A/N: Another chapter for you. The Wave arc itself has about five more chapters (not including this one). I'm going to break it up with some other stuff. It's not quite filler, as it matters to the plot, but I could just summarize a lot of it in exposition. That's no fun for me, though, since I've been having fun writing about the other genin teams.


"Kaede-kun," a low voice called out, causing Hotaka to stir from his light doze, "Are you here?"

"I am," the boy ended the reply with a cough. He sublimated the urge to rub his eyes. Osamu hadn't mentioned how irritating the color contacts would be.

Kaede's voice was higher that his, so Osamu had suggested he feign illness to account for the difference. The girl had warned them that Takashi, the kindhearted smith, would pay much closer attention to him if he did that, but it was a gamble Hotaka was willing to take. Takashi was a very likely source of further information, and they needed to determine where he would stand if Team Five got violent.

"Oh no..." the dark form of the large man moved into the alley, worry evident in his deep voice, "I was bringing you some warmer clothes and a blanket, but you're already ill."

Hotaka felt a thick blanket drape around his shoulders and strong arms scoop him up. He decided right there that this guy was alright. The night was certainly cold, and if not for the self warming technique taught at the academy, Hotaka would have been miserable. He wondered how exactly Kaede had survived like this.

"Has anyone found out your secret?" Takashi asked quietly as he cradled Hotaka to warm him up.

"No," Hotaka lied and told the truth at once with another cough. Four people knew Kaede's secret, but the cat was still in the bag about him.

The man held onto him quietly for a few minutes. It was a tad uncomfortable for the shinobi who'd been raising hell about his mother loving on him since he was six. He hadn't been cradled like that in some time, but the strong paternal vibe he was getting from the man awakened long buried desires for a father figure of his own.

"I'm taking you home," Takashi said suddenly, "You can't stay out here tonight. Not ill."

"They'll punish the town," Hotaka protested.

Kaede had told him that the thugs hurt anyone who helped her. They had threatened the whole populace with the same if their precious smith was caught in the act. Hotaka honestly didn't understand. Osamu had theorized it was just another reason to terrorize the town. That or boredom.

"They won't know," the large man grumbled as he carried Hotaka out of the alley, "Gato's men are complacent. It wouldn't be hard to sneak you indoors at night."

Takashi lived on the edge of town in a large structure. Only a small portion of it looked like a home from the outside, though. Dull clanging and high pitched metal pings could be heard coming from inside as they approached. Hotaka found that interesting. Kaede had said Takashi was the only skilled metal worker in town. They had avoided it during their scouting, as the old man seemed rather alert. This was the closest any of them had gotten.

"Sorry for the noise," he said as they entered the common area of his small home, "The rat wanted a special order for a client last minute."

Hotaka just smiled up at the man as he was placed down. A warm fire was crackling in the hearth, allowing the ninja to finally get a good look at the smith. He was indeed large, nearing seven feet in height with broad muscular shoulders straining his light gray, sleeveless haori and the black, long sleeve shirt underneath. Despite his great size, Hotaka could just barely make out the footsteps from below the smith's navy blue hakama. This man had the grace of a warrior to go with his massive frame.

His face and hair were the only things to hint at his advanced age. The former was lined from years of worry and simple age, especially about his olive colored eyes, and the latter was a mass of white-silver pulled into a topknot.

"I'll get us some tea," he announced as he disappeared behind a sliding rice-paper door.

A sturdier swinging wooden door caught Hotaka's attention. The muffled sounds of the smithy could be heard beyond. Checking to make sure Takashi wouldn't be coming back in soon, Hotaka slipped out of the blanket and moved silently to the door.

He cracked it just enough to look through and almost gasped at what he saw. There were a full ten moving statues made out of what looked like clay tirelessly hammering metal into usable items. He did gasp when one lifted the piece it was working on and breathed a gout of flame on it until it was glowing red hot.

"Still interested in my sculptures, Kaede-kun," Hotaka jumped at the sound of his voice.

The boy turned about rubbing the back of his head nervously. He suddenly realized that Kaede wouldn't do that; she ducked her head and scratched her cheek when nervous. Not only was it out of character for her, but she would have no reason to feel ashamed for looking. Takashi had basically just admitted she already knew about the statues. That didn't jive with what she had told Hotaka. He was surprised the girl had the wiles and courage to fool them enough so that Hotaka would reveal himself.

"Who are you?" Takashi asked with narrow eyes. He scrutinized every detail of Hotaka, "The differences are subtle, but you aren't Kaede-kun."

Hotaka weighed his options, but a glimpse of something in the corner that he hadn't noticed before decided for him. The traditional helmet of a samurai warrior. If he was a true follower of Bushido, he would react best to honesty. There was also a growing need to earn this man's respect. He didn't quite understand it, but he rarely examined his own emotions too deeply. Osamu could probably fill in the blanks later.

"My name is Shoudou Hotaka," he said with a formal bow. He tried his best to match the diplomatic tone he'd heard his small friend use on occasion, "I apologize for the deception and can assure you that Kaede-san is well."

Takashi studied him intently, to the point of making him very uncomfortable, before replying, "What proof do you have that she is well?"

