Prologue: Sarutobi Has a Bad Day
Hiruzen Sarutobi was Hokage of Konoha, and as such he knew how dangerous it was to have a debt. But despite his best efforts, it seemed like the debt he owed to young Naruto Uzumaki was one he could never repay.
No matter what steps he took to try to make the boy's life easier, it always came out wrong somehow. He'd announced the boy to be a hero, just what the dying Yondaime had wished. The boy became a pariah. He'd asked for patience, and his council gave him frustration. He'd asked for the Kyuubi to be kept a secret from the boy.
Well. Look how that one turned out.
He thought he'd come up with a fantastic plan for the boy in particular, and even for the village as a whole. He'd poured hours into rosters and files, crossing out ideas and tossing reports across the room in frustration. Finally, he thought he'd done it.
He thought he'd given Naruto a perfect team.
He really should have known better.
Sarutobi looked blankly in front of him.
Kakashi stared blankly back.
The children, assembled loosely around him, didn't note the interaction. They were busy declaring war.
The girl, Sakura Haruno, couldn't meet his gaze. He guessed that if he spoke to her directly, she would panic. He could quite nearly hear her frantic, rabbit heartbeat from here. At first, he'd thought she was civilian born. No, she did in fact have a shinobi background, surprising at it seemed now. Perhaps she was just intimidated by him.
One of the reasons why Sarutobi made so many attempts to socialize with his shinobi in person was to erase this very issue. It made meetings incredibly tedious when one party stuttered and quaked, even when he wasn't pouring on killing intent to try to pass the time faster.
Since she wouldn't look at him, and didn't seem to want to look at her teacher, she was standing silently off to the side.
Most of the time.
Occasionally, she would lash out and step on Naruto's foot.
This was, he saw, actually a form of mediation, as left to his own devices Naruto was violently elbowing Sasuke, who was glowering off to the far side - as far away from the group as propriety would allow. Stuck between two authority figures Sasuke seemed equally loathe to acknowledge, he instead stared off at the window as if charting the falls of sparrows. Perhaps trying to impale them with his mind.
Sarutobi nodded to Kakashi.
It was a shinobi nod. That is, it contained rather a lot of information, if one knew how to find it. In it, Sarutobi tried to say several things. Among them, "Be gentle with them", and "I'm so sorry I did this to you", and "You passed them, you deal with them".
He coughed.
He was gratified to see all three children look up, at least. Naruto even shuffled into a loose standing position, and passed him a familiar smile. Sakura hit him for his daring, however, and he turned watery eyes towards her and then, for no reason Sarutobi could discern, angry eyes towards Sasuke. Sasuke was standing stiffly to attention, his eyes staring in Sarutobi's direction, but his gaze was hard and cold, and not quite focused on his desk.
He remembered speaking. It was quite likely that he recited the same gentle, over-arching speech he'd given for the last countless years to the passing teams, full of wonder and mystery, welcoming them to a world of honor and duty. He had it memorized, and his lips moved on their own, giving his mind some time to ponder.
Team 7.
Where was the order? What exactly would they do? Team 10 was betting on the same synergy as their fathers. Team 8 had a nearly perfect blend of bloodlines and techniques for tracking. Even the only passing team from last year, Maito Gai's ...interesting, self-named team was remarkable for their skills, a blending of long-range weaponry and taijutsu.
But, standing in front of him...
He imagined that the Haruno girl would be trained for the rear lines, in one of the support roles. According to his records, she showed a great deal of promise for genjutsu, and her grasp of theories was superb. Her test scores broke several records for non-clan kunoichi, as well, as shown by the fact that she was the first student in a year to score a perfect on all her written tests, and the only non-clan kunoichi to be on a team this year. But, she didn't seem to possess the confidence typical of a kunoichi.
Or, at least, not yet. She would probably grow into it, if she continued on with her career.
The father of two boys, he could admit that his experiences with girls of her age were somewhat stilted. Alright, very stilted. Even when HE was her age, his attention was usually on, oh, being a ninja and surviving the wars. He hadn't even recognized what girls were until his future wife had cuffed him over the head and dragged him into a bush.
Ah, Biwako.
