Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Masashi Kishimoto and the Naruto franchise

Author's Note: Hello! Zen speaking. Nice to meet you if I don't know you, and if I do know you, I can only apologise for still not having got my act together for Dream, but at least I'm writing again. I'm feeling a little better about my writing at last.

I always wanted to try doing something from Sai's point of view. It's rather similar to my actual voice and perspective on things, so here's the opening, and my experiment with Sai's voice. We'll see what happens.

I hope you enjoy as I, perhaps unwisely, expand my project list (yet again - why do I do this to myself?). Best Zen :D


Sai would not say that he was a light sleeper, but, then again, that was usually to avoid the problem of imagining how sleep could possibly be weighed and the migraine that followed.

One book he had consulted had said that sleep was a subconsciously enforced energy recovery system, and how light or heavy it was did not matter, so long as it happened and the body eventually woke up. On the topic of weighing it, however, it had been frustratingly evasive.

As it was though, at the soft rustle of fingertips brushing against the curtain and the creak of a weight on his window ledge, Sai had already leapt out of bed, seized hold of an ankle and tossed his late night visitor across the width of the room before he had even opened his eyes.

He stared at the mess. Tonight he had not only thrown his visitor into his perfectly ordered bookcase but also managed to tear off the curtains from his window. The window was still broken from another late night visitor the previous week, but they were breaking in so frequently these days he wasn't sure it was worth the time or money fixing it.

Having said that, all these late night visitations were beginning to make Sai marvel at himself. He could only think of two possible reasons behind them: Either they meant that there were people who were so socially mystified that they couldn't even engage him in public to get what they wanted; or suddenly his 'sex appeal' had become magnified to such an extent that Konoha shinobi could no longer keep away from his bedroom.

He made a mental note to ask Sakura or Naruto's opinion on what the term 'sex appeal' actually meant and whether they felt it applied to him, and stepped towards the girl. She was groaning from beneath a heap of books and struggling to untangle herself from the curtains.

Smiling down at her with the carefully modulated smile he called Benevolent-and-Understanding-Level Three, he crouched down beside her.

"Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Sai. Apparently the first step to social improvement is confident communication, so the next time you want to talk to me, you should try during daylight hours, and, because you are a girl, I would be happy to talk in a tea-shop. If you were a boy, however, I would have a better chance bonding over a display of mutual macho carnivorism, so we would probably go to the yakinikuya instead. In the meantime, can I assume that you came looking for a book?"

The girl stared, then nodded slowly, swallowed and licked her lips. Her eyes darted round the room before she lowered her voice to a hiss. "You know which book that it is we seek."

Sai thought for a moment, then he reached down and pulled out a well-thumbed paperback from the pile of the books on the girl's back. "I think you were looking for this?"

HOW TO WAKE PEOPLE UP WITHOUT THEM INSTANTLY TRYING TO KILL YOU

by Inemuri Manjiro

Tried and tested on civilians, ninjas and the author's wife! The author is still alive!

"No need to thank me." Sai switched up the smile to Benevolent Level Four. He extended a hand down to the girl. "But, if you return it as soon as you can, that would be helpful."

The girl was still staring at the book in her hands in stunned, obviously grateful silence. Yes, it must have been gratitude, decided Sai. What else could have evoked such a pure response of incredulity?

Sai stood back for a moment, reflected on all the other late night visitors he had offered books to in the past three weeks, and wondered if this warm yellow feeling inside like melting butter could be called 'satisfaction'.

Then to Sai's astonishment, the girl made a keening noise like a bird, and promptly burst into tears.

"Oh gods," she sobbed, banging her forehead on the floor, "how difficult is it supposed to be to get hold of a single book? Just a single goddam book?"

Sai contemplated the question and was struck by an idea. A minute later, the girl ceased smacking her head with the book (in the throes of an ecstatic nervous breakdown, triggered perhaps by the discovery of the book that would become her religion and rhythm of life) to peer at the sheet of paper he had thrust under her nose. "What the heck is that?"

"A map to the nearest Kakinokuniya Bookstore. They sell books there," he added helpfully, just in case she was as dense as he suspected she was.

