"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I—I hardly know, sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar sternly. "Explain yourself!"

"I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, sir" said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see."

Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Chapter 6. Through the Looking Glass

Nezumi felt the disapproval radiating off Oka-san as she took her time surveying the psychiatrist and his office. Instead of the familiar chaise lounge that usually occupied the offices of her old world, there was a simple wooden chair. The office itself was rather Spartan in décor, bearing none of the soft, homey touches that were supposed to put the patient at ease. And then she studied the psychiatrist himself. At least this one didn't have unnatural hair. And so far, he hadn't made the attempt to assault her head with those strange, glowing hands that made her ache something awful. He was just sitting there innocuously, scribbling something down on his notepad. That was plebian enough.

"Does she have to be here?" Nezumi asked baldly, pointing directly at the woman sitting behind her. If she was going to be subjected to the prodding of a psychiatrist proper, she didn't want the added scrutiny of Oka-san. God knows the woman already thought her strange enough. And if the man tried using jazz hands on her, she'd scream. She was rather good at that.

The psychiatrist paused his scribbling to look over his journal and peer down at her. "Yes," he returned. And then he went back to his scribbling.

Nezumi frowned, questioning the legitimacy of his practice before pressing the issue. "Why?"

"Does it bother you that your mother is here?"

"Yes."

The psychiatrist set his journal down on his desk. "Why?"

"Patient confidentiality," she replied promptly. "These sorts of things ought to be private so that the patient can be more forthcoming with sharing her experiences. And the presence of such a familiar authority figure can skew the information offered…" She struggled for a moment, trying to translate her next words from technical English jargon to the weird subtype of Japanese spoken here. "Subliminal influencing? If you get my meaning." She wondered if Freud's ideas would have any purchase here.

The rough scratch of pen on paper was the only response Nezumi had for a moment. And then the psychiatrist inclined his head towards Oka-san. "If you please, Kotone-san," he said, gesturing at the door.

Nezumi turned around in her chair to watch Oka-san sign away rapidly with her hands. A glance back revealed that the psychiatrist was responding fluently with some hand signals of his own. They were literally talking behind her back, keeping her out of the loop of her own life. She felt her face tighten and recognized that she was probably sporting an ugly scowl. She set her mind to rearranging her face, but she couldn't help it—it took a lot of focus to control her three-year old body and oftentimes her impulses and emotions got the better of her.

The door opened and closed quietly, jarring Nezumi out of her thoughts. Oka-san was always so damn silent. It was creepy as hell.

The psychiatrist returned his impassive gaze to her. "Your mother worries about you. Do you know that?"

"Yes."

"Why do you think she worries about you?"

"Because I'm precious."

"Ah, that's probably true," the psychiatrist said, nodding his head sagely. "But I think you mean precocious." He jotted down another line in his journal.

Nezumi felt her face heat up. "It's hard to talk," she mumbled unhappily. He had better not be recording her blunder.

"Yes, yes, but you're doing admirably well nonetheless. Precocious indeed," he said more to himself than to her. He flipped a few pages on his clipboard. "You began talking at 8 months, reading at 2 years. That's very quick—you shouldn't be disappointed with yourself. Do you often get frustrated if you can't articulate yourself well?"

She hesitated. "It's not just that… I know I can communicate well enough… It's just that people don't listen to me when I talk. They all treat me like a baby. And when I mess up…" She waved her hands around helplessly. "They laugh. I know they think it's cute, but makes me feel stupid."

More scribbling. And then the psychiatrist asked, "Do your parents treat you like a baby?"

"No…?" She thought for a moment. "For the most part, they listen to what I say and respect my wishes. Daddy brings me serious literature even if he likes to tease me about it. That's okay, I guess. Oka-san tries not to do stuff with chakra around me since she knows I'm sensitive. But they think I'm weird. I can tell."

"How can you tell?"

Nezumi studied the psychiatrist who just waited patiently, pen at the ready. "I'm here, aren't I?" she said dryly.

"Ah, I suppose. Tell me more. How does it make you feel?"

"They always give me concerned looks and argue about me in their room. I can see it, I can hear it, and I don't like it. They don't have to protect me from their own feelings. I want them to talk with me, not about me." She waited as he wrote another line. "You're going to tell Oka-san that aren't you," she said accusingly.

The psychiatrist hummed thoughtfully, writing away in the journal. Nezumi tried to peek discreetly at what he had written so far, but he snatched it up before she could decipher the upside-down text.

