasis on the word to suggest countless things. Damn him.

"Water transformation," said Neji. Maybe everyone would fixate on that alone.

"Your team is a bit young to be learning such things," interjected Elder Baozhai, forcing Neji to openly direct his gaze towards her before inclining his head respectfully.

He wished old Baozhai would use direct questions more often; if only because questions gave him a clue about what would be the best response. ". . . We're not all making much progress," he said after a beat. That sounded like an agreement, didn't it?

"Are you making any progress?"

Trust life to laugh at him by giving exactly what he'd hoped for. "Somewhat," answered Neji, not wanting to sound prideful. Not that he didn't have pride, of course, but he knew the Main family expected him to be humble and weak.

"Well," started Jinhai, reaching for his canteen and removing the cap with unnecessary deliberation (bastard, bastard, bastard). "Why don't you show us how much progress you've made?"

Peizhi's jaw tightened but Hiashi-sama remained silent. Neji was torn between an urge to use the water on the stupid flask to slap at Jinhai's stupid face and trying to decide whether it'd be safer to lie. Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately - Elder Baozhai took the decision out of his hands.

"Show us," she ordered.

Feeling both elated and . . . something else, Neji got up and walked towards Jinhai, wishing he could respond to the bastard's broad grin with a smirk of his own. All he could really do was bend down to lay his palm over the opened cap of Jinhai's flask while keeping his eyes leveled on his cousin's amusingly still-covered-by-baby-fat chin. Jinhai's smirk started looking a little forced when Neji raised his hand and the driking water was calmly flowing over his palm.

Neji straightened, turned around, and by the time he was back standing in front of Hiashi-sama, the water was coating his arm like a glove. He raised his hand and the sunlight streaming through the window made the length of his arm glisten brightly. Suddenly, he had the urge to fully activate his Byakugan so he could better appreciate his family's reaction. Hiasha-sama's face still seemed impassive, but Xue was openly smiling. Behind Hiashi-sama, Hanabi had activated her Byakugan and Hinata curled into herself even more than she usually did.

That's it, the part of him that desperately wanted to go on living said. Put your arm down and let the water drop. Pretend this is all you can do - a fancy but ultimately useless trick.

But Jinhai was going to make him pay for this later anyway so Neji decided that he might as well look impressive. He assumed a basic Gentle Fist stance, let the water crawl away from his arm and form an orb that hovered around his palm. He started going through a relatively simple kata that was already second nature to him and focused on making the water twist into various shapes and forms as he moved.

"It doesn't just look fancy to do it this way," Itachi had explained a few days before as he he made the pond dance while doing things with Shuriken that Tenten couldn't manage even when she was completely and utterly focused on her weapons. "It forces you to mold the water without employing all your cognitive capabilities."

Neji still couldn't do anything resembling what Itachi had done, but he could finish a beginner Gentle Fist kata as gracefully as an expert without ever letting the water touch the floor. He did so and then considered walking back to Jinhai and depositing the water back into the flask. That'd be just the right amount of proper and insulting. He finally decided to just let the water fall as he straightened, for once letting his sense of self-preservation keep him from acting like too much of a smartass.

"Well," said Meirong, cutting off whoever might've spoken first, "you've certainly surpassed Hizashi."

Though it'd make him lose sleep for days to come, Neji couldn't fully restrain the gasp that punched its way out of his throat at the sound of his father's name. He looked down at the wet floor, grateful that his bangs fell over his face even though he knew they couldn't hide his expression. Not in that room. The only person who couldn't see his angry frown was Daiyu-sama.

"Good work," Delun said, nodding in approval. "It's such a shame that your fa - "

"Return to your place," interrupted Hiashi-sama.

Neji did so, feeling grateful that Delun hadn't managed to outright say that it was a shame that Neji wasn't part of the Main House and hating for the entire situation all the same. Not for the first time, he wished he was blind just so he wouldn't have to see Baozhai's eerily blank gaze, Hinata's pitifully frightened expression, and . . . everyone. He wished he didn't have to see anyone.

The rest of the meeting went by in what felt like a blur. Neji practiced meditation all the while and then rushed to his quarters the moment Hiashi-sama dismissed them. The day had turned into a mess, but he still wanted to go to the small fair the merchants were holding in the village proper. No point in wasting the free time he'd gotten out of Daiyu-sama earlier in the week. Tenten and Lee would worry if he didn't show up and then he'd have to put up with their well meaning but still irritating concern the next time he saw them. Besides, Itachi had made it pretty clear that he wanted all six of them at the fair, so Neji allowed himself ten minutes in his room to regain his composure and grab some of his money, then set out to the village.

It was just his luck that Jinhai was waiting for him in front of the road that led to Konoha. "I want you do handle my laundry," the petty idiot said the moment Neji was whithin earshot, raising his chin and looking up at Neji with a curled upper lip.

If they were anything close to equal, Neji would make a derisive comment (Are you stalking me or something?). But they weren't, so Neji merely stared at him evenly. "Daiyu-sama has given me permission to attend the Merchant's Fair." It might've been easier to just say he'd been ordered to go to the fair, but Neji could sense that mentioning Itachi - even indirectly - would just make Jinhai angrier.

"And I'm telling you I'm out of clean underwear," snapped Jinhai.

"How unfortunate," said Neji, wondering if Jinhai ever thought twice about anything that came out of his mouth. "I'm still going to the fair."

An ugly frown twisted Jinhai's features and, for a moment, Neji was sure he was going to spend the rest of his day nursing a Cursed Seal induced migraine. He supposed he ought to be grateful that all Jinhai did was brush a finger over the his left cheekbone, smiling with childish delight. Though the touch was so light Neji barely felt it, it still made his skin crawl. Jinhai's message was clear. I can touch you - do anything I want with you - anytime I want and there's nothing you can do about it.

"You're going to die pretty soon you know," Jinhai told him, moving his hand to grab a lock of Neji's hair. "Hiashi won't be able to protect you much longer. He'll be . . . removed soon enough and then your head will explode on your shoulders. Be grateful that you'll be forced to fuck every Branch girl capable of getting pregnant beforehand. We wouldn't want your precious genes to go to waste, now would we?"

No, Jinhai never stopped to think about what bullshit came out of his mouth. Neji merely took a step backwards and then walked around his cousin, certain that Jinhai wouldn't start anything. Technically, he could override Daiyu's orders anytime, but they both knew that Hiashi-sama would back up his wife in such a stupid dispute. Neji wished he could do more, smile mockingly at Jinhai or maybe even make a derisive comment, but he didn't want to push his luck. Jinhai had no choice but to let him go and that's what he ended up doing.

As he walked away, Neji couldn't help but think that he ought to turn on his heel and go tell Hiashi-sama that Jinhai had all but confessed that some members of the Main House were planning to assassinate him. By the time he was out of the compound, enjoying the late summer sun warming his skin, he decided that waiting an afternoon wouldn't make much of a difference. "Soon enough" wasn't "right this evening" anyway. He was going to the damned fair.

In his haste, he made it to the Merchant's Square (which had expanded into two extra streets for the occasion) before Tenten and Lee (even without Byukugan, Neji wouldn't have much trouble spotting Lee's obnoxious jumpsuit). It seemed like he'd gotten there before most of the village actually. Some merchants were still setting up and the people around were going from stand to stand with an air of predatory consideration.

Bargain hunters, thought Neji. He ended up browsing through the colorful stands the merchant's had already set up, thinking that he'd run into his teammates eventually. All the jewelry and decorations he had no interest in, but maybe he could find some wire for a bargain price. And Exploding Tags too. He could requisition all that stuff, of course, but simply buying it would spare him from having to fill out a form and asking Itachi to sign it.

"And what do we have here?" an old woman called out suddenly. Neji turned towards her, and she beamed at him so enthusiastically that her wrinkles almost completely hid her dark eyes. She gestured at the rainbow-like array of bottles on her tabled and beckoned him forward. "I'm offering all the products needed to keep your hair glossy and soft for criminally low prices today."

Amused, Neji went to look closer while the old lady babbled about the properties of vanilla extract and rose scents - "nothing wrong with a boy smelling good for once!" - and considered his options. Maybe he did need better hair products.

". . . I don't think roses would smell good when mixed with sweat, though," he told the old lady.

Before the old woman could respond, a blond girl wearing purple swathes of clothe and strategically placed bandages around her belly and thighs sauntered forward. "You wouldn't be using it before going to train anyway," she said, prompting Neji to hum in consideration.

"I wouldn't be using it for much at all," he said, noting the girl's clear blue eyes and deciding that she was probably a Yamanaka without any real interest.

"I find that hard to believe," the girl said - quite a baffling statement as far as Neji was concerned. It wasn't like they knew each other.

"Ino-chan!" said the old lady with another bright smile. "You won't get an extra discount for helping me make a sale!"

Ino was about to answer when she spotted none other than Sakura making her way towards them. Neji realized the exact moment Sakura recognized him - right after her eyes passed over the Yamanaka girl and landed on the back of his head. The skin of her remarkably wide forehead creased and her thin lips formed a ridiculous pout.

"Well, hello," Neji said when Sakura was close enough to hear him snort. Petty or not, he found messing with Sakura's idiotic insecurities strangely therapeutic.

"Wait!" said Ino, looking between them with wide eyes. "You two know each other?"

"We're training partners," Neji said just as Sakura opened her mouth, putting just enough intent behind the words to make his derision at the notion obvious.

For reasons Neji couldn't fathom, it was the Yamanaka girl who seemed horrified by his words. "I can't believe you!" she cried, gasping out a frown in Sakura's direction.

"Oh, calm down," snapped Sakura, rolling her eyes. "He doesn't even mean it like that."

"I think I do," interjected Neji, eager to make his insult as obvious as possible.

"I'll - "

"That's enough!" shouted the old lady, docile sweetness replaced with a startling amount of vitriol. "If you shinobi are gonna have a spat, do it away from my stand." Her small arm hovered over her colorful bottles before she shooed them away as though they were stray dogs.

"You don't talk to me - "

"Come on," Sakura interrupted Ino's tirade, reaching for her arm. When she'd pulled her friend back, Sakura shot him a glare. "Itachi-sensei's asking after you."

Neji nodded and turned around, intending to fully activate his Byakugan, when Ino started talking again. "You're such a backstabbing slut," she shouted at Sakura. He spotted Itachi browsing a row of candy vendors and started heading there.

"I was going to tell you about him," Sakura was saying as he walked away, "but I didn't want to disappoint you." The spirits only knew what those two were talking about.

Itachi sensed him coming even though Neji tried to walk as stealthily as possible just to see if he could the "appearing from nowhere" thing his temporary sensei was so fond of. "Sakura said you were asking for me," Neji said when they were standing in front of the same biscuits stand.

"Find Sasuke and bring him here," Itachi told him, gesturing down a rose-shaped cookie topped with a looked like strawberry jam before turning his dark eyes on the merchant. "How much?"

"Four hundred yen," declared a middle aged man wearing a bright pink kimono, beaming down at Itachi's headband. "A giveaway for our brave shinobi!"

Just as Neji started to ask why he needed to look for Sasuke, a short kunoichi wearing tight mesh over a shirt that exactly matched her dark skin draped herself over Itachi's shoulders. "Sprite!" she began, nuzzling Itachi's neck, "I found a stand selling chocolate truffles filled with so much rum they ought to be illegal."

"That's nice," Itachi said as he reached for his wallet. "Is there a reason you're still here, Neji?"

Neji shook his head and started pushing chakra towards his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be delivering a message, you know . . ." he heard the girl slurring the second he spotted Sasuke at the end of the street threading a electrified set of beads through his fingers.

"Tell Ibiki I'll get to his request at my convenience and if has a problem with that, he can come and discuss it with me personally."

Unexpectedly, Neji started going towards Sasuke with a bubbling sense of excitement. Though he liked that Guy-sensei's orders always came with an explanation (even though they tended to get very nonsensical), there was something exciting about not knowing what Itachi was planning.

Notes:

Since my notes are gone, I'm wondering if my readers can give me a hand. I've seen other writers do this in their blogs, LJs etc. (which I don't have) and supposedly it helps them get back on track.

So if you have the time, ask me what the characters in this fic feel about certain things/people/events and I'll try to answer you.

Be warned that answers will probably be slow because I have a test coming up next week.

Chapter 20: Red Lights

Summary:

An Uchiha and a Hyuga walk into a bar . . .

Notes:

I passed the exam I was studying for, so I wrote this as a form of celebration! Had even less time than usual to check for errors so this probably has more silly mistakes than usual. But I either post it now or who knows when. I have clinic duty tomorrow, an ER shift on Saturday, and another test on Monday.

So yeah.

There was no way Sasuke was going to rush to Itachi's side on his day off just because the traitorous bastard sent his new pet with summons. "Maybe after I find Naruto," Sasuke told Neji with a shrug before wrapping Rakshasha's beads around the white cloth over his left forearm and walking past him. Neji said nothing in response to that, of course, and merely followed. Sasuke bet that if Itachi came looking for them . . . well, he didn't know Neji well enough to predict his reaction.

Most of the villagers were bustling towards the fair; all staring around with an marked air of excitement, one hand hovering near their purses like they were in some kind of race. Idiots. Sasuke hoped the merchants wrung their purses dry with all the useless stuff they didn't manage to sell during the year.

"Uzumaki's by Yakiniku Q's stand," said Neji the moment they got to the first merchant.

Sasuke made noncommittal noise in lieu of snapping that he hadn't asked for Naruto's location and took the last few steps to a merchant's stand. Keychains and other knickknacks. He'd promised the twins a present. While Neji stood a few steps behind him, Sasuke perused the selection of bright souvenirs and imagined the stony look on his face. Well, his mind's face or whatever since Neji was an expert at keeping anything that wasn't a smirk out of his expressions.

"One of these bookmarks would be perfect for that girl you've always wanted to ask out!" the brown eyed woman behind the stand said, holding a pink, rectangular piece of plastic with an border of cartoonish red hearts between two fingers. It did look like the kind of crap Sakura might go for, but there was no way Sasuke could give her something like that without earning himself at least a week's worth of longing looks. So reached for a similar orange bookmark decorated with golden shuriken to examine the quality of the material.

"I want three of these," he told the seller, thinking that Naruto could use all the organizational aids in the world. The woman beamed before hurrying to get him what he asked for. ". . . And throw in one of the pink ones too." He could always give it to Naruto and Naruto could give it to Sakura.

Nothing else on the stand caught his eye so Sasuke moved on, eyes scanning other tables for anything Rei and Daisuke might like. If only he'd brought them along like he'd promised he would once he became a genin . . . But he hadn't known Itachi would be his jonin-sensei when he made that promise. He didn't want the twins anywhere near Itachi and he didn't feel comfortable leaving them alone in a place that would be filled with drunken villagers by lunch time. No, it was better to leave Rei and Daisuke home waiting for a gift. They'd be safe there.

