This little tale features a very young, intact Team Kakashi, their enigmatic team leader and his ninken, and Iruka-sensei in all his pony-tailed, hot-tempered glory. Fractured timelines, implausible misunderstandings, a sprinkling of angst and hopefully a little humor abound.

Elements of Kekkaishi, a manga/anime by Yellow Tanabe are included, though none of her characters interact with those from Naruto. Prior knowledge of the anime/manga Kekkaishi is not required.

I own neither Naruto or Kekkaishi darn it, and no profit is made from this fan fiction.

Saturday mornings at the Leaf Hospital were typically quiet; especially when it wasn't a payday weekend, a full moon, or heaven forbid… both. Shizune happily breezed her way through eight slightly injured shinobi (a poker game gone awry), four civilian outpatients (spectators to the aforementioned poker game), and assisted in the delivery of two new citizens of the Leaf Village, all before the crack of noon.

This sudden stultifying tranquility meant she was free to settle into the mind-numbing task of pharmaceutical inventory she'd put off for weeks. Dammit! At least she could look forward to a break in the monotony when, or if, that Nara kid came to drop off supplies.

Four cups of coffee and a mountain of invoices later, she was wired, and a tad grouchy, probably because she'd barely made a dent in the paperwork scattered across the desk. Glancing at the clock every few minutes likely did nothing to alleviate the doldrums either. Is that damn thing running in reverse? That's it-I need a change of scenery! Her aching back heartily concurred when she indulged in a languid stretch and frivolous thoughts of basking in the late morning sunshine filtering through her mind. Surely, Tsunade won't begrudge me ten minutes to unwind outside the hospital's walls, would she?

Slinging her lab coat haphazardly over that box of unfinished requisitions she swore was taunting her, Shizune practically skipped toward the door and freedom. A steady low rumble of noise beyond the supply room door effectively, albeit temporarily, shoved all thoughts of relaxation to the edges of her mind. What fresh hell is this now?

The sounds of shattering glass, stifled screams, and scraping metal issuing from the emergency room became exceedingly louder once she cracked open the office door; she chose to ignore them. Having been a medic for too many years, she'd witnessed how injured shinobi reacted to medical treatment and she wasn't about to let this latest kerfuffle distract her. She was a woman on her own mission and she positively, absolutely refused to let anything stand in the way of a well-deserved time out. "Besides," she sullenly reasoned aloud, "The ER medics on duty are more than qualified to handle crybaby shinobi."

At least, that's what she thought until she heard ferocious barking and the muffled shout, "Somebody get an Inuzuka in here!"

Slinking off in the opposite direction of the emergency room, she shook her head in dismay. "I should turn back," she said under her breath, "but I don't want to." You're a healer, you should go help out, her conscience nagged relentlessly, what's more, Tsunade's gonna have a first class hissy fit if you don't get a handle on whatever is going on in there.

Executing a sharp about face, she trudged toward the tumult, secretly grateful for the interruption, even though it upset her agenda. Ducking into pharmaceutical supply, she drew three syringes of the powerful sedative, Laymewaylow, before angrily storming down the corridor. If I'm going to check this thing out, then I better be prepared to shut it down quickly.

Twenty paces from her destination, the emergency room doors spewed forth a wild-eyed scruffily disoriented medic like a violently venting volcano. The sharply worded reprimand she'd prepared to dish out evaporated before reaching her lips, engulfed as she was by the churning waves of sheer panic radiating from the fleeing medi-nin.

Sweet Kami, what happened? Grabbing the frightened man by the shoulders, she shuddered. Michio Sumimura, the normally unflappable senior medic now in in her grasp was rapidly transforming into a precipitously dissolving puddle of flop sweat and utter bewilderment. I'll never get an accurate report from him in this state!

Praying he'd understand her actions later, she backhanded the blubbering man-hard. Her eyes narrowed on the still quivering medic, "By the gods Michio, calm down and tell me what the hell's going on in there!"

Lucidity's light returned to his vacant eyes in the space of a heartbeat. Snapping to attention, and ruefully rubbing his reddening cheek, he reported briskly, "Ma'am, a few minutes ago, seven snarling and clearly mad dogs materialized in the emergency room. Their chakra was flaring uncontrollably-they were running around in circles- knocking equipment over-barking, snapping, and growling fiercely- we were forced to take cover." With a timorous glance over his shoulder, he turned to look at Shizune, disgust edging slowly across his face. "One of them is a really huge black dog- rather unsanitary beast, it's drooling all over the place," he said with a rather pinched look.