He shuffled some paperwork, and continued on with the speech, somewhat absently noting their reactions, and hoping he wouldn't accidentally start rattling off his grocery list.
Sasuke.
His disrespect towards authority had been duly noted by his instructors at the academy, multiple times on his file, with everything from permanent marker to a ten-point essay carved in a stone tablet by someone who really wanted to make a point. But the icy edge to his persona, even to the highest authority in the village, was troubling. He reminded Sarutobi somewhat of Kakashi - the same sort of genius, with a similar tragedy at a traumatizing young age. At the same time, Kakashi had Minato, and though Sarutobi respected the strength and the skill of "Sharingan Hatake", Kakashi didn't have the same kind hand as Minato - guiding and firm and gentle, with the support of Kushina the entire time.
With time and with training, Sasuke could be just as great as Kakashi himself, a sharp-edged and keen blade against any trespassers of the village. His bloodline, as well, demanded greatness of him, which was a burden that Sarutobi regretted every day, every time he saw the boy's face and was reminded of his duty. It was hoped that Sasuke would be as important to the village as his founding forbears, without the grim history and the sinister intent of the rest of his family. A great deal was "hoped" about Sasuke, but in an instant, it struck Sarutobi that he knew no hopes of the boy's own. It struck him as troubling.
And then, there was the last genin of Team 7…
Naruto.
Sarutobi knew more about Naruto than anyone else in the village. Naruto would gladly shout his dreams and aspirations to an empty street, but Sarutobi knew, even if it was merely from observation, the boy's fears and worries. It was Sarutobi's duty, the duty of a parent given to him by the rightful owners, to see Naruto become a strong man, a good man, a good shinobi, and a credit to his village. It worried him, at times, how to make all if it occur at once without breaking the boy.
Mizuki's betrayal had revealed to Naruto the circumstances of his ostracism. The boy - and thankfully, he would be a boy for some time, by the look of it - had seemed to cope with it as well as could be expected, with the unexpected support of one of his academy teachers.
Sarutobi would find it quite easy to be very good to Umino. Not out of nepotism, precisely, but rather that he favored good men, and Umino Iruka had proved himself to be among the very best in the entire village.
How would they work together? From the look of it now, just about as well as oil, water, and a lit match.
Right now, it was Sakura versus Naruto versus Sasuke, with Sasuke abstaining from not just the entire confrontation but from the entire human race as a whole. However, if the planets were to align and the choirs of celestial beings on high to all join in harmony, they could be great.
Naruto had the chakra reserves of a legion of jonin three times his age. Both of his parents were legendary ninja, with unparalleled skill with sealing that even Sarutobi's student Jiraiya barely matched. At the moment, he was raw and untamed, a whirling ball of energy that had no outlet. He could probably fit any role required of him, with the right prompting, and with a teacher with the unwavering patience of a mountain god.
Sakura, as he had thought before, could likely fit into a back row role as support – genjutsu, or perhaps with strategy and planning, if she showed any talent for it. If Konoha was very lucky, she might be one of the rare and few medics that changed the course of wars. She still had time to grow and to change – kunoichi in particular tended to be incredibly adaptable. With time, she would either thrive as shinobi of the leaf or retire to the quiet life of a civilian. He somewhat hoped she would still stay a ninja but, move to one of the many paperwork bureaus handled by his brightest and most eager.
Sasuke, however, just as Naruto, would be continually pushed towards the spotlight. Well, as much of the "spotlight" as ninja had. Those of Sarutobi's generation would have their eyes on him because of the sins of his father and forefathers, constantly watching and weighing him. Those of Sasuke's father's generation would be weighing his potential – how high would he go before he burned out? How far could they push him before he would snap? And, if Sakura and Naruto were any rule to judge by, Sasuke had enough problems in his own generation without adding any of the adults to the mix.
They all could be great. They could also be explosive.
He remembered three other children who stood before him long ago, with all the potential in the world. They grew to shake the very foundations of it.
He smiled, finishing the last parts of the speech with a bit more levity than the words actually asked for. He realized that, among the many roles they could fulfill, among all the expectations that they had placed upon them, the noblest duty which they could execute would simply be to fulfill their own potential – to follow and to hold true the will of fire, and grow as ninja of the leaf they could be proud of.
