Beta Credits: Go to the Dark Lord Potter forumgoers, chiefly Agayek, Axelgreese, The Berkeley Hunt, Datakim, Disposable Head, Drynwyn, Inert, Luckykas, and Sechrima. If we missed a typo, kindly point it out in your review and I will correct the error.
A Clarification: Several people have expressed reservations about how buddy-buddy Team 7 is becoming. This is not because I intend to write a BigHappyFamily!Team Seven fic with no interpersonal conflict. It's so it hurts even more when their relationships start falling apart. Which they do. Starting... more or less now.
.oO Chapter 4 Oo.
Traditionally, a small celebration was held whenever a young Uchiha awakened their sharingan. Besides being a place to reaffirm such things as clan loyalties and shinobi duties, it brought the family together. Older relations would bring a few gifts, pinch a few cheeks, and trot out family anecdotes to the embarrassment of their subjects and the amusement of everyone else. It was a respite, an excuse to forget the troubles of the outside.
And if the Uchiha Clan needed anything, it was an excuse to forget their troubles.
"What is wrong with you?" Mikoto shouted, one hand on her hip and the other clutching a sticky paring knife, the business end of which was hovering uncomfortably close to her husband's neck. She was wearing a stained apron thrown over a pair of blue fatigues, her hair caught up in a sloppy ponytail. "I've been in the kitchen since the crack of dawn! Couldn't you at least have cleaned up the stack of reports that's been on the coffee table for a week? We converted Itachi's old bedroom into your office for a reason! And don't even get me started on the beer cans—"
"I said I was sorry! How many time do you want me to apologize?" Daishiro interrupted, leaning away from the blade with his brows pursed in annoyance.
"I don't want you to apologize. I want you to stop. You knew when you married me that I wasn't going to be the kind of wife who'd pick up every dirty shirt and wash every dish, and you still leave them all over the place. You're almost as bad as Naruto, but you haven't had the excuse of being a twelve-year-old boy for twenty-five years!"
"When did I say I expected you to be 'that kind of wife'?" Daishiro answered, insulted. "If you're that busy, try not cleaning the house obsessively for hours on end. It's not going to come crashing down on our heads because the bookshelves are dusty!"
From the doorway around the corner, Sasuke and Naruto exchanged glances. Without speaking, they shut it again to sneak into the kitchen through the back, the argument still buzzing in the hall.
The family maid had come by early to assist Mikoto in scrubbing the house until it gleamed. Uchiha Iriko was now carefully plating the refreshments her mistress had taken the day off to prepare, the baby on her back providing a running commentary of babbled syllables and squeals. She was a small, mousy woman, tending toward plumpness since the birth of her daughter. "Is Mikoto-sama still going at it?" she asked Sasuke in hushed voice. "The guests are going to be arriving in less than fifteen minutes."
"Mm," he answered, eyeing the spread. It was tailored to the precise tastes of the guest of honor—bite-sized works of art Sasuke would usually have been delighted to eat by the trayful. It was rare enough that he got the opportunity to enjoy his mother's cooking, but it had been difficult for him to muster up an appetite for much of anything, lately. Since the fight on the riverbank, the smell of meat searing had become nauseating.
"I know she's under a lot of stress, but I wish she wouldn't take it out on Daishiro-san, even if he does make my job twice as hard as it has to be," Iriko said, sighing. "Would you two mind taking the ice water out to the yard? I'm never going to finish these in time."
"Yeah, sure," Naruto said, hefting a tray full of glasses and carrying them to the table that had been pulled into the garden. It was a simple, elegant expanse of white gravel, moss, and neat evergreen shrubs, all encircled by a stone wall trimmed in clay tile.
Sasuke followed, with two pitchers of ice water. He set them down on the table and put his hands on his hips to survey the yard, then crossed to the nearest of the paper lanterns to lift the cover and light the oil reservoirs hidden inside. The sun was still high enough in the sky their light wasn't strictly necessary, but it made the fan symbols painted on the paper glow like embers.
Naruto poured himself a glass of water and folded down into the moss as Sasuke moved from lantern to lantern. He took a few sips, seemingly enthralled by the iridescent carapace of a beetle as it trundled across the carpet of green.
"Okay, to be honest, you being this quiet is weirding me out," Sasuke said, once he'd finally circled back. "Usually you go crazy for parties."
Naruto blinked at the bug. "...what?"
"The moping you've been doing all morning," Sasuke explained. "It's just not like you."
"Sorry. Didn't realize."
"No, I mean... if you're still thinking about Iruka-sensei, you don't have to apologize. That is what's been bothering you, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I guess," Naruto murmured.
The faint crunch of footsteps on gravel announced Itachi's arrival, bypassing the house itself to greet Sasuke first. He was still in uniform from a day at the Hokage's tower and had a long, narrow box in his hand. He held out the gift to his brother. "You can peek as long as you remember to act appropriately surprised later."
Sasuke tugged the complex knot of ribbon toward the end of the package and lifted the cover a fraction.
"Chakra-conducting wire," Itachi explained.
"Thanks," Sasuke breathed. The wire was a simple gift, but gloriously useful... and very expensive. Infused with the user's chakra, they could bend and twist it into any shape they chose, and when infused it became almost impossible to cut. "I'll put it with Mom's. I think we're collecting gifts on the coffee table." He tucked the box back together and ducked into the doorway to put it away.
Itachi poured himself a little water, swirling the ice around in the glass. Naruto was back to staring at the beetle. "Are you all right?" Itachi asked.
"Yeah. Just tired today," Naruto answered.
"That is an acceptable excuse... for anyone but you," Itachi said. He looked up at the snap of a door against the frame; Mikoto strode across the stones and triumphantly laid down two trays of hors d'oeuvres. The apron and fatigues had been replaced by a trim dress. Itachi caught her gently by the elbow before she could head back inside. "The Hokage told me Naruto came to see him yesterday. And why."
