I've posted this story before, but it was written in the first person. Then I took it down because I lost interest and to be honest it sounded sucky in 1st person…Now, I picked it up again and re-wrote it. Hopefully, I'll end up finishing it.

All characters (except for my OC's) belong to Masashi Kishimoto.


Chuckle.

Twitch.

Snicker.

Twitch. Twitch.

Lewd giggle.

"Do you mind?! I'm trying to work here!"

The frustrated woman behind the desk hit the wooden surface with the palm of her hand. It tingled unpleasantly, the force of it feeling like a colony of ants biting into her skin.

That bastard better look at me!

The bastard in question was a silver haired jonin by the name of Hatake Kakashi that was currently lazing around on the office couch like he owned the damned thing. He turned fractionally, so his uncovered eye could connect with the peeved woman's.

"Not at all." The nonchalance in his voice made her want to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. "You should actually type more quietly. I can't concentrate on my book."

"You can't concen—" She groaned, taking off her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose. The woman swore she was one foot away from losing her carefully constructed composure.

That masked bastard! Why does he always have to do this? Ugh! Just be calm. Don't give in to his childish games.

Steeling her composure against the giggling menace, the woman slid her thick framed glasses up her slightly upturned nose and began typing again. This time, she made sure to hit each of the typewriter's key with crushing force. At least this way, she wouldn't be the only one to suffer annoyances.

Tap!

Tap! Tap!

TAP! TAP! TAP!

The cacophony of lettered keys mashed with brutish intensity and continuous flow had the masked jonin scrunch his nose behind his eternal mask, displaying his almost-genuine distaste.

"Ah, Nana-chan, that poor typewriter." His lone eye followed the woman's clawed fingers as they treated the typewriter's keys similar to an organ player high on music. He actually winced at one point once she hit the 'o' key with a resounding crunch. "What did it ever do to you to abuse it so cruelly?"

"Well, it's either the 'poor' typewriter suffers or you do." Nana threw him her best stink-eye, but the shinobi remained unfazed as it simply bounced against his laidback armor. "I don't need a blemish on my record unlike some lazy shinobi I know. And stop being so familiar, Hatake-san."

"So formal, Nana-chan." He specifically accentuated the honorific to show his disregard in her insistence on being proper. "And I thought after all this time we were friends—"

"We're not."

"—but you were always one to stick to rules." Kakashi continued on without a hitch. "I think you should really consider letting go once in a while. It's good for the soul."

A slim, perfectly shaped eyebrow shot up.

"Like you do?" She scoffed, no effort in concealing her doubt. Taking the finished document out of the roll of the typewriter, Nana blew softly on the fresh ink. Once dry, she gingerly settled the paper in the growing stack of neatly arranged documents.

Forty-seven down, thirty-two more to go.

Joy…

The woman took in a deep breath and settled her eyes on the current day's distraction. Out of all the places he could laze around, Hatake had to choose her office in the Jonin Headquarters and, of course, instead of letting her work in perfect tranquility, he had to childishly react to everything vulgar written in that ghastly little book (which is pretty much ninety-nine percent of it).

"Why did you come here, Hatake-san? There are no mission that could interest you." Usually, this particular shinobi got his assignments either straight from the Hokage himself or the Jonin Commander. He wasn't one to loiter around the mission roster like most ninja did, circling like vultures for either a challenge or a decent paying mission.

Hatake closed his book as he shifted sideways facing the other occupant of the room, his head held up by his bended arm. The change was almost instantaneous—from his characteristic indifference to a crinkled closed eye smile that no doubt hid beneath the material hiding the lower half of his face.

"Would you believe me if I said I came here to bask in your lovely presence."

"No."

Just by that change Nana knew that the lazy shinobi was once again messing around with her. Just like always.

"Ah, you caught me." The crow's feet never left his face as he continued on with his merry façade. "You should consider changing careers to an interrogator with the way you see through lies."

"Not like you tried." The woman mumbled underneath her breath as she refreshed the typewriter with a blank page. "Come on, Hatake-san. Either tell me or be on your way. I actually have work to do. These mission reports won't file on their own."

