The Final Flame

Chapter 3: A Fine Line

OoOoO

Sai did not believe in coincidences for a good reason. Coincidences were excuses, and excuses led to failed missions—which, in ROOT, equated to one week in a windowless room, trapped in genjutsu. They called it 'reconditioning' to take the edge off, and until Sai found himself explaining it to Naruto and Sakura during a sunny lunch break, he hadn't thought much of it. His teammates' reactions had him thinking differently.

Sakura had immediately dropped her chopsticks into her ramen bowl; they bounced off the rim, then the edge of the table. Sai could have caught them if Sakura's palm hadn't smacked him on the forehead, pinning down the bangs she had just trimmed for him that same morning. On her other side, Naruto had leaped halfway out of his seat, lurching as he overbalanced due to his recently transplanted arm. "Did it ever happen to you?" he demanded.

Sai blinked. "I do sometimes question the likelihood of related events occurring at the same time, although—"

"Not coincidences, you airhead! This recon… brainwashing. Did the bastard ever do it to you?"

"No," Sakura said, sounding relieved as she drew her hand back. "Trauma like that leaves its mark on the hippocampus. Sai's is untouched. Thank God."

Naruto stared at Sai for a while longer, then slowly settled back on his stool with a scowl. "That ought to be Danzou's line, Sakura-chan. If he actually messed with Sai's empty skull… heck, my old man was pals with the Shinigami himself. If I asked him to break Danzou's nose in the afterlife, the git would be reborn with the ugly mug, right?"

"You're terrible," Sakura said, though Sai noticed a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Well, now that we've settled you have no excuses for being a nutcase, does that mean you've never failed a mission, Sai? Ever?"

Sai kept a blank face as he snapped open a new set of chopsticks for Sakura. "Actually, there was one time I was sent to infiltrate a rather bothersome team…"

"Funny that," Naruto smirked. "Didn't you end up liking the awesome members of that team?"

"That was purely coincidental."

To this day, Sai could still hear Naruto's howling laughter, followed by choking sounds and Sakura's exasperated thumps on his back. It came to him in small moments, like the time he stood up too quickly and slammed into Naruto's hanging backside, sending his peeping teammate crashing down on the women's side of the bathhouse. No matter how innocently Sai had insisted that it was mere coincidence, Naruto (battered blue and black) proceeded to lob dictionaries at the back of his head for the rest of the day.

It was safe to say that Sai only believed in coincidences when he was the one to make them happen. Which meant he didn't believe in them at all.

"You are at least five centimetres taller than I am. Perhaps seven."

No reply, but he'd had time to acquaint himself with Uchiha Sasuke's silent language. Even with his back turned, Sai felt the dark gaze flicker to him. What had he drawn its attention from? The neatly made bed? The photos tacked with senbon above her dressing table? Or had those deadly eyes been pulled away from a darker, unreachable place beyond the tiny apartment walls? Unable to decide which bothered him more—Sasuke observing Sakura's room, or ignoring it altogether—Sai absently opened another drawer, this one filled with socks. He knew exactly where to find what he was looking for, but he was stalling. He didn't particularly care if Uchiha noticed.

"Of course, there's also the case of your missing limb. I hope you don't mind me mentioning it, but I feel it's an unusual oversight on Sakura's part. How can it be 'lucky' we are the 'same size', if you're only three quarters of mine?"

The shadows on the far wall shifted. Sai hadn't turned on the lights in the room, though not for the same reason Sakura had ushered them into her room with a sizzling spatula. Sai did not like the thought of Sasuke seeing the blossoms he had painted on the ceiling, using the cracks as slender branches.

"You were less annoying with the dislocated shoulder."

"Apparently, I was also running a mild fever. I forgot to thank you for that."

Sasuke snorted quietly. "You hold petty grudges."

"That's too kind of you," Sai smiled. "Hag and Dickless aren't very useful in that department, so I have to pick up their slack. Ah—here it is." He lifted out the spare uniform he had stashed long before Sakura gave him permission to. For some reason, the washing powder she pinched from the hospital's laundry was much better at lifting bloodstains than the useless puff supplied at Sai's barracks.

Sasuke held his hand out; Sai passed the shirt over, but did not let go. Matching Sasuke's pointed stare, Sai smiled back. "I'm trusting you with this, Sasuke-kun. Don't stretch it."