She made a small noise and turned back to her sons. "Naruto, why didn't you tell me you'd already gone? If there's anything you need to ask me, we have a few minutes..."
"You only start yelling at Dad when the Clan Council meetings are going the opposite of the way you want. I didn't want to bother you." Naruto drained his glass and dropped it in front of his ankles. "How long have you and Itachi known?"
"Since the sealing was done. Are you angry we never told you?" Mikoto asked.
He shook his head. "The Hokage said you were under orders, so I'm not mad. It's so big I feel like I can't fit my head around it yet, and that's not really why I feel so..." He stopped to sigh, dropping his chin against his cupped hand. "It's not that I'm not happy for Sasuke," he said, a touch defensive. "Because I am."
"But...?" Mikoto prompted.
"You're never going to throw one of these for me. No matter how hard I train, there's nothing in my eyes to wake up."
"You are still an Uchiha," Itachi said. "It did take time, but most everyone has accepted you. Some are quite fond of you. And in any case, not everyone born into the clan inherits the potential. Look at Anzu. She has no sharingan, and she's already a jonin in direct service to the daimyo."
Naruto forced out a smile. "My head knows that. It's just harder than I thought to convince the rest of me."
His mother knelt and enveloped him in a brief hug, planting a kiss on the top of his head.
Naruto made a face and wiped at his already untidy hair. "Mom," he complained, glancing at Itachi, who had pressed his lips together in one of his faint smiles. "What was that for?"
"No reason."
The doorbell chimed, and a few moments later a small, pink whirlwind came tearing into the garden. Her name was Uchiha Hatomi, she was three and a half years old, and her favorite activity in the entire world was playing ninja with her cousin Naruto. She scrambled over the rocks and dove behind his back, smudging her glittery pink dress with dust. It came complete with an equally glittery belt and one of her father's old shuriken pouches that Naruto had grudgingly assisted her in painting over with nail polish. A close second to playing ninja with him was playing princess with him. Preferably at the same time.
"Sweetheart, this is Sasuke's party, so you have to at least say hello to him," her father said, trudging in after her. Yuji was Mikoto's younger brother, and within the last few years he'd done a commendable job of trading in nights spent with sake bottle to nights spent with baby bottles. He greeted his sister, Itachi, and then Naruto, whose smile quickly became more genuine.
"Sasuke-san is mean," Hatomi declared, peering around Naruto's collar. "Don't want to."
Naruto nudged her chin off his shoulder and stood up. "How about I come with you, and if he says something mean I can kick him."
"Naruto!" Mikoto mock-scolded. "Come on, Hatomi-chan. I think we still have some of those gummy candies you like in the cupboard."
Hatomi solemnly considered this, then extended her arms to let her aunt pick her up.
"Thanks," Yuji mouthed, as Mikoto hefted the little girl and marched back to the cool interior of the house with Naruto. "Mind if I smoke out here?" he asked Itachi. "Wife gives me an earful if I light up at home."
"It doesn't matter to me," Itachi said.
He pulled the pack from his jacket pocket and lit one with a puff of his breath; most Uchiha had no need for matches. "She's turning into a little terror. Good thing she's so goddamn cute to go along with it, and, you know, there's help. I remember Obito used to haul you around exactly the same…." he began, only to trail off into an uncomfortable silence. Obito had been one of the first Uchiha to die, before the end of the third war. In no small part, it had been his death that brought about its end. And now a fourth was looming, another loop around the neverending spiral, another crop of young Uchiha sent to meet horrible ends. Yuji pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and ground it into the gravel.
"What the hell am I doing? She's right, these are terrible for me," he muttered, and strode back into the house without another word.
Over the next few hours, the spacious mansion filled with friends and neighbors. The pile of gifts grew to a nearly unmanageable size. Everyone was very careful to smile, very careful to ignore the ANBU agents hovering in a protective pattern around the roof. Sasuke thanked his relations curtly for their gifts and said very little else. Today, even Itachi seemed more personable in comparison. Naruto tried to lighten the mood, but those that knew him well, and even some that didn't, could see his attempts were only halfhearted at best.
Sasuke could not help but heave a sigh of relief when everyone had left. Mikoto set her two youngest sons to tidying up the detritus from the gift unwrapping while she attacked the mound of dishes.
"Six tomorrow, Field Seventeen?" Sasuke asked Naruto, as he stuffed wads of torn paper into a trash bag.
He paused to lean against the broom against the wall of the living room. "I told Sakura-chan it would be eight."
"I know you did. Sometimes I like to train without my own personal cheerleading squad."
"Aw, come on. She's not that bad," Naruto said. "Actually... I can't remember her doing that once during the last few sparring sets."
Sasuke pursed his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you keep track."
Naruto cleared his throat self-consciously and turned his attention back to sweeping up with a vengeance. It wasn't like he kept a diary of it, but every cry of 'kick his butt, Sasuke-kun' did tend to stick uncomfortably tight against his memory. "You can get up at butt-crack o'clock and beat up the posts if you really want," Naruto said finally, "but I'm coming at eight and not a minute sooner."
"Hn. Fine," Sasuke sighed. "It's eight."
-ooo-
With more effort than it should have required, Sasuke peeled his eyelids apart to look up at the spindly branches scraping against the sky. The rest of his field of vision was packed with worried faces and chainlink fence. His hand went to his temple, and he groaned. The side of his head was sticky and the rest of it hurt like hell.
Sakura especially looked like she was about to burst into tears. This wasn't really unusual for her, but what she said to him next couldn't be properly processed by his battered brain.
"I didn't mean to and I am so sorry!" Sakura wailed. "I mean, I sort of did, but I'll make this up to you, I promise, I—"
"Sakura, please," Itachi said, pushing her firmly away. "You were sparring with him. The entire point is to disable your opponent." He eased Sasuke up into a sitting position. After hastily brushing most of the woodchips out of his brother's hair, Itachi secured a thick pad of gauze against the shallow but impressively bleeding cut on the side of his head. "Drills are over for today. I'd suggest both of you go for a few laps around the wall."