She made a small noise like a wounded impala and buried her face in her arms: "This goes way beyond the level of my paycheck…"

Sai pricked his ears. He sat forwards and wondered whether Smile Mark One, the one that Naruto and Sakura told him never to use under any normal social circumstance, should be deployed, and decided against it, selecting I'll-Be-Understanding-if-You-Tell-Me-the-Truth-or-Else Level One instead.

"Paycheck?" he repeated, smiling down at the girl, and a chill ran down her spine despite the sticky warmth of the summer night. "Whatever do you mean? Feel free to talk in your own time. They say that talking about your problems is supposed to help - "

The doorbell chimed, and chimed again three seconds later - about the time taken for a deep calming breath.

And then one second later (because taking a deep calming breath had clearly proved itself a waste of time), the front door of Sai's flat was kicked down.


Three Weeks Earlier…


Or perhaps it all started even earlier than that, but the general consensus was that the returning bodyguard mission three weeks earlier was the date that the Ship of Unwanted Drama sailed into Unwitting Port.

"Sai. That old man down there." Sai looked over his shoulder and saw Yamato pointing down into the forest below. Following the line of his finger, he spotted the dark, hunched shape in the centre of a clearing. "What do you reckon? Is it just me or is he trying to hail us down?"

Sai squinted into the forest, and the indistinct grey shape grew a pair of, what from his distance, looked like antennae and waggled them urgently at the sky.

It seemed as though the old man was waving his arms. "Perhaps he's doing a rain dance?"

"At his age, at this time of night, in these parts of the forest? I don't think so." The way the old man had dashed out into the middle of the clearing when Sai's eagle had passed overhead struck Yamato as odd as well. It was as though he wanted them to find him. "Take us down, Sai."

Sai adjusted the chakra flow circulating through the ink and the eagle banked round and down, extending its wings for a long, smooth glide.

As they circled closer to the clearing, the grey shadow with its stick thin growths became more distinct: An old man in a dark blue travelling cloak, with a pale face and long yellowing hair that at some point had become married with his equally yellow beard. He was, indeed, waving his arms and jumping up and down on the spot.

When Sai had manoeuvred the eagle to just above the top of the treeline, Yamato cleared his throat and shouted down from its back. "Evening!"

The old man stopped waving his arms, blinked his rheumy eyes. "Evening."

Yamato indicated the clear skies above with an airy waft of his hand. "Lovely night out."

A wolf howled from somewhere in the forest. "Yes, it is rather."

Yamato decided to get straight to the point, ""If you don't mind me asking, but what are you doing out here?"

The old man stared up at the eagle. "I'm rain dancing."

"Really?"

"Of course not!" The old man stamped his feet in a fit of exasperation. "Do you know how long I've been trying to get your attention? Two days straight I've been chasing after you! Two days! I am ninety seven years old! I don't have the strength to keep this up anymore."

"Well, in that case," Yamato smiled and tried to look as obliging as possible from the back of a giant ink drawing of an eagle-of-war, "what can we do for you ?"

With a sharp, sudden, rattling breath, the old man keeled face down into the grass.

Yamato leapt off the eagle and dashed to the old man's side. He hurriedly turned him over. "Are you, alright, sir?"

"I am fine." The old man batted Yamato's hands away and made to get up. Then he made a curious gurgling noise and spat out a thick, arcing stream of blood. "On seconds thoughts, I might not be."

Leaving the eagle circling the clearing, Sai jumped down to join Yamato and the old man on the ground.

"What is it?" he asked Yamato. He set his face into Concerned-and-Curious-but-Trying-not-to-Alarm-the-Civilian Smile Level 1.5 and examined the old man. "Is it poison?"

"'Is it poison?' he says!" the old man mocked. "Oh, aye! It's a mysterious slow-acting poison called 'old age', that's what it is. It's unfortunate, but that's how humans work, boy. Now, I don't have much time." He fumbled for the clasps of his cloak. "You are both Konoha ninjas, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are," said Sai matter-of-factly. "You asked us that already. You are very forgetful, but I am not surprised by this, because you are an old man and forgetting is what old men do."