The jonin sighed as he rolled onto his back, his hands locked underneath his head. There was a pensive, almost piqued look about him that stirred Nana's curiosity. It wasn't every day that Hatake encountered a situation that puzzled him.

"I'm getting a new genin team tomorrow."

Nana rolled her eyes at his immature difficulties. For a moment, she actually thought it was an important matter, but once again it was a mundane inconvenience in Hatake's day-to-day life. Kami forbid he ever do anything besides read his tacky novels or leisurely walk about the village.

"So what? You get one each year and each time you fail them. You're a bit of a sadist come to think of it."

"Ah, am I? I think I'm being honest. Graduates shouldn't become genin if they're not ready both physically and mentally. It wouldn't do if a genin went up and died just because he achieved rank without merit. I'm actually doing them a favor."

"Favor…right." The woman scoffed sarcastically, crushing his woes under an unsympathetic thumb. "We're not in war anymore, Hatake-san. It's not like genins do any missions above maintenance tasks around the village these days. You're just crushing their dreams because you don't want the hassle of babysitting kids."

"Hmmm…" Hatake rose to a sitting position, his hand on his chin in a 'serious' thoughtful posture. "That is an interesting theory. One that I will seriously ponder after I finish reading my book."

Nana felt exasperation flood her brain. Fifty years could pass and he would still be only at the middle of the book, not yet quite finished.

There was something odd about the whole situation, though. Hatake wasn't the type to talk about genins, much less a fresh batch he would be receiving. To him, academy students were a passing fancy. He forgot about them the second they failed his ridiculous test.

Nana eyed the 'oblivious' ninja with deep suspicion. Something was different about these particular younglings, different enough to elicit an actual reaction out of him.

"Who are they?"

"The Uchiha boy and the Jinchuriki are the only ones of note." He leaned back on the sofa, observing the predictable reaction.

Nana froze with her fingers hovering above the lettered keys. Overcoming the unexpected surprise, the woman leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful frown on her brow. For the moment, Nana put aside her work in favor of this curious development. Not because it was Hatake's business, but because of the uncanniness of the pairing. Under no circumstance was this a coincidence.

"Let me guess—the Hokage personally selected them and it so happens that he appointed them to you." Hatake Kakashi. The former student of the Jinchuriki boy's father.

To her allegation, the man in question merely shrugged. Nana was not deterred, though. She just knew there was some underhanded deal done between him and the Sandaime.

"You know, the Jinchuriki kid is quite the troublemaker. I saw what he did to the monument a few days ago. Even now, they're still trying to scrape off the paint. As for the Uchiha boy…well, he's probably a handful all things considered." Traumatized children were always the most tough to handle. Throw a kid that probably surrounded himself with enough metaphorical armor to tank a horse with a juvenile delinquent and you had yourself one hell of a hotpot of stewing, growing hormones.

If anything, it would be interesting to see how this situation developed. Would it be in Hatake's favor or not?

I hope they beat you at your own game.

"Are you going to throw the 'bell' test at them?"

His eye closed into a happy crinkle, no need for a verbal confirmation.

"Sadist."

No longer interested in Kakashi's future failed genin team or the man himself, Nana delved back into her monotone world of black ink, white paper and the clanking sound of the aged typewriter. Seeing the woman's retreat from their social interaction, Kakashi took it as his cue to skedaddle. He knew that once Nana recoiled mentally from a situation there was no getting her back. She possessed zombie like focus when she worked.

The silver jonin rose to his feet and stretched his arms taunt over his head. A harsh pop here and there made him rethink his age with a theatric sigh.

"Well, I'm off, Nana-chan. I need to prepare myself for tomorrow. Get enough rest."

The clank-clank of keys paused.

"It's five in the evening, how much rest do you need?" Before the shinobi could answer, she abruptly waved him off not wanting the passive sass that most definitely sat on the tip of his tongue. "Forget I asked. Doesn't matter how much you sleep, you're still going to be late."

"I'm never late, Nana-chan. I'm always on time." As his feet dragged him out of her office, Nana could still hear his voice chirping joyfully. "My time, that is."

