Toshiro wakes to his door opening. There was no sneaking attempted, and the pitter-patter of small footsteps puts him at ease. So does the head of dark red hair that peeks into his view. It's shortly followed by a halo of blond much darker than his own — gold where his remains ashy and beige.
"Naruto, Asuhi," he whispers into the moonlit dark, "What's wrong?"
The two Uzumaki are holding hands, Asuhi's smaller figure just a step behind Naruto. Her head is tilted to press against his arm. They don't look hurt, just sleep-rumpled. Asuhi's hair is a tangled mess, while Naruto's is stuffed under that ridiculously cute sleep hat of his. There are crease imprints on Naruto's cheek.
"Asuhi had a nightmare, ya know." Naruto says, and his voice is considerably quieter than usual, but not enough to be called a whisper. "Can we sleep with you?"
Toshiro tosses his blankets back and shuffles over. "Sure. But right to sleep, okay? No giggling to each other and staying up late."
The two scramble into bed. It's wide enough for two adult people to sleep comfortably, so one adult and two small kids isn't a tight squeeze. Asuhi lays between them, one of her hands still clasped in Naruto's and her other reaching out to hold Toshiro's sleep shirt.
This is another reason he doesn't sleep in the nude or just his underwear.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks her, keeping his voice soft.
She peers up at him with her murky green eyes — they almost look black in the dark — and shakes her head. "No, I'm okay."
He presses his lips together into a flat line, but doesn't push her. Naruto falls asleep quickly, and Toshiro waits another half hour until he's sure Asuhi has dropped off to sleep as well. Only then does he allow himself to relax. It's still a little odd and unfamiliar to him, having someone lay beside him while he's at his most vulnerable. Sleep is a scary thing for a shinobi, especially while out on a mission or during war time. It's a big reason that Kakashi and Toshiro haven't jumped the gun and just… started sleeping in each other's rooms.
Just sleeping. (Really!)
They live together. They're together together. But that doesn't mean they can't have their own space. As okay with affection and touching that Toshiro can be, that's only when it's in his control. Sleep is new territory. Shinobi instincts, trauma and unconscious minds are terrible, dangerous things. Especially when combined.
Toshiro isn't stupid. He knows Kakashi has nightmares that would put every one of Toshiro's to shame. The other man has seen and experienced more violence and destruction than Toshiro can possibly fathom. Two years of war and a few years of aftermath missions. It nearly ruined him.
It's impossible to imagine what two decades of active shinobi work does to a human mind. Kakashi is dangerous, probably not entirely mentally sound, and is in no way safe to sleep around one hundred percent of the time. That doesn't stop Toshiro from wanting to. They'd been fine that one time — and if they're lucky maybe it'll happen again. Toshiro feels calm in the other man's arms. Safe. It's like Kakashi chases away the very possibility of nightmares. He can only hope his presence does the same in return.
Breathing deeply, he listens to the soft snores of the two children beside him and slips away into his own sleep.
Kakashi is tenacious. His hands slip around Toshiro's back, slide up his spine, grip at his sides. His mouth sears like a hot brand against freckled flesh. Kakashi likes kissing. He likes putting his hands on Toshiro in any way he can, whenever he can. It's actually a little startling to Toshiro, who never took the man for the touchy-feely type.
Except after a few days of being pressed against walls or kissed against the door or accosted in the kitchen — Toshiro realizes that no, that's not the case. Kakashi isn't touchy-feely. He's not affectionate in a casual sense. He doesn't do soft. Doesn't brush his hands across Toshiro's arms or try to hold his hand, doesn't initiate romantic touches. He just kisses and gropes. (Then always pulls back when the heat gets to be too much, when he's panting into Toshiro's mouth and his eye is wide and dark and desperate.)
Kakashi isn't touchy-feely. He doesn't know how to be romantic. He knows the concept of romance, but his knowledge — Toshiro guesses — stems purely from observing the loose, sexual nature of their friend group and the literal porn novels he reads like gospel. It's not like Toshiro minds. It's okay if their relationship is a little unusual. A little odd.
But sometimes he'd like to just hold Kakashi's hand, even if the idea of Kakashi holding anyone's hands refuses to compute in his head.