"Give me one of Naruto's if you're going to be this stingy about a shirt."

Sai shook his head. "I was referring to your bonds."

Sasuke stared wordlessly at Sai for a moment longer. Then he tugged the shirt from his grasp, slipped it on, and left the room.

Sai laughed softly to himself, following. "Unbelievable. It really fit him."

Naruto leaned back on the kitchen bench and listened for sounds of a fight, or any sound really. Nothing. All he could hear were the soft thumps of his swinging feet against the cupboard, and a furious sizzling from the pan on the stove. "You can resurrect them if they kill each other, right, Sakura-chan?" he asked dubiously.

"I'm more likely to kill them for killing each other," Sakura replied without looking up. She tapped an oily spatula impatiently on the marble countertop, shaking droplets of half-cooked batter onto Naruto's trousers. "Do you think it's done yet? I feel like it's been cooking long enough to fry three omelettes."

"What do your instincts say?" Naruto asked back. He was still listening for noise from Sakura's room.

"They are telling me I am in a safe house with no hostiles and therefore no need to draw weapons. But if you fail to warn me before this pancake burns, I can definitely make this wooden spatula dangerous." That turned his head. When Sakura faced reality, reality must be nasty.

Shooting her a placating smile, Naruto leaned over her shoulder and took a sniff. "Ah, give it a few more minutes. Let the oil settle."

"I just don't want to feed Sasuke coals on his first night back."

"Too bad. He'll just have to suck it up like I did."

"I have never fed you coals," Sakura said, prodding the edge of okonomiyaki.

Naruto cleared his throat. Sakura glanced at him; he pulled down his lower lip. She laughed. "Oh. That time. Don't be such a baby. You survived."

"I had an ulcer the size of a chestnut," Naruto reminded her, pouting. Sakura laughed again and, for the first time since she'd started cooking, relaxed.

She gestured for the orange juice Naruto had been drinking from the bottle. She handed it back to him empty, and covered his eyes with her hand. Grinning, Naruto flicked his wrist; he heard the bottle bounce off two hard surfaces before shooting into the plastic lining of the bin. Sakura took her hand away and he hi-fived it.

Mission accomplished.

A lot of things had come out of the war. Naruto spent a fair share of his time tracking the changes it had made in his friends, except he couldn't decide if the fighting had affected Sakura in a good or a bad way. It was good for him, of course, because now he could hobble into Sakura's office with chakra exhaustion and hope for equal chances of either copping a dozen love-taps through the nearest wall for reckless behaviour, or being completely spoiled by her. It was surreal. The first time he'd woken up with his head in Sakura's lap and her hand on his brow, Naruto was certain his body had finally succumbed to the repeated trauma of Sakura's fist to his temple. Then another time, he dropped in to visit Sai after hearing he'd been banged up in his last mission and found Sai sitting up in bed, looking on with amusement, while Sakura taught him how to peel an apple without breaking the skin.

Naruto didn't know what the deal was, but somehow the war had made Sakura guilty. It was like she had become so used to spending her time on others that she couldn't turn it off anymore. Usually Naruto was happy to do that for her, but tonight had been a tough one to crack. He rarely had to work so long and hard to make Sakura-chan smile.

He blamed Sasuke.

"Maybe it's not the first time," Sakura murmured.

Naruto puffed out his chest proudly. "'Course not. I've never missed a bin shot. Not once."

Sakura rolled her eyes, dialling down the heat on the stove. "I meant Sasuke. Maybe he's come back to Konoha before without us knowing. He might think we're a bother."

Yep, totally Sasuke's fault. First he and Sai had that weird staring contest outside the apartment, only separating when Naruto literally kicked Sasuke into the shower. Then the bastard stepped out of the bathroom bloody shirtless because Sakura had insisted on washing his cloak (and a miserable number that thing was). Now, Naruto was all for familiarity between teammates—even Kakashi showered with the door unlocked when he was over which said a lot—and true, Sakura had probably seen more undressed men than Naruto ever would in twenty bathhouses. But still.

Naruto hopped off the bench and took the spatula from Sakura, lifting the pan off the fire. He eased the edge under the edge of the okonomiyaki, then deftly flipped it. Sakura let out a sigh of relief when she saw the golden crisp, unburnt. Naruto set the pan back onto the stove. "That's what teammates are for. No one bugs someone they don't care about, and Sasuke's such an unlikeable guy. If we don't bother him, who will?"