He gave her a mild look. "Please don't do that. You can just ask me if you're that curious."

"Sorry," she said, feeling ashamed of herself for trying to take advantage of someone who was actually taking her seriously for a change.

"That's alright. Now why don't you tell me how you feel about chakra? Your reports say that you have chakra hypersensitivity and your mother says it scares you. Is that right?"

She looked away from his inquiring gaze and settled her eyes on some diagrams of brain anatomy pinned on the wall. "It makes me feel funny and it's unnatural," she said in a half-whisper. It almost felt treasonous to admit that.

The psychiatrist looked undisturbed by her statement, but he wrote furiously into his journal as he prodded further. "Well, people with chakra hypersensitivity tend to have mixed reactions to chakra. Some experience tingling or tickling sensations. Others say it's quite painful and develop rashes when they're exposed to large amounts of chakra. How does it make you feel?"

Nezumi shrugged. "I can feel my own chakra in my body—it's a tingly sensation. I can ignore it, but it's always there. Kind of like those little grey particles of protein in your vision."

The psychiatrist paused, his pen coming to a stop on the paper.

She continued on, ignoring him. "But it can get really bad sometimes. Then it goes from tingling to something like a growing pain."

"You can feel your chakra in your body?" He lowered the pen and paper to his lap, out of her direct line of sight. "Please elaborate."

"Well, it's strongest here," Nezumi said, pointing to her belly. "I don't know—it's warm here?" She traced out a spiraling line that went from the middle of her stomach and up and around her heart to her extremities. And I can feel it spreading out from there to my fingers and my head and my toes." She glanced up at the psychiatrist, looking for some kind of confirmation. But he avoided making eye contact with her in favor of watching the pen he twirled around in his fingers.

She went on, a little more uncertainly this time. "Like I said, sometimes it gets bad. When that happens, my stomach gets really hot and I feel like I'm burning on the inside." The psychiatrist continued to play around with his pen and she felt a stab of betrayal. "You do believe me, right? I'm not making this up," she said earnestly.

The psychiatrist made a noncommittal noise. And then, "Is that why you're afraid of chakra? Because it hurts you?" He began writing in the journal again and her shoulders slumped a little.

"…It's unnatural," she repeated. That was all she could bring herself to say—any more and she would risk exposing herself as the alien she was. There was a very fragile levee preventing the mutinous thoughts she kept in her mind from reaching the rest of this strange world. This was all a very fascinating hallucination that she couldn't break out of. A very, very long and detailed hallucination.

Her parents evidently had their suspicions of her strangeness, but at most, they thought she was supremely prone to accidents. Her first attempt to wake herself up from this dream had involved a paring knife. She'd made her second attempt in downtown Konoha during rush hour. And there were numerous other incidents that had resulted in a severe bowl cut, a few prematurely extracted baby teeth, and a splotchy burn running down the length of her arm. And when she wasn't attempting escape, she was sleeping off her chronic fatigue.

It was to Nezumi's misfortune that "Oka-san" was incredibly observant and better at cloning herself than the best Petri dish.

The psychiatrist continued writing in his journal, immune to her internal struggling. "No," he rebutted gently, finally looking up to meet her eyes. "Chakra is natural. It's in your body, in other people, in the earth, and in the air. That's the definition of natural."

She broke away from his concerned gaze to stare again at the diagrams on the wall as she bit her fingernails. "It's in my body. It doesn't make sense. I hate it. I don't want it."

"You hate your body or you hate chakra?"

"I.." she mumbled past her fingers. It was all unsettling. Her body, her chakra, this strange Alice-in-Wonderland-type scenario she'd fallen into. Instead of potions that read 'Drink me', people here grew and shrank by this magical substance called chakra that apparently existed in every living thing. And like poor Alice, she had fallen into a land of nonsense that insisted on throwing her unapologetically into pure chaos. People here could literally walk with Jesus, breathe fire, and kill with the flick of a needle. So what did she hate? All of the above?

The psychiatrist waited for her response but she kept worrying at her fingernails instead. More scribbles sounded against the clipboard and judging from the time it took, the psychiatrist had a lot to write down. She entertained the idea of asking what he thought about her and which neuroses he was diagnosing her with, but then she decided that she didn't really want to know.

He finally finished writing everything, setting his pen down with finality, and then contented himself with scrutinizing her. Once she had bitten down to the quick, she settled on examining her abused hands instead of answering his implicit demands.