Hotaka floundered a bit when confronted in such a way. He knew Osamu would have some clever thing to say that would put the man at ease. The combat specialist, while ready and able to deceive, had no real clue how to prove the truth without any proof.

"I have nothing but my word," he finally offered with a helpless shrug.

"I do not know you, Shoudou Hotaka," Takashi crossed his arms, "And thus your word is nothing to me. Have you any mark or deed by which I can judge you?"

Hotaka honestly felt any deed he brought forth would be met with more incredulity, and he didn't really have too many worthy of sharing, so he instead dug into the folds of Kaede's clothing to a secret pocket he had added to carry a few things. One of which was his Leaf plate, an item he swore not to part with unless explicitly ordered to do so.

Upon pulling it out, Takashi regarded him with a bit more respect... and a bit more mistrust.

"A shinobi, then," Takashi mumbled, not all that surprised, "Not what I would consider an honorable path."

Hotaka bristled at that. This man was slandering him, his family, his friends, and his way of life. He did his best to keep his cool as he thought of how to answer that.

"Maybe you can afford your strict code out in the light," Hotaka spat angrily, "The shadows are there, and they would consume you if not for us!"

He wasn't sure where that rhetoric had come from. He vaguely remembered a philosophical debate at the academy where morality, honor, and shinobi were discussed. He really should have paid more attention in class.

"Yet you take money for meting out death," the old smith countered with a mirthless smirk.

"Is that any different than receiving land and titles from a lord in exchange for your sword in whatever war he decides to start?" Hotaka matched the old man's smirk with one of his own. He'd gotten those facts from a manga of all places.

"I would never lend my sword to an unjust cause," Takashi protested, caught by surprise.

"And I would never take a contract solely for money," Hotaka replied calmly.

"There are ninja who would and do."

"Just as there are samurai who fight just to do so."

Takashi considered him again. The boy had an earnest way about him, and the old warrior had long ago learned to trust his judgment about people.

He finally nodded, "I will take you at your word, Hotaka-kun. Know that any injustice that befalls Kaede-kun will be visited tenfold upon yourself and any others who would dare harm her."

Hotaka breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized that verbal spars could be so draining. It felt as if he had been going full tilt for the past hour. He honestly wondered how Ren and Osamu managed to argue for hours on end about philosophy and politics. He wasn't at all worried about Takashi's threat; none of his team planned to hurt Kaede.

"Why are you here?" Takashi went about pouring the tea, jasmine from the smell, "I can think of only one man in the area with enough wealth to hire shinobi, and he is not a good man."

"We were tasked with interfering with Gato's operations in Wave," Hotaka answered carefully. He felt he was still on thin ice.

"A business rival?" the old man handed him a cup and began sipping his own.

"Not sure, to tell the truth," Hotaka replied with a frown, "Sensei didn't say."

"You are still a student?" Takashi raised his brows in surprise. He had figured the tall boy to be around Kaede's age, when trainee samurai would be promoted to full fledged warrior and apprenticed to a more experienced individuals.

"More like an apprentice," the boy replied. The old man was surprisingly ignorant of shinobi ways.

"I see," Takashi took a sip of his tea, "What exactly are your plans for Shun?"

"I couldn't say yet," he answered truthfully, "We want Gato to focus his attention away from the bridge, but I don't think Sensei wants to endanger these people."

"I should hope not," the elder replied in a dangerous tone, "Wave has suffered enough without your shadow games."

"Why haven't you done anything?" Hotaka asked him curiously.

"What do you mean?" He'd put the old man a little off balance with the question.

"Well..." he thought for a moment, "You're obviously a samurai and can use your chakra. You're old but still really fit. You remind me of the Hokage actually."

"The leader of Konoha?" Takashi asked with a raised brow.

"Yea," the boy nodded, "He's old, but still really strong. The strongest in the village. You give me the same feeling he does. Lots of power with a bunch of wisdom."

Takashi sat back, impressed by the observation. This boy wasn't traditionally intelligent, but he was astute in his own way. Takashi hadn't made any special effort to hide his abilities except to not use them, save for the terracotta smiths, but Hotaka had sized him up rather accurately.

"I am still just one man," he shook his head sadly, "The people here would suffer greatly if I did anything rash."

Hotaka smiled at him deviously, "Maybe all you need is someone in the shadows."

XxXxXxX

Kaede awoke feeling better than she had in over a year. She was clean, she was well fed, and thanks to the extra sleeping bag Masaru had left her, she was warm. Movement around the camp caught her attention and she opened her eyes with a yawn to see the large copper-haired boy stoking the fire and fiddling with pans he'd probably gotten from his seemingly endless supply of odds and ends.

"Morning," he greeted somewhat tiredly without looking her way. It surprised her how alert he actually was, "Osamu is taking his shift on overwatch."

She sat up and immediately felt odd. Osamu had suggested that doing anything for her appearance would be silly so late in the evening, and she had agreed. He had rubbed a strange substance into her scalp, promising her she would love the results. Her head had tingled fiercely where ever his fingers had touched, and he had seemed overwhelmed with exhaustion afterward.