"I'm fine," Sasuke said, rising in a fashion that indicated he really wasn't. "I want to keep going."
"This isn't negotiable," Itachi answered. "A blow to the head that leaves you unconscious for even a minute is a brain bleed until proven otherwise. We are going to the emergency room if I have to carry you."
"Can you even see this?" he asked crossly, indicating the bloodstained hitai-ate he'd pushed down to encircle his neck. "I'm not that little kid you need to carry around piggyback whenever he gets a boo-boo."
"It's kind of standard practice, Sasuke-kun," Sakura said in a small voice. "And I made you hit your head really, really hard, so I'd really, really like you to get checked out by a medic."
Sasuke blinked at her, then looked at Naruto in utter disbelief. "Wait... Sakura knocked me out?"
"Uh, yeah. You were going for best two out of three, remember? And then she genjutsu'ed you so good you misjudged the jump and whacked your head on a pole." He flipped his thumb over his shoulder, towards the network of bars, rings, and tall wooden posts used to practice acrobatics. He grinned and clapped the girl on the back, who shoved him away with a roll of her eyes. "So much for not needing your sharingan when you spar with Sakura-chan."
The unsteady, glazed expression remained fixed on Sasuke's face. "Now you're just messing with me."
"Severe confusion," Itachi explained. "Yet another reason I would like you to get medical—"
"Itachi-sempai!" an ANBU operative called, as he materialized out of the dirt beside the fence anchors. Although he was dressed in the full cloak, Itachi recognized his mask as belonging to one of the messengers. "The Hokage needs to speak with you as soon as possible."
He left the small knot of genin to fuss over Sasuke and crossed over to where the man was waiting. "What is it?"
"The Raikage's envoys will be arriving earlier than we expected, and he has some points to discuss with you before they do."
Itachi looked back at Sasuke, who was still stubbornly insisting he was fit to continue the matches. Itachi was to act as liaison to the two men, experienced jonin who had come to plead Kumo's innocence in the matter of his brother's abduction. It wasn't a task that could be put aside. "I'll go with you in a moment," he told the agent.
"The Hokage has requested an emergency meeting with me," he told his students. "Sakura, Naruto—I need to you to see Sasuke to the hospital. If they admit him, I would appreciate at least one of you staying until the medics have stabilized him."
"I will, Sensei," Sakura piped up.
"Great," Sasuke grumbled. "Like I need you to fawn over me."
"Thank you, Sakura," Itachi said, and then disappeared along with the ANBU messenger in a swirl of leaves.
"Come on," Naruto said. "You need a hand or can you walk?"
Sasuke stared petulantly at him for a few moments. "A hand where? I told you we're not done training."
"The hos-pi-tal," Naruto said. "Weren't you listening?"
"Leave him alone, stupid," Sakura scolded, taking Sasuke's arm in a firm but gentle grip and steering him down the slope to the exit. "Intense disorientation and impaired judgement are both symptoms of a serious concussion," she said, as if reciting from a manual. "Take his other arm and hold him up. If he falls again it's bad news."
They dragged their increasingly pale and unsteady teammate to the gates of Konoha Hospital, which thankfully wasn't far from their chosen training ground. Naruto looked apprehensively at the multiple branching hallways and bustling staff. "So where do we—"
"ER is this way," Sakura said, not even stopping to glance at the signs.
"Wow, Sakura," Naruto said. "You really know your way around."
She glanced at him briefly from beneath her lashes. "I used to come here a lot," she said softly, with an odd catch in her voice. She led them both down a few turns into a large room labeled 'EMERGENCY' in glowing red characters. It was filled with plastic chairs and plastic plants, and had a single high desk at the front of the room tended by a square-jawed older nurse. Sakura helped Sasuke into one of the empty chairs, where he promptly folded over with his head cushioned on his crossed arms. "How're you doing?" she asked.
"Is this what being drunk feels like?" he asked no one in particular. "I don't like it." He moaned softly, and then added, "I'm not going to puke. I'm not."
"I'll check him in with the triage nurse. Wait there," she ordered Naruto.
"Hello, Sakura-chan," the nurse said, smiling at her briefly. "Patient's name and chief complaint?"
"Uchiha Sasuke. Suspected Grade Three concussion. He blacked out for a minute or so after a training, um... accident. Symptoms are headache, nausea, disorientation, short-term memory loss. Maybe irritability, too. With him it can be sort of hard to tell. No visible skull deformity, no fluid drainage from ears or nose, but I don't think his pupils are dilating like they should be."
The nurse finished scribbling down the notes and tossed the file into a tiered tray next to her. "Somebody was paying attention in first aid class," she said warmly. "Take him to Exam Seven, you know where to find the ice packs. There might be a bit of a wait until one of the medics can see him. We just had an emergency transport of a whole platoon that tangled with two Oto teams." She shook her head in disgust. "It was brutal, but at least they brought back a couple of prisoners."
With some coaxing, Sakura and Naruto managed to pull Sasuke upright again and led him to the empty room. It was small and cramped, containing two gurneys, a few machines with blank black screens, and several cases of latex gloves piled up in the corners. She helped him up on the bed and then went poking through the supply cabinet until she found a basin, since it looked like nausea was seconds away from triumphing over willpower.
"Aw, nasty, Sasuke!" Naruto shrieked. "Why'd you have to go and—"
"It's not his fault—a lot of people vomit after head injuries," said crisply. "If you can't be mature about this, you are going back to the waiting room." Over his objections, she took a handful of his sleeve and marched him back down the hall. On the way back she grabbed an ice pack and a towel, and waited by the door until it sounded like Sasuke's stomach had calmed down.
Sakura pushed open the door to find him lying on the gurney. She laid the ice pack over Itachi's hasty bandaging. "Feeling any better?" she asked.
"No," he whispered, not bothering to open his eyes.