Three merchants later, Neji started buying crap for himself - a new hairbrush of all things - and for some reason it grated Sasuke's nerves. "There was a lady selling perfumes," Neji started, like they were two friends shopping around, "but Haruno and her friend got us kicked out of the area."

". . . Why?" Sasuke couldn't help but ask.

"They almost started fighting," answered Neji, walking around the stand to head in the opposite direction Sasuke had been planning to head in.

Sasuke followed, but only because he decided Rei - or his mother - might like a bottle of perfume. "Why were they fighting?"

Maybe he imagined it, but Sasuke swore Neji paused before answering. ". . . About me, I think."

"Ino," said Sasuke, falling beside Neji and almost leaning into him to avoid a villager that practically ran him over. "Wait . . ." Sakura and Ino fought about - no way. "You're with - " For some reason, Sasuke couldn't finish the question.

"With?" prompted Neji.

". . . Nothing," said Sasuke, biting his lower lip. Sakura and Ino used to fight over him constantly and he'd never been with either of them, the spirits save him. Besides, Neji was a Hyuga so he'd never be allowed . . . not that it'd stopped the father of Eiko's baby.

"Here," said Neji, gesturing at a small old lady standing behind a table lined with differently colored crystal bottles of various shapes and sizes. The air around the them was suffused with the scent of fruits, flowers, and pressed roots.

"You're back!" the old lady said, nodding at Neji. Despite her smile, Sasuke was unpleasantly reminded of Rakshasha. "Let's hope your girlfriends don't interrupt us this time. And maybe we can help your gentleman friend here find something," she added, shooting Sasuke an amused smile.

Girls liked perfume, didn't they? Rei was probably too young for such things, but Mikoto might be interested in them. She loved vanilla but Sasuke suddenly realized that he hadn't been greeted by the scent of it since Fugaku's -

Mikoto was obviously busy running the clan. A bottle of perfume might cheer her up so . . . Sasuke would've bought something for her, but it turned out the stupid bottles were so expensive that they made him wonder just how much money Neji had lying around.

Enough to bargain with, apparently. "I'll get you one," he said after Sasuke started glaring at the price tag on the crisp, transparent bottle he wanted, "if you agree to come with me to find out what Itachi wants."

"All right, get out," snapped the old lady before Sasuke could begin telling Neji to go fuck himself in no uncertain terms. "Fucking hell, if a ninja ruins my merchandise I swear in the name of all my ancestors the Hokage himself will pay for it."

With a mocking smile, Neji offered the old lady a graceful bow and started walking away. Sasuke considered walking in the opposite direction just so he could cool off but . . . the truth was that he was curious about what Itachi wanted. Besides, he'd been looking for an excuse to punch Neji's nose right off his face for days, so he followed the white eyed bastard nursing hopes that they'd end up in a fistfight before the day was over.

"She used to be a ninja herself," Neji said when Sasuke reached him.

"You don't get to tell me where to go," Sasuke snapped, glaring at a villager who stared them - at him - with an wrinkled nose.

"Of course not," said Neji. "Hence the bribe."

"If Itachi wants something," started Sasuke before noticing that he was trailing Neji without knowing exactly where they were going. He stopped in his tracks and held back a growl. "He can come and ask for it himself."

Neji turned around and graced him with a small eye roll. "If your commanding officer wants something - "

" - on my day off," interrupted Sasuke, "he can go write up the mission scroll, tell me about it a week in advance to I can clear my schedule, and give me a specific time and place to meet him." Not that jonin ever actually followed those guidelines, especially not with their genin, but damn it all if Sasuke wasn't going to demand that Itachi followed them anyway. It was the principle of the thing.

"Do you really think you'd win such a dispute?" asked Neji. Though he didn't smile, the amusement was obvious in his tone.

Against his better judgment, Sasuke threw in a dig against Neji himself. "I'm no one's servant."

Neji's face blanked, which Sasuke knew from personal experience just meant that he was angry. He couldn't help but smile even though he knew Mikoto would be warning him to be cautious.

"No," said Neji finally, a typical smirk furrowing his eyebrows once more. "You're just second best."

The little fu -

"Hey!" Naruto's voice almost made Sasuke take a deep, calming breath before he remembered that Neji could see him even if he'd automatically turned towards the voice calling for them. Fucker was probably hoping Sasuke would forget himself and let his feelings show all over his face. "Bastard and Princess!" continued Naruto. Despite the taunts, Sasuke could hear the grin in his voice. The idiot was waving at them as he rushed forward, Sakura (and Tenten and Lee) trailing behind him. "We found the best thing ever!" he finished when he reached them, waving a piece of scroll at him and Neji. "Yakiniku's holding a steak eating contest!"

"Steak," repeated Neji in a skeptical tone.

"Let me guess," said Naruto, rolling his big blue eyes. "You don't like steak." Ever since Neji had almost hyperventilated because Naruto had given him a bit of spicy ramen without warning, Naruto had been sighing at about how Neji was a delicate princess.

"Well, it's not the kind of food you should be eating in excess," snapped Sakura, sighing at Naruto before glancing at Neji with narrowed eyes. "Did you find Itachi-sensei?" she asked him.

"He sent me to look for Uchiha."

"Wait," Tenten said before Sasuke could forestall the question he was sure was coming from Sakura. She fiddled with the pink wristbands she was wearing and looked between him and Neji. "What's going on?"

"We need to rise to Team Asuma's challenge!" declared Lee, raising a fist to the sunny sky.

"Geez," said Sakura, pushing her pink bangs behind her ears. "No we don't."

"Akimichi would eat all the steaks anyway, and then the both of you," said Sasuke, holding back a sigh. Admirable training ethics or not, Lee could be so exhausting sometimes.

"Forget Choji," interjected Naruto. "I just want to eat as many free steaks as I can and I'm pretty sure I can beat that asshole Kiba."

"What free steaks?" asked Tenten, looking at Naruto with obvious amusement.

". . . The contest," started Naruto, looking down at his scroll. When his eyes were finally drawn to the small print, he let out an incredulous snort. "A hundred thousand ryo entrance fee?" he cried. "That's B-Rank mission rates. How's that fair?"

"Think Naruto," snapped Sasuke. "Why would any business give away free anything?"

"I thought they were getting into the spirit of the fair!" Naruto protested, shaking the scroll in indignation.

"The spirit of the fair's for the merchants to make profit," said Neji.

"Perhaps . . ." started Lee.

"I'm not going to pay for the privilege of dragging you to the hospital after you've ruptured your intestines," Neji interrupted him, allowing himself a slight eye roll.

Tenten sigh in relief. "Thank heavens for that much," she said, pulling at Lee's arms. "Come on, let's go find a place to sit."

With a resigned grunt, Naruto followed them. Sasuke ignored Sakura's questioning gaze and also followed, beginning to feel depressed because he didn't have enough money to buy anything worthwhile. It was his own fault anyway. He'd had the whole week to take a trip to Red Lights District, but he'd kept putting it off. Something kept pulling him back home; probably the knowledge that Mikoto was leading the clan through a time of turmoil without much support. If anything, Rakshasha was probably getting on her nerves. He felt helpless and useless, so he'd been handling all the chores at home and keeping Rakshasha company.

The awful old woman had been steadily teaching him about all that was expected of a clan head - boring but essential things like budgeting, compound infrastructure, security, disputes resolutions, mission delegations, family planning, and the like. It all filled him with a maelstrom of conflicting emotions: relief that Mikoto thought he was worth teaching so much that she'd put her odious grandmother up to the task, a soothing sense that he was helping her even if he was just keeping Rakshasha occupied half the day, and a precious sense of purpose in the face if Fugaku's sudden death.

It also made him feel like the walls of his home were closing in on him.

Sasuke mentally shook his head when the six of them took refuge from the shining midday sun under a large maple tree beside one of the peripheral streets being used by the merchants. He'd been feeling like his house was a prison for a very long time.

"This sucks," said Naruto, nudging Sasuke's elbow for some reason. He gestured at the street several yards away, glaring at the shinobi and villagers going from stand to stand, buying everything from snacks to weapons. "And I blame Itachi! We'd have some money if he hadn't dumped us with that awful old mansion."

"Not enough to pay for that stupid steak eating contest," Sakura told him. She was lying by Sasuke's other side with an arm thrown over her green eyes to shield them from the sun. "Just be glad we finally finished it. Hopefully we'll get a good mission tomorrow."

"Still," said Tenten, reaching for a maple leaf that'd fallen on Lee's ridiculous bowl cut. "We could've bought other stuff." She slid the leaf between her index and middle fingers and lysed it into two clean pieces.

Sasuke looked at Naruto before gesturing at Tenten's hand. "Can you do it too?"

"Uh? Oh yeah," answered Naruto, reaching for a fallen leaf by his feet. "We finally got it yesterday," he said before the one between his finger was cleaved into several smaller pieces. Sasuke nodded, gratified by the improvement. "I'd have told you but it was the least exciting thing ever," continued Naruto, severing another leaf with his index finger.

"It is exciting!" declared Lee, beaming at Tenten and Naruto. "Itachi-sensei said he'd teach you a jutsu if mastered it!"

"Nah," said Tenten. "He says we're not good enough for jutsu yet."

Naruto made a poor attempt to imitate Itachi's deep and even tone of voice. "'Now that you've worked out how to thread your chakra through air, you must learn to alter the flow of wind'."

Sakura mumbled something under her breath. Sasuke swore it sounded like 'asshole'.

"Has he given you any other assignments?" asked Lee, sounding thrilled by the possibility.

"What Naruto said," answered Tenten with a tired sigh. "It's like trying to climb a mountain of vagueness and indifference."

"He's not indifferent." As usual, the sound of Neji's voice made Sasuke want to grit his teeth.

"Oh shit, that's right!" said Tenten, suddenly looking at Neji like she'd never seen him before. "I can't believe I haven't . . ." She shook her head and scooted a little closer to her teammate. "What can our body language expert tell us about Konoha's Wraith?"

Mikoto would want that kind of information and if Neji was really an expert in body language, Sasuke wouldn't be able to hide just how interested he was. So he stared right at Neji's face and didn't bother to try. Sakura had straightened up and even Naruto was gazing at Neji attentively, for once not adding anything to the conversation.

Neji stared at all of them with a blank expression and then leaned backwards until his head rested against the maple tree's trunk.

"This makes me oddly uncomfortable," said Lee, passing his eyes over all of them. "But I can't claim I'm not curious."

"All right, all right," said Tenten, wiping her hands together. "Uh . . . does he hate us?"

Who cared? "What's on all the scrolls he keeps bringing to training?" asked Sasuke. He was almost sure he'd guessed what they were about, but it was always better to be sure about what intel enemies had.

"That's classified information," said Itachi.

While everyone else but Neji gulped, blushed, and made stupid excuses, Sasuke glared at the grass under his calves. Of course Itachi had been watching. Of fucking course. And Neji had probably known all along and why would he warn them? The bastard.

"Well, we wouldn't have to be asking Princess about you if you used your face more!" Sasuke wondered if Itachi knew why Naruto was calling Neji a princess, stupidly hoping that he did. His favorite little prodigy wasn't perfect.

"Naruto!" cried Sakura, slapping at the back of Naruto's head. "Please forgive him, Itachi-sensei." It was almost funny how Sakura never failed to be shocked by the stuff that came out of Naruto's mouth.

"I have to agree with the loud kid," said a voice that made Sasuke whirl around and stand up. The tall medic. What was he doing here? Why was he wearing a jonin uniform that made him look even bigger than usual? Next to Itachi's slight frame - clothed only in a thin red haori over summer standard black slacks - he kind of looked like a giant.

"Aren't you a chunin?" Sasuke asked him.

"I was hoping the new look would help me get laid."

"Eiji," warned Itachi. "Children." He didn't glance at them, but Sasuke could practically hear Sakura blushing. Tenten just giggled.

"I got promoted, you moron," Eiji corrected himself, turning his big grey eyes towards the sky before sighing tiredly. Sasuke refrained from making any comments about what he'd read on Eiji's public file. Estranged or not, Itachi was still . . . Sasuke just didn't want to allude to his sex life, all right. "And this stupid vest sucks," continued Eiji, pulling at it as he frowned miserably.

"Hey, it looks way cool!" Naruto snapped at him.

"Anyway," Itachi said, holding up a hand to stop Lee from voicing his opinion about jonin gear. The same dark green bag he used to drag scrolls around was slung over his shoulder. "Sasuke and Neji, with me."

Feeling oddly disappointed that Itachi wasn't going to make a stink about tardiness, Sasuke stood up right after Neji. If he really wanted to, he could tell Itachi that he was busy - "

" - Wait," said Naruto, walking forward until he was standing right beside Neji. "What's going on?"

"Your sensei is a raging workaholic," said Eiji. Itachi shot him a warning look but Eiji merely rolled his eyes.

"Does that mean you guys're going on a mission?" insisted Naruto. "How come only Bastard and Princess get to go? I want to go too."

"I want to go was well," added Lee. "I may not be able to defeat Neji yet, but I can beat anyone he can beat."

"I need Neji's eyes and Sasuke's reputation," explained Itachi, shaking his head. Sasuke hated that he was interested. "And this mission requires a small team."

Naruto opened his mouth but Eiji spoke first. "Was that you trying to explain yourself?" He was staring at Itachi as though the bastard had sprouted a second head. "Did that just happen?" He glanced at Naruto with wide eyes. "Does he do that often?"

"I want to know why you always pick them two for everything," said Naruto, two upset to pay much attention to Eiji's sarcastic questions. It was a miracle he didn't stomp his foot.

"Byakugan," said Tenten, shrugging in disinterest.

"But that's not fair," insisted Naruto. "We're all a team so we should do missions together."

"Naruto . . ." Itachi probably would've sighed if he'd been anyone else. "Go tell Yakiniku's proprietors that I'll pay your and Lee's entrance fee for the steak eating competition."

"Seriously?" asked Sakura.

"I can't wait until I'm a jonin so I can just throw money around," added Tenten.

"The ridiculous salary's definitely the best part of the job," agreed Eiji.

Sasuke felt his hands itching to curl into fists. The clan could barely keep itself going with the various artisan skills Sharigan users had collected over their years in infiltration missions and Itachi wouldn't be swimming in extra funds if he hadn't . . . but the clan would still be rich then so in a way, it didn't even matter.

"That's no where near as good as going on a mission," protested Naruto. "Worse bribe ever."

"It's a consolation price, not a bribe," pointed out Eiji with a mocking snort. "Be glad you're getting that much and not a politely worded suggestion to go fuck yourself."

Lee, on the other hand, was beaming. "Now I can show Choji Akimichi that even eating can't be accomplished by the lazy."

Tenten sighed and rubbed her forehead protector. "I suppose I we should go make sure they don't end up in the hospital," she told Sakura, shaking her head at Naruto and Lee.