No longer feeling his presence, Nana let out the heavy sigh that came like clockwork after every interaction with the one-eyed jonin. She swore the man would give her ulcers with the way he kept pestering her. Why he insisted on seeing her almost every day, despite her displeasure at it, was beyond her understanding.

Ugh.

The door on the woman's right opened and a bleary eyed man poked his head out of his office, his hair even messier than usual as his ponytail now resembled a porcupine's back.

"Was that Kakashi-san I heard?" Shikaku's gravelly voice seemed even deeper than before.

"Yes, he was just being a nuisance." Nana attentively eyed the Jonin Commander. His all over disheveled state made her think of only one thing—

"Commander…were you sleeping again?"

The two ninja gazed at each other, a heavyweight battle of deadpan stares ensuing.

Seconds passed by the ticking clock on the wall.

The Nara patriarch scratched his goateed chin 'obliviously', offering one last comment before sliding back into his office.

"Knock on my door first if someone comes to see me."

Nana took a deep breath and shut her eyes tight, letting the exasperation wash over her like a cool wave. At this point, she really didn't know who was worse—Hatake, the chronically late shinobi or the Commander, the borderline narcoleptic ninja.


Nana sighed to herself as she walked the long dirt road to her abode.

The sun lowered over the many houses surrounding her, casting long shadows that engulfed the people of Konoha as they busied themselves with reaching their homes in time for dinner. Parents gathered their children from parks, men and women closed shop for the day and teenagers sneaked out of their houses in search of entertainment.

It had been a normal day for a ninja village, almost too ordinary. In her experience, Nana would expect some sort of mischief or backstabbing to happen, but the day passed relatively quiet. Thank Kami for that as Nana couldn't afford anymore distractions. Despite Hatake's attempts, work had been productive as Nana managed to file all the current field reports and even address a few inconsistencies. The rest of the day had consisted of following her Commander to the ANBU headquarters as he had a meeting with the Captain-Commander. A somber and silent place that always managed to give Nana the chills. The sensation of eyes following her everywhere was ever present and to her knowledge of ANBU, they probably were scrutinizing her.

Taking notes in that place was forbidden for outsiders, so Nana had to memorize the conversation down to the tiniest detail. Double meanings, a micro-expression, unconscious movements that betrayed one's thoughts—anything that could be to Shikaku's advantage and later review. Nana wasn't Shikaku's personal assistant without merit; her solid memory alone was a defining factor of her employment to the Nara clan patriarch. Nana was good at her job, no, she was great at it, but she swore it was among the most boring that she ever had the pleasure of performing.

—Bureaucracy was never supposed to her ultimate career path, but sometimes the choice was forcefully pried out of her hands.

Nana missed the old days. The missions and traipsing into different countries. Getting thrown into new adventures without a predictable outcome. The feel of the wind against her cheeks as she ran at full speed.

The office ninja sighed forlornly. Those were the golden days.

Nana straightened her back once she reached the compound gates, slipping the polite façade into place. Serenity washed over her features as she nodded and greeted her clansmen with a courteous smile, never once exchanging more words than needed. Although Nana was among her own blood, she did not feel comfortable being sociable as the giant elephant in the room would be predictably addressed and all sense of approachability would coast away from her being like rooftops in a tornado.

—She already had her own brain sabotaging her each day, she didn't need to be reminded by outside forces as well.

Only twenty-six years old and Nana was already a forgotten kunoichi, like all those that retired from the ninja life or were simply unable to continue it. She had joined the ranks of the walking dead, working in the shadows. She had been demoted to support of the office kind.

You ever need a pen, I got five of those on my person at all times. Notepads? Check. Paperclips? You got it. Hand sanitizer? Without doubt.

Being surrounded day in and day out by capable shinobi and kunoichi—ninjas with years of field work ahead of them, ninjas who would get to live through days of glory and, once old, could recount their days with pride, was a toxic and frustrating feeling. Knowing that she could never be one of them, that a stellar ninja career was not in her constellation had brought Nana to an all-time low. She'd had mornings where getting out of bed became a harsh chore that challenged her mental and physical will.

Sometimes, I swear, it would've been better if I—

"Nana!"

Startled out of her dark thoughts, Nana turned to find a young boy tracing her steps with an uncharacteristic quick gait. On reflex, her features brightened as the young Nara heir paced himself to her slow walk.