After rinsing out the basin, she pushed herself up on the hard mattress to help him hold the cold pack in place. The hands of the clock were crawling, and after fifteen minutes she was chewing on her lip in impatience. "I'm going to see if I can find a nurse, okay? Back in a sec."
She poked her head out of the exam room and headed for the nurse's station. Sakura was getting worried. No snappy comebacks. No insults. Not even an inarticulate growl whenever she adjusted the towel against the gash on his head.
Itachi had been showing her how to manipulate perception of terrain to use an opponent's strength against them, but she hadn't actually intended to break Sasuke while she was practicing it. Maybe trip him up or something, just long enough for her to win a match for once. A small part of her was squirming uncomfortably against the thought of what she'd just done. If he'd been her enemy and not her sparring partner, that blow to the head could easily have been enough to kill him without medical treatment.
"Excuse me," she said, as she approached the desk. "Uchiha Sasuke in Exam Seven has a concussion and he's getting worse pretty fast. Is there any way to get him bumped higher?"
"I was about to head over as soon as I grabbed his chart," one of the medics said. The doctor assigned to him was a stocky man somewhere between twenty and thirty, with a kind-looking round face and a bumpy burn scar curling across his left cheek and disappearing into his uniform collar. "I'm Kameda Ishimaru, by the way. I know I've seen you around before—you're Haruno Tsubaki's daughter, right? I don't think she's been in lately, which seems like a good sign."
"No, sir," Sakura replied. "As long as she's careful about taking her pills every day, her breathing is much better. Almost back to normal."
"That's good to hear," he chuckled. "So did Naruto finally manage to land a good hit on Sasuke? Usually it's been the other way around."
"Actually, it was me," Sakura explained, puzzled. "And... you know Sasuke-kun?"
"Of course I do—since he was so-and-so big and Sasuke-chan," he said, placing his hands a little over a shoulder's width apart. "His mother was my jonin sensei." He looked up as a nurse delivered the file. "Ah, thanks," he said to her, then motioned Sakura to follow him.
He walked briskly to the exam room and opened the door. "Hello, Sasuke-kun. I heard you got knocked out by a tiny girl," he teased, as he removed the ice pack and began to clip through the bandage around his head with a pair of small scissors.
Sasuke drummed up the energy to open his eyes and glare, although it was significantly less menacing than usual.
"I got lucky," Sakura murmured.
"Sure you did," he replied, checking both of Sasuke's eyes with a penlight. "It's okay. The rest of my genin team were girls, and they could kick me around like a soccer ball."
Sakura giggled. Ishimaru didn't seem worried, so there was no need for her to be either. He linked his hands to gather healing chakra in the palms and placed them over Sasuke's head. Sakura let him work in silence. She liked Ishimaru, she decided. He'd all but admitted to being the weakest on his team, but the rank badge on his white coat proclaimed him to be a tokubetsu jonin nonetheless. Judging by the burn scar on his neck, he'd seen some action, too. There was no way that had been caused by anything other than a katon jutsu.
After he finished, Ishimaru helped Sasuke sit up, who looked a lot more alert than he had fifteen minutes ago. "I brought down the swelling, and there wasn't a fracture or any intracranial bleeding. You're going to feel pretty woozy for a while, but if there'll be someone responsible at home to monitor you for the next twenty-four hours I don't see any reason not to discharge you."
"Uh..." Sasuke began.
"I'll do it, until his mom gets home," Sakura said, and looked to Sasuke. "If that's okay with you."
"Fine," he sighed finally. Spending the afternoon hanging out with Sakura was not high on his list of favorite activities, but it did manage to squeak out a win over staying overnight in the hospital.
"I think you'd qualify," Ishimaru said, nodding. "The nurse will give you paper discharge orders, please read them over carefully and bring him back immediately if his symptoms get worse. He's also on medical leave from missions for the next four days, and there will be absolutely no sparring until a medic clears him for duty again. Another knock on the head before this one is healed could leave him with permanent brain damage."
"Then I just won't get hit on the—" Sasuke started.
"No sparring," Ishimaru said sternly. "Or you could end up drooling on your knees for the rest of your life. Contrary to popular belief, medical ninja do not issue these orders just to annoy people in the general mission pool."
"Got it, thanks!" Sakura assured him.
Their assigned nurse slipped into the room after Ishimaru had gone, to help Sasuke clean up. When she finished they made their way back to the waiting room, where Naruto was curled up in a on a bench and gnawing a thumbnail. He looked up as she led Sasuke to the empty half and lent a steadying hand as he lowered himself down. She smiled briefly as him and disappeared back behind the swinging doors. The blood running down the side of his face had been scrubbed off, and there was a fresh bandage wrapped around his temples.
"You know who I am? You know who you are?" Naruto asked. He was only halfway joking.
Sasuke twisted his head to look at Naruto. "Shut up, you—" Sasuke began playfully, then groaned and reflexively brought his fingers to the side of his head. Even after the healing session and the two little blue pills the nurse had given him, the tiny motion made his head feel like there were several boulders tumbling around inside of it.
"You sure they fixed you up right?" Naruto asked. His hand had gone immediately to Sasuke's shoulder.
"Got the worst headache of my life," he whispered. "Said nothing was broken, though. I'm okay." He slowly opened his eyes and blinked at Naruto's outstretched hand. "What did you do to your fingernails?"
"Nothing!" Naruto said quickly, and jammed his hand and the badly chewed cuticles between his other arm and chest.
Sakura was a few minutes behind him, folding up a handful of papers into a neat square. She stashed it in her belt pouch. "They decided they didn't have to keep him overnight after all. As long as he doesn't get any worse, he should be fine with a few days of rest and whatever headache medicine you've got at home."
They strolled back to the Uchiha mansion, Naruto draping the still-dizzy Sasuke's arm over his shoulders like it was old news. Sakura found a robe in his closet and ran a bath for him, to wash off the dirt and stickiness from their training session. After he'd cleaned up and changed his mood lightened considerably, although this may have been because he still didn't clearly remember the knock on the head had been courtesy of Sakura. She helped him get settled on the couch and it was unaminously decided a movie was in order.