It was his pleasure to be a part of it, today and for as many more days as he could manage, with his creaky bones and that little problem with his hip.
In fact, even though the Mission Desk usually handled the simple missions of genin teams, the Hokage liked to hand out a team's inaugural mission personally. It gave him a sense of connection with his young shinobi, and allowed him to judge how well the team could get along.
Today, it also gave him a slight migraine.
It was a special time in a ninja's life. In some better world, Minato and Kushina would be throwing a party for him, and he'd be getting gifts and presents, and mountains of praise. The graduation from the academy was a big event, the first mission even more so because they had grasped the "bell test", and stepped forward one more pace to being an adult.
Perhaps Sarutobi could give the boy a gift of his own. He searched through his paperwork, pushing out of the way several sheaths of property damage reports, ANBU reports of border disruptions (the count was "0", of which he was very pleased), a few proposals for some less than savory business negotiations, and the D-rank missions.
Hmmm. The Fire Lady's cat, painting fences, planting potatoes. The normal missions, in short. He'd already pinned Kurenai's team for the cat mission, actually. It would be an excellent introduction to their particular subset of skills - with the bloodline and clans in the team, it was "fated", though he'd never use the term aloud - that they would be tracking and recognizance, just as much as Team 10 would be, with time and training, as excellent an assault team as their fathers.
But, Team 7.
There was a great deal of political attention being paid to Team 7 at this very
moment. Naruto being a part of it, of course, but with another great part being paid to Sasuke Uchiha - another boy to whom he owed a great deal, a repayment for tragedies in the past.
Where to begin?
As he moved to tamp and refill his pipe, his arm and its long sleeve revealed another few lines of the document. He read it.
Yes. Yes, this would do nicely.
The silence was thick, and Naruto was craning his head so far forward that he was very nearly falling over. "As your first assignment as ninja of the leaf, I assign you to…" he let it drag out as far as he could, watching the twitch develop in Sasuke's eye and Naruto nearly explode into angry action, "help Mrs. Makimono organize her library."
"…WHAT?!" Naruto actually did explode into a flurry of movement, bounding forward by a few feet before Sakura could catch him by the collar. "Are you kidding, Old Man? We're ninja! Aren't there, you know, princesses to save and ruins to explore and stuff?"
Sakura actually hid her face in embarrassment at Naruto's familiarity behind both her hands, leaving only her wide green eyes peeking out, while Sasuke turned one corner of his gaze to Sarutobi, judging his reaction. If only they knew just how far that familiarity led, on both sides…
Kakashi, used to Naruto's reactions, and even his relationship with the Hokage, turned a page in a book that, oh dear, Sarutobi was sure was "Icha Icha Volume 1", probably just past the part with Ayumi's battle with JunJun. Granted, it was a fantastic scene, and Sarutobi had it thumb marked as one of his favorite parts of the book, but it really wasn't appropriate (or in fact legal) to read in front of ones students. Or boss. Or, he thought about it a little longer, outside of a darkened room with the shades pulled down. Perhaps he'd have to speak with the younger man about that.
Sarutobi sighed, and shook his head gently. "The role of a ninja is as a tool of the village, and the village is led by its Hokage. As the Hokage, you must trust me to have your interests and the interests of all people in the village in mind . You'll have to remember this in the future, when you become Hokage." He smiled more broadly at Naruto, whose grin was shining, before crushing that smile completely. He tried not to smirk. "For that to happen, however, you'll need to obey the Hokage, and do all the missions assigned to you so you will get stronger."
He made sure to say the word "obey" in a certain tone of voice. After so long disobeying authority, the Hokage had to work hard to make sure that, in those special circumstances in which a teacher or an adult HAD to be obeyed, they would be. It was, perhaps, the greatest acts of diplomacy in his long career, and Sarutobi wasn't sure he'd ever been able to match it. Naruto's hardheaded stubbornness was greater than the square of either of his parents'. Trying to reason with his particular world view was very much like lecturing a cat.