"Not me." Sai slipped into the kitchen. He didn't look as miffed, but with Sai you could never tell. Sure enough, he went straight to Sakura and said, "I still think he is taller than me."

"What's this?" Sakura grinning, feinting a gasp. "I don't think I've ever seen you jealous before, Sai."

"I am not jealous."

"Uh huh."

"Did you really make that okonomiyaki by yourself?"

"Hey."

"It was a genuine question. I'm not insinuating anything," Sai said blankly. Naruto doubled over with silent laughter, unable to recover even when Sakura glared at him.

Sighing heavily, Sakura turned to the empty living room and called, "Sasuke-kun."

It took a moment. Then his dark head appeared around the corner. "Yes?"

"Do Sai's clothes fit you?"

Sasuke shrugged. "They will do."

"You need to get yourself more clothes; I have storage scrolls in my room if you want to refill."

"I prefer to travel light," Sasuke answered, and Naruto shook his head because he was totally asking for it.

It started with a twitch—the twitch—which set off a chain reaction; emerald eyes narrowing just so, brows creasing in that particular frown. The voice came next. It knew no modesty or embarrassment, disregarded rank and gleefully dared anyone to challenge it. It was one thing Naruto knew infinite times better than Sasuke did, and therefore started cackling long before the stoic Uchiha realised his mistake.

Medic mode.

Calmly, Sakura wiped her hands on a towel. And then she looked at Sasuke. "Your cloak had singe marks on it," she said. "Naruto doesn't know any Katon jutsu. Kakashi barely has time to walk his dogs, let alone spar with you. So what kind of company have you been keeping to give you such a close shave with fire, hmm? It's not assuring, knowing there's another powerhouse who can keep up with you."

Sasuke merely raised his eyebrows. He had no idea that silence was the worst defence against Sakura's medic mode. And Naruto was not about to warn him, because the only thing he liked seeing more than Sasuke confused was Sasuke confused by Sakura.

"Unless," Sakura mused, crossing her arms, "that's not enemy fire. It's your own, because you don't like to stay long even in small towns, and you'd never do something so silly as to light a campfire—not unless you're tired of the rogues on your tail and want to lure them in. But winter is coming and if you overuse chakra circulation to keep warm you'll wear down your capillary walls, then your arteries, and you'll be haemorrhaging long before the sun comes up. So instead, you start a little fireball in your hand and keep it under your cloak while you sit in the trees. And sometimes, when it's particularly chilly, you nod off without meaning to. Does that sound about right, Sasuke-kun?"

He'd picked up on his situation now; Naruto could just see it on his face. Sasuke grunted. "I don't nod off."

"No," Sakura agreed. "But you could if you packed a little less 'lightly', don't you think? Also, your eyes look dry. They wouldn't be if you could afford to shut them more often."

"I'll remember that. Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. It's statistically proven that more shinobi die sick and cold in a ditch than they do of old age."

Impressively, Sasuke managed to keep a straight face. "Is that so?"

Naruto burst into uncontrollable snorts. Sai thumped his back.

Sakura turned back to the stove and switched off the fire. Sasuke continued to stare at her, then picked up a plate off the drying rack. He held it out to her. As Sakura scraped okonomiyaki onto it, he said, "I haven't been back since I left. This is the first time."

"Okay," Sakura said.

Swallowing breathlessly, Naruto shoved Sasuke forward and stepped on his toes for good measure. Sasuke scowled and, weirdly enough, spared a second to glance in Sai's direction. He sighed.

"… It won't be the last time, either."

Sakura glanced up. Then she chuckled. "Okay."

Grinning widely, Naruto launched himself between his friends and hung from their shoulders. "Yosh! One big happy family!"

"Mou, who wants to be related to you?"

"The whole village, apparently!"

Hatake Kakashi had been called many things in his time. 'Grouch' was not one of them, but as the man gazed forlornly out the window for the umpteenth time throughout their meeting, Shikamaru considered investing some effort into changing that.

"Look at them go," Kakashi sighed. Again.

The sun had set hours ago on a chilly but otherwise good-weathered day. Yet there was lightning sparking in thick clouds that had suddenly rolled in moments ago and the trees beside the Hokage Tower, whipping haphazardly, told of a fierce, unnatural wind outside. Like Kakashi, Shikamaru knew what the sudden change in weather meant and wondered if Naruto would ever stop causing trouble for him. Not only would he be late for dinner thanks to a distracted Hokage, he was going to get blown sideways walking home.