Sometimes he wants to sit like they used to, shoulder to shoulder in the quiet of the evening, the sound of kids and dogs in the yard outside. He wants to touch without the expectation of kissing and sexual tension. For someone so obsessed with a smutty romance novel, Kakashi is remarkably bad with the subtle nuances and types of touches expected in a relationship.
Again, Toshiro can't blame the guy. Bad childhood, literal war, all your friends and family dead. Kakashi is the poster boy for shattered mental health, stunted emotional growth and ineffective coping mechanisms that lead to depressive episodes. It would be hypocritical for Toshiro to say he's not also eager to do things like kiss and touch and...more.
But it's all Kakashi seems to know. Or rather, expect.
It hurts a little to think the man still sees casual touches and kindness as uncomfortable.
He's not sure how to bring it up. Or fix it. If it even is something to be fixed. Kakashi doesn't seem to have a problem when Toshiro touches him casually or plays with his hair — it's returning the gestures that's the problem. That's fine. He can work with that.
And Kakashi is very distracting.
"You have to go." He says sternly, unable to hide a smile. One hand pushes at Kakashi's chest, moving the taller man out of Toshiro's space. "You're going to be even later than usual."
Kakashi's kiss-pink lips open to let out a put upon sigh, "They won't notice."
"No." Toshiro quickly moves his hand to Kakashi's mouth when the man tries to lean in again. He laughs at the surly expression the man's dark eye conveys. "Seriously, get out of here."
Shoulders slumping, Kakashi finally steps back and tugs his mask up. "Yeah, yeah. I know when I'm not wanted." With a two fingered salute, he disappears in a swirl of leaves.
Toshiro rolls his eyes at the Copy Nin's dramatics. He puts his hands on his hips and frowns down at the pile of curled leaves, knowing it's him who will have to sweep them up. It'll have to wait until he gets back from work — or maybe one of the kids will do it when they get back from the Academy. (Or, in Asuhi's case, the Civilian School.)
Today he's meeting the ANBU who survived Orochimaru's experiments. It's surprisingly hard to get a meeting set up, especially since the ANBU's skill set makes him highly requested for specific missions. Those missions are not short ones, either. Toshiro isn't even sure of the man's name. He wasn't given one, so he's not really expecting one at this meeting, either. Secrecy and all that. That's fine, Toshiro doesn't need a patient's name to be their doctor.
The hospital is busy, but far more organized than it had been years ago. It's one thing to imagine it, and another to witness the effects of a better layout and care system. He walks through the halls and greets both workers and wandering patients as he passes, his hair carefully tied up in a bun and his hitai-ate around his neck. In his hands are the files of information relating to the ANBU and Orochimaru's experiments. Their meeting will take place in one of the examination rooms on the third floor, on the side of the building meant for shinobi only. It's where they deal with more...high profile patients. (ANBU, Hunter-nin, and, if it comes to it, the Hokage.)
The ANBU is already inside, his chakra muted but not hidden, and Toshiro isn't a sensory type so he can't pick up much beyond that. It would be an amazing skill to have as a medic — or just as a shinobi in general. Sensory type ninja are held in high regard, and the most skilled of them can even read the emotions or characteristics of a person. Scary, when you think about it, but amazing all the same.
"Aikawa-sensei." The man says, head tipping in a softer version of a bow. Shaggy brown hair pokes out from behind his cat-like mask. His eyes are impossible to see, his voice deep but not particularly distinctive.
"ANBU-san." He greets in return. The sight of the mask makes it apparent — Toshiro is not the Hokage, nor is he ANBU, and therefore he does not have the clearance to know anything beyond the man's health. Toshiro plops himself down on the rolling stool, files in his lap. The ANBU remains standing next to the examination table. "I've been looking over your data. Seems you're a very lucky man, though I'm sure you've heard that often."
"Not as much as you would think." The man replies, his tone as dry as it is respectful.