Naruto inhaled sharply, as if the next breath was going to be very loud and very inappropriate for the ears of a child, let alone the mouth of a child. Then, as if a pin into a particularly large balloon, all the indignation rushed out of Naruto and he sagged under his own weight. "Yes sir." He said weakly, but he was the first one to say "Sir" at all, so it was greatly to his credit.
Sarutobi nodded. "Mrs. Makimoro has a VERY large collection of scrolls. She specializes in the collection of literature, both local and foreign, fiction and non-fiction. She has, unfortunately, become rather blind in her advanced years, and requests the aid of some of the promising youth to help organize her collection."
The genin were nodding (Well, Sakura and Naruto were, Sasuke had barely deigned to notice him yet - clearly he needed to brush up his diplomacy to reach an accord with Sasuke before it was too late for anyone). Kakashi caught Sarutobi's eyes, and an imperceptible message was communicated. Yes, he thought to Kakashi, *that* Makimoro.
"Please gather what resources you believe you think reasonable and report to her for any more questions." He nodded to them all, as if they were his comrades. "Dismissed."
As they left, Naruto hung back as if he wanted to impart some rather violent words of wisdom - perhaps with a fist or a good thumping of the desk as needed - but Sakura grabbed him by his collar - or perhaps his hair, from this angle - and dragged him through the doorway.
He sat in silence for a few moments. Well. It could've gone worse. Something or someone could've been set on fire while they were in there. He looked at his pipe - it was empty, which went to show just what sort of day he'd been having. Perhaps a refill of it.
He chose some aromatic weed and completed some more paperwork, and even corrected a few theoretical chakra equations that one of the up and coming theorists had put forward. She meant well, of course, but he added in a few elements that she'd been uneducated about, and broke the news to her as gently as he could with a razor-sharp red pen.
He ate an uneventful lunch, listened to some rather uninspired civic proposals - mostly of the nature of "This man is lying, and I'm *not*, no matter what he says", but with a few that requested large loans of money, or a few non-quite threatening blackmail insinuations which he would deal with no small amount of generosity.
By "no small amount", he meant "no generosity" at all.
Team 10 took their first assignment with, he had to admit, far more professionalism than Team 7. All three genin had clan background and parents, which did add some credence to how they behaved towards him - not the idolatry worship of Sakura, nor the exact ease of Naruto, as the blond had far more experience in his short years than most of his most trusted ninja ever accrued.
Time passed, and he'd finished sawing away at some tedious paperwork in time for the sunset. As he was enjoying the sky, which was already proving to be a rather remarkable beauty, there was a tentative knock on the door.
He glanced towards his hidden security. They gestured quickly. Yes, it was someone he really should pay attention to. Translated another way, it meant "You have GOT to see this."
He beckoned it open.
Team 7 walked through.
His only thoughts - his only coherent thoughts in those first few seconds were, if he were honest, "Oh dear god, they've gone insane."
As Hokage, Sarutobi had been exposed to far, far more than his fair share of insanity. Ninja of a certain rank saw more depressing events, more debauchery, more of the darker parts of human nature than human psyches seemed equipped to handle. If it got to a certain point without any sort of release valve it would, like a particularly violent shrapnel bomb, explode and do terrible things to the people and places around them. In truth, it was one of the best explanations some of his records had for some of the missing-nin not just in his village, but in any ninja village.
It was thus somewhat comforting to have people like Maito Gai, or Yamamoto Osaku. They were remarkable ninja, specialists in their genre. Maito Gai had grown to be an unparalleled teacher. His reports on the progress of his, dare it be said, "acolyte" showed promise and potential that no one else would've coached and protected in such a way, and said protégé was set to grow into a powerful shinobi himself.
Yamamoto, on the other hand, was a researcher whose theories Sarutobi himself couldn't always understand. She could, in a few seconds, analyze an academic paper and set it back or accelerate it forward by months, with a few direct pen strokes. Her ...little quirks had their uses as well, and at least no one was hurt who didn't sign release papers first.