"They didn't even invite me. Sakura is usually so good with that kind of thing. Do you think she's holding a grudge because I made her amend the hospital's last budget proposal?"

Shikamaru wondered how his old man would have handled his Hokage pretending to whine like one of his dogs, pawing to be let out. Kakashi was only acting up because Shikamaru wasn't old and respected, and wouldn't be bothered to correct him. The Godaime had her gambling halls and the Rokudaime had his envy for the battlefield.

Shikamaru made up his mind. He joined Kakashi at the window and rested his head against it just as a flash of lightning bolted down on training ground forty-four. "Pretty impressive that they managed to wait until after dinner. Naruto especially."

"We may need a new venue for the next Chuunin Exam." Kakashi nodded at the light show in the distance. "At this rate, they'll scare off all the dangerous creatures in the Forest of Death. Or worse, flatten it."

"It'll be fine as long as it stays between Naruto and Sasuke. Flattening isn't their style."

Kakashi tapped a gloved finger against the mug in his hand. "No, you're right. But if I know her—" The floor shuddered suddenly; the portraits of the past Hokage rattled on the wall. "—Sakura won't be able to stay out of it for long. See?"

Shikamaru could think of few things less effortful and more dramatic than a vicious sparring session in the Forest of Death. Then again, understanding the way Team Seven worked took too much brainwork in itself. So he just shrugged. "Your problem, not mine."

Kakashi chuckled. "One of them will be yours soon enough."

"That one I can handle—he's straightforward. You can keep the other two."

"Really? Asuma and I always thought you and Sakura were alike."

"Kakashi," Shikamaru deadpanned. "Do you know what's worse than one loud woman ragging you out for smoking? Her medically qualified best friend slapping a nicotine patch on you every time she sees you."

"Ah. It's like that, is it? Asuma never had it that bad; smoking was fashionable in our time."

"Now you're talking like someone who actually has grey hair."

Kakashi's eyes folded into a smile and he flicked his head to the scene outside. "Compared to sprightly folks like you, I must be."

Shikamaru chortled, linking his hands behind his head. "Don't lump me together with those three, please. I'm a pacifist."

"So am I."

"You're not fooling anyone there, Hokage-sama. Just go out there and tumble with them. They'll let the Copy Ninja in."

Kakashi cracked open an eye, leaving the scarred side closed. A bittersweet smile formed beneath the mask. "Copy Ninja no more," he said lightly. "Let them play. Right now, trading blows is still the quickest way they will learn to trust each other again."

"That's what I don't understand about those guys." Shikamaru casually spread his feet as another tremor reached the tower. "Looking at them now, I can see the distance between Sasuke and the other two. It's good that they're waiting for him to come to them, instead of the other way around. But frankly, when we were Chuunin and the world was out to get Sasuke and the Akatsuki, no one would dare say Naruto and Sakura abandoned him. It drew the rest of us in. If it wasn't trust back then, I'd call it faith at the very least."

Kakashi nodded agreeably and hummed. Kakashi was the kind of character Shikamaru didn't like dealing with; the kind that he couldn't read even if the mask wasn't in the way. When it came to Team Seven, though, Kakashi was open. Shikamaru recognised that blend of pride and exasperation; he'd seen it on Asuma's face often enough.

While Shikamaru contemplated whether Kakashi would mind if he smoked in the office, there was a knock and Shizune appeared at the door. She looked windblown, a dark coat folded over one arm and a paper bag in the other. "Oh, you're still here," she said, seeing Shikamaru. "It's not like our Hokage to do overtime."

Shikamaru nodded back in greeting. "We played shogi while we waited for you. But he's distracted."

Shizune smiled knowingly. "It's more distracting outside. I ran into Sai as I was leaving the Akimichi residence. He was telling ANBU patrols not to worry about the disturbance."

Shikamaru snorted. By the window, Kakashi looked over his shoulder. "How did the Akimichi take your late night delivery?"

"Very well. I was invited inside for dango and tofu pudding."

"Were they good?"

"Of course. I brought some back with me." Shizune placed the brown bag on the desk. "Pickled cucumbers. Chouza-san said you disliked sweets."