The sound of a book shutting caught her attention and she looked up to see the psychiatrist stowing away his pen and notebook in the drawer in his desk. He raised his eyebrows slightly at her inquiring gaze and cleared his throat. "I think that's a good place to stop. We'll talk more about this next time," he said.

"Okay," she said meekly. "Is there anything you want me to do in the meantime?"

"Hmm, why don't you make friends with some people your own age? It'll be good for you."

"I—okay? Okay, I'll try that," she answered, taken aback. She thought he'd ask her to do some exercises with chakra or something like the other doctors she'd seen.

"Very good," the psychiatrist said, rising from his seat. He hesitated for a bit before remarking, "Now we're going to go see your mother. Would you like me to keep our conversation confidential?"

Nezumi chewed down on her fingernails again, drawing a little blood this time. "…I'll think about it," she bit out grudgingly. She thought she saw the psychiatrist nodding approvingly at that, but she didn't want to read too deeply into his actions. They exited the room and went out into the lobby together. Oka-san appeared to meet them suddenly, making Nezumi jump in surprise.

"Oh, Nezumi, I'm sorry," Oka-san said, kneeling down to hug her. "I didn't mean to startle you. How was everything?" The last question was directed at the psychiatrist.

"Ah, everything was fine," the psychiatrist replied blandly. "The receptionist will schedule Nezumi in for another meeting next week. I'm afraid I'm quite busy right now—I'll have to talk with you later." He gave Nezumi a meaningful look and then waved at the two of them. "Have a nice day."

And then he was off with another child in tow, leaving Oka-san staring after him in confusion.

"Did you two have a nice talk?" Oka-san asked hesitantly, tugging at Nezumi's hand to lead them to the front desk.

"Oh yes. He's very nice. I like him," Nezumi said readily. She watched the receptionist balance the phone between her ear and her shoulder and pencil something on a card, sliding it to Oka-san.

Oka-san took the card and nodded back at the receptionist. "What did you talk about?" she asked, leading them out of the clinic.

"He told me I should try making friends with people my own age," Nezumi shrugged casually.

"Oh." Oka-san tilted her head with interest. "And will you?"

"I guess it can't hurt," Nezumi muttered, kicking at a small pebble in the path. Someone yelped as they walked past the apple stand and she looked away innocently.

Oka-san sighed and tightened the grip on her hand, but apparently decided that it wasn't worth it to admonish her. "Well, let's go home and see if Daddy found you something new from the library."

"Why do I have to stay here? Why can't I just stay home with Daddy?" Nezumi whined as she dug her heels into the ground and flailed around with her hands. It was no use—Oka-san picked her up so easily it was insulting.

"You promised the psychiatrist that you'd make friends with people your own age, Nezumi-chan," Oka-san replied cheerfully as she pried Nezumi's fingers from the doorway. "And, Kakashi-kun happens to be your age exactly. Isn't that nice? How convenient!"

"I didn't mean Kakashi! He's a menace!" Nezumi wailed loudly, hoping said menace would use his freaky bat ears and catch a hint.

"Oh, that's quite a coincidence! Because you, beloved daughter mine, are also a menace. You two should bond quite nicely," Oka-san said, finishing her sentence by planting a sloppy kiss on Nezumi's forehead. "Isn't that right, Sakumo?"

Nezumi whirled around, wiping her forehead with disgust. Sakumo was picking up her little suitcase and closing the door behind him, sealing her fate. He threw her an amused look over his shoulder. "Please be patient, Nezumi-chan," he said lightheartedly. Then he began rummaging through the backpack slung on his arm and throwing in a few protein bars.

"Take off your shoes, sweetie," Oka-san whispered into Nezumi's ear. "And be nice. Will you do that for me? I'd feel better on my mission if I knew that my daughter was on her best behavior."

Nezumi grumbled as she leaned down to undo the Velcro straps on her shoes. She eyed her surroundings suspiciously as she did so—a habit ingrained by frequent visits to the lair of the Hatake. If Sakumo was here, that meant Sakumo Lite was lurking somewhere nearby and deviously plotting ways to make her life miserable like the criminal mastermind he wa—

A loud shriek ripped violently through the air, making Kotone and Sakumo wince. And as for the culprit…

Kakashi was glaring at her balefully, rubbing his ears. "Ow," he said, a little belatedly. From the ceiling. There was a wooden straw clenched incriminatingly in his fist and a wet ball of paper reluctantly trailed down her forehead before falling with a plop on her newly exposed foot.

