The Uzukage barely looked up from his paperwork, and instead offered one raised eyebrow in response.

"You're quitting."

Kushina felt like a grade-schooler sent to the principal's office. After petitioning his secretary for an informal meeting, she had been sent a very formal document printed on official Land of Whirlpools cardstock, requesting Uzumaki Kushina's presence at 3 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. An identical document, Kushina was sure, was ensconced somewhere in the imposing stacks of paper on either side of her father's desk, notifying him of his daughter's appointment.

"Yes, sir," she said, tugging on the end of her straight red hair while repressing a childlike surge of guilt.

Bakufu glanced briefly at his only child. She didn't meet his gaze, looking down to the desk with eyes that looked like his. Those eyes were the only part of him Bakufu could see in his daughter—she was almost her mother's twin. And he saw his strength.

"You can't," he said with a finality that would have quieted most other teenaged girls. As Kushina inhaled a breath of preparatory protest, he cut her off. "Your mother founded the Sisters of War. You are the only link I have to the organization and I need your influence within the group. Besides," his lips lifted slightly into something that could almost be called a proud smile, "I hear you are the most talented healer in your age group. If medics like you go around quitting, who will help all those dying ninja in the warzone?"

He meant the question to sound almost sweet, but came off with an imposing air instead.

Kushina bristled. The lifemetal stud on her nose lengthened briefly into a short spike and then returned to its original size.

"You know our situation has changed," she said fiercely, "Ever since that damn Squad 42 Incident the Sisters are being attacked almost as much as the regular soldiers."

"Well, why are you quitting now?" he asked, sitting further back in his chair, "The Squad 42 Incident happened almost two months ago, and since then all of our kunoichi have been specifically commanded to not impersonate any Sisters of War. The suspicion on kunoichi with nose studs will decrease from here on out."

Kushina placed one finger on her nose stud and closed her eyes in a half-hearted attempt to calm herself.

"It doesn't work like that. The Rain Rebels have poor communication lines. All the soldiers hear are rumors. Who are they to know that only one squad of assassins dressed like medics, and not that the entire Sisters of War organization, which I may remind you is based out of Nijigakure, has suddenly become very, very dangerous?!"

She knew she was ranting, but she couldn't focus. There was something blocking her mind; some cancerous obstruction right behind her eyes that threatened to inflame at any moment.

"It's Keshitome, isn't it?"

The cancer exploded. Every part of her body tingled with contradictory emotions. Her eyes narrowed and filled with tears. Her hands shook and sweated. Her lungs filled with sweet, miasmic air that would make her choke if she didn't need it so badly.

Bakufu saw the shadow in his daughter's eyes, his eyes, and recognized it for what it was. What Kushina needed now was support.

"Ninja's die all the time," he said matter-of-factly, "You know that."

Surprisingly, Kushina looked up and locked eyes with him, clarity returning to her visage.

"I know," she said coolly, "just like mom."

Bakufu coughed lightly. He was beaten.

"Alright," he conceded, "you can take a temporary leave of absence from the Sisters of War." He made a show of straightening papers around his desk, to demonstrate that all was business as usual. "But what are you going to do with your free time?"

The question she had been waiting for the entire time. Why she had scheduled the meeting.

"I want to do a new kind of training," she answered, savoring each word with its unseen weight, "And then I want to kill the bastards that killed Keshitome."

"What kind of training?" Bakufu asked, choosing to deal first with the less volatile aspect of her statement.

"Your training."

"No."