"Of course he would know," Kakashi smiled. "That's a good sign."

Shikamaru was well aware of the customs Chouji's family kept. The Akimichi were the most approachable clansmen in the village; being a naturally welcoming lot and owning the most famous food outlets in town helped. It made it easy for people to forget that the vendors skewering their chicken were members of one of Konoha's four noble clans, something that would never have happened with the Hyuuga and Uchiha, or even the Aburame. Shikamaru knew factions who scorned the Akimichi as pushovers for letting their standing slip to the background, but the Nara clan had always known better; the Akimichi hadn't been forgotten so much as allowed it. Their influence was only planted in different ways.

An Akimichi only investigated a person's food palate if they considered him worth watching out for. Clearly, Kakashi knew that. If Shizune had brought back pudding instead of Kakashi's favoured foods, not even the Hokage could hope for the clan's cooperation. But Shikamaru had known Chouza-oji-san wouldn't take down that path; he was sure the man had never manipulated anyone in his life.

"What about the other clans?" Kakashi had opened the bag of cucumbers and was halfway through them. Shikamaru hadn't even seen him move. No wonder Naruto and Sakura were so hell-bent on the mystery behind the mask. "I assume there were no concerns with the Yamanaka, Inuzuka and Sarutobi," Kakashi added, chewing. Damn. Shikamaru had missed that one as well.

Shizune nodded. "Every clan seemed to know I would be coming. Shino-kun was waiting for me before I even arrived."

"Make sure you don't squash the next bug you find near you. Hyuuga?"

"They were proper as always. I couldn't read Hiashi-san."

"I didn't expect you to. Hyuuga Hiashi personally greeting you to confirm his clan's attendance says a lot. I'm no longer worried about his decision. Thanks for going around so late."

"Not at all. If I were with Tsunade-sama, she would only have started her first round of sake. This is a lot less stressful. But Kakashi?" Shizune waited until he looked at her. She continued thoughtfully, "Like I said, the clans were expecting me so I often met with someone of rank. At the Yamanaka residence, I was received by a rather young man; I think he is a jounin."

"I see." Kakashi looked at Shikamaru. "Is he the one you warned me about?"

Shikamaru nodded darkly. "Yeah—Yamanaka Eiji. He's the second son of Yamanaka Isshin, the current head of clan."

"Second son?" Shizune wondered.

Kakashi gestured to a battered file on his desk. It was unlike other documents on the desk; too thin and stamped red with confidentiality. "Yamanaka Isshin agreed to send his oldest son into Danzou's Foundation eleven years ago, against Inoichi-san's wishes. He's been MIA since before the war, suspected dead. Shikamaru, have you spoken to Ino about this?"

"Chouji and I both did. She's being stubborn."

"I don't think that's what it is," Shizune said softly.

"I know. I know." Shikamaru clicked his tongue and reached for the tobacco pack in his breast pocket, then remembered Shizune—sure enough, she was watching him. Suppressing a sigh, he scratched his stubble instead. "She'll come around. It's been a year, and she knows Isshin. She'd never let a man who turned to Danzou steer her family."

"If not, I have a lot of groundwork to do in a short amount of time," Kakashi said. He didn't need to elaborate; Shikamaru understood his meaning.

If the next head of the Yamanaka was going to be a problem, discontent could be sowed to raise favour for a more agreeable candidate—someone Naruto could trust. But as the leader of the Nara clan, Shikamaru realised he refused to work with anyone else. He couldn't remember a time growing up when he hadn't been responsible for Ino and Chouji. Making sure Chouji didn't eat the marbles; following Ino when she went flower picking to make sure she didn't get lost. No one asked Shikamaru if he wanted a quiet life. Their mothers had put them to sleep in the same cot, for God's sake. Shikamaru had seen photographic proof of them curled around each other, he and Ino squashed into a corner by Chouji's sprawled form. Their mothers had sniggered over the way Ino shoved her hand over Shikamaru's face, forcing him to doze at a crooked angle, all while clutching his shirt with her other hand, keeping him close. 'Tough love', the women chuckled.

Until Chouji and Ino found someone else to love them unconditionally the way Shikamaru had been taught to, they were both his messes. And Shikamaru had certain confidence in the people he had grown up with.