"Sai!" Yamato chided him.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't mind. The young think they are so clever. Let them have their delusions whilst they have the luxury of time to do so." The old man smiled and closed his eyes. "But I heard truth in what he said. Good, you are Konoha ninjas. Hah! Despite my ailing heart and mind, it seems that at least my ears are still in perfect order!"

Chuckling to himself, the old man dipped a hand into the deep folds of his cloak and drew out a large grey book.

It was bound in silk, as thick and wide as a paving slab. Its pages were grimy and their edges furred with age.

The old man blew the fluff off its cover and dusted it gently with his hand. With a reverence Sai thought would better have been applied to peace treaties or trade documents - or, if used by Naruto, for gifting someone with a ramen coupon - the old man held out the book to Yamato.

"Take that," he said, his voice becoming wispy. "Take that to the Hokage. She must read it. Then she must destroy it. It is research of the most dangerous kind. She must see it. Do you understand?"

When Yamato did not immediately respond, the old man reached up, seized his collar and pulled Yamato closer until their faces were only inches apart. "If you don't do this, something will happen that will tear what fragile little peace there is in our world apart. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, I understand," Yamato squeaked.

The old man looked intently into Yamato's eyes. Eventually, he laughed, and it was a wheezing, whistling sound that escaped between his teeth like a draught. "No, you don't. I can hear the lie in your voice. I can hear you trying to calm me down, trying to be nice to me, because I'm a dying, desperate old - "

His hands dropped away from Yamato's collar, landed in the grass, and something blank swept down over the old man's expression like a closing curtain.

Crickets sang and sputtered around them.

Sai's eagle glided overhead with slow, strong, silent beats of its wings. When it had passed and its shadow moved on, Yamato ran his fingers over the old man's eyes and handed the book to Sai.

"I'm going to search the body. Whilst I'm doing that, Sai, I want you to check the book over. We need to make sure we're not delivering some kind of bomb into Konoha."

Sai nodded. "Yes, sir."

As Yamato patted the old man's body and carefully turned out his pockets, Sai used a kunai to probe at the book. He ran its tip against the edges of the pages and listened for any sign that the paper had been edged with metal; knocked on the book with the kunai butt to see if the book was hollow; ran the flat of the blade over the cover looking for anything that might be hidden underneath.

He was riffling through the pages, looking for seals that could be activated on Tsunade touching them, when a pamphlet slipped out and fell between his feet.

On picking it up, Sai realised that it was less of a pamphlet and more of a very slim book. It was the size and width of his hand, red and, its title was emblazoned across the cover in the curly floral handwriting found on greetings cards:

EYEBALL ROLLING AND OTHER OCULAR SOCIAL COMMUNICATION GESTURES

a Treatise by Oonishiki Tsuchinoko

Sai was about to replace the small book between the pages of the grey silk tome when, in a desperate suicide leap for attention, something waving from deep down in his subconscious set fire to itself and pranced to the front of his mind.

The name of the author.

He squinted again at the small print and confirmed it for himself.

Yes, he knew the name of the author.

More to the point, Sai, already owned three books by said author, almost enough for Sai to wonder whether this was sufficient symptom to 'declare himself a fan'.

HOLDING HANDS: THE DEGREES OF RELATIONSHIPS AS REPRESENTED BY BODY CONTACT was still on his bedside table, along with its sequel HOLDING HANDS 2: THE MYSTERY OF TOUCHY FEELY. HOLDING HANDS 3 had been confiscated by Sakura as soon as she found it in his possession and, as much as Sai was curious to see what was inside it, she had strictly warned him off attempting to obtain another copy on pain of having his skull crushed and its bits used to explore his navel.

HOW TO READ THE AIR, however, had been a present from Sakura herself, and it had been read from cover to cover and back again until its bindings started to fall apart. True, he had still been mystified by what 'the air' he was supposed to be reading actually was, and part of him had yet to be convinced that it wasn't referring to an ancient kind of fuuton jutsu, but there was no denying that Oonishiki-sensei's books had helped Sai out of many a social sticky situation already.