Sarutobi had thought that he had a handle on Kakashi's quirks. He was actually pleased that the man had any, to be honest. From what he could recall of Kakashi's youth – a time where Sarutobi was too steeped in the affairs of war to pay needed attention to his young shinobi – he'd been adhering so closely to the rules that he was an exemplary shinobi, but not much else. The death of his teammate, the Uchiha boy, had changed something within the young man. It was actually a change for the better, unlike the changes brought with grief in so many other cases.
If porn and a rather lamentable public tardiness were the sacrifices he had to make to have such an exemplary shinobi, he was willing to take them.
He should've known that he couldn't be so lucky.
Not only had Kakashi Hatake gone completely insane, but he'd obviously passed it on to his students. He just shocked it had taken hold so quickly.
All four members of Team 7 were standing at rigid, military attention. Sarutobi hadn't seen Kakashi stand up completely straight since his ANBU days, and it added a few inches of height and a few feet of gravitas and intimidation to the man. He saluted smartly, and Sarutobi was, to put it mildly, horrified, to see all three students do the same.
He might've choked. If so, he would refuse to admit it later.
It WAS Kakashi, though. The image before him, however different from the man who'd slunk off less than (oh dear) three or four hours ago, was too similar to the ANBU captain and the elite squad member for it to be an imposter. He even used secret, if somewhat out of date now, ANBU codes to subtlety verify that yes, this is who you think it is. Kakashi might've even signed "Sorry", but Sarutobi's unblinking eyes had to tear up or go blind at that point.
The first major change was that Kakashi's jonin vest, with its myriad pockets and its armor reinforcements, was missing. Without it, the man should've been far less imposing, the shoulder armor adding inches to the authority of the otherwise slender man. Instead, the disproportionate height somehow made Kakashi seem gaunt and alien, and more like his namesake than ever before. Scarecrows were made to scare, afterall.
Sarutobi was mildly terrified.
His uniform was otherwise ragged. Parts of it were singed, other parts ragged, and a few spots had lines of stitching barely holding it together. Kakashi had replaced his headband, which was habitually slung over his "reclaimed" eye, an eye with infamy spread across the ninja nations, with a simple eye patch. It made his hair drape over his face on one side.
Of course, blessedly, he was wearing his mask, else Sarutobi might've had a heart attack on the spot, but it was still more of Kakashi shown to the open eye - more of Kakashi than Sarutobi would've expected to see when Kakashi was BATHING - than ever before.
And, oh god, the man was still at rigid attention, waiting for Sarutobi to acknowledge him. Sarutobi tapped the desk. In the olden days, it was one of the ways he'd recognize squads. In this case, it was as his fingernails scrabbled desperately for purchase, in case he had to leap out from behind the desk and run for the nearest bottle of alcohol.
The taller man (and Kakashi seemed even taller than he had been hours before) left his salute go crisply, and fell into an "at ease" stance that didn't look easy at all. "At ease". He barked - yes, barked to his students, who, to Sarutobi's horror, all obeyed.
The least offensive to the eye was Sasuke who was actually meeting Sarutobi's own. He gazed forward, not precisely seeking to catch attention but not glaring daggers back when Sarutobi watched him. He was, if nothing else, somewhat distracted. Like he was listening to something only he could hear.
Gone, gone was the familiar shirt that Sasuke had worn since childhood. Replacing it was, spirits help him, a somewhat form-fitting suit made of leather so finely stitched that it showed no seams. It was a nondescript black, and had a raised design on the left breast – the symbol of Konoha. At least he was still wearing his headband, the Konoha symbol centered proudly in the front. At least his outfit made strategic sense, all the important bits being covered, with his kunai pouches in the right places.
Beside Sasuke stood –
Beside Sasuke was a gap in the universe, because Sarutobi's brain was not ready to process the image he saw there, not yet. As far as he wanted to know, there was a distinct gap of a few feet between Sasuke and Naruto. He didn't care if space and time and all the laws of chakra dynamics had to be bent to allow him another five minutes of sanity – it felt completely worth it.
Naruto, then.
Naruto waved at him happily, his "at ease" a great deal more comfortable than anyone else's. He was more comfortable in the office than any imposter could ever be, because he was a great deal more comfortable than most of Sarutobi's secretaries and advisors, some alive before Naruto's parents had been. As Sarutobi stared for more than was strictly was polite, Naruto stuck out his tongue. That was as good as a DNA test and a retina scan for Sarutobi.