"Ino won't go down without a fight," he said, only realising when Shizune's head turned that he had spoken too loudly. Shikamaru's lips tightened into a grim smile. Next time he ran into Naruto he was going to ask advice on how to help a teammate who didn't want to accept it. "Call it faith. She'll put Isshin and Eiji in place."

Nodding, Kakashi took a sip from his mug and regarded the village. The clouds had drifted away to reveal a full moon.

"Looks like they're finished," Kakashi remarked. Then, in a murmur so low Shikamaru almost didn't catch, he added, "Now we wait for the real storm."

She didn't mean to rise so early. The day was young and the compound was utterly quiet. She could hear the village waking just beyond the walls. But the sounds that Hinata had grown up with—the scrape of gravel, the slap of open palms and the bursts of chakra—were absent. No one was training in the courtyard.

"Nee-sama? It's spilling."

"Oh! Sorry, Hanabi." Hinata hastily put the teapot down and checked the damage. There was none; Hanabi had nudged the tray over to catch the spillage. Her younger sister looked at her with a slight frown. Hanabi already frowned a lot for someone her age, so it unsettled Hinata that she was causing so much of it lately. "I'm fine, Hanabi. Really," she assured.

"You've spilled the tea three times," Hanabi pointed out.

"I-I was thinking, that's all. How is your training going?"

"You've asked me that four times."

Hinata winced. She could just imagine what Father would say if he saw her like this. Or perhaps he would understand; he had been spending a lot of time alone in the dojo recently, standing at the front the way he used to oversee their training. But no one was sparring. And from where Hinata sat, the courtyard looked terribly empty.

"I think I've gotten the hang of the Eight Trigrams Palm Rotation."

Hinata blinked and turned to Hanabi, who arched her eyebrows. "Do I have to tell you for the fifth time?" her sister teased.

Hinata's smile returned. "No, I heard you. That's great."

"Are you impressed?"

Hanabi was far better than her at hiding her feelings, but Hinata had seen the expression her sister was wearing many times. So even though Hinata had never doubted that her sister could do it, she replied, "Of course I am. That's an advanced technique and you learned it so quickly—much faster than I did."

Hanabi lowered her head to hide a pleased smile. "Not that quickly. I was stuck for a while." She lifted her teacup, then paused.

"Is something wrong?" Hinata asked. "It's too hot, isn't it?"

"No, it's fine." To prove it, Hanabi drank. Her little sister had always done that, though; push through. It was what made her so successful, but at the same time, Hinata wished Hanabi wouldn't do that around her. Not anymore.

"Hanabi?" Her sister glanced up. Hinata nudged a hot cup of tea across the table, and added lightly, "I'm listening."

Hanabi's eyes widened. Then they dropped down to the tea. "I just…" She tried to smile. "I wanted to show Neji-niisan. That's all."

Hinata closed her eyes. Because this was the real reason she'd woken up so early, wasn't it? No matter how hard she tried, her body could not rest past the break of dawn. And, lying on her mattress, she would wait for Neji-niisan to knock, asking if she was up even though he already knew she was. He would give her a small, challenging smile as he stood in the doorway, brimming with vitality from an early start. Only Neji could make an adrenaline rush look calm, at peace.

Thinking back, if she had been stronger… if she had moved differently, just one step, maybe Neji wouldn't have—

Hanabi suddenly rose to her feet. "Good morning, Father."

Hinata snapped back to the present. She bowed hastily. "Otou-sama. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

Hanabi folded her hands behind her back. "I wouldn't recommend it, Father. It tastes terrible today. Nee-sama was daydreaming about Uzumaki again."

"H-Hanabi! That's not true. I—"

"Hinata."

Her mouth snapped shut at her father's voice. It had taken her years to stop flinching away from that voice, and even longer before her father learned how to speak to her with the same warmth he displayed to Hanabi. But, right now, his voice wasn't cold and disappointed. It struck Hinata that her father had never displayed anger towards her—yet, at this moment, Hiashi was furious. Something had irritated him. Someone. Hinata unconsciously pinched the inside of her jacket sleeve.

"Otou-sama?" Hanabi asked. Her joking tone faded away. "I was kidding. I distracted Nee-sama—you know how rich her brews usually are. I'll help her make a new one. Just sit tight, okay?"

Warmth swelled in Hinata's chest. If the shadow standing over them belonged to anyone but their father, Hinata would long have swept Hanabi behind her, Byakugan glowering cold. She never thought that her little sister might have felt the same way.