Probably because she anticipated that Naruto wasn't done complaining, Sakura grabbed his arm before nodding at Tenten. "Good luck," she told Sasuke, gazing at him with an air of sad resignation. It was ironic, but Sasuke was beginning to miss her stupid simpers and blushes. Lately, he felt like Sakura was looking straight into his soul.

After Sakura and Tenten had dragged Naruto and Lee away, Itachi looked at Eiji and gestured southward. "They're at the section with all the alcoholic beverages."

"The mini Red Lights District?" said Eiji. "How old are these genin?"

"What genin?" asked Neji, sparing Sasuke the indignity of having to ask Itachi for anything.

"Our targets."

On the way to the appropriate street, Itachi explained that he wanted to confirm the nature of a specific genin's chakra flow. "I need to know if his chakra pathways resemble that of an accomplished healer," said Itachi, obviously talking to Neji even though he wasn't looking at anyone in particular. "And he cannot know that he's being examined." They reached a stand decorated with red silk and golden tassels. As they entered the street proper, Sasuke couldn't help but think of the Red Lights District and feel disappointed that he hadn't gone to gather funds even once during the week.

"So we're here to back up your new Hyuga pet?" asked Eiji as Itachi led them under a table with a bright gold umbrella that looked like it'd been recently painted. "Hawk's gonna be devastated you replaced him already."

"It sounds like I could do this on my own," agreed Neji, crinkling his nose when a drunk civilian swayed past their table before putting his hands on the table and lacing his fingers together. "I don't think there's a genin in the village who can beat me."

Eiji chuckled and Sasuke didn't bother to suppress his eye roll. Hypocritical or not, Naruto was right about Neji's arrogance.

"Remember that this is about infiltration and reconnaissance," said Itachi. "You won't be fighting at all."

"If we're supposed to be stealthy," interjected Sasuke, gesturing in Eiji's general direction? "Why did you bring . . ." Your boyfriend?

"Because he's a - "

" - healer," finished Eiji, shaking his head. "And he still thinks I'm his personal set of chakra scalpels."

"My point exactly," insisted Sasuke. "Why would you need to bring a healer to some stupid fair?" Anyone who looked at the four of them would notice they were up to something.

"Genjutsu," said Itachi. "And if worse come to worse, you two are my students and it's not unusual for people in . . ." and Itachi had the common decency to at least pause before finishing with ". . . a romantic entanglement to be seen together at this type of thing."

". . . Holy shit," said Eiji after a few moments of awkward silence. "The words 'romantic entanglement' just came out of your mouth and I can't even tell if you were serious."

"That is what people say about us," Itachi told him with a narrowed eyes. Eiji just snorted in response.

"That is not what they say," pointed out Neji with a little smile. "Not at all."

"About the mission," said Sasuke, perhaps a little louder than was necessary.

"I need you to show Neji how chakra scalpels work," Itachi told Eiji quickly. For one disorienting second, Sasuke felt like they were on the same side. He almost made a Naruto-like comment about sex just to dispel the feeling.

"This is about . . ." Eiji shot him and Neji a frustrated look and then frowned at Itachi. "You're dragging two barely trained brats into this?"

"I already know how chakra scalpels work," said Neji before Itachi could respond. For a moment, Sasuke thought he understood how Sakura felt. Was there anything Neji didn't 'already' know?

"Do you?" asked Eiji, raising at skeptical eyebrow.

"Kakashi showed me," explained Neji with a shrug.

"Kakashi's no more a surgeon than I am," said Itachi with a dismissive head shake before making a gesture at Eiji's way. "You'll understand once Eiji demonstrates how he goes about mending wounds."

"Sure he will," said Eiji, rolling his big grey eyes. "Just let me pull a cadaver out of my ass."

"You didn't think this through, did you?" Sasuke told Itachi. He might not understand exactly what the problem was, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to let Itachi know that he was less then impressed by whatever was going on. Maybe it was because Eiji was being absurdly disrepectful, which was strange since he'd pretty much deferred to Itachi the night Sasuke almost lost an arm.

"On the contrary," said Itachi, pulling a kunai out of his long, red sleeve. "I thought it through perfectly." Sasuke felt his heart jumping to his throat but he refused to move.

"Oh come on . . ." started Eiji when Itachi raised his kunai. Sasuke felt Neji tensing and wished that his muscles weren't contracting in sympathy. Against his will, he felt chakra morphing his retina into Sharingan. "Itachi stop it," continued Eiji, looking like he wanted to leap at and away from his fellow jonin at the same time. "I'm not going to enable - shit - "

Even with Sharingan active, Sasuke couldn't follow the movement that put the kunai right through Itachi's left hand. Someone let out a small gasp and Sasuke was ashamed to realize that it came from him. Itachi leveled him with an even stared before pulling the kunai out of his hand as swiftly as he'd driven it in. Blood started pooling on the surface of the table, looking dark against the coat of cheap gold paint.

"You dick," said Eiji, fidgeting. Dimly, Sasuke thought that he'd never seen a jonin fidgeting before. "I hope you get tetanus and die."

Itachi looked at him - Sasuke noticed that the fingers of his left hand twitched - and tilted his head. "Show him," he ordered, gesturing at a shocked Neji.

Eiji scooted closer to Itachi, mumbling something about how it'd serve someone right if he just got up and walked away. Sasuke decided that Itachi was probably doing something to hide them from the rest of the people on the street because no one looked their way as Eiji pushed glowing blue chakra into Itachi's injured hand.

"I don't know why I still get surprised at the stupid shit you pull . . ." Eiji muttered as he worked. "I hope you're getting this, Hyuga!"

"Yes," said Neji, leaning even closer still.

Sasuke was getting plenty too even though Sharingan was better suited to copy motion and hand seals. Eiji's chakra was sort of fusing with Itachi's - patiently redirecting it so it made the blood vessels, and . . . other stuff Itachi had severed with the kunai regenerate. When he noticed Eiji's chakra threading through the fractures at the base of Itachi's metacarpals, Sasuke felt a phantom flash of pain from his right elbow. From experience, he knew it felt like someone was pulverizing the injured bones, but Itachi seemed bored by the whole thing.

A thought bloomed out of Sasuke's nervousness. Could Eiji make Itachi's chakra turn against him? Make it burst out of his veins and arteries until the burst? Itachi seemed to trust him. Fuck, it was so odd to see Itachi bleeding.

"Do you notice the difference?" asked Itachi, making Eiji grunt in annoyance.

"Yes . . ." mumbled Neji. "I don't think Kakashi could do this if he tried."

"Pervert's probably too old to learn by now . . ." agreed Eiji, finally lifting his hand of Itachi's.

"I'll only notice the pattern if our target molds chakra," said Neji, straightening on his seat. The veins around his eyes lost the blue tint of chakra.

Itachi flexed his left hand and reached for the napkins at the center of their table. "That's where Sasuke comes in," he said, wiping at his bloody hand and looking his way. "You're going to pick a fight with the target."

"What could go wrong?" mused Eiji, sighing deeply.

"I can do it," snapped Sasuke, irked by the implication that he wouldn't be able to goad some spy into molding a bit of chakra for Neji to see. He glanced at Itachi, who was cleaning his blood of the table like it was spilled juice, and narrowed his eyes. "Who're we looking for?"

"I assume you recall Jiro Akado," said Itachi, reaching for another napkin to replace the ones he'd soaked with blood.

. . . One of the Academy bullies. The one whose jaw Sasuke had broken before going on his first C ranked mission. The day was still a little blurry, but Sasuke remembered that it'd had something to do with Hinata. He glanced over at Neji, wondering if his cousin had told him what'd happened.

"You broke his jaw," Eiji said when Sasuke failed to respond right away. "His pals dragged him to the hospital during one of my shifts and he started ranting about traitors and clan brats the moment I fixed him back up."

But there hadn't been an Academy exam since the last one. "Jiro's not a genin," Sasuke said finally, looking away from Neji's impassive face. It was hard to believe that one of the Academy's failures was some kind of enemy agent.

"His brother is," said Itachi, frowning down at the red stains still left on the table. Suddenly, they began to disappear. What the fuck? Was that genjutsu? It actually seemed like magic. "According to his file," Itachi continued, pulling a thin notebook out of his large bag. "Yoroi Akado suffers from a crippling sense of pride and a very short temper."

"Then he'll probably be eager for a fight with me," said Sasuke with a shrug. Hell, he'd probably just have to try and breathe the same air as the fucker and it'd be enough. It wasn't like Jiro had ever needed much of a reason to start problems.

"Maybe," conceded Itachi before opening the notebook and pointing at a picture of a boy with round glasses and white hair. "But I need you to pick a fight with this person."

"I know him," said Eiji, frowning down at the picture. "Yakushi's been to many of the first aid seminars we put together at the hospital. He's harmless . . ."

"He's been a genin for eight years," said Itachi.

"I didn't say he was talented." Eiji shrugged and glanced at Neji. "I've tried to teach him a bit more about healing but his chakra just doesn't cooperate. It's like he can't concentrate."

"That can be faked," said Neji.

"Hiashi tells me that his chakra pathways are far too elegant and balanced for a mere genin," added Itachi, surprising Sasuke. Now there was an association Mikoto would want to know about. "Apparently his teammates also boast well-balanced chakra systems, though they're not as impressive as Yakushi. It's suspicious, even before noting that they've gone through five different jonin instructors already."

"Why would spies choose to hide as genin for eight years?" Sasuke wondered out loud.

"Our clearance's almost no better than a civilian's," pointed out Neji.

"Nobody notices genin, specially if they're thought to have no talent," said Itachi. "Not to mention, Konoha has always been protective and trusting of its younger ninja. Even if they've been found in places they weren't supposed to be, most would've assumed they'd made a mistake and thought nothing of it."

Sasuke had never enjoyed any of Konoha's so-called kindness from the villagers themselves, but he supposed that it was true that the shinobi had rarely mistreated him. In fact, he could count the instances that he'd been harassed since becoming a genin on one hand.

"So let me see if I follow you," Eiji said, frowning down at Itachi. "You want to send two genin to pick a fight with an assassin of unknown skills all on their own? That sounds like a good idea to you?"

"If I pick a fight directly, they'd know their cover's broken," Itachi told him. "Obviously."

Eiji groaned before laying and elbow on the table and cradling his head. "Fucking hell, go tell Ibiki about this so he can do his job."

"I'm doing this for Ibiki," said Itachi. "If we can confirm that Yakushi's a spy without letting him know that we're on to him, then we could feed our enemies false information."

"I'm perfectly capable of handling this," interjected Neji. "And I doubt I need Uchiha's help."

"Either way, you've got it," snapped Sasuke, for the first time in his life wishing that he had Byakugan just so he wouldn't need Neji at that moment. "When do we start?"

"Well, if the clan brats think they're ready for this," started Eiji, "I guess I should just shut up and wait for the inevitable injuries."

After that, Itachi began summarizing Yakushi's team file and it was really odd that none of them had been promoting considering that they boasted especial abilities. Either the chunin exams were a lot harder than Sasuke had been led to believe, or Konoha was quite stupid for missing such a strange team. "Yakushi might have special abilities of his own," Itachi was saying as they all stood up from their seats and left the table, "so be on your guard."

Sasuke resisted the urge to point out that he was obviously always on his guard and settled for grunting as they started heading further into the street. The deeper they went in, the easier it was to hear trashy music coming from one of the warehouses at the end of the street. Stubbornly, red lights shown around a makeshift sign of a female silhouette over the entrance to the rather large place. The sound of a girl singing about her thighs to a trumpet reached them when they were in front of the establishment. Sasuke assumed that Itachi was still doing some weird genjutsu because no patrons ran into them even though they were standing very near the entrance.

"A strip club," mumbled Eiji. "Not the classiest of spies, are they?"

"There's a lot of information to be gathered at a strip club," said Sasuke. He didn't know from experience, but Mikoto always said that it was best to interrogate people - men specially - when they were drunk and relaxed.

"You two go in first," Itachi said as he reached into his pocket. "We will follow. Neji, I want you to join the fight only after you've gotten the information I need. Obviously, you can't look for a fight right away so sit near our targets, but act as though you're there to . . . enjoy yourselves. It'd be less suspicious if you focused on male strippers, of course, but I doubt our targets will. Try to look guilty, I guess."

"They're twelve," said Eiji. "It won't be weird if they look a little spooked, though it would help if they were ugly."

"Look for an opportunity to pick a fight over one of the performers and go from there," finished Itachi. "I'll break it up the moment I get Neji's signal or if I think you're in over your heads."

When he and Neji were inside the smoky, poorly lit warehouse - the bouncer let them in with an annoyed sigh after examining their headbands - Sasuke consciously realized that he was in the middle of his first real ninja mission. Well, it was technically the second one but since he couldn't remember the first one, it'd be skulking around in a seedy bar that he'd remember in his old age. Assuming he ever made it to old age. Neji had probably done something similar before - Byakugan was best for recon, after all - and Sasuke supposed that was why he seemed unfazed by the situation.

"They're towards the end," Neji whispered to him, as they walked by the tables. Some of the patrons made lewd remarks at them; occurrences that Sasuke hoped to purge out of his mind since most men in the place were old enough to be their father. Flashing lights kept passing over his eyes, making him wish that they were doing this at a public bath house or something. Neji finally gestured at a small, unoccupied table near a corner that almost blocked the impromptu stage where a girl was gyrating rather ridiculously against a steel pole. As they sat down, doing their best to angle their gazes towards the stage, Sasuke scanned their surroundings until he spotted a head of white hair on a relatively young guy.

"Now what?" mumbled Sasuke before he remembered that Neji wasn't his friend. Sasuke didn't want to defer to the bastard even though he was the more experienced ninja. Technically.

"We wait," answered Neji. "Yoroi's staring at that dancer quite intently, but she's pointedly angling her body at the other patrons."

Even Sasuke could see that much. The girl was doing her best not to look towards Yakushi's table; not an easy feat since they were the closest to her. "Think they have a history?" Sasuke asked, mostly because it'd look weird to everyone else if he and Neji didn't talk at all. They might as well speculate about the mission.

"Maybe," said Neji. "Hard to say since women in her profession learn to spot potentially violent clients before ever servicing them."

Before Sasuke got a chance to ask how Neji knew such a thing, a muscular waiter wearing nothing but fishnet tank top and a . . . golden thong approached them. "And what would you little honeys like?" he breathed, going as far as to sit on their tiny table.

Sasuke couldn't hold back a frown. He'd seen people eating at the establishment. "Nothing," he said quickly.

"Two bottles of water and a pitcher of sake please," Neji said quickly. The waiter blew him a kiss before sauntering away with a wink. "We're supposedly having fun," Neji told Sasuke. "As a matter fact, pretending to be inebriated would be a good idea."