Sarutobi didn't even know where to start with Naruto, except that he was owed quite a great deal of money from several bets. The universe had finally had enough of all the doubters who took one look at Naruto's orange outfit and claimed that there was nothing worse a ninja could possibly wear as camouflage, by putting Naruto in something even worse.
The outfit was like being eaten by a tiger. There was no "worst" part of being eaten by a tiger - the worst part was the whole act itself. As such, it was nearly impossible to isolate the "worst part" of Naruto's outfit - it was the *whole* outfit.
What was it that drew the eye first? Perhaps it was he bright yellow hair, fluffed up and spiked up even more than it was three hours ago? The jacket, in eye-searing, crimson red? It was a tiger-striped monstrosity with polished silver stripes at the shoulders and the knees that swamped Naruto, hiding his hands and making him seem years younger. Or, was it the pants, a shade of orange which managed to defy nature and be an even brighter shade than before, oversized by at least two times and tied at the ankles with twine? The purse, then. Of all the possible things to dwell on, the purse seemed the least to damage his brain (which was saying quite a great deal about the situation). It was large, and dangled from Naruto's shoulder. It could've been called a satchel, but only if it didn't have that horrific brown-and-orange floral pattern, taken straight from the couch of some blind woman who had particularly cruel interior designers.
And, oh god, there was no where else to turn but to Naruto's other side, and the space in between.
Haruno Sakura.
This morning, she hadn't been able to meet his eye. Less than twelve hours ago, she was elbowing Naruto out of misplaced social niceties. And just earlier this morning, the world made sense. Presumably, it had been for the very last time.
In much the same way as it was impossible to locate the "worst" part of Naruto's outfit, it was impossible to *reason* Sakura's outfit.
To be fair, (and he was searching for every scrap of "fair" he could in a midst to scrabble purchase on the universe that was sliding from under him), kunoichi regularly worse *far* worse. The outfit was positively modest. Her arms and legs were both covered with armor - gauntlets and greaves, he noted - that left only a few gaps of skin, and those gaps were non-vital. There was also armor around the br- He stopped himself, as he was, according to popular opinion, a gentleman - bodice. It was a bodice-plate, with what seemed like very fine engravings covering it, catching the eye and dragging it, crying and screaming, towards some areas, and away from some of the other, less engaging ones.
The practical armor in no way, in no conceivable train of logic he could follow, justified the rest of it. Her color scheme wasn't much worse than it had been before – a darker red than she'd worn this morning, but the rest was white. That was still manageably bad, but…
But... Where there wasn't polished plate or the subtle signs of under-armor, there was lace. Peaking out from under a red garment of some feminine shape (Was it a doublet? Perhaps a tabard? It could be a surcoat. It could also be he was thinking about it too much.) Peaking out from her crimson mess was a nightmare of lace, and ribbon. She even had poofy sleeves, and now he in turn had a perfect reason to begin drinking.
He knew nothing about dresses. He was so pleased to know nothing about fashion. The only that at that moment which would please him more would be to know nothing of the last ten minutes.
She topped it all off with large flowers on either side of her head, and her hair into a braid. Instead of her hitai-ite, there was, oh god, a circlet with the distinctive Konoha leaf in the middle of her distinctive forehead.
She had jewelry, but it was only a choker around her neck with some sort of emblem. Ah yes, the closed circle of her family's simple crest.
He couldn't help but look at "it".
It was, to his rather practiced estimation, a glaive at least seven feet long. She held it behind her with one hand. The bladed end was metallic. Maybe it was simple steel or iron, polished to a blinding sheen. He somewhat doubted it, because it would make his life easy. Silver? Hm, it might be, even from here. Nicked with some rather subtler scarring, nearly buffed out by the shine of it. The other end was a spike that looked well-used and quite practical.
He refused to believe there were flecks of blood on it.
He wasn't even sure how she got it through the door.
He knew the girl couldn't help it. He knew that insanity, like a sickness, spread from one person to another and, young girl as she was, she probably didn't know better.