Hiashi must have picked up their apprehension. His sharp tone eased slightly when he spoke—but just slightly. "Hinata. Have the elders spoken to you?"

She hesitated. The elders had lost interest in her a long time ago. Hinata knew it was disrespectful, but she was relieved to keep a distance. "No, Father. Are they looking for me?"

"Seemingly not." A tendril of annoyance seeped back into Hiashi's tone. "They did not even think to have an open discussion," he muttered under his breath.

A clink of china turned Hinata's head. Hanabi took a sip of tea, made a funny expression, and put it back down. "They spoke to me, though."

Hinata stared at her sister.

Their father did not share her confusion. Hiashi sighed and folded his arms. "Of course they did. What was your answer?"

A toothy grin appeared on Hanabi's face. "I just told them the truth—that I am thirteen years old and have recently picked up the delightful art of hanging cute ornaments on my weapons. Have I shown you my kamikaze turtle? I made it from a pair of old earrings. Kiba-san was showing me how to make flash bombs the other day and I figured a silver turtle would make twice the flash."

Hinata winced. "Hanabi… didn't Konohamaru-kun give you those earrings for your birthday?"

"Valentine's Day, actually. He said he felt sorry for me because everyone else was too scared to give me anything. Hence why I turned it into a bomb."

"Wise. That child inherited none of his grandfather's admirable qualities." Hinata turned to their father, mouth slightly open in surprise. Was the Hyuuga clan head actually aware of his youngest daughter's immature suitors? Hiashi continued unperturbed by Hinata's stares. "As for your latest… hobby, you already know what I think of it. You are a lady of the Hyuuga's Main House. It is unbecoming to treat your tools as toys, Hanabi."

"Oh, I know." Hanabi grinned. "That's what the elders thought, too."

Hinata felt like she had entered a genjutsu. "I feel like I have missed something important," she said warily.

Hiashi looked at her, the brief amusement fading from his eyes. Even now, safe with the knowledge that she hadn't done anything wrong, Hinata felt uneasy. But she held his gaze. Her father said, "I want to see the technique you developed with Neji. I have not had a proper look at it."

"Pardon me?"

Hiashi looked pointedly at her, but she'd heard him the first time.

The truth was Hinata had never officially demonstrated the Lion Fists to her father. He and the other clansmen had surely seen her use it, but no one had commented. Original techniques weren't forbidden; it was simply that their very existence implied the Hyuuga clan's traditional Gentle Fist was inadequate. That was a very dangerous idea to propose to the clan leader.

A year ago, Hinata would have been afraid. She would have looked to Neji first; he would have spoken up for her. But Neji was not around to shield her anymore, and as Hinata understood the resolution in her father's gaze, she also understood that she didn't need anyone's protection anymore. A year ago, Hinata hadn't stood at the head of an army, holding a hero's hand.

She rose to take her place in the courtyard. As she passed in front of her father, he murmured, "Watch carefully, Hanabi."

Hinata inhaled deeply through her nose, and steadied her arms at her waist. Gravel crunched beneath her feet. Chakra surged through her veins, piercing her pupils. Then she faltered.

Two rooms away, the clan elders were convened around a table. There was no doubt about it: they were watching her. She glanced towards her father. Surely he must know about this. Which meant he wanted them to see her. Hinata wondered if this had anything to do with the scroll Shizune had delivered to the compound yesterday evening, then shook her head lightly. Thinking changed nothing. The broiling heat of her glowing fists swept up a tempest in the silent courtyard.

Without looking at her father, Hinata began her set, flowing through a block and countering an invisible strike to her blind spot. The familiar drill settled her pulse and Hinata felt herself relax. No matter what her clan might think of her technique, she loved the Lion Fists. It was the technique Neji had helped her perfect, and she loved it again because it filled her with the same calm she'd felt standing in front of Pain two years ago. Using the Lion Fists let her return to a moment when she had stood beside Naruto and, for precious few minutes, Hinata was living in the past.

So she was caught completely by surprise when her father's voice cracked through the morning air. "Two fists!"

Hinata's body twisted on its own accord. She stared at her outstretched fingers, glowing with chakra. Her head snapped up. But her father was faster.