That was true, but Sasuke was hardly going to admit it. "Maybe we should sit closer to the girl," he suggested.

"After we can reasonably pretend we're drunk."

Annoyingly enough, Sasuke knew that was also a good idea. He decided to focus on the dancing girl, thinking that he ought to pay more attention to the mission itself instead of trying to somehow show Neji up. "The old drink water and burn away sake thing might work on civilians," he said, "but our targets will notice right away if we pretend to be drunk."

"And what do you suggest?" asked Neji. "Actually getting drunk?"

"No," snapped Sasuke, avoiding the server's gaze when he brought Neji's order.

"You boys call me if you need anything else," the man said with a wink. It like he wanted to pinch their cheeks, which probably said everything that needed to be said about how out of place they both looked. "Drink responsibly!"

"We should just move closer to the dancer," Sasuke said right after the server sauntered off.

Neji reached for his water and raised an elegant eyebrow. "Yoroi's drinking," he said after uncapping his plastic water bottle. "Let's wait a few minutes."

Choosing not to argue, Sasuke reached for the pitcher and poured some sake onto his cup. He moved his seat so he was facing the dancer - she was pretty, he supposed. Sasuke just couldn't shake the feeling that it was wrong to gawk at her breast even though her white kimono was practically see through and it was technically her job to be stared at. He almost cringed when one of the guys near her stage stood up, slipped some cash under her string of underwear, and then slapped her butt. There was a new song invading the warehouse too - the same girl was now singing an upbeat tune about how she liked it hard from . . . oh gross.

If he'd carrying out this mission with Naruto, Sasuke would've made a disparaging comment about the Red Lights District.

"I think we could move closer to the stage," said Neji, putting a few bills under the pitcher of sake. "Then you can . . . approach the girl."

Sasuke had never actually approached a girl. They approached him and he tried his best to pretend it wasn't happening until they went away. ". . . Right," he said, hoping that he managed to keep the apprehension out of his voice. He nodded at Neji and then they both stood up at the same time. Which couldn't have looked at all natural.

As they approach the crowd of mostly drunken men, Sasuke tried to alternate between looking at the dancing girl - from up close, her hair seemed to be a dark red - and stealing glances a Yakushi's team. Yoroi was sprawled on his chair and Sasuke hoped that he'd been drinking. Ninja did not hope for fair fights. The girl's kimono was clinging to her curves like it was wet and, all right, Sasuke admitted that he hadn't realized girls were shaped . . . that way. The other guy - Mitsui Tsurugi, could dislocate all his joints or something - leaned over towards Yakushi and said something that made his teammate laugh. The redhead wrapped a leg around the metal pole.

"Do you have money?" Neji asked, moving out of a drunken man's stumble.

"Yes," mumbled Sasuke, watching a man who looked old enough to be his grandfather slip a bill into the heart shaped pocket of the girl's kimono, letting his hand rub at her thigh as he moved back. Undignified and inappropriate.

Luckily, Yoroi got up - too fluidly for a drunk man - and walked forward before Sasuke had to work out how to walk towards the stage without looking like and idiot. "Let's hope the girl's not receptive to his advances," he said to Neji, calmly noting that no one else around the small stage was wearing a headband.

"Brace yourself," said Neji and Sasuke refrained from pointing out that nobody needed Byakugan to see that the girl did not like Yoroi.

When he stepped forward, hands empty of cash, and reached out, the girl visibly cringed. The majority of her admirers dispersed at the sight of Yoroi's head - cowards - and Sasuke decided that it wasn't entirely bad that he'd get to play the hero. With a tired sigh he didn't even have to fake, Sasuke strode forward, cutting through the practically fleeing group of men. He made sure to glare at the old guy.

"I told you," the girl was snapping, trying a failing to keep the fear out of her voice. "We're over." She tried to cover her chest with the wet kimono, but it just looked sad.

Yoroi lunged forward, purposely allowed the girl a dodge, and twisted his face into a grin. How someone who wasn't yet twenty managed to have wrinkles, Sasuke didn't know. "I decide when it's over," he told the dancer, running a hand through his limp black hair, "not some cheap whore."

"That's enough!" Sasuke snapped at him, restraining the urge to just break his stupid jaw too. The fucker could absorb chakra, so Sasuke could only afford to give him one hit and that one just so it didn't look like he knew what Yoroi could do.

"And who the fuck are you?" Yoroi asked, whirling around. The girl rushed past Sasuke, probably to hide behind Neji but hopefully to just run away in general.

"How ugly are your eyes that you think those glasses are and improvement?" asked Sasuke, shooting a look behind Yoroi. Tsurugi moved to stand but Yakushi waved him back.

Instead of getting angry, Yoroi's only response was a amused "oh." So he was wasn't as easily riled up as Jiro. "I guess baby genin's got his first hard on."

Yakushi hopped onto the stage, forestalling Sasuke's response. "Why don't we keep calm?" he said, raising his hands and showing his palms slowly. It sounded conciliatory, but Sasuke didn't miss how Yakushi placed himself in front of Yoroi. "Let's not give Konoha ninja a bad name."

Neji also hopped onto the stage and, despite everything, that was reassuring. Yakushi took a step backwards, slipped a hand into the white hair at the back of his head, and grinned. They looked like they were going to retreat, but then -

"Let's just go, Uchiha," said Neji, putting just a tiny bit of emphasis on the name. "We can find another girl."

"Uchiha," repeated Yoroi, abruptly stopping in his tracks. Tsurugi jumped forward and joined his teammates and laid a hand on Yoroi's shoulder. Grudges were a ninja's best friend.

Making sure to plaster on his best imitation of Neji's most supercilious smirk, Sasuke shifted his gaze towards Jiro's brother. "How's your brother's jaw these days?" That did the trick.

Yoroi let out an angry snarl before wrenching away from Tsurugi and rushing forward, both hands glowing blue. Instinctively, Sasuke shifted into a Strong Fist defensive stance and dodged the first few strike. After three weeks of sparring with Lee nonstop, Yoroi was almost pathetically slow.

Still, Sasuke activated his Sharingan on when Tsurugi launched an attack his way. Seeing a joints dislocating and skin hyperextending under the light of Sharigan was disorienting - can't copy that; don't even want to - but still helpful. Sasuke ducked away from one Yoroi's wild punches and slid leftward to avoid Tsurugi's weird snake arm.

"Stop it!" Yakushi yelled and, to Sasuke's ears at least, his distress sounded genuine. Oh well. It was Neji's job to sort out how much of that was an act.

Less than a minute later, Sasuke was seriously doubting that Team Yakushi or whatever were spies. They had fancy tricks, yes, but they were slow. Sasuke hadn't even used Shurikenjutsu yet. Neji was just standing behind him, looking as impassive as Yakushi looked freaked out.

Thinking that it might be helpful to throw his opponents a bone, Sasuke molded his fingers into a tiger seal and created a single Shadow Clone. It'd dive his attention in half, at least.

Keeping the clone active made dodging the attacks a little harder. Only a little, though. Tsurugi and Yoroi lost the little synchronicity they had going and they were still nowhere near as fast as Lee.

"Could you hurry up?" Neji demanded, sighing like a teammate bored with his partners antics. Hell, maybe he wasn't even faking the impatience and boredom.

Time to make the fight more serious. Clones were for taking risks, so Sasuke caught Tsurugi's next strike. Predictably, Tsurugi tried to wrap his arm around the clone. Breaking his bones wasn't an option, so Sasuke let his clone be dragged forward. The moment he was close enough, he pulled out a kunai and slashed Tsurugi's upper arm open from shoulder to elbow. He made sure to keep the cut superficial.

Tsurugi still screamed and Yakushi still did nothing. Except look like a rabbit struck dumb by a predator's gaze.

"You sadistic fuck," Yoroi heaved out between tired breaths.

"Rich, coming from you," responded Sasuke, looking between his clone and Yakushi. The plan was either not working, or working too well. Fuck, bouncers would come soon and then . . . Sasuke looked at Neji, hoping for some kind of signal.

Yoroi took that as some kind of opportunity and rushed forward. Sasuke's clone put a shuriken on his right rhomboid muscle, which made him fall to his knees with a pained grunt.

"I'm embarrassed for these guys," said Neji, shaking his head.

"Kabuto!"

The voice made Kabuto twitch, probably towards it, and Sasuke did the only thing he could think of. He aimed a shuriken right between Yakushi's eyes.

Yakushi blocked it - by putting his goddamned arms in front of his face. The shuriken ended up embedded in his left wrist and he also let out a sharp cry.

"What the fuck is going on?"

This is going to be great for my reputation, thought Sasuke, dismissing his clone with a small sigh. An old jonin appeared in front of Yakushi, looking at his new team with an incredulous frown. Tsurugi was cradling his bleeding arm, Yoroi was trying to keep his right from drooping too much, and Yakushi had fallen to his knees. And if the stony look on Neji's face was anything to go by, he'd seen nothing important.

The jonin looked livid. He took a step towards Sasuke and then Itachi was between. Used to the sudden appearances, Sasuke didn't even balk. He simply waited for Itachi to appease the other jonin, a feat that was only accomplished once a scowling Eiji started mending the other guys' injuries.

"Disastrous," said Eiji once the four of them were out of the warehouse and walking away from the drunk street. "Yakushi definitely knows he's suspected of something, if he didn't before."

"Well, I had to do something," snapped Sasuke.

"You should've done nothing," Eiji told him, throwing his hands in the air before aiming a glare at Itachi. "This is why you don't use impatient as fuck genin on sensitive intel-gathering missions!"

"It wasn't that bad," mumbled Sasuke.

"Neji?" said Itachi.

"Tsurugi and Akado were fighting as hard as they could," Neji started. "I don't know how they learned those techniques, but it certainly wasn't by training. They weren't fast or skilled enough to use them effectively."

"That sounds like . . . " Eiji trailed off with a huff, much to Sasuke's disappointment.

"And Yakushi?" asked Itachi.

"He didn't mold chakra at all," said Neji, making Sasuke grunt in frustration.

Itachi let out a low snort. "Good work, Sasuke."

Sickening as it was, those soft word made something inside Sasuke's chest expand painfully. For a moment, no air made it into his lungs.

". . . It's true no genin could've blocked that shuriken without molding chakra," Eiji mumbled. "He might as well have shouted that he's way more powerful than he's letting on at the top of his lungs."

"He was acting the whole time," said Neji as they crossed into the street with all the food vendors. Yakiniku Q's stand ought to be nearby. "He found the whole thing hilarious, at least until Sasuke attacked him," continued Neji. "Then he almost slammed us with killing intent."

"You'd do well to put this out of your minds for now," Itachi said, guiding towards the crowd Sasuke assumed was witnessing the ridiculous steak eating contest. "Enjoy yourselves for today and be ready for new missions tomorrow. Eiji and I will handle the rest."

"We will?" said Eiji. "Speak for yourself, I have surgeries scheduled."

Itachi continued as though Eiji hadn't spoken. "It goes without saying that this mission is classified. Pretend this never happened."

They both nodded, which prompted Itachi and Eiji to vanish in similar puffs of smoke. Right after, Neji made a vee-line towards the crowd without exchanging a word with Sasuke. It was possible he was still seething about the servant comment, which served him right for being such a dick. With a small sigh, Sasuke headed towards the crowd as well, already organizing his report for Mikoto in the back of his mind.

Notes:

I was going to put a scene through Sakura's POV in this chapter, but this is already too long so next time it is. (Lol, I suck at pacing).

Chapter 21: Chance

Summary:

Itachi demonstrates his keen understanding of human emotions. Sakura still hates Neji.

Notes:

I finished my first med school class! Couldn't really afford a vacation this weekend so I wrote this instead.

Summer was on its death throes. The sun still shone brightly, but for less hours overall and it couldn’t combat the cooling winds of fall during late afternoons anymore. Konoha itself wouldn’t suffer much, but its ninja would have to contend with shitty weather whenever they had to travel to Kusa, Iwa, or Kiri.

“What I wouldn’t give give for a nice cup of tea right now . . .” Anko said with a sigh, shooting Kurenai a sad frown. A gust of cool wind gusted through them, strong enough that the branch they were sitting on swayed a little.

“Why are we up a tree?” asked Kurenai, failing to take the bait. Damn it. Anko felt like talking about her feelings.

“Cause we’re Konoha ninja?” Anko suggested. “Mighty warriors who feel most at home atop a majestic maple; the scent of leaves at various stages of their lives soothing our fears and giving us strength.”

Kurenai’s remarkable red eyes narrowed. “Are you high?”

“Drunk,” corrected Anko, snorting a little. If only Kurenai knew just how hard she’d worked to kick smack to the curve. “There were some sick chocolate truffles at the fair.”

“Are you recommending them?” asked Kurenai.

If that was her way of saying that she wanted to stop by the merchant’s cash flytraps, Anko chose to ignore it. “Ever feel like we’re not much better than Mist?”

“Anko, I know we aren’t,” said Kurenai, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “We just have money right now. Is something wrong?”

This morning, I tortured a Grass civilian terrified of snakes Anko thought about saying. Can you believe that shit? An asshole from Grass country terrified of snakes. I was actually embarrassed for whoever let him within earshot of sensitive information.

“Probably nothing,” said Anko, closing her eyes. Konoha’s tall trees were peaceful, if only because they offered excellent vantage points. What ninja wouldn’t enjoy being at an elevated position that also offered excellent camouflage? “How’s your life been going lately?”

“Peaceful,” said Kurenai, sighing a little wistfully. “Maybe I’m not so mad at the teaching assignment anymore.”

Anko snorted, thought about sing-songing some variation of ‘I told you so’, but decided against it. When Kurenai had been selected to head a genin team, Anko had been treated to an impressive rant about how it was all because the Elders didn’t trust a woman who specialized in genjutsu to be of any use. How was Kurenai supposed to make a name for herself babysitting a trio of brats?

Not that Kurenai had used those words exactly, but Anko got the gist under all the prim and properness. Kurenai wanted to be among the shinobi who led the village, and she’d never find herself in an influential position if she was thrown at genin before getting at least five solid years of handling A and S ranked missions under her belt.

Somehow, she hadn’t much agreed with Anko’s remark about how it was supposedly an honor to be trusted with genin. Anko blamed her perpetually sarcastic voice. “How’re your brats, then?”

Kurenai’s response was a sigh. “Fine . . .” she started before turning towards Anko and looking at her with furrowed eyebrows. “I’m worried about Hinata.”

“Hm?” Under most circumstances, Anko couldn’t think of anything she cared less about than the Hyuga, but she was supposed to be gathering info about that clusterfuck. If she got to be a sympathetic shoulder for Kurenai while she was at it, all the better.

“She’s improving,” said Kurenai, biting her lower lip.

“But . . .” prompted Anko.

“Not quickly enough to satisfy her father,” said Kurenai, looking up at the sky with a sigh.