Naruto pulled open the cabinet and began rooting through the tapes. "Heh. I think this is the one of your little baby self taking a whizz in Itachi's hair," he said devilishly, and pushed it into the VCR. "Sakura's got to see this."
"When I can get up you're getting a concussion," Sasuke growled. "Turn that off before she…."
The screen flickered and stern-looking man in a blue yukata appeared before the camera. In the background was a row of targets filled with darts. The muted noises of a festival buzzed through the speakers. He looked down at a small fist clutching his pant leg and bent down out of the camera's unsteady view. When he rose the heavy frown lines under his mouth had disappeared, and his lips had turned up into an indulgent smile.
"Sasuke-chan. Sasuke?" the woman holding the camera called. "Look over here, sweetheart, there you go. Now show Mama your prize." The little boy proudly held out a pinwheel mounted on a wooden dowel, puffing a few times to try to set the colorful sails spinning. His father pursed his lips and blew more strongly. The papers whirled to life. "Now did Papa have to help you or did you win that by yourself?"
"By myself!" he announced with delight.
The man in blue shifted the child on his hip. "That's my boy," he said, laughing.
"Turn it off," Sasuke murmured, rising from the nest of blankets. "Turn it off!"
Naruto smack his hand over the stop button and the screen went to gray snow.
"Careful!" Sakura yelled, diving to steady Sasuke as he barked his shin against the coffee table and almost fell into the glass. She eased him back down on the cushions. "Your balance is still a mess. If you need something I can get it for you, okay?" she instructed him. She didn't bother asking who the man in blue had been. The resemblance to Itachi was unmistakable.
The mischief had faded out of Naruto's eyes. "I'm going for a run. Back later," he said, and slunk out of the room.
Sakura ejected the tape and put it back in its sleeve. She batted one of the cabinet doors aside and made a show of reading over the movie titles. In the reflection of the glass she could see Sasuke wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his yukata and kept her back turned until he finished. Uchiha Fugaku had attempted to lead his clan in a rebellion against the Hokage. He was vicious warmonger, a traitor, an enemy of Konoha. It had never really occurred to Sakura that he had also been a loving father.
"How... how about this one?" Sakura asked, holding up what looked like a bloody war movie about the Sannin's exploits in Amegakure. She wasn't really a fan of the genre, but violence usually seemed to take Sasuke's mind off things he'd rather not ponder. Since doctor's orders kept him from participating in said violence, a vicarious enjoyment would probably be better than nothing.
"Fine," he said, not even glancing at the box. Sakura packed away the homemade tape (making sure to stuff it all the way in the back) and popped in the film, then tucked herself into the armchair beside the television. What she really wanted was Sasuke's head pillowed in her lap, her hands brushing those tears away. It was a part of him she'd never seen before, the kid beneath the cocky genius.
"You can sit on the couch if you want," he said, pulling his legs off the third cushion as the credit began to rolls across the screen. "You won't be able to see from over there."
"Oh... okay," she said uncertainly, and arranged herself so she wasn't quite going to touch him.
Her random choice of entertainment turned out to be a good one, as the film was enthralling. Most of the way through, she'd all but forgotten the man of her dreams was curled up next to her, and his attention was likewise so thoroughly captivated he didn't jerk away when his toes came to rest against her thigh.
Sakura especially liked Tsunade, who was well-endowed with both talent and... other assets, in ways Sakura could only dream of. She was a healer, but not a mousy, gentle, stay-on-the-sidelines sort of healer. Her weapon was the chakra scalpel, and the battles she fought against time and torn arteries were every bit as exciting to Sakura as those her teammates waged against enemy shinobi. And she even took out a few of those herself, too. Jiraiya was uncannily like Naruto, in a loud, dumb, insanely powerful way, although she was very grateful her teammate had not yet attempted to grope her on the sly. Sakura glanced down at her chest. Not that there was much available for groping.
Those thoughts eventually brought her to Orochimaru, and then Sasuke, and the similarities ended. That's what she told herself. Confident, intelligent, skilled beyond their years, each clearly their teachers' favorite student. But there was something dark about Orochimaru. The film was fairly new and he long gone. The actor portraying him had the advantage of hindsight, and there was something sinister about almost every gesture. From what she knew about his defection, it had come as a surprise to everyone, his team most of all. None of them had seen that darkness in the man himself. It made her shiver, to know someone so close and so beloved could turn with so little warning.
The film ended with the team broken, as it had been in life. Jiraiya and Tsunade left the village, with Orochimaru staying only a little longer to further his own ambition. It was rather depressing, and Sakura decided that was absolutely not going to happen to Team Seven.
"Are you hungry at all?" Sakura asked, after flicking off the television. "I can heat up some leftovers."
Sasuke made a face. "I still feel pretty sick, but ask Naruto what he wants. He's moping around in the garden."
"How did you—" Sakura began, and then remembered who she was talking to. Top marks in all the tracking exercises. "Never mind."
"Sakura?" he called.
"Hmm?"
"Thanks for sticking around this afternoon," he said, and yawned. "I really hate the hospital. I wasn't looking forward to being stuck there all night."
Sakura accepted the words with a little smile. Maybe it was the concussion talking, but this 'let's be friends' method was working vastly better than she'd anticipated. "No problem," she said. "It's what teammates do."
-ooo-
Itachi was waiting at Konoha's gate for the Kumo contingent, making the two chūnin guarding the gate extremely uncomfortable. At least one of them was among the men that would drunkenly proposition his absolutely-not-girlfriend Uchiha Anzu on a regular basis, and he kept trying to hide behind his clipboard on the mistaken assumption Itachi would actually care.