She reached up to feel her head, and was amazed to find how silky her hair felt. She ran her hands through it, and her amazement grew as she found it went on and on. She pulled it around to find it now went down to her waste. The ends were, unlike the rest of it, ragged and worn looking. She realized that this was the short ratty hair she'd had the night before.

"Gave you the growth formula, eh?" Masaru looked over at her and chuckled, "Guys got almost as many tricks as I do."

"Growth formula?" she asked, wonder in her tone.

"It's some crazy alchemical substance that triggers hair growth using chakra," Masaru explained as he began to produce eggs and sausage from storage scrolls, "I'd like to get my hands on the recipe, but alchemists are a jealous and paranoid lot."

"I know of a few old men who would kill for something like that," she ran her hands through her hair again, still not believing.

"People have before," Masaru set some rocks up to prop up his frying pan, "Stuff is expensive as hell. Cheapest I've ever seen was a ten thousand for a bottle."

"And he just used it... on me?" she turned, dumbfounded to the shinobi.

"Looks that way," he replied simply, "How do you like your eggs?"

"Fried," she answered, still bewildered, "But why?"

"Probably as an apology for scaring the willies out of you," Masaru laughed and broke nearly a dozen eggs into his large pan, "Osamu is a really nice guy. Almost too nice. I sometimes wish he hadn't chosen this career."

"What about you?" she drew her legs up to her chest, still covered by the bag, and wrapped her arms around them, "What are you like?"

"My friends will probably tell you I have a hard time grasping the fact that no one is as smart as me," she thought it odd that he didn't sound as if he were boasting, "I'd tell you I forget my mind works different than others, and it makes me an ass of the highest order sometimes."

She giggled at his self deprecation, "What about Hotaka-kun?"

He smiled brightly, "That guy is so convinced he isn't smart its almost funny. Gets kinda frustrating at times, though."

"How so?"

"Osamu once told me he was convinced Hotaka had about five to ten thoughts at once, and his problem was him having trouble focusing on any one thing," the boy explained, "The guy thinks lightning fast in a fight, but when it comes to more boring stuff, he just kinda drifts. I get tired of explaining things to him."

"Your team wasn't what I would have expected from shinobi," Kaede commented with a small smile, "You all seem so strange at first, but you're all pretty normal."

"Oh trust me," Masaru smirked at her, "We're plenty strange. You haven't even scratched the surface yet. We happen to be pretty awesome at the same time, though."

Soon the meal was done, with Masaru consuming three times as much as Kaede. After they'd had their fill, he began to clean his cooking and eating utensils, while Kaede changed from her provided night clothes back into the winter kimono Osamu had given her the night before.

"What about Osamu-kun," she asked with a frown as she walked back into the camp proper, "Has he eaten yet?"

"He said he would catch something and eat while on duty," Masaru explained with a tired yawn, "Something about not wanting to scare you again."

She cocked her head to the side, confused, "What?"

"Oh..." the ninja seemed to realize he'd just let something slip. Judging by her inquisitive look, she wouldn't let it drop either, "Ah... Osamu has this condition."

"It's not serious is it?" she asked with a hint of worry. Despite her wild night, she couldn't help but wish the small boy well. She felt odd at the thought. Had he really earned her friendship so fast?

"He has trouble digesting cooked meat," Masaru told her with a sigh, "At home he generally eats stuff lightly seared or prepped raw. Out here, he eats like an animal."

"You mean..." she trailed off as an image of the feral looking Osamu eating, quite literally, like a wild beast entered her mind. It made her a bit queasy.

"Yea..." Masaru confirmed her unspoken question, "He didn't want you seeing that."

"I appreciate that," she said after a few moments of silence.

Masaru stretched with another yawn, "Well... I've been up for about twenty-four hours. I'm gonna get some shut eye."

He laid down on his bag without climbing in and was soon snoring. She might have wondered at his willingness to sleep with a practical stranger so close, but then she heard purring nearby. Looking around, she spotted the golden fur of Yancha in the lower branches of a nearby tree. It actually made her feel safe to know the cat was nearby even though she was likely there to make sure she didn't try anything foolish.

Feeling secure for the first time in a while, she glanced around the camp and clucked disapprovingly at the clutter. It seemed this team of all boys suffered from a bad case of slovenliness. She found a bit of cord to tie up her now long hair and set about correcting that issue to fill her time.

XxXxXxX

"It took him all of twenty minutes to spot me as a fraud," Hotaka told Osamu with a bit of shame, "Told you I wasn't cut out for this."

Hotaka had weighed carefully the option of telling his team about the girl's little deception. He finally figured nothing bad had come of it, and he would broach it with her later... alone. He felt he owed Kaede at least a chance to explain.

Standing just inside the edge of the woods, the two boys discussed the newest turn of events in their mission.

"Well," Osamu sighed, "You at least tried. Did you get any information out of him?"

"He says the smuggling boat will be coming in today," Hotaka relayed the information the old samurai had given to him, "He mentioned they would gather in the old mayor's house and party until they have to leave again."

"All of them?" Osamu asked incredulously, "No guards on the boat?"

"They might leave one or two, but these guys are sloppy as hell," the other boy replied with a grin, "We'd suck pretty bad if we couldn't sneak on."