From behind her, Sakumo sighed in a way reminiscent of how Oka-san sighed when Nezumi bee-lined for the lonely swing in the corner of the playground with a cloud of anti-social radiating around her instead of interacting with the throngs of children whooping delightedly in the jungle gym.

"Kakashi," Sakumo said wearily. "You promised."

"But Dad, she's such an easy target. Did you see that? Did you see that? I got her right on the forehead!" the boy crowed victoriously, evidently forgetting the damage wrought to his ears. Then he swooped down gracefully from his perch on the ceiling, looking quite bat-like with his mask and the dark clothes he favored.

Sakumo gave his miniature model a reproachful look. "Give me that," he said, presenting his open hand to Kakashi. "And apologize to Nezumi-chan."

Kakashi handed his instrument of torture over grudgingly, sorry to see it go—but apparently, not sorry enough to make him offer Nezumi a genuine apology. "My bad. But you kind of suck at dodging," he said offhand, distracted by the whines coming from under the cream-colored sofa. Sakumo released another sigh, moving in to scold Kakashi. But he was interrupted by the little puppy that had escaped from under the couch to settle contentedly at Kakashi's feet.

Oka-san quirked an eyebrow, but Nezumi beat her to the punch. "What is that?" she asked distrustfully with a hint of fear, drawing away from the pup. If it was anything like its master, she would be wise to steer clear of it.

Kakashi sat down Indian-style to play with his new pet. "His name is Pakkun. He's my ninken," he announced proudly. The dog licked Kakashi's hand at the sound of its name.

From behind, Nezumi heard Oka-san murmur "Really? He's three."

"He needs to learn some responsibility," Sakumo muttered back in sotto-voce.

While Nezumi agreed with Sakumo, she was far less impressed by the sight of this creature with its huge, bulging eyes and its flat, squashed face. Didn't these people know that it was highly unethical to produce such a breed? Pugs were afflicted by chronic breathing problems and a host of other health complications brought on by inbreeding and all in the name of cuteness.

"It's ugly," she declared, crinkling her nose distastefully at the little vermin whose company she would have to suffer for the duration of a whole week. Both of them. The pug growled and lunged at her discarded shoes. Nezumi made a move to save her footwear, but it was too late—the dog was already safely tucked away in Kakashi's lap, chewing happily on its new toy.

"Nezumi!" Oka-san said sharply.

"Kakashi!" Sakumo warned at the same time.

The children were saved from tongue lashings from their respective parents by the sound of a doorbell. Sakumo and Oka-san shared a relieved look before Sakumo moved to answer the door. A moment later, he returned to the living room with another white-haired man and three adolescents bearing their own packs.

"Nezumi-chan, Kakashi, this is my friend Jiraiya and his genin team. They'll be taking care of you while Kotone and I are on this mission," Sakumo said, gesturing to the enormous man who was looming over them with an easy grin on his face.

Jiraiya looked and moved like a Kabuki actor with the red paint that decorated his face and the traditional costume he wore. "This is Minato," he said, motioning to the boy in the middle who looked like the very personification of summer. The blond grinned brightly, drawing further comparisons with the sun.

Next in line was a boy who sported very traditionally Japanese features in contrast to Minato's Nordic look. His name was Ken. He had short, buzzed hair and … well chinky eyes. Nezumi searched her head for a less, ahem racist adjective, but failed miserably. If it weren't for his lazy wave, she would have thought he was sleeping on his feet.

The last member of the group to be introduced was a pale girl with black hair who was staring at Sakumo with veritable sparkles in her eyes. She was named Yume and she bowed deeply to Sakumo when Jiraiya was done introducing her. "It is an honor to meet the esteemed White Fang," she said unctuously.

Nezumi shivered, disturbed by the obvious display of hero worship—such obsequious pandering was always distasteful, but here, it involved an unhealthy admiration of Sakumo's talent for killing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sleepy-eyed boy. "Is this really a C-rank mission, Sensei? It just looks like another babysitting job," he complained, and a hint of dark eyes showed underneath his heavy eyelids as he regarded her and Kakashi with a look of boredom.

Sakumo huffed out a laugh and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly while Oka-san hid a wide smile demurely with her hand. Kakashi sat up straight and considered the trio of genin with a gleam of interest in his eyes.

"I'm glad to have such experienced genin look after my darling baby for me," Oka-san said happily. "Nezumi will be on her best behavior so I'm sure you'll have no trouble at all." She shot a pointed look at Nezumi.