Toshiro smiles, at least there's a personality under that mask. "As deplorable as his experiments were and are, Orochimaru is, regretfully, skilled. He's good at what he does. You wouldn't think it, with you being the only survivor. Transplanting DNA doesn't just succeed on a whim." He flips open the top-most folder, where ANBU-san's bloodwork and tissue sample data is recorded. "Effectively, he's given you a third parent strand on top of the initial two. Your chromosomes read XYY. Mother, father, Shodaime-sama. Children can be naturally born with XYY chromosomes, but you display none of the effects of that genetic disorder. Instead, your DNA strands don't form a helix, but a triad. Twenty-three chromosomes from your father, twenty-three from our mother, and twenty-three from Shodaime-sama."
The ANBU listens quietly. Toshiro has no idea if the man is already aware of all this or not.
"Frankly," he sighs, and taps the page the folder is open to, "It seems completely impossible for the human body to even exist with sixty-nine chromosomes. The potential for defects is astronomical." Toshiro doesn't say that having sixty-nine removes ANBU-san from the category of human entirely. There's genetic defects, and then there's whatever the hell ANBU-san is. It seems a little rude to say that to the man's face, however. And what really made a human, anyway? They breathed fire, for Sage's sake! Some people could see with no visible pupil! And the Uchiha? Forget explaining their eyes to anyone from Toshiro's old world. Chakra made the impossible possible.
Orochimaru's notes are complex, harrowing to read and at times downright cruel, but Toshiro can see how the man did it. (Can replicate it, if he wants. He doesn't.)
"You," Toshiro gives the man a very, very serious look. "Are lucky. I mean that in every way possible. Everything about your genetic makeup is seamless. You're even less likely to go gray before you hit fifty, unlike half the male population."
"There's no possibility of damaging effects in the long run?" The brown haired ANBU asks.
Toshiro hums, "Do you plan on having children?"
ANBU-san stiffens slightly, but whether it's because the question catches him off guard or he's just uncomfortable is hard to say. "I...don't know. I have no plans to, currently."
"Well when you do — or if you do, the biggest concern will be whether or not it's even possible." Because even if the man was human, it didn't mean his DNA would register as such to another's. Makes conception kind of hard when the pairing strands just aren't viable. The issue is that a woman will give twenty-three chromosomes to form a child. ANBU-san will likely give forty-six.
Obvious problem.
Not enough for pairs — or it could be, if the forty-six ANBU-san gives are already attached, as they should be, since he did have the normal amount of strands. Then it's the issue of whether his double-chromosome helix can attach to a new set of chromosomes.
Every descendant of ANBU-san will end up with a triad strand rather than a helix.
If he can even have kids. (Or wants them.)
"It's also likely that your acquired kekkei genkai is hereditary."
ANBU-san doesn't say anything for a moment, then, "I did consider that a possibility."
So he's thought about kids.
"It's okay to want children eventually." Even if a child might possibly not be viable. Or be stillborn. Or have genetic defects. Or even just end up perfectly healthy. Toshiro can't take away the man's ability to try, but he can prepare him for possible outcomes. "I don't know how old you are, but you seem to be around the age that marriage and children are talked about. Whether it's tomorrow or ten years from now, I will be here if you need me. If you decide to try for a child, I will help you as best I can. If it turns out it's impossible, well," he offers a smile, "I've some experience in adopting strays."
"I'm aware." The man replies, "You're good for him. Kakashi-senpai, that is."
Toshiro blinks. "Oh, um. Thank you?"
"Sorry, that was out of line—"
"No," he waves off the man's silly apology. "You're fine. I actually...appreciate hearing that."
ANBU-san nods after a slight hesitation. "Thank you. For...telling me this."
"Of course." It's a little anticlimactic for both of them, perhaps. But that's a good thing in this case. Had it been more of an issue then that would mean ANBU-san was at risk. The man being (amazingly) healthy is a relief and a gift.
Barring the fact that it shouldn't have been an issue to begin with — thanks, Orochimaru, for that. Stealing and murdering babies was a perfectly respectable pastime. Not.
"It's been written in your files that I'm responsible for your primary medical care. Medical Ninjutsu and most natural remedies work fine on you, so getting patched up by med-nin staff on hand after missions won't be an issue. I'll be called in for anything requiring bloodwork, or to deal with poisoning. I promise you, no matter what is happening, I will drop everything and come to your aid. Your genetics are being kept under a very heavy lock and key, ANBU-san."