"Hey, Shikamaru!" She chirped as her slender fingers mussed with the boy's hair, anticipating his reaction. Shikamaru did not fail her as the young genin frowned and pouted, avoiding the wicked hand as if it were a hot poker.

"Why do you always have to do that, Nana?" Shikamaru glowered like an angry puppy as he had to redo his ponytail, wasting energy in the process.

"I just like messing with you." The older woman smiled as she playfully bumped into his shoulder. "Also, that pout is cute."

Immediately, the boy retracted his pout and pressed his lips into a straight line. He would seem the architype of a Nara man if it wasn't for the fluster coloring his cheeks bright pink. Nana could not help herself but chuckle at her patriarch's son's mannerism. Shikamaru, besides being the next in the Nara line of succession, was Nana's seventh removed cousin from her mother's side. During Shikamaru's infancy, she used to babysit him and in such, developed a great relationship with the head family. Which paid in the end since Shikaku offered Nana her current trade as his assistant after the incident.

"So tell me, who did you get as your sensei?" Yesterday had been Academy Graduation day, and even though Shikamaru had been among the last in his class (a fact that annoyed Nana to sprouting white hairs), he still passed the final exam and was now a full-time genin.

"Sarutobi Asuma."

Nana's eyebrows arched high as distant memories of a cheeky boy with wild russet hair flashed before her eyes. Years had passed since she'd last talked to the Sandaime's golden child, but from what she'd heard he did quite well for himself. Not anybody could become one of the Twelve Ninja Guardians, an honor on par with that of becoming a Hokage. When she learned that he would be returning to Konoha she almost couldn't have believed it. Trade that highly regarded position for that of a jonin's? Preposterous.

Shikamaru frown turned to mild curiosity as he studied Nana's micro-shifting features and deduced—"You know him."

She nodded, not even surprised that he could read her. Shikamaru was just full of surprises when he put in a little effort.

"A long time ago. We were in the same class at the Academy. Graduated together, too." She smiled faintly as she patted the younger Nara on the shoulder. "He's a great shinobi. Listen to him."

The boy scratched the back of his head, obviously not convinced by his dour expression. Shikamaru's number one problem had always been his lack of motivation which turned him into an idle, unenthusiastic ninja. It showed in his academic performance as his grades constantly maintained a low rank, and his teachers often complained of his indifference and even napping in class. Nana knew better, though. There was genius hidden in that thick skull, but general boredom overpowered his enthusiasm making him one hell of a lazy kid. If he only had put in some effort, he would have been promoted to genin years earlier. He might have been chunin already.

"What about your teammates? Are you getting along with them?"

An actual smile broke through his usually frowning visage, a spark of enthusiasm sizzling in those dark eyes.

"You remember Choji, right? He's with me in the team." But as fast as his delight came, it burned out just as quickly. "There's also Yamanaka Ino. She's loud and confrontational."

Unintentionally, an amused chuckle escaped Nana, prompting the young Nara heir to direct his frown towards her.

"Oh, I can already see you're going to like her."

"You don't have to rub it in." He sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest, annoyance written all over his skin. "Why is it that all the women in my life are crazy?"

Nana grinned whole-heartedly. "You just know how to attract them."

Like father, like son.

The two clansmen's conversation died down the closer they got to Nana's house. It wasn't anything special, just a one story house with three rooms and a small garden on the fringes of the compound. This was Nana's childhood home, spanning three generations. Nana had often contemplated selling it and settling for a smaller apartment, but something always held her back. Maybe it was the bitter-sweet memories or the simple knowledge that the house had been around since the foundation of Konohagakure, built by her own grandfather. Either way, any relocation dream would remain a fantasy for the time being.

"How are you, Nana?" Shikamaru asked as they arrived at the front stairs of the house. "Sorry about the Graduation Ceremony. I wanted to talk to you, but I practically got swarmed."

"I remember." She chuckled at the memory of his close family all congratulating him to his utter horror. All those aunts and grandmothers pinching and kissing his cheeks had probably traumatized him. "You know me, same old, same old. Sleep, eat, write files, repeat. The story of my life."