"I'll get Masaru to take a look at the boat in the evening," Osamu said after some thought, "Sensei is going to get perimeter guard tonight. We'll meet up and discuss everything we know then."

"What should I do in the mean time?" Hotaka asked.

"Do what Kaede would do," Osamu replied, "Work for food..."

"And see what else I can learn," Hotaka finished for him.

"Good," the other boy smiled at him, "Try to get back to Takashi in the evening, if he'll let you near him. Don't worry if you can't, though. Either way, I'll come find you when we meet."

XxXxXxX

Masaru awoke to the sound of cats fighting. While he was rather familiar with such noise due to his close friendship with the Sakibou, he always hated it. Cats could produce some of the most grating sounds in the world.

"The hell is going on?" he sat up with a yawn and stretched.

"This wild cat keeps sniffing around the camp," Kaede informed him, "This is the third time Yancha has chased him off."

"Wonder why he's so interested..." he trailed off as he looked around the now amazingly well kept camp area, "What happened?"

"I was bored," Kaede shrugged, "And the four of you are slobs."

"Heh," Masaru rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, "I guess we are."

He looked up at the sky and figured it was about midday. His belly grumbling confirmed his guess.

"Are you ever not hungry?" the girl asked in mild surprise.

"Not since we were kids," a new voice cut in. They both looked to see Osamu had joined them.

"I'm a growing boy," the large teen defended, "Not my fault you're gonna be a shrimp for the rest of your life."

Yancha came trudging back into the camp looking decidedly unhappy. She had blood around her muzzle and on her front paws.

"You killed him?" Osamu asked his cat in disbelief.

He watched her for a few moments before nodding in understanding, "I see. No sense in letting the meat go to waste, then. He'll be lunch for us."

"What's going on?" Masaru asked him as he again began to retrieve his cooking supplies.

"Yancha went into heat this morning," Osamu explained, "The wild cat has been trying to mate with her, but she says she's not ready for kittens."

The boy trudged out into the woods with his cat so they could eat their meal.

"She 'said'?" Kaede ventured after they had left.

"They understand each other," Masaru replied with a shrug, "If you think that's weird, one of the clan heads in Konoha has a talking dog. Like... legitimate speech."

Masaru had been right. Shinobi were weird.

Thirty minutes later, Osamu came back clean, but Kaede couldn't help a shudder at the thought of what he'd just done.

"Damnit, Masaru!" the boy turned on his friend angrily, "You told her!?"

"I was tired and let too much slip," the boy defended himself, "It's not like you do it cause you like it..."

Osamu narrowed his eyes, "And how do you know I don't."

Masaru paled at the thought of the small boy actually enjoying the raw meat.

"Don't act so surprised," the boy told him in a cutting tone, "If my stomach is made for raw meat, what do you think my tastes are going to be?"

The larger boy fell silent as he continued to make his midday stew.

Osamu turned to see a rather unhappy looking Kaede.

"I'm sorry," his face fell in shame, "You shouldn't have heard that."

She shook her head vigorously and smiled at him, "You shouldn't apologize for things you have no control over. You can't eat cooked meat... so what?"

"She gets it," Osamu said over his shoulder. He turned back and didn't see the face Masaru made at him, but he figured it was coming anyway.

"Thank you," Kaede said to him suddenly.

"What for?" the boy seemed honestly confused.

"For my hair, silly," she laughed, "How could you use such an expensive product on me?"

Osamu shrugged helplessly, "A grateful alchemist gifted it to Nee-san after she exorcised his house. It didn't cost me a thing."

"Your aneki is a Miko?" she asked with wonder. Wave didn't have any spiritualists.

"Not exactly," Osamu replied with a laugh, "She just has a way with spirits."

"What about you?" Kaede asked with interest, taking a seat on an upturned log.

"I have a way with people," he smirked at her, and pulled a leather case out of the wardrobe's lower drawers.

He undid the clasp and opened it to reveal a salon in miniature, "I don't have everything a real stylist would, but I can work with this."

"What about that watch over thingy?" she asked. She was excited to see exactly what he would do for her, but she didn't want him shirking his duties and getting in trouble.

"Yancha went to watch," he replied as he moved behind her, "She can let me know if anything goes wrong. Plus she's just as capable as any of us."

The first thing to go were the ragged ends of her hair that were the remnants of her old growth. It brought the length back up to her lower back, but she was glad to see that vestige of her homelessness disappear.

He used the sheers for a few moments longer to even out the length and then trim her bangs. He put them up shortly after and stepped back around to consider her from the front.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to see?" he asked her absently as he studied her face.

Kaede shrugged helplessly, "I'm a farm girl, Osamu-kun. Simple and serviceable are what I'm used to."

Osamu nodded and smiled, "I think I have something that will suit you then."

He moved back around behind her and gathered some hair from close to her forehead, above one of her eyes and began to braid it quickly and deftly. He repeated the process on the other side so she had a pair of braids sweeping back on either side of her head. He tied them off at the ends with plain elastic bands to keep them from unraveling, then let them rest on her shoulders while he gathered the rest of her hair into a loose tail hanging from the base of her skull.