The man nods again, "Both Hokage-sama and I believed it necessary. As a way to protect myself while certain enemies remain active."
"Orochimaru, you mean?" Toshiro huffs, then shakes his head. "Don't answer that, I don't want to know if there's anyone else."
"You don't?"
He grins, "I trust Itachi. If there's something I need to know, he'll tell me."
ANBU-san tilts his head. "I see. You're…" He trails off.
Toshiro blinks, "What?"
"Not what I expected." Then the man's shoulders tense, "Not that it's a bad thing, I mean, you're good. Just. Good."
Toshiro purses his lips to stop a smile, more than a little amused at how odd it is to see an ANBU member stumble over his words. "I'm...glad you think so?"
Awkwardly, the man nods again. "Yes. Well."
"You're all set, ANBU-san. Unless there are other issues you wish to discuss?" He smoothly moves on, "I know this was pretty brief, but I wanted to be able to explain our current knowledge and let you know about the current medical arrangement."
"Thank you, again."
Don't thank me, that's my job, he wants to say, but doesn't. That seems too impersonal, and Toshiro doesn't dislike ANBU-san. Besides, a part of him looks at ANBU-san and wonders how the Hatake kids could have turned out. The other man seems remarkably well-adjusted for being both an experiment and a former Root member.
Toshiro knows ANBU-san is one of the lucky ones.
"It's not a problem, really. I'm glad to help."
"So, you've met—"
"Don't tell me his name." Toshiro puts a finger up to Kakashi's masked lips. "You're ridiculously loose-lipped for someone part of a secret assassination squad."
"Formerly." Kakashi mutters, and Toshiro's heart begins to race at the feeling of the man's lips moving against the calloused skin of his fingertip. "I'll be responsible."
Toshiro raises a single brow — Kakashi is many things, but responsible is not always one of them — and drops his hand. They're standing close enough that Toshiro can feel Kakashi's body heat, but the man keeps his distance respectable while they're in public. The summer evening is hot and arid, and the tacky feeling of sweat pools at the base of his hairline. After a shower, he'd re-tied his hair into a sloppy bun, strands of ashy blond framing his face. Kakashi's been eyeing his neck throughout their entire walk — which is embarrassing, and he really wonders if the taller man doesn't realize how obvious he's being.
Toshiro's yukata is thin and perfect for the summer heat, dyed a pretty pale green with a multitude of pink and yellow embroidered flowers spilling down the fabric. It's tied with a yellow obi. In contrast to Toshiro's summery clothes, Kakashi is dressed in a softer version of his typical jounin outfit — black rather than navy blue — and no flak jacket. Somehow, he doesn't look to be sweating at all in the heat of dusk, but his hair is a little fluffier than usual due to the humidity. It's cute.
And, Toshiro realizes, there's nothing preventing him from saying as such.
He reaches up without breaking his stride and brushes a strand of Kakashi's hair. "Your hair gets really cute in the heat."
Kakashi blinks rapidly, his next step a little awkward. "Oh. Is that so?"
"Yes." He confirms, then grins with all the sweet, tooth-rotting softness of melting ice cream. His hand drops back to his side. "You know...tonight...if you want, you should come to my room."
This time Kakashi does almost trip, his eye wide.
"Or I could come to yours."
Kakashi's throat visibly bobs with a swallow, "Uh, you mean— like, you want to, uh."
Toshiro slides the taller man a coy look, "What exactly is running through your mind, Kakashi-kun? Maybe I just want to cuddle."
Kakashi coughs. "Right. Right, I know."
"I said maybe." He says slowly, his fingers brushing Kakashi's. He doesn't go to grab his hand, because holding hands in public is definitely the last thing Kakashi would be caught doing. "So who knows what could happen."
"That's right, and you still promised to teach me some things. Ne, Sensei?" Kakashi regains his momentum, eye curving into the usual smile shape.
Toshiro feels his cheeks flush a bit, a smile curling across his lips. "Only if you promise to be a good student."
Kakashi clears his throat. "You know, maybe it would be best if we just went home."
"Absolutely not," Toshiro laughs, "Keep it in your pants, Kakashi-kun. We promised we'd be there tonight. No backing out now. Besides," he stops, and Kakashi follows suit. "We're here."