He turned over the little book to read the blurb.

Communication, Communication, Communication

The core, the glue and the scaffolding of every complex society, and however much the brooding, taciturn, monosyllabic, grunting brothers and sisters of our human family (praise be to mankind!) have endeavoured to convince us otherwise, deep down in their withered and love-impoverished souls, even they yearn to communicate and to be understood.

In this treatise, you will learn how the Eye Speakers speak their mind and unlock the secret workings of those more vocally challenged amongst us.

The eyes are the windows upon the soul. Today is the glorious day that you will begin that journey of self-improvement that will give you the powers to push your friend out of that window.

Come, comrades, and join the Ocular Communication Defenestration Revolution!

Tsuchinoko xxx

He returned to considering the Book.

Sai didn't believe in gods. It was usually difficult enough trying to believe in people, and they were entities that actually bothered to make their existence reasonably known to him, but the timing, of the appearance of this particular little book, was so good he had a feeling he had made a major breakthrough in understanding the meaning of a 'godsend'.

The end of the Fourth Shinobi War had been followed by peace, and it was peace as none had been seen before. Treaties and trade agreements had, for once, not been the bricks and mortar that built it. They were simply the scaffolding, holding it up until the time of peace could support itself. This peace had been built from understanding and tolerance, on the back of a shared victory.

Ninjas were suspicious by profession, if not by now by nature. Inevitably they were always questioning and nothing was questioned more than this newfound peace.

They did not ask how long the peace would last, because no one dared to answer.

They asked instead how long they themselves could make peace last, and went about their new lives trying to live up to whatever answer they each came up with.

In any case, a peace of sorts - precarious and much suspected - had slowly settled down in Konoha like a suspicious nomad, tentatively working out how to stay put, and worrying whether it could or even should.

And along with the post-War peace returned many missing nins, promised amnesties and reduced sentences as a reward for the parts they played in the war.

Taka disbanded and went its separate ways, and to Naruto and Sakura's joy Uchiha Sasuke returned to Konoha - although that joy was only eventually reached after many an (explosive) argument, days of (festering) silence, bowls of (force-fed) ramen and (not as grudging as they led each other to believe) acceptance of all that had happened, and would likely come to happen next.

For Sai, however, Uchiha Sasuke presented a puzzle and something of a problem.

Despite whatever Yamato, Naruto and Sakura said to try to convince him otherwise, Sai sometimes couldn't help but feel that he had been a less a team-mate on Team Seven than he had been a place-holder, a seat-warmer or a gap-filler, and when Sasuke returned, that feeling had only intensified.

It wasn't that Sasuke took Sai's place on missions. Sasuke was still on a probationary period and his movements were restricted to within Konoha's walls. When a three man cell was called for Sai could still count on Naruto to start shouting from the nearby hill something along the lines of 'Stop reading!', 'Get your crop-top on!' and 'Moving out in three minutes, so, yeah, after my ramen break!'

It was rather like the uncomfortable feeling from when a table around which everybody could usually fit was suddenly much too crowded. There was an awkward unspoken anticipation that eventually somebody was going to have to get up and stand, or at least volunteer to do so. The questions were, 'Who', and 'When?'

Sai had tried to describe this feeling to Yamato once. Yamato's answer had been to build a table in one of the training grounds and for the two of them to try sitting around it. Eventually, Yamato had folded his arms and sighed: "That table of yours, Sai, maybe you just need to make it bigger."

"Bigger?" Sai had looked down at the table they were sitting at. "How do I make a table bigger?"

"Your metaphorical table?" Yamato had cracked a small amused smile. "You're going to have to build a bigger table from scratch. With metaphorical planks and nails. Get all the bits and pieces you need to build up a new table with room for everybody."

"And what is a metaphorical plank?"

After thinking long and hard, Yamato rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. "Trust. Lots of trust. That's your metaphorical plank," he said with a warmth and conviction Sai wondered how the man could make sound so sincere. Yamato tapped the wood again to emphasise his point. "And the nails that are going to hold it all together have to be made from understanding, and understanding comes from communication."