"Crazy jounin," she dourly muttered, "don't they know we aren't a veterinary hospital by now?" With a quick pat on the forearm, she dismissed Michio with orders to "Find Lady Tsunade, last I heard she was doing rounds on the second floor."

With the noise ratcheting up a few decibels, Shizune debated the wisdom of running back for more sedatives or running forward into the mass chaos. Within seconds, she stood before the emergency room entrance; her heart frantically pulsating, her mind helpfully supplying gruesome images of seriously injured medics scattered about the room.

Cautiously, she pushed the oaken doors apart.

"Thank goodness," she breathed, the staff seemed shaken up, but otherwise unharmed. Three glassy-eyed medics cowered against the back wall, while two others cringed behind an overturned gurney. Standing in a loose circle at the epicenter of the commotion, seven dirty and bloodied dogs held the medics at bay. These vicious mutts, some lightly foaming at the muzzle, all with hackles raised, slowly widened the circle, inching ever closer to their petrified hostages.

Her mind wasn't functioning as sharply as she needed it to; try as she might, she simply couldn't formulate an evacuation plan, so she froze, helplessly glued to the spot. Watching every head in the room turn slightly as Tsunade's irritated footfalls reverberated along the corridor, the only thing she thought was, well, there goes my afternoon break.

The unmistakable anger emanating in their direction made the distressed medics comically scurry into upright positions, more afraid of an angry Hokage, than a pack of obviously feral dogs. Said dogs were also intelligent enough to back away from their quarry, though they continued to raise a ruckus.

Sweeping past her tongue-tied assistant and the twitchy medics, Tsunade strode toward the center of the room, all the while directing an unyielding glare at the snarling hounds. With arms akimbo she raged, "There better be a damn good reason why you mutts are running amok in my emergency room and terrorizing my staff!"

At once, the dogs rushed forward encircling the Hokage, all of them standing on their hind legs beseeching her for assistance. Though stripped of their distinctive insignia, Tsunade instantly knew who these mutts belonged to. Don't tell me he's gone off and gotten himself killed!

Never before had she seen his pack behave so savagely, the loss of their ability to speak coherently surely signaled how desperate their summoner's condition was. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she bellowed over the frantic din, "Where's Pakkun?"

Surprisingly, Akino grabbed Bisuke by the scruff of his neck and carelessly flung him toward Bull. The flustered little pup awkwardly scrabbled atop Bull's broad shoulders, briefly bowed his head and respectfully reported, "Hokage-sama, Pakkun is by our master's side; they're both unconscious and gravely injured."

Tsunade hoped the little dog was exaggerating the situation, but she knew better. The only time any of his hounds ever called him 'master' was- well, never, so Kakashi must be in worse shape than she initially reckoned.

With each passing second, the dog's collective agitation intensified, while Tsunade valiantly struggled to tamp down her own anxiety. Kneeling down, she slowly extended her hand to rub the little dog's head, "Bisuke, do you think you're able to lead a medical team to his location?"

Bisuke nodded excitedly, but before he could say anything else, an electrified column of white chakra beamed downward to Tsunade's right; in a twinkling of an eye, a tall dark haired woman emerged bowing politely.

"Sorry for the disturbance Tsunade-hime," the stranger said quietly, "I came as quickly as I could."

"Never mind that Taji," was Tsunade's tetchy shout, "Just make these hounds shut up so I can think straight!"

The pack almost seemed relieved by the newcomer's presence, quickly abandoning Tsunade to crowd around this person with expectant faces and wagging tails, each of them nervously yelling in a dialect unfamiliar to those listening.

Everyone watched in stunned silence as the dogs immediately quieted, dropping to their haunches in unison when the willowy woman pressed a finger to her lips. Beckoning to Bisuke who happily leapt into her outstretched arms, the quivering canine spoke clearly and rapidly.

She listened attentively, murmuring soothing words ever so often to calm the canine. When he'd completed his report, she placed her hand to his still trembling back; bright white chakra gathered around her feet, and when next she spoke, it was harsh. "Get a gurney over here, NOW!"

Medics tripped over themselves in their haste to obey, in less than five seconds a clean gurney appeared at her right side. The glowing blue seal of a reverse summoning jutsu flashed onto the gurney's surface seconds before a blood-soaked, deathly pale, and barely breathing Hatake Kakashi materialized with a similarly injured Pakkun by his side.

Tsunade recoiled in gut-wrenching concern; stymied with fear by the amount of blood sluggishly oozing from too many wounds; she steadied her voice, "What's his status Taji?"