"Ah, yes. It's just a precaution," Sakumo said rather innocently. "Feel free to help yourselves to whatever is in the kitchen. We'll be back in a week's time."

Oka-san came over to beg a kiss on the cheek from Nezumi and Sakumo knelt to whisper something unintelligible in Kakashi's ear. Then Oka-san picked up their packs as Sakumo let Kakashi fasten the harness carrying his dagger around his back.

"Are you really sure this is a good idea?" they all heard Oka-san whisper to Sakumo.

Sakumo replied with an answer that didn't exactly lend confidence to the genin team and the two toddlers. "No. But I commissioned a C-rank and Jiraiya's here. That should be enough for two three-year olds..."

With an uncertain look at the children, they turned and left.

But as soon as the door shut, a succession of white balls met each unsuspecting genin squarely in the face. Jiraiya swatted the fourth missile away carelessly without even looking at the direction it came from and cackled at the shocked expressions on his students' faces. For a moment, there was only incredulous silence as they zeroed in on Kakashi in unison. Then, Yume was the first to point and shout indignantly at Kakashi who conveyed a diabolical grin with his eyes and waved another wooden straw at them mockingly before he made himself scarce.

In his wake, he left a confused puppy and a disgruntled Nezumi. She picked herself up, ignoring her now mangled shoes and the affronted genin, and settled on the couch with a heavy medical textbook and her trusty dictionary. This was where she intended to stay for the next seven days.

It took Jiraiya three days to check up on the ache that was building up in Nezumi's stomach due to all the ambient chakra left in the air after each of Kakashi's skirmishes with the genin. The air was heavy with it, feeling humid and charged with the static she'd come to associate with Kakashi. She lounged there listlessly on the couch, her books forgotten on the floor.

The jounin sat on the armrest opposite of her head and examined her with an inscrutable look that defied his usual jocular airs. "That pain you're feeling comes from the imbalance of energies in your body. And it doesn't help that you're blocking your own chakra flow."

She glared at him weakly. "What do you mean?"

A loud, metallic clang and a bitten off yelp had them both turning their heads to the direction of the kitchen.

Jiraiya grumbled and raised an open hand to his mouth to amplify his voice. "Is everything alright in there?"

"…N-noo—mmmf!"

"Yes!" Yume's cheerful voice cut off Minato's cracking adolescent pitch. Then the sounds of a fight came faintly from a distance along with the unpleasant smell of something burning.

Jiraiya paused and then apparently decided that he couldn't be bothered to intervene. He leaned his chin on his palm and peered down at Nezumi thoughtfully. "Like I was saying, you're unbalanced. Your spiritual energy far outweighs your physical. I don't suppose you exercise or anything," he remarked, kicking at her abandoned books. He grunted, bringing his foot up to rest on his knee so he could rub it. "Ooh, that hurts. That's some heavy duty stuff you've got there."

'Heh. Serves him right,' she thought, smiling wanly up at the Toad Sannin. "I'm three. I shouldn't be exercising. I should be letting my muscles develop naturally."

He reached out to pinch the plentiful baby fat adorning her cheeks. "Muscles you say?"

She swatted at his hand with all the effectiveness of mouse combating a bear. "I'm three," she repeated.

Jiraiya let go of the cheek he was playing with. "If you say so. Three-year olds don't generally inhibit their own chakra flow though. Look at Kakashi-kun. He's so… enthusiastic about his chakra."

Nezumi hissed at him urgently. "Don't speak his name. You'll summon him here."

"Interesting. You're not denying manipulating your chakra."

"I—" she began, caught off guard by his perceptiveness. It was true. She didn't like the feeling of chakra streaming naturally out of her pores.

The jonin shifted in his seat. "Well you see, Nezumi-chan. When there's a blockage to a flow like that, certain things tend to happen. For example… hmm. When I was a young genin myself, there was a cute girl on my team named Tsunade. I liked Tsunade. But Tsunade-chan had a crush on my other teammate, Orochimaru. It was a love triangle, the likes of which have never been seen. Fated to end in tragedy…" he trailed off melodramatically, entering into a passionate soliloquy that no one had asked for.

"Our first mission outside of Konoha consisted of protecting the current Daimyo. Handsome he was back in his youth. Now… Well he's let himself go," Jiraiya muttered. "Anyway, another player entered the arena, as the young Daimyo and Tsunade began a star-crossed romance. For you see, romantic engagements between ninja and their clients are strictly forbidden."