He took up one braid and wrapped it under and around the tail, following suit with the opposite braid. He pulled them a bit tight to keep the entire thing together, then trapped the two braids together at their ends tucked up under the tail.

"Done," he proclaimed proudly.

"That was fast," Masaru snarked from where he worked over the fire.

"Simplicity is beauty," the smaller boy replied haughtily, earning a laugh from his friend.

"Can I see it," Kaede asked with barely contained excitement. Even before Gato, her hair had never been this long. She was eager to see what she looked like.

"Let me do your makeup first," Osamu offered. By his smile, he knew how torn he'd just made her feel.

"Okay," she finally decided that patience would reward her.

He put away his barber kit and pulled forth a different makeup kit than the one he'd used the previous night. This one had no sculpting putty or skin paint. It was full of colorful powders compacted into squares and bottles of similarly bright liquids as well as brushes of various sizes.

He noted her face was surprisingly free of blemishes considering her homelessness. All she had was a dusting of light freckles on her cheeks and across her nose. He decided to forgo the bases and powders that many nobles, men and women, used to cover up their facial imperfections. He felt those very imperfections gave a face character. Instead he would draw as much attention to her already unusual eyes.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked as he pulled another log over so he could sit while he worked.

"The purple that shows up as the sun is setting," she told him after some thought.

He nodded and set to work on her eyes first. He gently outlined them with a dark pencil-like tool. He then brushed a strange inky substance onto her lashes, lengthening them. He went through a few colors as he continued to work around her eyes. Judging by his growing smile, he was happy with what he saw.

Soon he moved to her lips, brushing a slightly sweet smelling liquid over them that seemed to sink in and set just below the surface. She was amazed at his alacrity in this activity when he finally pronounced his work complete.

"Before you see yourself, I want you to remember that no amount of makeup can create real beauty," he told her sagely as he blocked her from reaching the mirror, much to her annoyance, "A true artist enhances what they see, and draws out what is already there."

Despite Masaru's sniggering, she felt the words held a great deal of truth to them. When she nodded her understanding, he moved aside and opened the wardrobe door. She gasped quietly at what met her eyes in the mirror.

"Is that really me?" she whispered to herself.

The black outlining her vermilion eyes came out into points. Along with her longer lashes, the effect was larger and more sultry looking eyes. He'd brushed a blend of colors on her upper eyelid, stopping just under her eyebrows. It went from a soft red to a deep purple, bringing to mind a sunset with her iris as the sun. To her surprise, the color of her lips was very near the same as what they had been. They held a soft gleam from whatever he had applied to them, though, and she couldn't help but think they looked fuller.

"What do you think?" the boy asked, stepping into view of the mirror right behind her.

She turned around and gave him a quick, but strong embrace. How could she have ever been afraid of him?

"Thank you," she breathed, almost overcome by emotion, "Thank you so much."

She let him go, to see he was blushing at the heartfelt praise and close contact.

"It's not all that hard to do," he responded sheepishly, "I can teach you, if you like."

She frowned at that thought, "Makeup is a luxury no one in Wave could afford. Even before Gato."

"At least let me show you a few hairstyles you can do on your own," he offered.

She flashed him a bright smile and nodded, "I'd like that."

"I have a request before we get to that, though," he dug into Masaru's pack. She worried the larger boy would protest, but the ink covered shinobi just looked on with interest.

"Here we go," Osamu said to himself and came back up with a plain looking scroll and a calligraphy kit, "Takashi-san is worried about you. Could you write a letter to him? You should have something to say to him that only you would know."

"Of course!" she leapt at the chance to put the softhearted old man at ease.

"There is some sealing wax in that kit," Masaru informed her stirring his pot, "Be sure to use it so he can't accuse us of tampering with your message."

She nodded her understanding, and got to work on a letter to her current favorite person in the world. Osamu was rising fast up her list, but Takashi would forever hold a special place in her heart for looking out for her for so long.

XxXxXxX

Hiroto came trudging into town looking and feeling rather pissed off. He figured the thugs would be lazy, but not relieving a man on duty was a serious oversight. His nose was still itching, too.

Coming out of the forest, he noticed that an old two-masted caravel was docked in the small harbor. He made no outward reaction to the change. He felt the need to investigate the vessel, but he'd trained his team to seek out any source of information and exploit it as much as possible. They would look into the ship.

"Yo Arata!" a younger man in studded leathers called out to him when he got near the mayor's house, "Someone forget to come get you again?"

This was followed by laughing from around the small plaza as the other thugs shared in the joke. Hiroto sneered at the one who'd started it and threw one of the daggers he'd found hidden in the original Arata's clothing into the wall right next to his face. The act shut everyone up pretty quickly.

"Whoa, Arata-san," one of the others called out, "Take it easy man. It was just a joke."

The thugs seemed to be somewhat afraid of him despite their willingness to screw him over. He saw a few of them whispering to each other while glancing at him, so he trickled some chakra to his ears, sharpening his ability to hear.

"... so badass cause he can use chakra," he caught the tail end of one of them say.

"We should just slit his throat while he sleeps," another suggested, shooting him a nasty look, "Not like he really wants to be here."