Taji's eyes never left Kakashi's pain-etched face. Her voice became cold, almost robotic as she itemized his injuries; "Poison on the kunai that almost gutted him- partial paralysis of his diaphragm-some type of neurotoxin I imagine. The usual Sharingan overuse resulting in chakra depletion and moderate dehydration from blood loss."

Beginning her preliminary exam of Kakashi's supine form, a faintly discernible "Baka!" spilled from Tsunade's lips. Why does he always push himself beyond the limits of his endurance?

The plaintive whine of one of the ninken punctured the cumbersome silence of the room. A chorus of pain-filled howls followed, and a cold wet nose pressed at Tsunade's ankle, attempting to nudge her closer to their master.

Every medic eyed her warily; many appeared to be holding their breath. Tsunade barely noticed. Shinobi rule number twenty-five, she repeated like a sanity preserving mantra; apparently, it worked for hard-nosed proficiency slapped down the emotional turmoil threatening to overtake her. As her mind calmed, bright green chakra flowed steadily from sure hands.

Her initial evaluation left her cold.

Constantly aware of his diminishing chakra levels, Tsunade rattled off a rapid-fire volley of instructions while simultaneously devising her surgical stratagem.

"Shizune, call operating theater two; have them ready to go in three minutes. Taji, have some of your shikigami attend to Pakkun, and the rest of these mutts; then get scrubbed up and meet me in the operating room. Pointing to a medic whose name she couldn't recall, "You there, cut what's left of his uniform off and start two IVs, one saline, the other Type O blood. The rest of you get this place cleaned up!"

The still spooked medics stood about for a nanosecond before she yelled, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" "GET MOVING!"

Backing away from the whirlwind of activity surrounding Kakashi and very nearly tripping over Akino in the process, she mumbled, "Damn brat, looks like a centerfold for Shinobi Trauma Weekly."

While most of her attention focused on the procedures she needed to perform and the various tests she had to have, Tsunade couldn't shake the creepy crawly feeling running along her spine. This wasn't normal pre-surgical apprehension; no, it was something more dangerous, and coming from Taji. "How long are you going to stand there boring a hole in my back before you attend to the tasks I assigned you?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on it Tsunade," came the cynical drone. "How bad is the damage this time?"

Tsunade's eyes crossed in frustration, knowing the pesky little woman knew as much about his condition if not more than she did. Hardly in the right frame of mind to deal with being second-guessed or micromanaged, Tsunade bit the inside of her cheek so as not to sound defensive. "Aside from this laceration across the abdomen, he has a compound fracture of the right tibia, and first-degree burns to the right palmar surface. Among his lesser injuries are four cracked ribs, a linear skull fracture, and numerous cuts and bruises along the extremities. I don't even want to think about the extent of his internal injuries." With a nervous laugh she added, "Hell, even the brat's hair is singed."

"Let's look on the bright side," Taji smirked, "at least I won't have to chase him around the village with an ANBU squad and chakra restraints to give him a haircut this time."

Tsunade snickered faintly before shooing the younger woman away, "Just get your happy little butt up to the operating room brat, and leave the comedy routines to the professionals."

-000-

Saturday mornings in the mission room were akin to a mini-vacation for Iruka because the flow of work always followed a pleasantly predictable pattern. A tiny avalanche of mission scrolls awaiting filing would accumulate on his desk; he'd sort through them with ruthless efficiency, and make time to catch up with former students receiving missions. This usually left him with at least three hours in which to grade homework, and tweak lesson plans for the upcoming week before repeating the process in reverse during the afternoon rush.

Damn shame Iruka and the other staffers wouldn't be able to savor the stillness for much longer. Peace and quiet vaulted headlong out the window when the mission room doors slammed open to reveal a muddied, yet distinctively orange whirling dervish determinedly streaking toward Iruka's desk.

Scarcely anyone looked up from their work; years of Gai's 'Dynamic Entry' techniques had a way of doing that to a person. Down to the last man, they all frantically reached for chakra-enhanced earplugs, bracing themselves for the verbal onslaught, which would commence in five—four—three-two…

With practiced familiarity, Iruka was standing behind his desk, one hand fisted on his hip, the other stretched toward the exuberant boy. "Naruto, what the …! How many times have I told you about barging in here as if your hair were on fire?"

Naruto flailed and bounced about wildly like a SuperBall® on crack, boisterously exclaiming, "But Iruka-sensei, it's really important…it's… it's an almost emergency!"