“I hear that Hiashi’s quite soft when it comes to his daughters,” Anko told her. According to the grapevine, it made other members of the Main Family less than thrilled.

“They’re thinking about branding her with a Cursed Seal,” said Kurenai. “Hiashi hasn’t agreed to it, but he’ll have to if Hinata can’t surpass Hanabi. At the very least.”

“. . . That’s it?” asked Anko after working out that Hinata would be expected to surpass Neji and that Kurenai didn’t think that she could.

“That’s it?” repeated Kurenai. Anko saw her knees tightening, like she wanted to leap to her feet and attack. “Her family’s planning to enslave her. You don’t think that’s enough?”

“It happens to most Hyuga,” pointed out Anko. “It’ll happen to your girl’s sister if not to her, so I can’t say I understand why you’re all up in arms about this.”

“Ideally, it wouldn’t happen to anyone,” said Kurenai. She looked away though, so Anko refrained from saying that Kurenai only seemed passionate about her student. Kurenai was only human after all, so it made sense that she only really cared about the one Hyuga she had a personal relationship with.

“She’ll probably be fine,” said Anko, mentally wincing at how impatient and disdainful her voice sounded. Though she honestly saw no reason to champion one Hyuga over the other, she really did want to be a good friend. Couldn’t she at least pretend to be supportive? “Have you heard of anything strange going on with the Hyuga?”

Subtle, thought Anko when Kurenai shot her a questioning look. “Strange?”

Well, aren’t you just and excellent intelligence operative, Anko berated herself mentally. She offered Kurenai a wide grin, accepted that she was really off her game, and rose to her feet. “Don’t mind drunk old me,” she said. “I have shit I gotta be doing anyway.”

Before Kurenai could formulate a response, Anko flickered away from the tree branch. Truth was that she wasn’t all that inebriated - what kind of lightweight would get hammered of chocolate truffles - but she was feeling a little . . . off. Inoichi would say some psychological new-age shit about how dealing with an asshole from her old home had affected her negatively or something, and that she ought to take a few days to compose herself.

Just to be contrary with the Inoichi in her head, Anko snorted and decided to annoy Itachi one last time before calling it a day. Who knew? Maybe some of his even indifference would rub off on her. Or maybe he was in a prickly enough mood that he’d forget that they didn’t actually like each other all that much, and then Anko would get to work off some steam via the tried and true method of sex with a person who didn’t understand social conventions well enough to indulge in any inhibitions. Whatever.

There were no traps at his place - the clearest sign of the douchey arrogance he claimed not to posses. It took all the fun out of sneaking into his spartan apartment, which had been looking even more unlived in than usual since Kakashi’s time had been monopolized by that noble for much of the summer.

Anko’s nose wrinkled in distaste the moment she slid the window to his living room open. It was like someone had coated the white walls with bleach. The black leather of his couch gleamed, like it’d been recently shined. Insomnia again. Itachi had probably spent most of the night cleaning every nook and cranny in his place. Anko instinctively coated the soles of her sandals with chakra before landing on the spotless hardwood floors, half expecting them to still be slippery.

“Crazy motherfucker . . .” she mumbled at the several rows of red origami cranes laying on his table. It was a simple and healthy pastime, though. Better than rearranging his bookcase from alphabetical to chronological order like he’d done the last time he’d failed to go to sleep.

“I was looking for a new hobby.”

Anko looked up, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at her failure to sense Itachi coming. She ought to be used to it. “At least you won’t smell as bad as your place,” she said when she saw that his long, dark bangs were sticking to the pale skin of his cheeks. “Unless you showered in bleach too.”

Just as Itachi opened his mouth, Anko felt someone else wondering into the living room. She held back a grunt and plastered on an obnoxious smirk in preparation for the coming exchange. Since Kakashi and Guy weren’t in Konoha, it’d be . . . “Eiji.”

“Anko,” he said, not bothering to restrain a sigh. His big grey eyes - how Anko hated those eyes - looked her up and down before he raised his eyebrows. “You’re wearing more than usual.”

“I would advise against starting a fight in my apartment,” said Itachi before Anko could begin telling the other douche to go fuck himself.

Eiji rolled his eyes. “I have to go,” he said, turning towards the hallway leading to the apartment’s exit.

“Remember to keep me posted,” Itachi told his retreating back.

An exasperated noise came from the hallway before the sound of a door snapping closed. Itachi moved towards his kitchen and opened his large fridge while Anko stared at the spot Eiji had been occupying, trying desperately to forget his eyes. Or at least to keep away the memories of another grey-eyed medic who’d hovered over a bed bed she’d been strapped to.

“Is everything well?”

The question made Anko realized that she’d been standing on the same spot, silent as a stone, since Eiji walked into the living room. Fuck. “I’ll let you finish your dinner,” she told Itachi’s back, reaching up to scratch under her headband. She must be way more fucked up than she’d assumed if Itachi was noticing it. “Make some chow for me,” she added, taking a few steps towards the couch and falling onto it gracelessly.

In the privacy of her own mind, Anko could admit that almost all her problems with Eiji weren’t technically his fault. For starters, it wasn’t like he could help the way he looked. Not that he looked like Orochimaru’s old medic dog that much to begin with.

It was just the eyes. Not even the shape. Just the color. Like clouds on a stormy, windy day of early winter; the ones that always caught people off guard before they’d bothered to take out the sweaters and jackets and chilled them to the bone. Whenever she had the misfortune of running into Eiji, she couldn’t help but feel like Orochimaru was in the next room waiting for updates about how the Cursed Seal was affecting her.

Anko twisted around until her nose was pointed away from the bleach-fouled leather, suddenly wishing that she’d stopped by one of the training areas and found someone trying to work out some aggression. She felt like she wanted to break someone’s bones. Or like she deserved to get some of her own bones shattered.

“I made dango,” Itachi announced when he walked around the spotless counter of his kitchen about half an hour later, a tray full of seaweed wrapped dumplings skewered on thin bamboo sticks balanced on his left hand.

“If you’re not careful,” Anko started with a smile as Itachi made room for the tray on the table, “I’m going to stop thinking you hate me.”

The red origami birds crumpled under Itachi’s fist before he threw them on the trash can beside the counter. “You’ve barely been obnoxious since you got here and didn’t even insult Eiji once.” Itachi stared at her with expressionless black eyes. “I briefly considered calling a counsellor.”

“Adorable,” said Anko as she reached for a bamboo stick. She had to admit that the tang of soy sauce did brighten her mood a little. “You seem . . . happy-ish,” she told Itachi when the corner of his lips stretched into a tiny.

“Today was a good day,” Itachi said, smiling more fully. “Feel free to tell Ibiki I made progress the next time he sends you to hound me.”

“Seriously?” Now there was something to brighten her mood. They sure as fuck needed at win over at Intel. “Root or Akita’s murder?”

“Maybe both.” The fragile good mood that the dango almost inspired in her was snuffed long before Itachi finished making his impromptu report.

“Wait, wait,” Anko interrupted him. “I really hope I’m hallucinating right now because it sounds like you sent your genin to pick a fight with the guy we suspect murdered Akita.”

“I did,” said Itachi, pushing his drying bangs behind his ear. “I had a plan and it worked.”

“What do you . . . now Yakushi knows we’re on to him,” Anko pointed out, wondering if they hadn’t all severely overestimated Itachi’s supposed intelligence.

“He suspects,” corrected Itachi.

“He knows,” insisted Anko, rising to her feet with an angry sigh. “The whole point was to find out whether or not he was the killer for sure without making it obvious he’d blown his cover.”

“That’s a goal that could have only been accomplished with patience,” argued Itachi. “Which is an area your department is sorely lacking in.”

“Fucking hell,” breathed Anko, running her fingers through her hair. She didn’t even bother to formulate a jibe about Itachi’s usual paranoid control freak behavior. Her mind had shifted to damage control mode. “I gotta report to Ibiki.”

Itachi flickered in front of her. “Before you go,” he started, not letting her walk around him, “listen to me.”

Using Yakushi to feed their enemies shitty info wasn’t going to work anymore, but they could still capture and interrogate the fucker if they hurried. Anko needed to get to the Hokage’s Tower. “Yakushi’s probably gonna try and leave the village!” she snapped at Itachi, trying to walk around him.

“Right, and I did not nothing to contend with that possibility because it turns out I’m really bad at my job,” Itachi retorted, refusing to step aside.

Anko snorted. There were so many things she could’ve said to that. “And what’s the next step in your brilliant plan?” she settled for asking.

“I have a crow watching Yakushi’s team,” started Itachi, “and I had Eiji call in a few favors. There’s no way Yakushi can make a move without my knowing it.”

“My mind is fucking blown by your ingenuity,” snapped Anko. “Too bad it’s too late for patient surveillance now.”

“It’s not too late.”

“Yakushi’s not just gonna compromise his boss now that he knows he’s been made!”

“Not on purpose, of course,” agreed Itachi, voice tightly controlled. “But if we play our cards well, he might try to get reinforcements and we’ll get our hands on an enemy who hasn’t spent the last decade right under our noses. Yakishi’s bound to make a mistake eventually.”

“You mean like all the mistakes he’s made so far?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Itachi told her and, if he’d been anyone else, Anko bet he’d have rolled his eyes. “He’s made plenty of errors before and we just didn’t notice them. But now we’re paying attention.”

Anko shook her head. “Doesn’t change the fact that the genin - ”

“ - they didn’t make a mistake - ”

“ - no, you did,” snapped Anko, taking a step back from him. She was reckless, yes, but she was in no mood to get into a useless fight she had no hope of winning. Especially since it’d just land her in a nap.

“I disagree.”

“Shocking.” Anko sighed as she wondered if Itachi thought that they couldn’t have sent some chuunin or the like to pick a fight with Yakushi on their own. Why did he think Intelligence had requested his help? “Did you at least get any leads about who the fucker might be working for?”

“. . . Orochimaru.” Itachi actually shifted his gaze away from her eyes before softly uttering the word, so Anko had the empty comfort of pretending that he didn’t notice how the name slammed the air out of her lungs.

“He’s supposed to be around the canyons near Lighting country,” she said, then swallowed when she heard how thin her voice suddenly sounded.

“That doesn’t preclude him from continuing his efforts to undermine Konoha’s stability,” said Itachi. “I don’t know how serious he is about establishing a new village - we still can’t rule out the possibility that he just wants an endless supply of test subjects for his awful human experiments - but if he is committed to building a new village, shattering Konoha’s economic and military stronghold around the borders would be in his best interest.”

“He doesn’t give a shit about . . .” anything. Anko turned away from Itachi so she could curl her trembling fingers into fists and bite her knuckles. “What makes you think Yakushi’s connected to Orochimaru.”

“Eiji thinks the drugs Yakushi’s team was using resemble Orochimaru’s poisons,” answered Itachi.

“And what would Eiji know about Orochimaru’s poisons?” demanded Anko.

“He’s the medic I took with me on almost all my missions to Grass country for two years,” said Itachi, his voice sounding closer than it had moment before.

Anko whirled around and found him standing right behind her. She grunted and took a step away, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach even though rationally, she was used to Itachi’s completely silent pace.

“I think you’re getting a little hysterical,” Itachi said to her, biting his lower lip. He looked ridiculously uncomfortable. “I thought telling you about this would . . . improve your day.”

Anko felt a laugh bubbling out of her throat. “Well thanks for your help,” she said, beginning to move towards his window. “I’m gonna go follow up with Yakushi.”

“That’s not the best idea,” Itachi started.

“I’m gonna get to the bottom of th - ”

Itachi was in front of her before she finished the sentence. She opened her mouth, an orderfor him to go fuck himself forming in her throat, when he spoke. “Sleep.” Consciousness was pulled away from her like a chunk of hair pulled from her scalp.

Later, Anko would punch him in his dainty nose for daring to use his mind raping powers on her.

***

Despite thinking that she’d put the stupid fight with Ino out of her mind, Sakura couldn’t restrain the exasperated frown that took over her face when she spotted Neji waiting for her by the entrance of Training Grounds Seven. Ino’s plan was hardly his fault, but seeing him annoyed her anyway. He just had that kind of face.

“Itachi sent me to look for you,” he said when she was in front of him, glaring at his pale lilac eyes.

“I’ll go apologize for being late,” she mumbled, moving to step around him. She didn’t even have a good excuse for it either. For some reason early in the morning was just the best time to sleep.

“No need,” he said, raising his right hand to show her the thin mission scroll he was holding. “We have our assignment. Look for Bladeweed by the outskirts of the village. We’re supposed to report back here this afternoon.”

Instead of saying anything about how strange it was that they were doing their missions in the morning and training in the afternoon, Sakura just nodded. She followed him when he set out running for the “outskirts of the village” (Neji might as well have said “anywhere”) and supposed that their other teammates were handling missions of their own.

“Bladeweed?” she asked Neji as they jumped from tree branch to roof to tree branch. Apparently he’d meant the outskirts of the other side of the village.

“The medics are asking for some,” answered Neji.

Well, obviously. Sakura had been asking what Bladeweed was exactly. She doubted Neji had cared enough to ask for details so she waited until they reached an odd patch of shrubs by the swamp-like area eventually lead to the muddy road connecting Fire Country to Grass Country. Sakura looked down at the moist, gleaming leaves around the wet floor (some of which wasn’t even green) and tried to forget that the area had been one of the most dangerous in Konoha during the last war.

“Instructions here,” Neji mumbled, handing her the scroll.

It was heavier than it looked. When Sakura opened it, she found that a thin black leather bag had been included with the mission details. A single one. “Guess we’ll have to share this one,” she told Neji before beginning to read.

Unfortunately, the scroll didn’t have any information about what Bladeweed was used for and focused entirely on explaining how to look for it. Whatever medic had filed the request had even included a very detailed sketch of the plant. “Bladeweed,” Sakura began to read to herself, “is peculiar looking, moss green shrub with serrated leaves tinted a burgundy shade of red at the midribs and nodes. They have sharp needle-like protrusions coming from the edges and thick films of burgundy dust at the bottom side. Dust can be poisonous when exposed to blood. Do not mistake the plant with common Red Dust Shrub, which looks like Bladeweed but lacks the needle-like protrusions. Red Dust Shrub does not have the properties we need.”

“Shouldn’t we get gloves or something?” Sakura asked as Neji bent down to examine a plant that looked a bit like the medic’s drawing.

“Why?”

Sakura rolled her eyes and decided not to argue. She looked for a semi clean spot, gave up on that in about ten second, then slowly kneeled beside Neji. She winced in disgust when the grass made a squishy noise as it accommodated her weight. Cold, wet, and spongy. Still, there were many shrublets with serrated leaves fighting for space and sunlight with common green grass at the spot Neji had led her to. She’d just have to be really careful not to prick her fingers with the “needle-like protrusions”, if only because being rushed to the hospital by Neji of all people would just be humiliating.