"Communication?" repeated Sai numbly.

"That's right," said Yamato, nodding, apparently impressed with himself. "Communication. Communication and trust. So you have your planks with Naruto, you have your planks with Sakura, with me and Kakashi, and perhaps more, I don't know. Now you have to make some planks and nails with Sasuke."

Sai shot Yamato a blank look. "I have to try communicating...and come to understanding... with Uchiha Sasuke?"

There was an explosion from the neighbouring training ground. The earth trembled, a flock of pigeons burst from the trees, and a wave of yellow dust rolled across the field to stop just short of Yamato and Sai's table.

"It can't be too difficult if Naruto and Sakura manage it," Yamato said uncertainly, once the table had stopped shaking.

Sai wondered whether it was worth pointing out that only two people out of the whole Konoha population 'managing' was not an especially encouraging statistic, but at that moment there was a shout of, 'Drop it, you fool, that seal's shoddy - it's going to blow!' and another explosion shook the neighbouring field.

Sai and Yamato had dismantled the mokuton table and left soon after.


Sai had wondered what Sasuke made of the whole Table Situation. Was he was even aware that there was one? After some observation, it became clear that Sasuke was aware, perhaps even more aware of it than Sai. Sai had only to enter a room for Sasuke to leave without a word nine minutes later, and it occurred to Sai that perhaps he wouldn't mind the Table so much if Sasuke wasn't so obviously making space for him.

Everything had been far easier when Sasuke had been a missing ninja.

Sai knew exactly where he had stood with Sasuke then. They had stood at opposite ends of a blade, and, not only that, the Bingo Book had told him everything that Sai needed to know in the event of having to 'communicate his intent' to Sasuke on the battlefield. Communication was also done from opposite ends of a blade.

Now that Sasuke was no longer a missing nin, that blade between them was gone. Sai was going to have to try talking to him without a kunai in hand.

He made his first attempt in Ichiraku ramen when they were celebrating Naruto's long overdue promotion to Chuunin rank.

Sai had put on Smile No 15.5, also known as Might-As-Well-Smile-Because-I-Can't-Think-of-Anything-Else-To-Do-With-My-Face.

He took a lull in which Naruto was working through his seventh bowl as his chance, and leaned round Sakura to address Sasuke himself.

"I've been advised to try talking to you so that we may come to an understanding, and clear some of the spatial tension between us."

Sasuke had set down his glass with a deliberate clink!

Nine minutes later, Sasuke had left the ramen bar, apparently incapable of the courtesy of staying for a minute longer and making it a nice, round even number.

"Sai," Sakura had said after Sasuke had gone, "what were you trying to do?"

"Yamato-taicho suggested that I tried talking to him."

"Why?"

Sai wondered why she looked so concerned. "I thought that it would be a great relief and help for many people here if the two of us made friends. The table would get less crowded."

Naruto choked on his ramen. Sakura was staring. She reached out and put her hand on Sai's forehead.

"I don't have a fever, Sakura."

"I'm the medic. That's for me to decide, but," she pulled back and looked incredulously into Sai's face, "this time you're right."

"Sai, are you serious?" Naruto was wiping his face with his towel. His eyes were shining with amusement, and possibly, just possibly, because Sai wasn't entirely confident with reading people's emotions from their faces, a kind of hope. "You're actually going to try making friends with him? With Sasuke?"

"That is what I said, yes."

"With the Princess of Darkness himself?"

Sai pricked his ears. "Is that your nickname or term of endearment for him?"

As Naruto spluttered over his bowl, Sakura decided to step in for the sake of damage limitation. "No, Sai, it isn't, and never repeat what you just heard in front of Sasuke. Ever. Understood?"

Judging from Sakura's sugary sweet tones Sai surmised that she wasn't going to take no for an answer. He nodded, and she heaved a sigh of relief.

Sakura raised her head and smiled. "You've got your work cut out for you."

"So I gathered, but I was hoping you and Naruto could give me some starting tips."

"I wish I could, but...for Sai to talk to Sasuke? Any tips?" Sakura glanced at Naruto.