Being fluent in 'Naruto-speak', Iruka knew this type of urgency was either related to a Konoha-wide ramen dearth (heaven forfend), or equally unlikely, Sakura had agreed to go on a date with him. The obligatory weary sigh accompanied the folding of his arms across his chest, "Almost is not the same as an actual emergency!" he bellowed. Lowering his voice slightly without lessening the intensity of the scolding, "When you remember how to use your 'inside voice', I'll be happy to hear about this almost emergency; until then, you will pipe down- understood?"

Naruto settling down to gather his thoughts would take almost as long as an iceberg melting in winter- in Siberia. Iruka used the time to drain the dregs of his coffee mug, gather the forsaken pile of homework, alphabetize and sort it into classroom groups, and stuff it into his satchel. Naruto's fidgeting slowed, but Iruka could tell he was still ruminating. Moseying to the front of the desk, Iruka perched patiently.

Glancing between Naruto's cheerless face and the mission room door, Iruka gulped down a robust guffaw. Lo and behold, the equally mud-encrusted and thoroughly disheveled remnants of his squad pathetically limped in to stand behind their errant teammate.

Far be it from me to criticize Kakashi-sensei's training methods, but this ridiculous, even for him. "Sakura, Sasuke-were you guys cleaning out the village's sewers or something?"

Balefully shaking their heads, they both glared at Naruto, who'd calmed himself enough to mumble a sincerely disingenuous, "Sorry Iruka-sensei." Pudgy whiskered cheeks puffed out proudly as he proclaimed, "We just finished training for the day!"

Iruka reached out to ruffle the boy's already mussed hair, extracting a few twigs and bits of assorted flora from Naruto's headband,"That certainly explains your appearance," he chuckled. "I'm afraid I'll need your help to understand what your training had to do with this 'almost emergency' you were raving about."

"That part's coming up later Iruka-sensei," beamed Naruto. "Where was I? Oh, yeah, we trained all by ourselves today because Kakashi-sensei's been off on some mission since half past forever and …"

"Oh, for crying out loud Naruto," Sakura whined, "it's only been five days. Ignore him Iruka-sensei, you know how he exaggerates."

While it wasn't unusual for the Hokage to task Kakashi with the occasional high ranked mission, Iruka took issue with the jounin's failure to make other arrangements for his team's supervision. I'll be sure to bring that up to him next time he saunters into the mission room.

"Training on your own, on a Saturday, no less?" Iruka enthused, "well I'm sure Kakashi-sensei will be pleased to hear of your initiative. I'm pretty impressed myself; you guys are very industrious."

Naruto blinked in confusion as he gave himself the once over, "What kind of dust is that Iruka-sensei?"

"Oh, for the love of…" Sasuke groaned. "The word 'industrious' means hard-working you moron."

Iruka intervened to forestall the inevitable angry outburst, "All right, break it up." The stern look he gave wasn't having an impact on the seething Naruto or the sullen Sasuke, but a word of praise normally settled them down. "It makes me very proud to see you all have what it takes to become excellent shinobi."

At Iruka's commendation, Naruto glowed like the summer sun at high noon; Sakura tittered coyly and profusely blushed. Sasuke, well…he was…Sasuke.

"I for one was glad we got break from Kakashi," came Sasuke's flat declaration. "He was starting to tap dance on my last nerve."

"Yeah," Naruto chimed in. "Normally he's a lazy pervert, who ignores us when we train, but for the past few weeks Kakashi-sensei has actually been leading us through exercises instead of watching us from up in a tree."

"Naruto!" admonished Iruka gently thumping him on the head, "Don't speak so disrespectfully about your sensei."

"Ow," Naruto squawked, "Are you trying to give me a percussion Iruka-sensei? Geez, I was telling the truth, right guys?"

Naruto and Sakura turned as one to focus on Sasuke when he uncharacteristically agreed, "For once the dobe is right. Kakashi's been on time for training lately, and he hasn't even been reading his little book." With a barely concealed tremor he added, "A few days ago when we mastered a technique, he actually," Sasuke swallowed…"He hugged us. I'm telling you Iruka-sensei, something's definitely wrong with him."

NOTES:

The name Michio means, "Man on a journey."

Shikigami are the servants of the ability user who creates them. When not being used for a specific purpose, they are nothing more than simple slips of paper that bear the emblem of their creator. Depending on the mission required, shikigami take on the form of doves or crows, capable of human speech, when used to relay messages. They may take on a human form, should their inherent powers of healing and restoration be required.

SuperBall® is the sole property of Wham-O Toys. No copyright infringement intended, only nostalgic musings of simpler times when interactive toys meant something completely different.