She carefully started slipping her fingers under the moss green leaves of one of the shrubs and tried to feel for the needles, wishing the medic had been clear about what would happen if they got poisoned. Sometimes, needles were so thin that they penetrated skin without causing any pain. What if that was enough to -

“Found one,” said Neji, lifting a leaf from the ground. Sakura caught a glimpse of the coat of moist red dust under wrinkled, mossy slip as he deposited the leaf onto the leather bag.

“You’re not supposed to take so many leaves that the plant will die,” Sakura told him when he bent to take more leaves off the the same shrub.

“Hm?”

“We need to try and preserve the actual plants,” she explained. “Medics will probably need more of these eventually.” She was grateful that girls were thought about gathering medicinal plants and such at the Academy and wondered who’d decided that boys didn’t need the information also.

“That makes sense,” said Neji, taking his hand away from the shrub he’d already taken a leaf from. Sakura told herself that she was imagining the mocking tinge to his tone, like he was surprised that she’d actually been of use.

She bent down to look for a shrub of her own, biting back a sigh. Even she had to admit that last thought had been more paranoia than anything else. Focus on the mission, she thought.

“Found another one,” she heard from Neji before she was done examining even one more shrub.

After that, Sakura was tempted to just follow Neji around holding the bag open for him. Like hell! a part of her protested. We’re not his helper monkey! Her indignant inner thoughts motivated her to work faster. Yeah! she thought as she scanned the ground for the right kind of shrub. This isn’t even a combat mission! There’s no reason we can’t compete with him!

A smile bloomed on her face, but it faded when she passed a finger over a leaf of the next moss green shrub she saw. “Shit!” So the needles were definitely not so thin that they prickled without causing pain. “Oh, shit!” she repeated when she remembered that they could be poisonous.

“Calm down,” snapped Neji, reaching for her arm when she started rising to her feet.

“I should get to the hospital,” she said, trying to pull her arm away.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle this,” Neji told her, reaching for the water flask he’d strapped to his belt. “Do you think the medics would’ve made this a D-ranked mission if the poison was that bad?”

Sakura opened her mouth to argue but the words died on her tongue when she saw him coat his hand with a thick water glove. “What’re you . . .”

“I’ve seen my cousins do this plenty of times,” said Neji, pulling her hand closer. The veins around his eyes bulged blue with chakra. Sakura looked away and focused on the thin bubble of blood that had bloomed on her index finger right where the needle had pricked her.

It was an odd feeling when Neji pushed some of his water through her skin and into the meat of her fingers, like someone was passing a feather over her nerves. Odd, but not exactly painful. She had a moment to decide that he was performing a type of healing jutsu before her finger screamed.

“Ouch!” she yelled, pulling her hand away.

“Well, that’s smart!” Neji snapped, narrowing his creepy eyes. He let the water - by then tinged red with her blood - drop from his hand with a frown. “You’re lucky I didn’t rip out some meat.”

“You should’ve warned me you were going to do that!” Sakura protested. “I wouldn’t even have let you!” What if it he’d made a mistake? There was a reason people needed to be cleared by the medics before performing healing jutsu on other people.

“You want me to fix the little puncture . . . well, I hesitate to call it a wound.”

“No!”

Neji shrugged before falling back onto his knees. “Suit yourself then.”

With a sigh, Sakura decided to just hold the damned bag open for him after all. Her stupid finger was bleeding anyway. Sometimes I can’t believe me, she thought sourly. Surprisingly, it took her a few moments to fully process that Neji knew healing jutsu. Did he actually know everything? She wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all.

She sulked for a little while, egged on by his occasional snorts. Then she got to thinking and . . . it was a good thing, wasn’t it? Maybe she could get Neji to teach her. That’s what they were supposed to be doing anyway. Helping each other learn. It made sense that should be the one to teach her stuff since he was her upperclassman. And teaching would help him too. Her father always said that teaching someone else was the best way to learn.

Unfortunately, asking someone as arrogant as Neji for help was easier planned than done. Sakura only got as far as suggesting that they should eat lunch together after they delivered the Bladeweed.

“Why not?” Neji responded with a shrug. “The others are probably not done with their missions yet.”

They stopped by a dango stand on the way back to their training grounds and Sakura tried to think of something to say the entire time they waited for their turn. She felt like everyone else on the line was staring at them, though they probably would’ve just stared at Neji’s eyes. Not that Konoha’s civilians weren’t used to the Byakugan.

She couldn’t bring herself to say anything on the way back to the training grounds either. Her resolved weakened every time Neji met her furtive gaze and raised a slim eyebrow. How dumb she must look as she fidgeted and twirled an empty dango stick, seated beside him by the edge of their pond. She like she had back when she started at the Academy - a clumsy duckling surrounded by graceful eagles.

“So . . .” she started finally, hoping that no one else had made it back while they were talking. “When did you learn to heal?” That was a normal conversation starter, or it would’ve been if she and Neji were on speaking terms.

“Kakashi Hatake,” he answered.

“Uh . . .?”

“Jonin I was on a mission with,” he clarified impatiently.

“How did you get him to teach you?” How come jonin who weren’t even Neji’s sensei tripped all over themselves to show him stuff? Itachi-sensei had flat out refused to even let Sakura ask someone else to help her.

Neji shot her a glare and for a second Sakura was sure he was going to tell her to mind her own business. “We were on our way to . . .” Neji looked down at the grass, letting his brown bangs hide his face. “It doesn’t matter. I tried to keep up with him but ended hurting my feet because he was too fast. So he showed me how to treat minor bruising and swelling on my own.”

“Oh.” Sakura couldn’t help but think that Itachi would just berate her for hurting herself in such a way. “Have you tried to . . . get really good at it?”

He shook his head. “Healing is for servants.”

Sakura looked away, certain that she’d need some time to decipher what the hell that meant. She wasn’t going to get anywhere if turned out that Neji had some kind of stupid boy prejudice against medics.

“Have the decency to at least try and control your facial expressions if you’re going to think about how to manipulate me right in front of me,” Neji snapped after a few moments of silence.

“Excuse - ”

“ - We’re back!” she heard Naruto shouting suddenly. Sakura looked towards his voice, half-reluctant to take her glare away from Neji. “Proof that creepy old guy’s cheating on his girlfriend obtained!”

“I need to cleanse myself,” Tenten added as she trailed behind him. she looked up at the bright blue sky and shuddered.

“Oh come on!” protested Naruto, bumping her shoulder with a loose fist. “He didn’t even touch either of us. Sexy Jutsu did all the work!”

“Sexy Jutsu?” Neji wondered out loud.

Just before Naruto launched into an explanation - which would undoubtedly be followed by a demonstration - Sakura sighed tiredly and laid face up on the grass. She covered her eyes with the crook of her elbow and decided that she might as well take a little nap until Sasuke and Lee returned. Hopefully, Itachi had disappeared for the rest of the day.

No such luck. Itachi appeared over his two teams a few minutes after Lee and Sasuke returned from their mission (cleaning the Academy playgrounds, apparently) and gazed down at them with a thoughtful expression while they shared their mission reports. Sakura was grateful that Neji said nothing about how she’d almost poisoned herself even though they’d gotten the simplest mission.

“Sensei,” Naruto started after a few moments, “if you don’t say something soon this is gonna get creepy.”

“I assumed Guy would be back sooner,” said Itachi, his dark eyes scanning all six of them.

“Do you think something’s wrong?” asked Lee, muscles tense.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Itachi answered quickly. “It’s just . . . would any of you like to switch training partners?”

Sakura said “No!” at the very same moment Neji said “Yes!”

“Awkward,” sing-songed Tenten.

Sakura looked down and hid her eyes with her bangs. What was she supposed to say? That she didn’t even like Neji and that she’d have jumped at the opportunity to ditch him and all his passive-aggressive insults if she didn’t want to learn healing jutsu so badly?

“. . . I’ll let you come to a decision amongst yourselves,” said Itachi before flickering away.

“I’ll train with whoever,” Sasuke mumbled.

It didn’t make Sakura feel any better. It wasn’t like she’d forgotten that he’d always preferred to train with Naruto. “It’s all right,” she told him, not wanting to ruin his chances to learn as much taijutsu from Lee as possible.

“No, it’s not,” protested Neji. “I need a decent sparring partner.”

“Hey!” cried Naruto. “I’ll beat your stupid face if you want it so bad!”

“We could set up a mock tournament if you’re really so . . .” Lee trailed off and gulped. Sakura bet he’d shot a guilty glance her way. “I mean . . .”

“Tenten and I could practice shurikenjutsu against each other,” suggested Sasuke. “Lee could spar with Neji and - ”

Sakura just didn’t want to hear it anymore. She jumped to her feet and started running away when tears threatened to spill from her eyes. They were all better off without her anyway. She ran as fast as she could, pretending that not all five of them were faster than her. Like any of them wanted to catch her, right? When her lungs ran out of air she stumbled to a shaky stop and pushed her forehead against a maple tree trunk. Angry breaths pushed themselves past her throat and the sound of her heartbeat was deafening.

“Go away, Naruto,” she ordered (pleaded) when she heard footsteps approaching her. She didn’t even turn around. Who else would chase after her?

“That wasn’t even that bad, all right,” he said, which was almost the exact opposite of what she expected from him.

“It was embarrassing,” she snapped, whirling around. “How would you feel if - ”

“ - no one wanted to be around me ever?” interrupted Naruto, his bright blue eyes narrowing. “Like shit. Trust me, I know.”

“Naruto . . .”

“I know you don’t like to look dumb,” he continued, taking a step closer. “You’ve always been like that. Back at the Academy, you used volunteer all the time when Iruka-sensei asked book questions, but hid behind Ino whenever we actually had to do something for real.”

“I didn’t want to hold anyone back,” she said, thinking about how nerve wracking every single Academy practical exam had been. The written exams and ninjutsu tests she had no trouble preparing for, but who exactly was supposed to help with with taijutsu and shuriken? Sano? Shio? Neither of them even liked weapons.

“You didn’t want the bullies to laugh at you,” corrected Naruto.

Sakura looked away from his strangely serious face. After running away from people who hadn’t laughed at all, how could she argue against that? “I suppose you think you’re so much better than me,” she said, glaring down at the fallen maple leaves before sliding to the ground.

Naruto let out a mocking laugh that sounded downright unnatural coming from him. “I was way worse than you,” he said before sitting down next to her and laying a hand on her shoulder.

“You never let other people’s laughing keep you from trying to get better.”

“Yes, I did.”

Sakura wanted to yell at him to shut up. He’d never ever backed down and it wasn’t comforting that he was lying about it to make her feel like less of a loser. Did he think she’d forget who she was talking to? She snorted.

“When people talked - about anything - and they said things I didn’t get because I fell asleep in class or ‘cause I couldn’t do the homework,” Naruto continued, “I always pretended that I understood them. And when they made fun of me because I said something stupid because I didn’t actually get what they were saying, I got loud and pretended it was a joke. I didn’t ask for help.”

“You always tried over and over again,” Sakura told him, flashing back on images of Naruto refusing to give up any of the Academy obstacle courses no matter how many times he stumbled.

“Not always,” Naruto argued. “I gave up on the books and not ‘cause I thought they were all boring and stupid like I used to say. I gave up ‘cause whenever I tried to learn on my own, I got stuck. It wasn’t something I could just do by myself. So I pretended I didn’t care everyone thought I was a moron and made a lot of noise when they realized I didn’t get something.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Sakura, wanting to dispel the anger she was hearing in Naruto’s voice. “Nobody wanted to help you.” No one gave Naruto a chance. Especially not her.

“That’s not true,” said Naruto. “I could’ve asked Iruka-sensei for help but I was afraid he’d decide I was a waste of time like all the other teachers I ever had. I was afraid to look stupid.”

Sakura looked at him, hating herself for all the times she made fun of him and called him dumb. He hadn’t even been that annoying. “Naruto . . .”

He turned an earnest gaze towards her. “But sometimes you gotta look dumb before you can look smart.”

“That’s . . .” Sakura smiled smiled then laid her head on his shoulder, “. . . probably the wisest thing you’ve ever said.”

“I’ve been reading books lately and not just porn,” Naruto said, tone much more similar to the one he used for his usual bragging. “If you and Sasuke don’t watch out, I’ll be the brains of this team in no time.”

Sakura laughed softly, wondering when the Academy’s most annoying clown had grown up. “Naruto . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you could help me with taijutsu sometimes?”

“Sure,” he said. “Whenever you want.”

“. . . Thanks,” said Sakura, squeezing her eyes shut to push back even more tears. She was being so silly.

“And you still got Neji, you know,” he added. “At least until his sensei comes back.”

“I don’t wanna ask him.”

“Tenten said he can be nice,” argued Naruto as he rose to his feet. “If you give him a chance to be. Sometimes people need a lot of chances to learn to be nice. Besides, worse he could do is say no.”

“That’s not the worst,” said Sakura, following him.

“Come on!” insisted Naruto. “If I can put up with Sasuke’s constant barrage of insults, you can deal with Princess.”

Like Sasuke was anywhere near as bad as Neji. Naruto had just never been on the receiving end of one of the white-eyed bastard's - “Barrage?”

Naruto smirked. “I told you,” he said with a shrug. “Books.”

With another genuine laugh, Sakura playfully slapped his shoulder. “We should hurry back,” she said, hoping and not hoping that Sasuke was worried about her at the same time. A nervous wave almost overwhelmed her when they both made it back to the pond - she’d acted like such a baby - but Naruto grinned at her before waving at their teammates.

“Miss us?” he shouted, making Tenten laugh.

Sasuke took a step towards them and paused a second before a green flak jacket caught the corner of Sakura’s eye. “You need something?” he asked the chuunin perched on the branch of the maple by the pond.

“Your sensei,” responded the chuunin. “Guy’s just back and asking for him.”

Notes:

I feel like I'm finally making progress here.

Chapter 22: Two Hands

Summary:

Itachi is kind of an arrogant dick and Sasuke's life continues to suck.

Notes:

I can't believe I wrote so much this week!

Not surprisingly, it turned out that Guy only wanted to see his team as soon as possible. Nevertheless, Itachi was glad to get news of Kakashi before Ibiki helpfully reminded him that he was supposed to see the Hyuga about the marriage business that very afternoon. Like Itachi was going to forget about it when he’d been dreading it since making that forsaken arrangement with Hiashi. Something inside of him had pointed out that at least life wasn’t forcing him into some child torturer’s bed, so he really ought to stop being dramatic. Especially since he had every intention of sabotaging his unwanted nuptials long before anyone could call him Itachi Hyuga.

All right, that just sounded unnatural.