Hiroto smiled inwardly. Arata had actually played him. He wasn't well liked here, and Hiroto had given him a free pass off the island while offering to take his place. He was a chakra savant to boot, too. Clever little bastard. He was just lucky Hiroto didn't have the time to really work him over for info.

He trudged inside to find a large group of men his students hadn't spotted on their initial scouting. This must be the crew of the ship then. The only one he was worried about was their captain, Itsuki. Arata had said the man had a short fuse and was probably the most dangerous chakra savant on the open seas, able to control water as if it were part of his body.

"Hadn't left these fucks yet, Arata," one called to him in a friendly manner. When he fixed the guy with a glare, he immediately got defensive, "Easy, mate. Didn't mean no disrespect."

He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and it was all he could do to not stab the guy who'd done it. Looking at the offender, he figured this was their leader. His clothing was a hell of a lot better made than the rest of them. Looked like linen and silk, and it was dyed in bright colors across the spectrum. He was smiling big, showing off more gold teeth than real ones. His greasy black hair was tamed by a red bandana, and his perpetually squinting eyes had swirling blue and green spirals in the irises.

"C'mon Arata," the man placated him with a big smile, "No need to be angry. I still got room on the ship for ya! I could always use another chakra slinger."

That confirmed it then. Arata was a chakra savant. If Hiroto ever met the man again, he would make his life very uncomfortable for not telling him that.

"Arata is under my command, Itsuki," a quiet voice that somehow cut through the din of the sailors told them, "Stop trying to undermine my authority."

The room got quiet and the owner of the voice stepped out from the stairwell. He wasn't large, but it was obvious he was a warrior by the way he moved. Dressed in all black as he was, Hiroto got the impression the guy was playing at being a ninja. Judging by the ninja-to poking above his right shoulder, that was exactly what he was doing.

This was Yasu, then. The feared leader of the thugs in Shun. Arata couldn't tell Hiroto what his skills were, but had said the guy gave him the willies. His informant had boasted he could beat any five of Yasu's other men alone, but he was legitimately scared of the mercenary himself.

Yasu's light-green eyes darted around the room, taking in every possible angle of attack. Hiroto decided this guy might actually be a credible threat. He'd met more than one real fighter who couldn't make use of chakra that gave him a hell of a fight. Not that he assumed this newcomer couldn't use his chakra. Arata hadn't said one way or the other.

"Ah, chill out, Yasu," Itsuki sent the black clad man a golden smile, "No need to get so cross with me."

Yasu turned his eyes on Hiroto, "Arata, you're later than usual. What happened?"

"No one ever came to relieve me," Hiroto explained angrily, mimicking the nasally sound of Arata's voice.

Yasu's face darkened, "I warned Takuma I would not tolerate his insubordination anymore. Go take your rest, Arata. I will deal with this."

After Yasu had stalked outside, Itsuki gave a low whistle, "That guy gives me the creeps. How do you work for him?"

"Not much choice," Hiroto replied carefully. There were a lot of different ways to take that.

"Yea," Itsuki let him go and passed him a bottle of strong smelling liquor. Hiroto was severely tempted to take a pull from it. It had been over a week since his last drink, and recent events had brought up dark memories, "Heard about your kid. Sucks being a sensor got you caught up in this."

Hiroto had to work very hard to cover his surprise, but no one noticed. He simply stalked out of the mayor's old home and moved towards the house Arata had claimed he'd commandeered for his personal use.

Once inside, Hiroto finally let his shock at the situation flow through him. By sheer dumb luck, he'd gotten a sensor away from these thugs. Maybe it wasn't luck, though. Arata had caved almost immediately when Hiroto had offered him a way out, and as a sensor, he would have picked up his genin, who were still inexperienced with suppressing their chakra signatures.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense that Arata had wanted to be picked up by the shinobi. It had been a massive gamble on the sensor's part, but with a child possibly being held hostage...

Suddenly Hiroto felt a bit better about setting the man loose. Though he would still get a piece of the jonin's mind if they ever met again. Deciding it would be best to get some sleep before meeting his team that night, he found a musty futon to sprawl out on. He realized suddenly he was still holding the liquor. Before his resolve could crumble, he tossed it out the window.

He had one botched mission due to alcohol, and he wouldn't let that happen again. Especially when the lives of his team could be on the line.

XxXxXxX

"I don't get it," Masaru broke the silence between the two genin as they worked their way through the woods toward Shun's deep water dock that evening.

"Get what?" Osamu prompted him.

"Why was she so happy about some makeup and a few hairdos?" the larger boy glanced over at his friend, a pensive look on his face.

"Think that stuff is frivolous?" the small shinobi asked with a raised brow. Osamu could get rather defensive about his peripheral skills.

"Don't get me wrong," Masaru verbally backpedaled, "She looked great, but why did it make her so happy?"

Osamu smiled as he realized his friend wasn't trying to mock. He was honestly confused. Masaru had always had a hard time understanding people. Osamu knew how to get him to understand, though.

"Let's say you get a mission," Osamu told him, "Let's say it calls for you to disguise yourself as a girl."

"Me?" Masaru asked incredulously, looking down at his large frame, "I'm sure that'll fly."