There were several conflicting thoughts trying to fight their way through Sarutobi's mind. He tried not to think at all, but the years of practice and habit were not kind masters, and he found himself thinking all things at once, frittering from one line to the next haphazardly.
The first major one was that, all in all, if Kakashi had planned this from the start, he may as well have not passed the team at all.
Obviously, he was claiming insanity - some insidious new breed of insanity that Sarutobi hadn't yet experienced. It was true that this was a team with a lot of political influence rooting for, against, parallel, and diagonally to it. The idea of "Sharingan" Kakashi NOT being the trainer of the last Uchiha was, well, unpalatable to bear. Sarutobi had thought that, if there were any teams and any students Kakashi would want to have a hand on personally, it would've been his sensei's son, Naruto.
Instead, Kakashi had, from appearances, decided that he'd rather retire from being a teacher entirely. There was no way, from the assemblage before him, that he'd ever be allowed near students again.
The second major line of thought that fought for his attention was that the children looked…
Happy.
It was a difficult thought to even begin to think, and Sarutobi had to hold it in his mental hand, looking at the concept from multiple points of view, trying to see what the foreign object was in the light of day before deciding that, yes, it was happiness and yes, it related to Uchiha Sasuke.
Naruto, as he'd noted, looked comfortable and pleased in his new clothing. If he'd been forced into it or forced into doing anything he didn't' want to, Sarutobi knew from experience that he would have darted into the office, climbed onto the Hokage's desk, and stood on it yelling and gesticulating all the offences against him until he was pushed down or, in most cases, tripped and fell onto the Hokage.
He wasn't even wandering around the room. He still stood at what could be called "attention", very much loosely, but the idea was still there, translated through the murky depths of Naruto's thoughts into Naruto's body.
Sasuke was not, as noted, precisely looking at Sarutobi directly, but his eyes...
Eyes had an almost mythical importance to ninja, and particularly in Konoha, to whom two clans of powerful doujutsu originated. They were seen somewhat as windows to the soul. If one paid attention, they were just as expressive as the rest of the face combined. Naruto's, for instance, were windows into his own sadness, though the sight was guarded by years of practice, hidden by the boy himself.
Sasuke's eyes were, and the word was hard to find, plain. It wasn't a blank, hollowness. They weren't even "empty" eyes. His dark eyes gave the impression only that they were a canvas, waiting to be painted, or of a bag that was waiting to be filled. Sarutobi got the impression that, for every moment that he was watching the Uchiha boy, the boy was cataloging all of Sarutobi's responses and filing them away for study. It was the focus and the intent of the Sharingan, with none of the crimson color or whirling he would usually expect.
And the girl, Haruno. She was smiling. It was, if anything, more terrifying of an effect than the whole group of people assembled before him. It was the happy smile of a girl her age. She caught his eye, and her cheeks shifted, as if she were hiding a laugh.
It was also important to note that none of the children were hitting each other, in any combination. If Sakura had tried to hit Naruto now, not only would she probably impale Naruto, but she'd probably slice into two bookshelves, his desk, and knock down his collection of antique urns in the process.
Naruto and Sasuke were standing side by side, with no one stepping on each others feet or elbowing one another in the ribs. There was also a surprising lack of whispering to each other.
Kakashi coughed.
Sarutobi realized that he had no idea how long the universe had been cruel enough to make him experience this for. It was as if the entirety of his existence had been leading up to this point and, just like the punch line of the joke with the snake, the punch line was going right over his head.
Kakashi began speaking. Sarutobi began listening. At times, he waved his hand, biding silence. At others, he nodded his head, as if what he were hearing were entirely reasonable and perfectly possible. He made some notes on a nearby scrap of paper.
The jonin made his points reasonably. He used logical arguments, presented his students, who in turn stepped forward and nodded, apparently pleased to be acknowledged and that they did their part in Kakashi's story.
He concluded, wrapping his points up succinctly, with all the verbal skill and tact of his stint as ANBU captain.
The four ninja before him waited in silence.
Sarutobi glanced down at his notes.
"So," he tried to start, and was amazed to find that he hadn't choked and, in fact, hadn't been crying or slamming his head against the desk (it had felt like it), "I see that all four of you were filing Mrs. Makimono's scrolls when you happened upon some sort of summoning scroll. It led you to," he barely hesitated. He was quite proud, "either another planet, or some other dimension.