"But," Jiraiya said, raising a finger to emphasize his point, "our mission was to last only a fortnight as we escorted the Daimyo from Konoha to his palace. And devoted as she was to our young charge, not once did lovely Tsunade venture from our sight to respond to the calls of nature."

He was really picking up stride now, leaping up from his seat on the armrest to gesticulate excitedly with his arms. Out of nowhere, he procured a blonde wig styled in pigtails and two round spheres appeared to protrude obscenely from his previously flat chest. Nezumi raised a brow. Again, she was three and such a detailed showing was quite unnecessary.

"The mission proceeded smoothly until we were just about to cross the palace gates. And then we were ambushed by a squad of Iwa-nin!" Eight ninja garbed in foreign dress and bearing hitai-ate indicating not the familiar spiraling symbol of the Leaf, but the two stones of Rock, poofed into existence. Nezumi started and shifted uneasily as a painful prickling sensation settled in her skin. She'd seen Oka-san make clones before, but never in this quantity and never for such flamboyant purposes. And Oka-san's clones were just that—clones who looked exactly like their creator. So were these eight new additions clones or …?

She didn't have time to question their existence as Jiraiya moved onto the climax of his epic tale. The eight foreign ninja charged and swarmed in around Jiraiya-Tsunade, hiding the Sannin from view. Then suddenly, the "Iwa-nin" poofed out of existence as Jiraiya-Tsunade raised a fist triumphantly and shouted girlishly.

He went on narrating the story. "With her great strength, Tsunade vanquished her mighty foes. But as she rushed to her beloved to ensure his safety, she forgot the lone survivor lurking beneath the earth." As he spoke, another "Iwa-nin" emerged from the carpet and crawled on his hands and knees towards a Jiraiya-Tsunade swooning over empty air.

"Alas for Tsunade! This enemy could not resist the primal call to respond to such lovely assets and he indulged in a forbidden jutsu." The "Iwa-nin" came to a halt behind Jiraiya-Tsunade and brought his hands together in a parody of a gun.

"Yes! The enemy took the plunge and performed the most ghastly, the most terrible 'Thousand Years of Death' jutsu on our heroine!" And Jiraiya-Tsunade was launched into the air, screaming shrilly as the Iwa-nin dug his fingers into the Sannin's rear.

Oh my. The genin appeared around the corner, attracted by the noise of the spectacle Jiraiya was putting on for Nezumi's benefit. Why exactly was he telling this story again?

"But if you recall, my audience, dear Tsunade had neglected the needs of her own body for an entire fortnight, earnest as she was to win the affections of our most honorable Daimyo. And with this assault, the last chains of her will were broken." A stream of brown, chunky liquid fountained into the air at the Sannin's words, splattering to the ground. "And so it came to be, the ill-fated romance between our two star-crossed lovers came to an end, felled by the very substance that Tsunade had hidden from the Daimyo. This reminded the world that the most magnificent Slug Princess, mistress of the body, is human. All too human." Jiraiya concluded his story with an ostentatious bow to his bemused audience.

An awkward silence filled the air as Nezumi and the three genin stared at the brown substance now staining the carpet. What was that? It wasn't really Jiraiya's own excrement was it? Was the man that devoted to his storytelling?

A toad croaked on Jiraiya's shoulder. And to Nezumi's surprise, it opened its mouth again to speak. "Jiraiya-kun," it rumbled in a low voice. "I repeat, toad oil is not meant for creative uses." Then it disappeared in a puff of smoke. Jiraiya laughed and rubbed his head awkwardly at the sight of the mess he had made.

"So Nezumi-chan. The moral of the story is?" he asked expectantly.

"… Shit happens?" Nezumi said flatly.

Jiraiya guffawed loudly and then quieted with his eyes wide with panic when he remembered that he was babysitting this toddler. He shushed Nezumi urgently. "Don't say that in front of your mother. You didn't learn that from me, you hear?" And then he slapped a palm to his head. "And no! Of course not! The moral of the story is that you shouldn't block the body's natural processes! Let your chakra flow like it should! Otherwise, you'll explode. Just like Tsunade."

Then, a slow clap came from behind her and Nezumi spun around to see Kakashi balanced on the back of the couch and staring reverently at Jiraiya. The jounin gave the boy a pleased smile and bowed with flourish. The clapping stopped as the boy brought his hands together, imitating the gun shape he had just witnessed.

"A Thousand Years of Death", Kakashi said. It almost looked like he was praying with his hands together like that. "A Thousand Years of Death," he repeated worshipfully.