The thought had prompted him to send Ibiki a flat look before leaving his own team with Guy for the afternoon, certain that they’d be invited along on the welcome celebrations and for once in his life wishing that he could go to a social gathering. Being with Guy and the genin would certainly be more pleasant than an interview with the Hyuga elders, awkward moments with Sasuke be damned. At least they had an unspoken agreement to avoid speaking to each other as much as possible.

By the time Itachi made it to the Hyuga compound, a thick blanket of grey clouds had blocked the sun. How considerate of the sky to match his mood. Itachi was oddly satisfied when droplets of cold water hit his nose and forehead before reaching the Hyuga Main House’s doorstep. He took great and petty pleasure on stopping a couple of feet before reaching the threshold and forcing a pair of Hyuga to walk forward to meet him. Let their fancy kimono get wet.

“Welcome,” said the older one of the pair who’d walked forward to greet him. Water droplets made some strands of thinning black hair escape from the topknot at the back of his head. When Itachi merely nodded, he raised an elegant black eyebrow. The one by his side—a boy actually, probably his son—bristled.

If they were waiting for Itachi to bow, they were going to be waiting for a very long time. A flash of lightning accompanied by a loud clap of thunder forced the Hyuga to turn around, the older one gesturing at Itachi to follow without managing to hide a slight narrowing of his eyes. Once they'd joined the rest of the family, Itachi remained stubbornly silent throughout the string of introductions that followed—it wasn’t like they didn’t know his name—and walked behind the Main Family into the spacious home, hoping that most of them would go away soon. If he must deal with the Hyuga, he preferred dealing with Hiashi.

“I do hope you’ve enjoyed your time with Neji,” said a woman in a deep red kimono when they’d all kneeled around a large guest table, Itachi sitting beside Hiashi’s youngest daughter. Mei Rong, Itachi remembered. Her tone held a dull mocking edge, like she was used to coloring all her observations with an air of disdain. Or maybe he was imagining that; looking for any evidence to justify his automatic dislike for the Hyuga Main Family.

“Neji’s very talented,” said Itachi, thinking of just how much trouble that was probably causing for the Main Family. Then he remembered that it wasn’t in Neji’s best interest to give the impression that the two of them got along too well. “But Guy just returned earlier today so he won’t be my student any longer.”

“One may stop giving lessons, but one never stops being a teacher,” said Delun, a broad-shouldered Hyuga sitting a couple of spaces away from Hiashi and his direct family.

“Point,” conceded Itachi, resisting the urge to shift into a cross-legged sitting position. He hated kneeling for any extended period of time.

“Let us hope you haven’t taught Neji how to be a traitorous bastard,” said Peizhi’s son, shooting him a smirk.

“So far,” responded Itachi, “I’ve only taught him water transformation.”

“And very well, from what we saw,” interjected Hiashi after taking a sip of tea. He raised a hand to when Peizhi open his mouth. “Last time I checked, this gathering’s purpose wasn't to discuss Neji.”

That was enough to cut the conversation short. Itachi was grateful since he hated the kind of backtalk characteristic of most clan meetings. He hated formal clan meals altogether actually, and he felt deeply resentful for having to sit through another one. Was a permanent reprieve from formal nonsense too much to ask for after getting himself vanished from the Uchiha?

Just to make himself feel better about the situation, Itachi resolved to give nothing but curt responses and as many monosyllabic answers as possible to any other questions anyone asked him for the remainder of the meal. If anything, it might make part of the ordeal go faster.

It didn’t, of course.

Once they realize that he meant to snub them, the Hyuga simply stopped trying to engage him in conversation and began talking to each other as though there wasn’t a guest in their midst at all. Though it was stupid, it made Itachi felt very out of place in his simple regulation blacks and thin mesh shirt. He had to resist an urge to look at his navel so his bangs would hide his face, similar to the way young Hinata appeared to be trying to curl into herself by her father’s side. Only pride and the knowledge that he was on a mission kept him from indulging his psychological inadequacies. He was supposed to be observing the Hyuga, not drowning in self-pity.

So he began to observe. Silently, Itachi began to compose a preliminary list of possible alliances with the Main family’s branches and quickly decided that a person didn’t need a Byakugan to notice the rift in the spacious room.

Several people—Delun and Peizhi, for example—kept looking past each other pointedly. Hiashi rarely spoke, though enough people spoke to him that it seemed like he just despised small talk as much as Itachi did. Every once in a while, a handsome middle aged woman named Xue would make a seemingly innocuous comment and someone else on the table would stretch their lips into a thin smile. Some others would genuinely laugh. Hiashi's wife hadn't spoken after offering Itachi a terse greeting and old Baozhai had actually looked past when they'd been introduced. There were some people who were often targets of Meirong’s sharp tongue—Peizhi and his son most commonly—but nobody in particular seemed to like her either.

Speaking of Peizhi, it didn’t take very long to notice that the man was very proud and also very bitter with his lot in life. The few times Hiashi joined the conversation, Peizhi felt the need to contradict him. Often, he made pointed observations about the supposed disrespect the Hyuga had to deal with from . . . everyone apparently. His teen son tried his best to look confident and nonchalant, but Itachi wasn’t convinced. The boy simply followed his father’s lead, blushed easily every time Xue pointed out a discrepancy in the older man’s argument, and visibly seethed when Meirong snarked at his inability to "shed all that baby fat". Itachi’s instincts told him to make note of their belligerence. He’d question Neji about them later.

For the moment, what was worrying him the most was that everyone—Hiashi included—acted as though Hinata wasn’t in the room and she was only technically still a child. As a newly minted shinobi and the prospective heir, everyone should’ve been asking for her opinion, if not trying to win her good will outright. It hadn’t been that long since Itachi had been a clan heir. He remembered how annoying every official clan function had been; what with elders testing him and everyone else trying to . . . suck up to him, as Shisui had once said.

And there was a train of thought that’d only serve to further depress him.

Anyway.

More people spoke to Hanabi even though she seemed to be just a normal child; the clearest sign of Hinata’s precarious position within the clan. It seemed that most had already decided that she was probably going to be the next clan head, which meant that Hinata would have to be . . . removed from the equation. All things considered, Itachi wondered if Hinata didn’t have more reasons to fear for her life than Neji.

Reluctantly, he decided to test his hypothesis. “. . . Hanabi,” he started, making the girl turn her huge grey-white eyes his way. Conversation around the table suddenly halted and the rest of the Hyuga pointedly and rather needlessly turned their gazes on him. Even Hiashi fixed him with a white-eyed stare. Itachi didn’t miss the way that Hiashi’s wife braced herself.

“Yes, sir?” asked Hanabi. To her credit, she didn’t sound the least bit scared to be suddenly put on the spot.

“Tell me about your training.”

Hanabi looked at Hiashi. She took his curt nod as approval and launched into a happy and detailed explanation about basic Transformation jutsu, proudly declaring that she’d mastered it fastest in her class. “Iruka-sensei said I have excellent chakra control!” she said with a confident smile. When Itachi nodded, she happily went on to talk about shurikenjutsu.

She was Itachi’s favorite type of conversation partner—one willing to do virtually all the talking as long as he provided enough silent cues that he was listening. Patiently, he waited until she described practically the entire Academy curriculum for first year pre-genin, a subject so boring that most of her adult family members quickly lost interest.

“I’m going to graduate first in my class!” Hanabi finished, beaming at him. Poor girl probably wasn’t used to such undivided attention from an adult.

Someday, Itachi would apologize to Hinata for what he was about to do. “Your sister didn’t graduate first in her class,” he said. Almost everyone around the table turned their attention on him once again. He heard a few snorts. Hinata’s shoulders seemed to shrink. "In fact, she graduated almost at the bottom of the class."

“Hinata’s very strong!” Hanabi snapped at him, her young eyes no longer radiating childish friendliness.

“In what definition of the word?” asked Meirong with a small eyeroll.

“Hanabi’s loyalty is unfortunately misplaced.” Surprisingly, it was Hiashi who voiced the opinion. “Hinata lacks strength in every aspect of her character.”

Though it’d seemed like Hinata couldn’t possibly shrink any further, she managed to hunch her shoulders so much that she practically disappeared. Hanabi looked down at table and used her dark bangs to hide her eyes. Hiashi’s wife shifted closer to her older daughter as she shot her husband an ugly frown.

“Then we must ask ourselves what’s to be done about that,” Delun said finally, leveling a challenging gaze in Hiashi’s direction.

“Enough,” croaked Elder Baozhai’s voice. The old woman’s spine had curved so much that she stood as tall as Hanabi, but with a single word she drew everyone’s attention. “This is hardly the time or place to discuss this matter.”

“Our esteemed leader brought it up,” said Peizhi.

“I said enough,” repeated Baozhai. She fixed her almost completely white eyes on Itachi’s face and grimaced. “I want to speak privately with our guest.”

“Granny, that might not be the best idea,” said Xue, shaking her head and sighing in exasperation.

“What’s he going to do?” Baozhai demanded. “Murder me in my own home?”

“I’m won't,” said Itachi, biting back a smile.

“There you go,” said Baozhai. “You have the traitor’s word. Now out with all of you. Let me at least conduct a proper interview with the murderer you plan to marry to one of my granddaughters.”

Hiashi sighed. “I expect you to be done in an hour,” he said, gesturing at his family to stand.

His wife was the first to stand, helping Hinata to her feet and reaching for Hanabi. She exited the room with the girls in tow, back straight and face impassive. The rest of the Main family followed suit, some wearing smirks and others wearing frozen masks of controlled anger. Hiashi didn’t even look at Itachi before exiting behind the last of his family members, which was the only indication that he was angry at Itachi’s little stunt with his daughters. So much for not making an outright enemy out of him. Hokage-sama would be displeased.

For his part, Itachi was wandering what conversation with old Baozhai could possible take an entire hour.

“That was a small and petty thing you did,” Baozhai told him after her son’s footsteps grew too faint to be heard.

“I won’t deny that,” said Itachi, abandoning all pretense of formality and shifting into a cross-legged position. His knees were beginning to ache and the fact that he had a high tolerance for pain didn’t mean that he was a masochist. “What did you want to discuss with me?” He had trouble accepting that the old woman meant to bore him with traditional matchmaker prattle.

“I’m curious,” Baozhai began, “about why you think we invited you to join our family.”

“You want Sharingan,” said Itachi, shrugging.

“You’d think we’d go as far as giving you our name when there are so many easier ways to get Sharingan sperm?” asked Baozhai. “You have dozens of crippled cousins, all of them so ripe with depression that even an ugly kunoichi would have little trouble seducing them.”

Not for the first time since he’d left his family, Itachi found himself pushing away the impulse to defend his old clansmen. Baozhai would not care to hear about their resolve and loyalty. Especially not from him. “It’s not such a simple matter and we both know it,” he said instead. “If I marry into your family, the rest of the village’s clans will have little basis for complaints. That will not be the case if a Hyuga kunoichi seduces one of my cousins.” When the Uchiha lost all their power, the Hyuga, Aburame, Akimichi, Yamanaka, Inuzuka, and Nara clans had all agreed to leave the Uchiha clansmen alone in order to prevent inter-village conflicts.

Luckily for everyone, Itachi was no longer an Uchiha clansman.

“That arrangement was only settled when it became clear that you wouldn’t accept an invitation to join any other clan,” said Baozhai. “The only reason no one’s complaining now is that no one really believes that you mean to join us. What do you suppose will happen if the other clans begin to suspect otherwise?”

Worst case scenario, every male Uchiha in the village would have to sleep with one eye open. More than they already did.

“So I ask you again,” continued Baozhai, “why would we ask you to join our family?”

“. . . You believe I have the strongest Sharingan,” tried Itachi.

The wrinkles around Bao Zhai’s eyes deepened as she smirked. “Have you always had such difficulty admitting that you don’t know something?”

“Perhaps,” admitted Itachi.

Moving slowly, like every action strained her old bones, Bao Zhai got to her feet and walked towards one of the dining room’s large glass windows. “Did you know I’m actually Hiashi’s grandmother?”

“I assumed,” said Itachi. Bao Zhai looked too old to have a son as young as Hiashi.

“I’m a very old woman,” she said before laying a wrinkled hand on the moist glass. “I saw all my peers die. I saw all my children die. Even my youngest daughter perished bringing twin boys into the world.”

“I’ve always wondered why old people enjoy talking about how old they are so much,” said Itachi, holding back a sigh. Rakshasha and all the other Uchiha elders used to be the same way. He suspected they still were.

Bao Zhai went on as though he’d said nothing. “Before that, I saw first Secret War burn the world. I saw my family—then small and weak—live like forest rabbits trying to survive a winter among starving predators.”

“That’s . . .” not something Itachi would’ve ever expected to hear from a Hyuga.

“We were a small clan, suited more for support and information gathering than combat,” Bao Zhai continued. “Without proper nutrition, we lacked the amount of chakra necessary for complex and taxing taijutsu.”

Despite everything, Itachi was surprised to hear a version of history that the Uchiha elders had taught him confirmed by a Hyuga of all people. Rakshasha once told him that the Hyuga clan—then less than fifty thin, clumsy, and half-starved brigands all with Cursed Seals carved into their foreheads—had joined Konaha about fifteen years after its formation. They’d done so only to avoid dying out in the dense forests of the Land of Fire and the treaty accepting them into the village had been extremely beneficial for Konoha. The Hyuga had only demanded the right to remain a family. They would work for Konoha without complaints as long as their members weren’t forced to breed with Leaf ninja. Originally, they hadn’t even demanded to be considered Leaf ninja themselves.

That’d lasted less than a decade.

It’d turned out that with proper nutrition and shelter, the Hyuga were quite fertile. In the end, that had been more beneficial to them than the dramatic increase in the radius of their impressive field of vision. Since they’d been given permission to do so, most of them sent their new children to the schools that would eventually become Konoha’s ninja Academies and, thanks to the immense advantage granted by Byakugan, it took less than twenty years for combat trained Hyuga to become an intrinsic part of Konoha’s reconnaissance teams.

And then Konoha’s strength in the region solidified, at least in part because of rumors that the village had acquired the eyes of God.

Sharingan for infiltration, assassinations, and—most infuriatingly for other villages—stealing and developing jutsu. Byakugan for support, reconnaissance, and—though it wasn’t what automatically came to mind when someone thought of Byakugan—healing. Itachi wondered how many of their competitors realized that Lady Tsunade had developed many of her revolutionary medical procedures by working closely with Hyuga who could not only describe chakra pathways, but also positions, movements, and synergy of different organ systems.

He also wondered how many people outside the Hidden Leaf realized that despite the shared mythologies of Sharingan and Byakugan, the Uchiha and Hyuga clan had always held each other in nothing but contempt. Individual Uchiha and Hyuga could work together just fine of course, but putting gathering several of them together in anything resembling a large group was asking for a disaster. As far as Itachi was concerned, it was proof that collective human intelligence was inversely proportional to the size of a group.

“Brat, did you fall asleep with your eyes open?”