Ah, I see here that you noted the difference in the local fauna and flora, and also the contrast in the constellations, which, as you said earlier, were entirely alien to what we have here. Three moons, you said?"
He riffled through his paperwork. "You wandered in the wilderness for only a short period of time until finding a – a…"
"Magical girl". Sakura added, helpfully.
"Yes, thank you." He opened his mouth, and tried to continue - he really tried - but no words came out. He read the rest of his notes for what had to be the fourth time, noting a few of the phrases.
Army of malevolent Oni.
Giant mechanical techno-suit.
Psychic spider-nuns.
Time-traveling nature Goddess.
He saw one phrase in particular and decided to dwell on it. He caught Kakashi's eye. "I see here you died?"
Kakashi nodded. "It was awful.
Sarutobi covered his eyes. "I... see."
There was a long period of silence. It might've lasted several seconds in reality, but it felt like the length of Sarutobi's entire lifetime.
"What."
Naruto cleared his throat. "Sure, it sucked, but he got better. Didn't you hear?"
Sakura coughed quickly, and Naruto smacked one fist against an open palm. "OH! This is a social thing, right? Gotcha." He took a step backwards, as if "Social" were a disease he would catch.
Sarutobi tried. He really did.
"What."
Kakashi glanced at his squad, and then at the Hokage again. He broke his rigid stance to scratch at the side of his eye patch. "Sir."
It, like many shinobi phrases, held many meanings. It was an acknowledgement of rank, a submission of ones own rank, a question of health, a way to continue the conversation...
Perhaps Kakashi was checking to see if the Hokage had gone insane. Perhaps Kakashi had submitted an entirely normal report and all that the Hokage saw in front of him was a particularly inventive genjutsu, or a prank gone horribly right.
For a moment, the ideas glistened brightly with hope. Yes, there was a chance that this was Naruto's doing, one way or another, and that all that he knew would continue being right. Any minute now.
He glanced down. In his own handwriting, next to the phrases "Gypsy were-pig" and "Witch of the Mountains", was "Carved into the moon", and "blood-sucking Sakura tree".
Sasuke stepped forward. Sarutobi leaned back in his seat, hands clasped before his nose. "Hokage-sama", he said respectfully, "Team 7 reports the successful completion of their mission. Mrs. Makimono's scrolls have been re-organized. She has promised payment to the Hokage's tower, as previously arranged." He saluted smartly, and stepped back.
"Thank you." Sarutobi managed. "Good work." He continued, his mouth pleased to have something to do. "Please enjoy the satisfaction of a job well done, and report to the duty desk for your payment. Dismissed."
The genin glanced at each other, but shuffled out. Kakashi stayed, and opened his mouth as if to explain further.
Sarutobi held up one hand. "Go."
"But-"
"Go."
Kakashi's one visible eye was wide. He looked as if *he* were the one confused, which was clearly not fair. "I-"
"They're happy. Whatever you did, and whatever happened to change them so, at least that's clearly visible. I can understand that this is some kind of rebellion. I would offer a long rest, perhaps a stay at one of the shinobi approved spa resorts, but the children are happy. You've managed to outdo Gai somehow, but even with that in mind, your plan to retire at a ridiculously young age from your duties as a sensei has, I'm afraid, backfired."
Kakashi twisted his head, moving his hands as if to block the Hokage's words entirely. "Sir, you don't-"
"As long as you complete your missions without casualties and with little paperwork - as long as they're happy - you can infect them with all the madness you may."
"Hokage-sama", Kakashi tried again, his tone somewhat desperate, "we really-"
"Please submit a copy of your "official" report at your soonest convenience." He paused. "And have your Sasuke submit a copy of the succinct version as well." Sarutobi nodded, finishing the conversation, and turned his chair around to face the sky.
He heard Kakashi stand straight, could FEEL the sharpness of his salute as he bid farewell, and heard the gentle clicking of the door as he left.
It was only after the door had been shut for at least a minute, and he was left to his own devices, that he began to laugh.