When the two foreign ninja finally approached, he signaled that the gate guards should rise. He'd already read through all available intelligence on the Kumo shinobi. Darui was the Raikage's unofficial right-hand man, filling roughly the same position Kakashi did for the Hokage. He possessed an elemental kekkei genkai Konoha had yet to identify, but was known to be extremely proficient in its use. His partner Shi's skill set was similar to Itachi's, a genjutsu specialist and sensor who also served as the Raikage's personal field medic. Short of arriving to plead his innocence himself, he couldn't have sent anyone more respected. It could've been a throwaway chūnin diplomat, a sacrificial lamb. But it wasn't. Either Kumo was completely innocent or very, very confident.
"I am Uchiha Itachi, Candidate Hokage. Welcome to Konoha," he said, as they passed under the massive arch. Although his words were blandly pleasant, he'd activated his sharingan as soon as he'd sensed them coming down the road.
Shi didn't even flinch upon hearing his family name, or at his sharingan, but Darui blinked at him uncertainly. Probably his age. At first glance, Itachi easily looked young enough to be a genin.
"Thank you," the shorter man said smoothly. "I'm Shi, jonin. My partner is Darui, also a jonin. The Yondaime Raikage sends his condolences for the loss of your man, and would like to assure your Hokage that finding whoever has slandered Kumo's honor is his highest priority."
Itachi didn't miss the emphasis on the ordinal. The attempted abduction of Hyūga Hinata had taken place under the reign of his father, the Sandaime. "The Hokage wishes to speak with you as soon as possible, please follow me," Itachi said, and turned to lead them to the tower. They exchanged a few pleasantries about the journey, Darui contributing only a grunt here and there.
The Hokage ushered them into his office immediately. Itachi took his place behind his right shoulder, his hands clasped at the small of his back. He repeated the introductions and let the Kumo envoys speak their piece.
"I realize Kumo's word has very little weight in this situation," Shi began. "But I can assure you the shinobi who attempted to abduct Uchiha Sasuke-kun were not, and have never been, under the command of the Raikage. It is his belief that someone is attempting to provoke a war between our two nations. He would like the perpetrator dealt with as quickly as possible."
"I would very much like to believe you," the Hokage said, his eyes hard. "I have no desire to throw Fire Country recklessly into a fourth war. However... we were merciful last time. If you fail to convince me of Kumogakure's complete innocence in this matter, there will be no more mercy."
"We would like to offer you the results of our investigation," Shi said, indicating a leather-bound file he'd tucked under his arm.
The Hokage relieved him of it and spread the notes and photographs out for Itachi to peruse. On the top was a yellowed, brittle set of autopsy photos. The subject was a young man with very long, dark hair... and six arms. Folded by his side was a mangled uniform with a hitai-ate bearing the symbol of the Rice Country.
"These photos were taken about thirty years ago. The interrogation notes indicated the clan mostly kept to themselves. As you could probably imagine," Shi said, looking at the corpse's multiple limbs with distaste. "Roughly two years ago, what passed for a Hidden Village in Rice was dissolved by an unknown foreign leader after a short internal struggle and renamed Otogakure. We assume most of the shinobi joined him, since very few of them started showing up in the bingo books as rogues. We were hoping Konoha might have more comprehensive information about their leader."
"Oto is intensely secretive," the Hokage said, looking troubled. "Although we share a border, we know almost nothing about them. This material is intriguing but proves nothing."
"Would it be possible for us to examine the body?" Shi asked.
"Yes. This is way," the Hokage said, rising. Four of his bodyguards slipped silently behind the two Kumo jonin as they descended into the basement levels. The medic attending to the secured morgue bowed to the Hokage and extracted a preservation scroll from the racks on the wall. He unfurled it across one of the steel tables and brought the corpse out of storage.
His right side was badly burned, which Shi ignored, concentrating on the pattern of triangular scars across his chest. "There are a few Jashinist enclaves in the south of Lightning Country, including what was formerly their main temple. Darui led the mission to destroy it himself."
With hand hands in his pockets, Darui leaned over the corpse and pursed his brows. "Your Jonin Commander's sharp. This kid wasn't one of them. Whoever worked him over got the symbols more or less right, but a true believer would have layers of scar tissue over months, not just these scratches. That, or his skin would be as smooth as a baby's bottom and he'd be impossible to kill in the first place."
"I thought that was a myth," Itachi said.
"I wish. I cut one of their heads clean off and when it stopped rolling it just laughed at me. As to who they were really working for? Who knows, but I can tell you it wasn't Kumo. Our Sandaime was hardly the only person to try to get his hands on your dōjutsu.
"That this kid's wearing standard issue sandals doesn't mean much, either. It's true Ishiwa Leather only supplies the military, but we sell off surplus gear to civilian merchants all the time. It's dirt cheap and you can pick up this kind of stuff at any big town in Lightning Country."
"I have one more question for you," the Hokage asked. "We were told you wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow at the earliest. Why the change of plans?"
"Ah, sorry, sorry, I didn't think it would be a problem," Darui said, with a lopsided, faintly embarassed smile. "We ended up catching a ride with a wine merchant going down the river—an old friend of mine—instead of using our tickets on the passenger liner. Kind of a last-minute thing, so a message would've gotten to you the same time we did. It turned out to be a lot faster than I thought."
"The Ryota Maru went down off the coast two days ago," Itachi commented. "Caught in the eddy systems around Wave Country and dragged against the rocks, although its course shouldn't have brought it anywhere near the island. There were no survivors. Can I assume your names were on the passenger manifest?"
Shi and Darui exchanged horrified looks over the table. "It was a diplomatic mission," Shi said. "We weren't traveling under aliases."
"How many?" Darui asked.
"Excuse me?" Itachi said.
"How many people were on board?"
"One-hundred sixty-eight, about evenly split between Fire and Lightning citizenship. All civilians."
"Shit," he breathed.
"I will consult with my council about the results of your investigation," the Hokage said. He pushed open the steel door. "One of my men will show you to your rooms; you will be staying in the tower's guest quarters. Please do not leave them without an escort or a very, very good reason. I had originally taken these precautions to protect sensitive information from you, but to be perfectly honest, I think it is you who may be needing the protection."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Hokage-sama," Shi said, and following after him. He offered no objection to being kept a virtual prisoner. The chance escape from death would have shaken anyone.