“I’m being polite,” said Itachi, eyes fixed on the small bun of white hair tied at the back of the old woman’s head. “You obviously have something on your mind you wish to share with me.”

Baozhai chuckled. “My bones are too old and worn. I can’t leave this compound without aid anymore and I’m ashamed to say I’m too proud to be carried about like a child. Still, I wonder what’s said about my family.”

“You’re all arrogant and vicious, the Main family most of all since you enslave your own siblings,” offered Itachi. “Probably because Hinata is physically and psychologically weaker, you want Neji dead. That being said, Byakugan is a great asset to the village, so much so that the thought of losing it scares everyone from poorly informed civilians to the Council itself.”

“Very few people in this family want to kill Neji,” said Baozhai, voice tired and frustrated.

“That’s a relief,” said Itachi, thinking that it also made a lot of sense. If everyone in the Main Family wanted Neji dead, Neji would simply die without fuss or fanfare. Unfortunately, one assassin with a jealous grudge was all it took to kill someone most of the time, even if they didn’t have a bomb tattooed to their forehead. “Don’t you want to dispute any of other rumors?”

“What do you know of Byakugan?” Baozhai asked instead.

“Technically?”

“If you like,” said Baozhai, offering a small shrug.

“Out of all known bloodline limits,” started Itachi, “it has the highest penetrance, but also the highest number of epigenetic controls.”

“How the times have change,” said Baozhai, shaking her head sadly. “A boy not yet twenty can make a woman close to a hundred feel uninformed about her own power.”

“I mean that for Hyuga with heterozygous . . .” Abruptly, Itachi remembered Naruto’s bright blue eyes staring up at him in helpless confusion as he tried to explain Byakugan’s inheritance pattern. He shook his head slightly. “Almost all Hyuga are born with Byakugan,” he started again, “but the . . . extent of their insight is highly variable.”

“True,” said Baozhai, turning around to look directly at him. “But I was waiting for you to note that it’s a trait that’s impossible to hide.”

Itachi shrugged. It’d been a very long time since anyone had asked him to point out the very obvious. “You’ve done that for me.”

“Do you know why we designed our Cursed Seal?”

“To protect Byakugan,” said Itachi. He allowed himself a snort to indicate what he thought of that explanation.

“Yes, I suppose it does sound like a weak excuse now,” conceded Baozhai. “But when we were hiding in the forest, the Cursed Seal was the only thing that kept us together. No amount of suicide pacts could have made every single one of us override our survival instincts when we were captured by bloodline hunters. And it wasn’t like we could hide what we were.”

“Tragic,” said Itachi, still not convinced about the early Hyuga supposed victimhood. When it all came down to it, the fact remained that they’d enslaved each other to keep what still amounted to a fancy eye color exclusively among them. If Byakugan was all that made them a family, then they weren’t a family.

“I see you still possess all the judgmental pride of an Uchiha,” said Baozhai, smiling with something that could almost be called fondness.

“That seems to be the consensus,” said Itachi with a careless shrug. “It doesn’t mean that my disdain is unfair.”

“No, it doesn’t,” agreed Baozhai, beginning to walk towards him. Once she was seated right in front of him, she stared stared directly into his eyes. There were thin blue veins cutting through her Byakugan. “The Hyuga are now Konoha’s strongest clan. We can defend ourselves from poachers without resorting to suicide. And even if we couldn’t, Konoha’s entire shinobi army would descend on anyone who should succeed in kidnapping one of our children.”

“Not to mention, it makes little sense to have a number of Hyuga without the Cursed Seal if its purpose is to protect Byakugan,” said Itachi. He thought of Hinata, who was young, insecure, and had barely passed the Academy exam. Did the Main family think the girl would undergo a personality transplant if she was captured during one of Team Kurenai’s missions?

“There wasn’t always a Main family and a Branch family,” said Baozhai, curling a wrinkled hand around a teapot. “Now let me ask you again, why would we offer you our name?”

“You wouldn't,” said Itachi, feeling a pang of relief in addition to irritation at being manipulated into the Hyuga compound under false pretenses. “I’m here because you’re about to ask me to kill someone.”

*

***

*

“Man, it’s too bad we won’t get to train with Team Guy anymore!” yelled Naruto, not bothering to shelter himself from the downpour that’d caught them as they headed home from the late lunch they’d shared with the eccentric jonin and his students. “I had a feeling Sakura and Neji were gonna start getting along!”

Sasuke grunted his agreement. Not about Sakura and Neji of course—he doubted those two would ever feel anything other than disdain for each other—but he was privately mourning the loss of a sparring partner as good as Lee. He jumped beneath a wide air conditioning unit to avoid getting wet and frowned when it wasn’t wide enough to shield his legs from the falling rain.

Though he hoped that Naruto had also drastically improved in the last weeks, he knew his teammate hadn’t reached the same level as Lee. Sasuke supposed he could make a clone to spar with since it would also improve his chakra reserves. Still, even if he used clones to spar with Naruto, it wouldn’t be the same as trying to keep up with Lee’s unbelievable speed. And shadow clones were too predictable to be effective in solo training.

“Maybe Itachi’s gonna drop us off with Guy since he hates teaching so much!” Naruto yelled over the clapping thunder. “Technically Guy-sensei owes him now!”

“Let’s just head to your apartment, dumbass!” yelled Sasuke, wondering why he was surprised that Naruto saw nothing stupid about having a conversation in the pouring rain.

“All right, last one there’s uglier than a bully’s ass!” Naruto yelled back, before rushing past him.

Since it’d be pointless to try and stay dry, Sasuke rushed forward as he wondered just how Naruto managed not to hate the universe for literally raining on his parade. Thunder broke through the grey clouds again, making Sasuke dream of the day he’d be able to harness electricity’s power. Rakshasha grudgingly admitted that he was improving with the beads, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the progress was muddled and slow.

By the time they made it to the idiot’s place, they were both soaking wet. Naruto happily sidestepped his annoying traps and opened a window for them, wiping rain water off his brow. “You can take the shower,” he said, bringing his hands together in an impromptu seal. “I wanna dry off with chakra.” He was glowing blue when Sasuke made a beeline for his bathroom.

“Make me something to eat,” Sasuke called back, uselessly hoping for something other than ramen.

He came out of the warm shower in a much better mood and smiled at the change of clothes Naruto left on the sink for him. An Uchiha fan decorated the back of the clean shirt, so Naruto had washed the last outfit he’d left in the apartment. He’d make sure to bite back his next insult as a form of silent gratitude.

“Are you gonna stay tonight?” asked Naruto when Sasuke shuffled into the small living room. Not only did he look dry, but the puddles of water they’d trailed into the apartment were gone. Sasuke was glad to see that he was taking every possible chance to train.

“No,” he answered, reaching for the bowl of steaming ramen Naruto had put on the counter for him. At least he smelled plenty of sun dried tomatoes soaking in the hot broth. “Rakshasha’s been teaching me genjutsu at night if she’s awake when I get home.”

“I wanna meet this grandma of yours,” said Naruto, bringing the bowl with what was probably his second serving of ramen to his mouth.

“You don’t,” said Sasuke. She’s awful, he didn’t add, choosing to let Naruto chatter uninterrupted about nothing important.

He wasn’t getting along with Rakshasha any better. She refused to call him anything other than “spare” and insisted on reminding him that Itachi had mastered everything that gave him so much trouble almost before finishing early childhood. But the old woman was teaching him how to use his Sharingan so Sasuke couldn’t really bring himself to hate her all that much.

“And then the villain tried to eat the girl’s stillborn baby,” Naruto was saying.

“What?”

“I know!” said Naruto, his blue eyes wide. “There should’ve been a warning for that! It’s so not the kind of shit you expect when you pick up a romance novel . . .”

A knock on Naruto’s door spared Sasuke from having to formulate a response to that. “I should go,” he said, getting off the stool.

“That’s probably just Iruka-sensei,” said Naruto, staring to move towards his door.

“Rakshasha’s waiting for me,” said Sasuke, rushing towards the window. For reasons he didn’t care to examine too closely, he didn’t want to see anyone else from his Academy class. Was it stupid? Yes. Did he actually care? No.

Thankfully, the rain had subsided while he wasted time with Naruto, but Sasuke rushed home anyway. He really needed to nip his growing habit to hide from his clan at Naruto’s place in the bud as soon as possible. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, there was no need to spend so much time with Naruto to make sure that the idiot was thoroughly loyal to him. Sasuke bet he was already the most important person in Naruto’s life and that was probably obvious to anyone who saw just how intently Naruto listened to his every word. Any extra time spent with him was just cowardly avoidance of his family.

Most of the dim light bulbs of the Uchiha compound were already shining when Sasuke finally made it back home. Candles were visible through the windows of families who still couldn’t afford electricity. He’d really wasted much more time with Naruto than he’d meant to. Rakshasha—who much to his annoyance had moved into his home after Fugaku’s death—was probably already sleeping. After he spoke with Mikoto, Sasuke would have little choice but to spend the rest of the evening meditating. He definitely needed to psychologically prepare himself for the coming morning.

Now that Team Guy was no longer with them, chances were Itachi would have no choice but to do more hands on teaching. And with Sasuke’s luck being what it was, he’d probably be treated to the first one-on-one training session with the bastard.

Yoshie found him as he kicked off his sandals and immediately began meowing for attention. Sasuke sighed and picked her up as he sniffed the air for the scent of dinner. Naruto had given him plenty of ramen, but he was disappointed when he smelled nothing but incense anyway. Mikoto had been too busy to cook anything again. He wished he could divide himself into two different people sometimes; one to continue his training and another one to stay home and help Mikoto with her duties as Clan Head. Since such a thing wasn’t possible, all Sasuke could do as he looked for Mikoto was promise to bring her dinner every night to make sure she didn’t have to worry about cooking.

His thoughts were derailed when he turned towards the meditation room because his nose finally picked up something odd—a strong whiff of sake. Sasuke’s first thought was that there were guest in the house, but he discarded that idea right away because Mikoto refused to let anyone become inebriated in her house.

I will not be cleaning drunkard vomit, she liked to say.

Sasuke put Yoshie down and reached for his kunai, deciding that some bum had wondered into his house in a drunken stupor. Except . . . didn’t drunks carry with them scents worse than just strong sake? To be on the safe side, Sasuke moved into the hallway leading to the room slowly, kunai hidden in inside his arm warmers. His heart almost skipped a beat when he thought about Mikoto, but he reminded himself that his mother was a powerful jonin. She could handle a drunkard. He repeated the thought to himself as he made a Shadow Clone go check the room for him.

The clone moved as silently as Yoshie, entered the meditation room, and . . . promptly disappeared. Sasuke rushed into the room the instant he received an image of Mikoto huddled in one of the mats, a nearly empty bottle of sake in her good hand. “Mother!” he called when he burst through the door.

“Sasuke,” Mikoto responded. Then she hiccupped loudly.

Sasuke felt like he’d dunked his head in a bucket of hallucinogens. “Are you all right?”

“I just . . .” started Mikoto, trailing off into another hiccup. “I was cleaning and I found . . .” A tear trailed down her left cheek.

“. . . I’ll go get Elder Rakshasha,” said Sasuke, taking a step backwards.

“She’s sleeping,” said Mikoto.

I’ll wake her up, thought Sasuke, eyes flitting to the door. He’d never ever seen his mother drunk—the possibility that she might drink had never actually occurred to him—and seeing her inebriated and crying made him . . . A image of Fugaku strung out on Sleeping Tea flashed through his mind. What if . . . no. No. Mikoto wouldn’t retreat into her own world and abandon him with her crazy grandmother. She wouldn’t.

“Come on,” said Mikoto, patting the mat. She hiccupped and wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “We haven’t had a chance to talk in a long while.”

“We’ve both been busy,” said Sasuke, wishing he could summon Rakshasha into the room just by wishing really hard. Dealing with a Mikoto who was anything other than composed and in control made his entrails twist nervously. He shuffled to the mat anyway, incapable of outright disobeying an order from his mother no matter how badly he wanted to just flee the scene and pretend he hadn’t seen anything. A voice in his head pointed out that Naruto wouldn’t ask too many questions if he showed up at the apartment again, like something in him couldn’t help but map out an escape route from the situation.

“Did I ever tell you about my team?” asked Mikoto when he sat beside her.

“No,” said Sasuke, trying to ignore the scent of alcohol.

Mikoto reached into the sleeve of her dark blue kimono and passed him an unframed picture with wrinkled edges. “We took that one when I made jonin,” she told him.

Before forcing himself to look down, Sasuke remembered what’d happened when Mikoto found his own team picture. With a sigh, he prayed for all photographers to vanish from the face of the planet overnight. “It’s . . .” he trailed off when he saw a young woman who looked like Mikoto’s sister beaming up at him from the picture. She wore a red dress over black fishnet leggings and her long black hair in a simple ponytail. The hilt of a katana peeked from behind her right shoulder and a kunai was hooked on her left index finger. “You look . . .” Like Itachi. Happy.

“Happy,” said Mikoto.

For a second, Sasuke thought she’d read his mind. To distract himself from the thought, Sasuke looked at the other people in the picture. There was a Hyuga who looked like Neji’s black haired older brother, except he wore a genuine smile and a medic’s white jacket. Mikoto was half-leaning on him and strands of their dark bangs mixed together so well that it was hard to which person some of the dark tresses belonged to. Maybe they’d been drunk when the picture was taken. Sasuke bit his lip to keep from grunting and looked at the last person on the picture.

Much to his surprise, she was another kunoichi. Sasuke had always assumed that all squads were made up of two boys, one girl, and their jonin-sensei, but it was highly unlikely that the person draped on black haired Neji’s other shoulder was a man. Her hair was a shade of pink much darker and somehow . . . richer than Sakura’s. A pair of green clips kept some of the wavy almost red curls out of her eyes, but a wispy lock still fell over her nose. She also wore a dress, but it was a lighter color than Mikoto’s and she had the brightest smile Sasuke had ever seen on a person, showing all front teeth and giving her pale cheeks dimples.

“. . . Where’s your jonin-sensei?” Sasuke asked after some seconds of searching for something to say.

“Died before Hizashi made chuunin,” answered Mikoto, taking another sip of sake.

“Oh,” said Sasuke, resisting the urge to fidget. What else could he say? He was about to ask for permission to get Rakshasha when Mikoto started talking again.

“I’ve been a bad teammate,” she said, letting out a breathy gasp.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” said Sasuke, though he actually had no idea if she had been. He looked down at the mat and balked when Mikoto laid her forehead on his shoulder.

“Yes I have been,” insisted Mikoto. “Kushina and Hizashi died and I did my best to forget they ever existed. I let their children grow up without even bothering to make sure they knew of their parents.”

“I’m sure the Hyuga’s children know of him,” said Sasuke, slipping the picture inside his sleeves. Maybe Mikoto would forget about it if