Naruto hummed and scratched the back of his head. "I don't know. Usually I just talk at him and ignore what he says because he talks rubbish. Then I try to get a feel for what he actually wanted to say, and it all seems to work fine. If he's getting really emotionally constipated, I just drag him to a training field and throw rasengans at him until he spills."

"That doesn't really work for the rest of us though," Sakura noted ruefully.

"Maybe, maybe," Naruto scrunched up his face and then, seemingly inspired, opened his mouth with a soft 'Ah!' and jabbed his chopstick at Sai, "it's his face!"

"His face?" Sai blinked. "You mean, you find it attractive?"

"Nope! It's like, most guys talk with their mouths, right? Like we're doing now?" Naruto pointed at his mouth and gnashed his jaws together. Sai caught sight of Ichiraku suppressing a smirk from behind the counter. "But there are some guys who just don't. Like Neji, to throw out a name. And Sasuke, and, actually, Sai, probably you. You guys," Naruto floundered for words, "you guys, you talk with your eyes. It's all the small things. Little things, about the face. You're the ones that people have to watch really closely all the time to get what's going on - Sai, what are you doing?"

Sai had pushed his stool away from Naruto and was eyeing him warily. "I am increasing the distance between myself and a potential stalker."

Naruto's jaw dropped. Sakura buried her head in her arms and started whimpering into her elbows, apparently crying with laughter.

"Sai, you…" Naruto stopped, closed his eyes and shook his head. "You know, suddenly the idea of you and that bastard becoming friends is putting me just a little bit on the edge. Hey, Sakura-chan, are you alright?"


And now into Sai's lap had dropped what seemed to be the perfect guide for the task at hand, as though he had been gifted the most detailed and up-to-date Bingo Book he could possibly hope for before setting out on a mission.

Naruto had mentioned that perhaps Sasuke 'talked with his eyes'. Now here was a book about 'Eye speakers' and 'Ocular Social Communication Gestures'. The blurb also referred to 'brooding, taciturn, monosyllabic, grunting brothers'. What ninja sprang to mind when the labels of 'brooding, taciturn, monosyllabic, grunting' were used if not Uchiha Sasuke?

Sai turned EYEBALL ROLLING over and reread its blurb.

The eyes are the windows upon the soul. Today is the glorious day that you will begin that journey of self-improvement that will give you the powers to push your friend out of that window.

Oonishiki Tsuchinoko was a well-established self-help authoress with a loyal and grateful fanbase. What she wrote was hardly going to constitute for Hokage-level attention necessary dangerous research.

Come, comrades, and join the Ocular Communication Defenestration Revolution!

"Sai!" Sai's head snapped up at the sound of his name. Yamato was holding something out towards him. His expression was grim. "What do you make of this?"

In his hands was an old battered forehead protector. It was worn, scratched, pitted with what could have been burns, and in its centre was a delicately etched quaver note.

"Oto," said Sai with sudden understanding. He met Yamato's gaze. "This old man used to be an Oto ninja?"

"That seems to be the case, which means," Yamato's eyes slid to the great grey silk-bound book lying in front of Sai, "that the things in that book are almost certainly going to be trouble. Let's get everything together. Tsunade needs to see this as soon as she can. Have you finished checking the book?"

"Yes, sir," Sai replied crisply.

"Alright. Good work, Sai." Yamato took a storage scroll from his pack and spread it beside the old man's body, smoothing out the creases in the paper as it unrolled in the grass. "We'll pack up this old fellow and go. Call down your bird."

With the old dead Oto ninja sealed away in the scroll, Sai and Yamato climbed on board the ink eagle and continued their flight back to Konoha.

The slim little volume of EYEBALL ROLLING had been rolled up and tucked into the tanto sheath on Sai's back.

It was a warm dry night and the wind was in their favour. Yamato and Sai would be back in Konoha perhaps an hour before the sun rose, then after delivering their reports, attending their medical check-ups, returning equipment they had hired, and finding food in town, Sai would take a short nap and begin to read his new book.


Thanks for reading, and do let me know what you think. ;)

Best, Zen :D