"Just bear with me," Osamu told him patiently, "I have a point."

"Go on then," his friend allowed.

"Imagine you have to do this for a year, maybe more," the amber-eyed boy went on, "A year of being something you aren't. A year of being something you don't really even understand fully."

Masaru nodded as he began to think of all the problems that would entail. He had a hard enough time getting his fellow males; girls were a flat out enigma to him.

"Now imagine you're finally done," Osamu continued his hypothetical mission, "You can be you again. You can be a guy again. How would you feel?"

"I would be relieved," Masaru replied, "I would be happy. Just like Kaede-san was."

"It wasn't the makeup or the hair," Osamu told his friend to make sure he fully understood, "It was the confirmation that she didn't have to hide. It was the chance to be a girl again. The makeup and the hair were just physical signs to her."

"Psychology is weird," Masaru shook his head, "How do you keep that twisty science straight in your head?"

"How do you keep all those formulas straight in yours?" Osamu replied with a smirk.

Masaru chuckled, but didn't reply. They were getting very close to the town, and stealth was quickly becoming more important. Soon they were at the edge of the woods. They could see the smuggling ship, an old two-masted, wind-powered vessel.

"There is no way that thing is making smuggling runs," Masaru shook his head in disbelief, "Even an early steam engine could out run it."

"That's why you're going in," Osamu told him, "To figure out why it's successful."

Masaru nodded his agreement and began to move across the open ground to the dock. The only place to hide along the hundred meter stretch out to the boat was under the water, so he steeled himself for the cold and slipped in.

Swimming under the wooden walkway, he was able to remain surfaced for air, and he quickly made it out to the ship. He dove under its keel to get an idea of its draft and found it to be a deeper running vessel than he would have thought. Towards the rear, he caught a glimpse of something interesting; there were a pair of large propellers jutting from the back, just forward the ship's rudder.

Surfacing on the opposite side of the ship, he reached up to grip the ropes strung along the side to help anyone who fell overboard to clamber back up. He began to trickle chakra throughout his body to help warm it as he climbed.

Peeking over the side, he caught a glimpse of one of the crew sitting against the fore mast, facing the town, drinking and grumbling about being stuck on guard duty. Glancing around, he spotted a way deeper into the ship towards the fore, a large opening for cargo. He ducked back down and unsealed the radio he had stored to protect it from the water. He hooked it into his ear and positioned the arm of the mic near his mouth.

"Spots, this is Twitch," he whispered into the mic, "I have eyes on one guard. Do you see any others."

"I sense another below the main deck," Osamu replied, his voice just a whisper in Masaru's ear, "Doesn't seem too happy either."

"Can you get me a more precise location?" Masaru whispered into the mic again while peering over to check on the guard he could see.

"Standby," close to thirty seconds passed before the other boy came back, "He's moving away from you and towards me."

That would put the guard aft of him. He wondered for a moment why Osamu wouldn't just say that. That is, until he remembered that the boy put on a light show when he wanted to sharpen his more ephemeral senses.

"Alright, Spots," Masaru said with a deep breath to ease his growing excitement, "I'm going in. Radio silence will commence."

Masaru crawled over the side of the boat and slipped soundlessly into the yawning hole in the deck. The guard at the mast didn't even flinch as he passed behind him. Dropping down onto some crates, he peered through the much darker hold and spotted a silhouette moving up some stairs into moonlight.

He first moved through the hold to check on what was in the crates. It looked like the civilians hadn't finished unloading it. There was mostly food with some higher class commodities like silk and silver. He quickly sealed away the more expensive stuff and moved back farther.

It was dark as sin in the back of the hold, but Natsumi had drilled into him from the moment he'd expressed a wish to be a shinobi that his eyes weren't his only way to take in the world. He trailed his hand along the wall and toed the floor ahead of himself carefully, while listening to the way the creaking of the vessel echoed. Soon enough his steel-tipped boot bumped softly into something raised off the floor.

Bending down, he carefully went over it with his hands to find it felt metallic, and that it was fixed to the floor. Further investigation revealed some sort of locking mechanism. He traced the clamps back to a recessed portion with some odd rubbery squares affixed to its surface. Frustrated by the lack of a keyhole or seal array, he unsealed a small flashlight and risked the light.

"Fuck..." he whispered out loud.

He hadn't been prepared for these guys to have an electronic lock anywhere on board. Well... that wasn't entirely true. He did have an electronic picker, but he felt they were underestimating what was going down here now.

A moment later, he had the computerized device hooked into the wiring behind the input panel. It could take it upwards of an hour to pick the lock, so he settled in to wait in the soft glow of its red digital display.

His mind wandered as he waited. He began to silently chuckle about their 'code names.' Hiroto had given them with an amused smile, but had told them that they were to be used in any situation where an enemy could overhear them.

Twitch for himself, because of his reflexes and tendency to go for overwhelming force at the drop of a hat. Spots for Osamu; it was a double meaning referencing the pattern on his familiar and his role in the group as an early warning device. Last was Hotaka as 'Front,' another double meaning. He was both the front-liner of their team and the future face of their group with civilians whether he liked it or not.