Darui did as well, but turned back for a moment. "You're that kid's brother, aren't you," he said, addressing Itachi.
"I am," he replied.
"If you care about him anywhere near as much as the boss does for his little brother, you'd have to be an idiot to think you'd get away with something like this. Like Shi said—we're out of the business of kidnapping kids."
It was ineloquent, but heartfelt. No wonder he'd let his partner do most of the talking—he was no diplomat. "Thank you," Itachi said. His sharingan told him the man was telling the truth, but it wasn't his place to pass judgement yet. In his mind, it was obvious Kumo truly hadn't orchestrated this plot, and the Raikage was as determined as Itachi's mentor not to embroil his nation in a long and bloody conflict. That did leave the question open for who would.
-ooo-
Shimura Danzo and Utatane Koharu were standing at the intersection that lead to the conference room where the Hokage was waiting. She murmured something below the threshold of Itachi's hearing, nodded in satisfaction, and then turned to continue on her way.
Danzo stayed where he was. "Itachi-kun... may I have a word with you, if time permits?"
Although given the difference in their ages the suffix was acceptable, no one but the Hokage himself and Itachi's close family dared to use it. Even Koharu and Homura had stopped addressing him with it—Danzo only continued to do so to belittle him. Otherwise he was always perfectly polite to Itachi, hunched over his cane with a frailty that Itachi was sure was completely feigned.
Itachi quashed the desire to pick the old man up by the collar of his robe and pitch him out the window. He was extremely reluctant to pin the word 'hate' on any man, but Danzō had come extremely close to that threshold. If there had been even a speck of solid evidence he'd conspired with Madara to wipe out the Uchiha, Itachi would have had the Hokage eliminate him years ago. But Danzo was like an eel, too slippery to hold on to for long. Without indisputable evidence in his hands, executing old school chums was not something Sarutobi Hiruzen did.
"I have a few moments," Itachi said, schooling his features into a mask of politeness.
"You would have been too young to remember the Hyūga Hinata incident in any detail, so a word of advice—do not trust these envoys. Kumogakure's diplomats are never anything of the sort."
"Thank you, but I will make my own decisions on their sincerity," Itachi said. "Villages change with their kage, and the Yondaime has shown no signs of the same sort of duplicity as his father in his dealings with us. I am inclined to agree with the Raikage's suggestion that this situation is more complicated than it appears."
Danzo bowed his head slightly. "Of course. I do not have the gift of seeing the line between truth and lies as clearly you do. My only concern is Konoha's security. My days in the field are far behind me, but please... if I can be of any help in the investigation, do not hesitate to ask."
Itachi thanked him again and continued on his way to the meeting. Although he had been formally retired for years, Danzo's word still had considerable weight among Konoha's shinobi, especially those members of ANBU that had served during his tenure as the division's director. What Danzo had said about his goal was indisputably true—although his methods were frequently repugnant, he'd gotten results. He did serve Konoha to the best of his considerable ability, and the village had reaped the benefits. But there was a quiet, unassuming charisma to his bearing that still made Itachi uneasy. He'd wondered, sometimes, which way all of his former peers in ANBU would fall if someone shook the board.
He put the worrisome question out of his mind as he reached for the door handle; there were far more pressing matters to occupy him at the moment. The informal council session had been called in one of the more comfortable conference rooms, Utatane Koharu and Mitokado Homura on one couch and the Hokage on the other.
Although they'd slowly improved with time, the Hokage's former teammates still persisted in treating Itachi like a child in many ways. For his part, Itachi could never fully forgive them for their endorsement of Danzo's solution to the Uchiha rebellion, although the execution of the plan ultimately proved unnecessary. Unfortunately, once he was Hokage he wouldn't be able to dismiss them outright. He was inexperienced, and as much as he disliked them personally, their loyalty to Konoha was unwavering. Their assistance would be invaluable in a smooth transition of power. It would be best for Konoha if he as least remained civil.
"Itachi... what was your appraisal of the Kumo envoys?" Koharu asked, after looking carefully through the file Shi and Darui had provided and hearing the story of what was probably their failed assassination.
"They were telling the complete and unembellished truth," Itachi answered. "Whoever was behind the abduction, I strongly doubt it was Kumo."
The Hokage bowed his head, his eyes unfocused as if they were gazing into the distant past. "It's Orochimaru. He's finally come back to finish what he started. I'm sure of it."
Allowing Orochimaru to escape into exile had caused the village only grief. The Hokage was supposed to put aside such personal feelings if they would do the village harm. In a moment of weakness, this one hadn't. He had seen not a psychopathic mass-murderer but a lonely, grieving child. After all this time, Itachi suspected traces of those feelings for his former favorite still endured.
"I suspected as much," Homura put in. "That the two assailants managed to get in and out of Konoha's walls completely unchallenged leads me to believe they had a contact on the inside, as well as intimate knowledge of the village's security barrier. That they also evaded our best Inuzuka trackers was... troubling."
Koharu's deep squint deepened even further. "I didn't. We hear not a whisper of him for more than fourteen years, and suddenly he reappears to conveniently clear Kumogakure of the blame for this disaster? Forgive me for saying so, Hiruzen, but I am not the only one in Konoha who believes this is the perfect opportunity to finish what Kumo started ten years ago. Since neither of you have offered anything but circumstantial evidence to absolve them, I will assume it doesn't exist."
"We have nothing but circumtantial evidence they were involved, either," Itachi pointed out.
"I'm putting four more ANBU squads on trying to locate the kidnappers, lost scent trail or no," the Hokage said. "I've already ordered the T & I Division to begin interrogating likely candidates for our traitor. It's simply impossible to reach a conclusion on the information we currently have in our possession."
"Do you suspect Anko?" Homura asked. "Her behavior has always been strange, and she has frequently requested solo missions within the last few months."
"Personally, no," the Hokage said. "She's always preferred working alone, but I don't know where else to begin."