Sinister tones rose in the air as the boy lowered his gaze to stare meaningfully at his clasped hands. The genin gulped audibly and clapped their hands over their suddenly vulnerable backsides as they realized that they still had another four days in this wretched establishment. Nezumi shivered helplessly. She decided that by the end of the week, this couch would be very firmly acquainted with her ass.

"I am become Death, destroyer of worlds," Nezumi quoted ominously, pinning Jiraiya with a critical glare. She felt that teaching Kakashi this forbidden jutsu was truly akin to equipping mankind with the power of the atom bomb. The jounin chucked nervously and slapped a piece of parchment on the brown stain. Magically, it disappeared when he raised the paper away, leaving behind a pristine patch of carpet.

"Anyway, Nezumi-chan. I want you to try something," Jiraiya said, approaching the children with two small pieces of paper. He motioned at the little ghoul creeping over her shoulder to sit down on the unoccupied seat next to Nezumi. "You too, Kakashi-kun."

The boy clambered down and took the proffered slip of paper obediently. "What is this for?" Kakashi asked curiously.

"This is a special kind of paper that will reveal your elemental affinity when you inject your chakra in it," Jiraiya replied.

A sharp beeping noise sounded as a grey smoke began filtering into the living room. Jiraiya threw his genin an irritated glance and ushered them into the kitchen. Nezumi heard them coughing as they entered the fray and wondered if she should take the opportunity to go home. This place was quickly becoming very hazardous to her health—what with burning kitchens, theatrical jounin, and nefarious Kakashi's running around mostly unchecked.

With all supervision gone, Kakashi just shrugged and poured his chakra into the paper, sending another wave of static over Nezumi's skin. His slip of paper immediately crinkled up and he regarded it inquisitively before turning to cock his head at her.

"What?" she asked defensively.

He waved his piece of paper in her face. "Are you going to try?"

Nezumi sniffed disdainfully. "I'm not interested."

"Give me it then," he demanded, grabbing at her piece of paper.

"What? Why?" she cried out, closing her hand carefully around the paper. "You already got yours!"

"I want to try again. And you don't care so why does it matter?" he said firmly. And then he was pulling apart her fingers and yanking the paper out of her hand.

"No!" she yelled, lunging after her property. And the chakra she'd stubbornly kept pent-up in her body responded eagerly to her heightened emotions. The coveted piece of paper turned wet in her fingers and the two children stopped struggling over it.

Kakashi threw her a smug look just as Jiraiya reappeared around the corner, smelling of smoke. It was then that Nezumi realized the brat had manipulated her into doing his bidding.

"Oh! Very good," the jonin exclaimed with satisfaction. Kakashi preened under his praise.

"Let's see," Jiraiya mused. "Lightning for you Kakashi-kun, as expected of a member of the Hatake clan. And it looks like you have water, Nezumi-chan."

The boy sitting next to her stilled and Nezumi inched away, anticipating something unfortunate. But Kakashi just looked at Jiraiya hopefully and asked in an uncharacteristically hesitant voice, "Are we related?"

"Oh?" replied the jounin quizzically, obviously taken aback by the question. And then a shadow fell over the Jiraiya's face as he sighed regretfully. "No, Kakashi-kun. I'm afraid not."

"But, your hair…" Kakashi said, pointing to Jiraiya's wild mass of white hair. "I've only seen that color on me and dad. And you know about my clan's chakra. I thought…" he trailed off uncertainly, the fragile hope receding from the visible parts of his face.

Jiraiya reached out to pet Kakashi's unruly hair but shook his head. "No," he repeated gently, "I'm an orphan, Kakashi-kun. We're not related."

Nezumi looked away uncomfortably, reminded of the incident that had occurred one day around two years ago. She had just mastered the word 'Oka-san' and had been repeating it over and over again in an effort to express her need for food. Oka-san had come to lift her out of the playpen she'd shared with Kakashi. But just as Oka-san had brought Nezumi to her chest, Kakashi too called out "Oka-san" with his arms raised expectantly. Sakumo had rounded the corner at that moment and had frozen at the sound of Kakashi calling for his mother. It had taken months for Sakumo to ease the word out from Kakashi's head and Nezumi had felt a stab of guilt every time Kakashi uttered it innocently, eliciting a pained look from the man.

She peeked a glance at Kakashi who just nodded stiffly at Jiraiya's kind rebuttal and fled, presumably to his room.