"Continue! Four fists, eight—"

By this point, her father no longer had to say anything. Because even though she didn't know what was happening, Hinata was moving like a wave set in motion. Her arms blurred and so did her memories. Hundreds of hours of practice flickered past. Her eyes saw everything: her father's faint smile, her sister watching from the tea room, and the afterimage of Neji's perfect form in front of her, gesturing for her to take that final leap.

Her feet glided across the gravel. Thirty-two. But that was not her limit. She wasn't done yet.

Well done, Hinata-sama.

"Hakke Rokujyuuyon Shou!"

Hinata felt her chakra spring forth at the last strike and was surprised by how light it felt. Chest heaving, she watched the flaming lions roar ahead of her.

She didn't mean to rise so early, but she did.

Nor did she mean to shatter the cheery blossom tree on the other end of the courtyard. But she did.

She and her father stared at the deep welt sizzling in the bark. Then, ever so slowly, the tree keeled over.

Hinata's hands flew to her mouth, which was just as well because she was so mortified no words came out. Behind her, footsteps rushed onto the patio. "That was amazing!" Hanabi shouted.

A helpless moan escaped through Hinata's lips. "No, it wasn't!" she whispered.

Her father made a noise in the back of his throat. Hinata spun around and was on the verge of bowing when she realised he wasn't angry. In fact, she could have sworn he was smiling. He reached into the broad sleeve of his robe and drew out a narrow scroll, offering it to her. Still dazed, Hinata accepted it. "Should I…?"

Hiashi gestured her to open it. Hinata recognised the Rokudaime's scratchy handwriting immediately; Sakura always asked for her help deciphering Kakashi's scrawl in her report margins. At first, Hinata thought that was why her father had given the message to her. Then he nodded meaningfully at the print, and she realised he wanted her to read it.

She read it once. Then again.

Hiashi said, "I have no details on what the agenda for this conclave might be, but considering the wording of the invitation, one can make an educated guess."

There was no guesswork at all, Hinata thought as she re-read the message for the sixth time. No wonder Father and the elders were so agitated. On the surface, the message was harmless, simply. Yet there was also no other way to interpret the Hokage's intention.

Suddenly, Hinata registered what Hiashi had said, and felt the weight of the scroll in her hands. "Father—"

He was already walking away. "Give me your answer this evening. In the meantime, I will see if our esteemed elders have changed their narrow minds about your abilities."

Still bewildered and clutching the scroll, Hinata turned to Hanabi. Her sister skipped backwards with a grin. "Don't look at me. I can't stand boring meetings and the elders would hate to send someone so childish to represent the clan."

"You are not childish," Hinata said softly. "You have the purest Byakugan in this compound."

"Says the one who sees three hundred metres further than me. Did you think no one knew?"

"I didn't… Hanabi, this invitation—this summons—is meant for the heiress. That's—"

Her sister shook her head and took the scroll from her, rolling it up. Hinata watched the Rokudaime's message slither away from sight. Sliding a band over the scroll, Hanabi tapped it against her open palm. "Not me," she said impishly.

"Hanabi—"

Hanabi jumped and stared. "Oh my goodness. You do have a big sister voice. Where have you been hiding it?"

Hinata finally understood why Kiba growled so much. When so many emotions clashed inside, drawing them out into words was impossible. Still, Hinata had to try. She took her sister's shoulders in her hands. "Hanabi. Please, talk to Father and the elders. I don't—"

"Yes, you do," Hanabi interrupted firmly. There was no hint of playfulness in her eyes anymore. "If you don't, I'll go after Father now; I'll throw away all my stickers and kunai charms and beg my way back into the elders' graces. All you have to do is say the word. I'd do it for you." She stared earnestly at Hinata, who winced at the thought.

"Hanabi, that is not fair."

Hanabi smiled suddenly. "That's why it has to be you, sis—you're the only one who is. Father and the elders chose me. In my mind, I chose Neji-niisan. Do you follow?"

Hinata closed her eyes. She nodded once. Hanabi pressed the scroll into her hand.

"Neji-niisan chose you. Which means that the only thing you get to choose, Nee-sama, is an evening gown. I know, you can thank me later."

A/N: Nope, haven't abandoned this story! I'm just a snail. A nitpicking, procrastinating, second-doubting snail.

Thanks to everyone who has read and liked the story since the last update! I'll try to get my turbo on for the next chapter (it's half written anyway so few excuses there).