"Didn't Gekkō Hayate's platoon just tangle with a team from Oto?" Itachi added, after a brief and uncomfortable silence. "I believe they brought back a prisoner. I doubt he would be in any shape to turn over to Morino, but one of the Yamanaka might be able to get something from him."
"An excellent idea, I'll send Inoichi over as soon as possible," the Hokage said. "We will continue searching, but it is possible we will not be able to bring the two kidnappers into custody. Itachi..." he shook his head. "I probably don't need to tell you that both your mother and Hyūga Hiashi are out for blood after this. As much as I sympathize with their position, two of Konoha's most powerful clans pressing the rest for war is not what we need right now. Nor do we need any members taking matters into their own hands."
Itachi cocked his head. "I understand. I will have a word with her this evening."
-ooo-
Shinobi had various ways to deal with suppressed frustration. Most of them took it out on training dummies (or each other) in the practice grounds. Excessive consumption of alcohol was another popular option. Mikoto's coping method was, as far as Itachi knew, unique among Konoha's jonin. When his mother was angry, she... cleaned. The household spiders ran in terror from the fury of her broom.
When he wrapped up his obligations in the Hokage's tower—well after sunset—Itachi found Mikoto already at home. Sasuke was upstairs in bed, being soundly trounced by Naruto at cards, who was milking his brother's persistent foggy-headedness for all it was worth. Mikoto was furiously sweeping nonexistent cobwebs from the corners of the kitchen when Itachi walked in. She was gripping the pushbroom bristle-side up like a bo staff.
"I spoke with the Raikage's envoys," he said, to her back. She hadn't paused in her attack against the dusty molding even after she heard him come in the front door. "And I must insist you do not go anywhere near them."
"You 'insist'?" she said, turning next to jam the bristles into the dust coating the tops of the cabinets. "What makes you think I was going to?"
Itachi sighed softly, and then coughed at the cloud of dust she dislodged. "Because I know perfectly well how protective you are of your sons, and how comprehensive your collection of poisons has become. Two of Kumo's senior jonin dropping dead within our walls would not be helpful. And please put that down. What you are doing now is not helpful either."
She whirled the handle around in her fingers, with a fluidity that made Itachi wonder idly whether she had, in fact, ever had the occasion to kill someone with a broom. She tossed it in a corner and flicked aside a few strands of hair from her damp forehead. "I can't stand by and do nothing while the Konoha Council dithers back and forth. I know perfectly well what your opinions are on war. But there are times when one becomes necessary. The other nations are going to start walking all over us unless the Hokage makes a choice to prevent that from happening."
"It isn't this time," Itachi said. "Kumogakure was not responsible for the attack on Sasuke."
"Based on what evidence?" she said, planting a hand on her hip. "And don't tell me you believe whatever lies those two envoys fed you."
"They were not lying," Itachi answered.
His mother grunted, skeptical. "As reluctant as we are to admit it, our eyes can't see everything. You could fib circles around me and even I would have a hard time picking out was was true. Is it really that much of a stretch to imagine you aren't the only one? I read Shi's file. If anyone would be able to control their body's responses well enough to fool a sharingan, a medic as experienced as he is would be the most likely candidate, don't you think?"
"Darui wasn't lying either, and from what we know of him he is closely in the Raikage's confidences."
"He could have been kept deliberately ignorant to put you off the track."
"You are reading too deeply into this. Kumo is not the only suspect."
"What?" Mikoto whispered.
"Homura-san suspects Orochimaru may finally have resurfaced. It would be far easier to dress his people in bits and pieces of incriminating gear than for Kumo to plant someone in our midst who could breach our security barrier. It is very likely he has kept or established contact with someone already inside Konoha."
Mikoto went still. "After all this time...? I thought he was dead. And what could he possibly want with Sasuke?"
"How familiar are you with his experiments?" he asked.
"Not very," she said, shaking her head. "Sakumo-sensei loathed him, so I avoided him as much as I could. Beyond that he somehow gave the mokuton to Tiger, all the information I have is hearsay."
Itachi pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down heavily. "I've read the files," he said. "His ambition was overwhelming. His overarching goal was to learn all the jutsu in the world."
"But that would take lifetimes and lifetimes," Mikoto said, joining him on the opposite side of the table.
"Precisely," Itachi said. "The main thrust of his experiments was to give himself that kind of time. When one body wore out, he could shed it, as a snake sheds its skin. A sharingan would save tremendous amount of time, that would otherwise have to be devoted to study." Itachi folded his hands together in front of him. "Kidomaru could have killed Sasuke and taken his head back to Kumo, if simply stealing a sharingan had been his goal. It would have been easier, safer. He didn't."
"You're telling me," Mikoto said, and swallowed hard, "that Orochimaru wants Sasuke's body as his own?"
"It's no longer a secret that our family has inherited Madara's power." His face was just as grave. "Orochimaru's chakra capacity is enormous, and he would required a body whose coils were capable of absorbing it or he risks seeing the host sicken and die. Someone of Madara's lineage would certainly qualify, but he faces a conundrum. A vessel that has come into their full strength would be too difficult to subdue. A vessel far from reaching it would be too fragile for combat for seven or eight years. You and Yuji-ojisan are too old, his daughter is too young, and I am too dangerous."
"Leaving a twelve-year-old freshly graduated from the Academy the ideal choice," she said, finishing his thought for him. "He probably wasn't even trying that hard… getting Sasuke to activate his sharingan would be valuable in itself. What are we going to do?"
"If you can have Hyūga-sama back down along with you, we can stall the other clan heads until there's enough hard evidence to clear the Raikage. If Orochimaru wants this war with Kumo, the Konoha Council is going to do everything they can to stop it, and bring it to him as soon as we can find the pretext. And we can't confine Sasuke in Konoha indefinitely. Until we uncover Orochimaru's agent or agents, he's hardly any safer within the walls than without. Let him start taking missions again. The safest place for him to be is with me."