The simple fact was, Osamu looked downright weird, their Sensei was too bland for anyone without a shinobi's senses to take seriously, and Masaru was turning himself into a living seal array. Hotaka, despite his obvious warrior grace, seemed rather normal with a face that was good looking enough to be notable. Of course, their Sensei hadn't mentioned that role to Hotaka yet. Osamu had just picked up on his meaning when he'd named their friend and mentioned it to an amused Masaru.

A soft click caught the large boy's attention and he looked down to see his code cracker had done its job beautifully. And in only twenty minutes according to the elapsed time indicator. He carefully removed his device, then replaced the panel. The hatch proved heavy, and he found himself actually happy for once about his extra conditioning.

The open hatch revealed a soft glow and a room with a metallic gleam. He dropped down into the room and eased the hatch shut behind him. He heard it lock back, but he saw this side had a simple release button.

He had to duck to fit in the sub deck, but what he saw made up for the minor discomfort. He was standing on one of the most intricate seal arrays he'd ever seen, the entire things glowing a soft blue light. Looking fore and aft, he realized the thing covered the entire inside of the outer hull. At the aft side, he found a large engine, but couldn't figure out what fueled it until he saw parts of the array were drawn along its surface and actually went into it using specially designed tubes.

"Holy hell," he breathed in wonder, "It's fucking beautiful."

He crawled along the seal array looking for the core of it. He soon came on an oddly familiar spiral.

"This looks like the spiral in Tou-san's notes..." he commented to himself. His father had been circumspect about what the spiral shape was for, only mentioning that it could release bits of stored energy at a time.

Taking a breath to brace himself. He began a series of hand seals that left a faint blue glow on his palms. Placing them on the spiral, his chakra shot off in minute amounts to follow the seal's dizzying arrays to their terminus and then come back to him with all sorts of data. He felt proud to use a technique pioneered by the great Jiraiya himself. It wasn't all that hard, really, but it was the principal that mattered.

"Chakra storage," he said to himself as the first bits came back, "Not too unusual. An element converter... lightning."

The engine must have been electrical, then. Pretty sweet idea all around, but trying to get lightning chakra to behave was like dumping a bag full of snakes out and expecting them to lay straight on their own. There was a reason most Raiton were short and sweet.

"What the hell is that?" his confusion at what he'd just felt was immense.

It had felt like an interface where someone could monitor the seal, but it didn't seem to output chakra like a human would need.

My... your chakra is interesting, a voice in his mind that was decidedly not his own commented. It was like the rumbling of thunder.

You are new to the crew then? the voice asked quizzically.

If so, I would much prefer your chakra to the current fueler, it went on when it didn't get an immediate answer, Your elemental affinity will reduce efficiency, but the quality will more than make up for it.

"Who are you?" Masaru finally got past the lump in his throat.

He felt something probe him through the seal, and he tried to end his technique. He found that impossible, however.

Oh ho, the voice returned with what seemed like amusement, A shinobi finally looks to take back the Shuurai. I'll admit, one leash is no better than another, but at least shinobi are a bit more respectful to a poor shackled storm spirit. Those who first captured me even thanked me for my service.

"You're stuck in this seal?" Masaru asked as he again sent a pulse of his chakra out to try to discern where this being was held.

I would never have fallen into such a trap, the spirit scoffed indignantly, the voice clapping like a nearby strike, I was fooled into an unbreakable oath. You are not here for my history, though.

"I was sent to see how the ship was making successful smuggling runs and see if its a danger," Masaru agreed with it, "I suppose I know now."

Dare I hope you will destroy this vessel? it asked wistfully. At least as wistfully as a gathering storm could manage.

"This seal is way to complex for me to just destroy," the boy replied with a wince, "Bad things would happen... really bad things."

I sense the truth of your words, its sigh was like a distant peal of thunder, Run along then, shinobi. No sense in you getting caught here.

"You won't out me?" he asked with a bit of wonder.

I am bound to run this ship, sarcasm fell like rain in his mind, not guard it.

"Thank you," Masaru told it sincerely, "I'll see if my Sensei has any thoughts about your bondage. We don't much care for slavery in my home."

You do me honor, shinobi, the spirits voice became like the quick staccato of rapid lightning, I hope we may speak again soon.

"Me too," Masaru broke his connection with the seal successfully this time, and made his way out of the ship without incident.

"That took a while," a relieved looking Osamu handed him a towel when he made it back into the woods, "What did you learn?"

"Something wonderfully insane," Masaru's smile almost took in his ears.


I hope I described Kaede's makeover well enough. I do have some idea as to how makeup should be done thanks to my sister. She always told me the important thing to do was to draw attention to your most attractive or striking feature. I believe vermilion colored eyes count as adequately striking.

Still, I am a man with little exposure to the realm of makeup and style. I drew on my experience with art to select colors that I thought would be good. I'm pretty sure those aesthetics would hold true regardless of the canvas.

Oh... to head off any questions about the comments on slavery and Konoha not liking it. I realize the Hyuuga essentially practice slavery, but that isn't general knowledge in cannon or in this story. The major clans also have extraterritoriality. They have laws that govern their own that, in most cases, supersede those of Konoha and the Land of Fire in general.