Shikamaru's frown deepened at the monotone words hidden behind that highly deceptive smile. He'd known for a long time that his cousin struggled daily with her burden. That it frustrated her and drove her to the point of silent tears, but never once did she outwardly complained. She swallowed her grief and kept it bottled like a firework never once setting off. But the thing about fireworks was that sooner or later, that fuse would reach its end and Shikamaru knew it was going to be unpleasant.

He missed his cousin. The old Nana—the one that used to play ninja with him when we has younger, the one that tried to show him ninja techniques and failed due to his higher interest in watching clouds pass by…the one that had a hidden mischievous side not many got to see. Now, she was like every other adult weighted down by life's tragedies, and he couldn't blame her after what she'd been through.

"Hey, you wanna come over for dinner?"

"Maybe some other time, Shika. I have some paperwork to deal with."

It was a brushoff, plain and simple. Nana had nothing but time to kill. Unfortunately, she was in one of her moods and even being around positive influences could not fish her out of that dark, gloomy hole she constantly dug herself into. Besides, Yoshino would probably comment on her thinness again and try to feed her to death. Despite her overbearing character, the Nara matriarch had a hidden gentleness when it came to people she cared about.

Shikamaru left it at that. He knew better than to push things with Nana since she had a tendency to turn into a statue when she felt threatened. Trying to speak with her then became an unpleasant chore he did not relish in. Looking over the compound, the sun's light was minutes away from disappearing over the horizon and he knew it was time to head home otherwise that troublesome woman he identified as mother would lecture him again.

"We're gonna start training tomorrow morning. I'm gonna have to wake up at the crack of dawn." He groaned, already dreading the hassle this would bring in the near future. "How troublesome..."

Nana sighed in defeat. The boy really needed to stop being so slothful, but that was like wishing for rain in a drought.

"Nana, can I come over once you get off work?"

"Sure." She might have gotten away this time, but in the end she could never refuse her cute cousin. "I'll order takeout from our usual restaurant."

Shikamaru smirked before giving her a lazy wave. "Goodnight, then."

"'Night, Shikamaru."

Nana watched his unusual quick steps through the half-empty streets of the compound, no doubt anxious of being tardy. No matter how much the boy groaned and complained, he was just as nervous of his mother as his father was.

He really is a charac—

It was instantaneous, just like all episodes were.

The smile on Nana's face suddenly morphed into a pained filled grimace, her teeth latching onto her lower lip with painful force.

My leg…

If it hadn't been for the wooden balustrade on the stairs, she would have collapsed in an undignified heap. Nana could feel blood pool at her lips as her fingers clenched the handrail with white knuckle intensity.

This was the worst feeling in the world. Unannounced pangs of pain that still paralyzed her even after more than a year. Why now of all times? She hadn't had an episode in over two months which was a celebration in itself. For a moment, Nana had hopefully believed that they had stopped hardening her life only for them to reappear when she least expected it.

—This was her curse. The burden she had to carry because of one mistake that changed her life entirely.

Cold sweat poured down her temple, making her limbs cool and clammy. Even her chest shook with each ragged breath leaving her body.

"Are you alright, Nana-chan?"

One of Nana's longtime neighbors, an elderly man, stared at her worriedly from his front engawa where he had been enjoying his pipe and tea in peace. Having known the woman since she had been born, the man seemed conflicted between helping her and leaving her pride intact.

"I'm alright. No need to worry." Like the dutiful ninja, Nana waved him off with a smile that completely covered the pain jolting around in her body. "Just a small spell."

With gritted teeth, Nana forced herself to climb those two stone steps, not even caring that her contracted muscles were screaming. Never once did her smile slip off, not even as she felt phantom nails being hammered into her leg. Her perfect mask could not be cracked, much less shattered.

Everything is fine. I'm fine.

With a polite head bow, Nana said her goodnights to her neighbor and stepped inside her darkened home. Once the door slid shut, Nana collapsed on the tatami mats, breathing heavily. Just those few steps had exhausted her beyond measure. It felt like she had undergone extreme training instead of just entering her house.

Just a little bit. I'll stay here for just a little bit longer.