The problem was, Sakurai mused as he considered his young charges, that everyone thought you needed some sort of justification for disliking life in general.

Like it was so easy to enjoy it in the first place.

What naivety, what blindness! He wished he had both traits.

Hatake was at his side. Sakurai turned to look at the man. He said nothing as they scrutinised each other, and he was slightly surprised by how well he understood the look in his eyes.

Good morning, he thought, I won't tell anyone if you leave to do other things, so long as you tell no one that I did the same. He sighed at the man instead. Didn't he have his own genin to torment?

No, answered the silence. And I have orders.

Orders. Orders, orders, orders. Sakurai still hadn't dismissed the idea of becoming a missing nin.

He'd been a hunter. He'd been ANBU. He'd fought in a war. He was good enough to get away. Trouble was, that this village held everything he held dear.

He smiled a sad smile, the Root children wouldn't know it was sad, and the Hatake would only know he was sad and little else, and produced a stack of cards. It was one of those new thoughtful games the civilians played, where the group would answer personal questions. He'd modified it a bit to suit his needs.

"Come children, sit in a circle and make yourselves comfortable," they did. Hatake sat down with them. Alright. Then he was going to be a child as well today. That was okay. Sakurai liked being a child sometimes, too.

Hatake's idea of comfortable seemed to be to sit with his back leaning on Sakurai's shoulder, legs stretched out and ankles crossed. This was odd. But not unusual for a child. Sakurai allowed the physical contact and got used to the tips of hair brushing against the skin of his neck with every one of his movements.

He ignored the implications screaming at him because he didn't want to think about them.

He set the cards down on a stack in the middle of their circle.

"Right. I'd like you all to pick a card, read what's on it silently, think about your answer and tell me your name when you're ready," he said. This was far too advanced for them. This had to do with will and desire, after all. They would not have those outside of a Danzo-free context. Which was going to be their entire lives from then on. He only hoped that through these unsubtle suggestions, they would discover them in time. "I'll go first to give you an example."

He drew a card and was surprised by what it said on it. 'Think about the most successful event of the past month and who you shared it with.' If he weren't so melancholy today, he would humorously question 'Successful for whom?' and amuse himself with the possibilities.

Instead, he ignored the way the tips of hair on his neck shifted as he was motionless. He'd had Sakura over for dinner with his father and Naruto. It was a success because they had all enjoyed themselves.

"My name is Haruno Sakurai, formerly Captain Peacock. I look forward to spending time with you," he said, and meant it. This gaggle of unfortunate souls would have the chance to know what it felt like to have such successful moments as well.

The featherlight touch of chakra receded from the point of contact Hatake shared with him.

What a nosy child he was being today.

But alright. Sakurai did always indulge in curiosities. He would not hold back either.

The eldest of the children picked up a card next. He watched their face carefully. It was a blank mask, but the confusion was evident.

"What are you doing?"

Sai's voice is as monotone as ever as he answers. "I am palming your face."

"Why."

"Taichou taught me how to facepalm. He said it was a common reaction to unexpectedly stupid, but non-lethal situations."

"Ah. Did he explicitly state to do it on others?"

"He explained the concept and used me as an example."

"Did he specify for how long?"

"No."

"Then please remove your hand now."

Sai removes his palm.

"Has he taught you anything else?"

"To judge character."

"… How?"

"By observing their reactions to the facepalm."

Sakurai survived the ninja life mostly through luck and a measure of skill. He was also well-versed in the art of taking enjoyment in life wherever he could find it. Where normally, he would assign seemingly pointless tasks to incite annoyance and a short temper, with Root they wouldn't care.

Yet. He was determined to make that a yet.

He would make them as emotional as possible. And so, he'd decided to give them a taste of what Sakurai thought brought some measure of meaning to life. He taught them how to make people laugh.

Well. Smile. If the stretching of lips in a cringe counted.

Sakurai was having fun! They were tormenting the ninja forces and no one dared to call him out on it because the children were just so pathetic…

He… felt kind of defeated. But. But! He'd gotten Pip – short for puny inverted pipsqueak because the boy was enormous for a twelve-year-old and had a cute voice – interested in music when Sakurai had brought his guitar along to make more of a spectacle of them as they moved around the village, telling horrible jokes. Sakurai had shown Pip how the guitar worked, explained how he built it and said nothing else until Pip's eyes began to wander towards the treeline searching for the right type of wood.

Sakurai had smiled and watched as Pip snapped his eyes forward as if caught, back to his usual stoicism. Sakurai had patted his head, "Go on. Make your own."

Pip had continued to stare at him, disbelieving.

"Well," Sakurai's crossed his arms, "I didn't explain it to you couldn't use the knowledge. Or… do you perhaps need to hear it again? Have you forgotten already? Or… are you not interested after all?"

Pip's eyes had widened comically in his otherwise blank face as his competence was questioned.

Sakurai had sighed. "Ah… well, you should've said I was bothering you, I-"

"No," Pip had whispered, immediately cowering for interrupting a superior officer.

"No what?"

When there'd seemed to be no retribution from Sakurai, he's stood straight again, but not losing a wary edge. "Agent 451 remembers."

So Pip had gone and made his own guitar. Sakurai played a new song for him from time to time and Pip learned from hearing it a few times.

Natsumi was a really creepy child. Sakurai got the heebie-jeebies every time he met her crystal clear, blue eyes. She liked to stare at him.

Sakurai was not appreciative. He decided that she needed to occupy her eyes with something else and took her to the bookstore for some general fiction or fantasy. She was not appreciative.

Endo was, though, so he considered it a measure of success. Two down, three to go. He didn't count Sai. Sai had a hobby already and was doing fine with applying Sakurai's lessons on proper conduct. He wondered when Sai would decide to take revenge or if he ever would because he seemed to find it as funny as Sakurai did.

Natsumi, though…

She was creepy. This could not be said often enough.