Jiraiya watched after Kakashi's retreat with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he shook himself and returned to her, smiling sadly. "Why don't we try a few exercises, Nezumi-chan? That'll get rid of the pain better than that baby aspirin in your bag. Your chakra coils are very sensitive and they're still growing along with the rest of your body. You need to let them develop freely or you're going to hurt yourself. Maybe permanently," he finished gravely.

The pangs in her stomach were building in intensity and she could see the logic in Jiraiya's words despite all the outrageous pomp he'd presented them with. And now that the jounin was all sobered up, she couldn't discount the fact that this was a serious matter that she couldn't just blow off for the sake of prejudice. Besides, she liked that he was approaching her with the intent of helping her as a fellow human being, unlike those doctors who'd looked at her as a pathological case to be cured.

Nezumi scanned Jiraiya's eyes intently, reassuring herself of his good will before nodding solemnly. "Okay."

When Kotone and Sakumo stepped over the threshold and into the house, they were greeted by the three genin, all packed and ready to go, and bearing such open faces of relief that Kotone felt a flash of guilt. When they'd left, the little blond genin had had a full head of spiky, yellow hair. But now, here he was, a patch of hair missing suspiciously from his head. The girl had a split lip and her hair looked to be a little shorter. And the tan genin with the buzz cut was sporting a painful looking burn on his arm. There was a clear radius around Kakashi and the genin were eyeing him carefully like he was radioactive. What had happened?

At the sight of his father, Kakashi perked up and ran to Sakumo with his arms raised. "Daddy!" he said childishly, his eyes wide with innocence. Sakumo picked Kakashi up easily but furrowed his brows at the genin, who had flinched violently at Kakashi's sudden movement.

They jumped to attention, clearly raring to go but Jiraiya approached her and Sakumo with an amused smile on his face. "What have you been feeding those kids?" the Sannin stage-whispered.

Kotone smiled uncertainly. "How was everything? Did Nezumi behave…?"

Jiraiya grinned widely. "Your daughter is a riot!" he tossed Yume a gleeful look, giggled, and then slapped his thigh. "What was it she said Yume-chan? Heh!"

The girl blushed and stared down at her crossed arms. "I was just teaching her some biology..." she muttered. "Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell," she recited almost word for word from the basic science textbook taught at the Academy. Then she eyed Sakumo hopefully, looking for some kind of recognition.

"Mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell," came a childish voice from the corner.

They turned to see Nezumi poking her head from behind the wall and Jiraiya laughed even louder when he saw the bright red flush that was spreading further over Yume's face. "She got you again, Yume-chan!" Jiraiya crowed, ruffling the genin's hair so that it stuck up like an angry porcupine.

"Anyway," Jiraiya continued, straightening up as his face smoothed into business professional, "The mission has been completed by Team Jiraiya as per the instructions. We will take our leave now."

Sakumo nodded gratefully as the genin grabbed their supplies and rushed as professionally as they could to the front door. Yume stopped to give a deep bow to Sakumo but the other two grabbed her hastily, keen on getting the hell out. When Jiraiya passed by them, he whispered into Sakumo's ear. "Next time, maybe a B-Rank, Senpai."

Sakumo's eyes widened but before he could say anything, Team Jiraiya exited the premises. He and Kotone shared a wary look and ventured further into the house with Nezumi. At this, Kakashi scrambled down from Sakumo's hold and sat down to play with Pakkun. He studiously avoided Sakumo's questioning gaze as they walked by and into the living room.

Pure carnage awaited them. The once crème-colored sofa was now tinged grey and marred with black scorch marks. And the wall—the wall was punctured by a small forest's worth of chopsticks filed into sharp tips.

"Ah..." Sakumo swallowed slowly and tried to speak but words failed him.

Nezumi tugged on Kotone's hand insistently. "Can we go now?" she whined.

Kotone couldn't bring herself to object.

AN: A warning-One reviewer has wisely criticized the use of a certain racial slur in this chapter. I realize that this word is offensive to many people so here's my explanation for it:

I understand that "chink" is an offensive racial slur that has a painful history for many people. I myself am of Asian-descent and have experienced the word in a hateful context. But in this particular case, I am not using it for comedic relief, but rather as a device to develop character. You see, I take vernacular as one way of revealing certain personality traits. And here, I'm trying to portray Nezumi as a rather judgmental and critical character whose New York prejudices have carried over into the world of Naruto. (Speaking from personal experience, as an Asian living in New York... well, sometimes it's a little harsh.)

I do not condone the use of such words to denigrate certain individuals or groups.