The bar isn't especially crowded, but it's packed with familiar faces. It's Gai who sees them first, leaping from his seat at the table and throwing himself at them without thought. Kakashi somehow manages to sidestep with eerie grace, and Toshiro thinks about doing the same — then decides he rather likes Gai. The man's arms are huge and powerful, but they don't feel dangerous around Toshiro's neck, even as the man shakes him back and forth in excitement.
"MY FRIENDS, I'M SO GLAD YOU COULD MAKE IT!" Gai finally releases Toshiro, pulling away with wide, teary eyes. "News of your joining continues to fill me with unending joy! I wish you both great happiness and contentment in every day that comes!"
Kakashi very pointedly tries not to look at Gai, who is outright crying at this point, the usual look of disinterest marred with embarrassment. Trust Gai to make a scene — and trust Kakashi to react to it. They really do bring out sides of each other that no one else can.
"Thank you, Gai," Toshiro manages to say, unsure if he's even heard over the waterfall exploding from the jounin's tear ducts. He slips his arm around Kakashi's, stopping the man from any attempt at sneaking away. "Why don't we sit down, I haven't seen everyone together for a few weeks now."
The table is really three of them shoved together, chairs pulled from various spots to accommodate the group. Both food and alcohol is laid out across the joined surfaces, cramped to the point where it's likely everyone is drinking from whichever cup is in sight, no matter who it initially belonged to.
"Yo," Genma greets, "If it isn't Hatake-sama and Hatake-sensei."
Anko raises a glass of something amber, "THREE CHEERS FOR KAKASHI! He finally tapped some ass!"
A few wolf whistles sound, feet stamping the floor and laughter filling the air. Iruka covers his mouth to hide his guffaw, while Izumo and Kotetsu have no such compunction. Toshiro slides into a seat beside Shisui, who beckoned with exaggerated eagerness. Hoshika is at the Uchiha's other side, head tipped back and appearing half-asleep even with the ruckus around them.
"Puh-lease!" Shisui smacks Toshiro's back, "As if Kakashi has the guts to make a move just yet."
Kakashi slides into the one free space beside Toshiro, throwing a withering glare at the Uchiha over an ashy blond head. A new round of snickering begins, but there's no malicious intent behind any of it. All their friends are joking in good fun, unable to resist teasing Kakashi — which is understandable. Toshiro can't even blame them. Everyone is smiling, eyes shiny and cheeks flushed with humor or alcohol. Shoulders and elbows bump, food disappears off plates and out of hands. Anko almost bites off Iruka's fingers and Ebisu gets a faceful of ponzu sauce. Asuma and Kurenai act like they aren't holding hands under the table, even though everyone knows they are.
"Where's Fuyumi?" He asks Shisui, who's already half drunk. There's a spot of rice on his cheek.
"Uh," Shisui squints his single eye. "Something...about having work to do with a mutual friend of ours. Legal stuff, I guess."
"Ah," he says. "She's working late, huh?"
"Hm," The Uchiha shrugs, slumping against his girlfriend, who finally sat up only to stuff her face with takoyaki. "It's not like this is her scene, anyway."
That's fair. "Still, she really does work too much."
Shisui shrugs, swirling the sake around in his cup. The air is heavy with the scent of it. "She's a workaholic. Her mom's been bugging her for months now about getting a boyfriend and marrying. Sucks, but she's a pretty high up member in the Uchiha bloodline, so she's expected to carry it on." He takes a swig, "Pretty sure she's been set up on like, five dates in the past two weeks."
"I thought you were cousins," As in, their parents were actual siblings, "No one's pushing you and Hoshika?"
"Nah," the other man shrugs, nudging Hoshika. "We're all but promised to each other, and it's a bit different when it's a Clan-connecting relationship. Fuyu is expected to marry some distant Uchiha and pop out babies that have potential for sharingan."
"Hm," Toshiro sips at his glass of strawberry soda, not letting it leave his hand. There's too much of a chance of it getting swept up by someone else, and he's not in the mood for accidental alcohol consumption. "What about you? Think your kids have the potential for it?"
"Probably." Hoshika interjects, discreetly wiping sticky fingers on Shisui's shirt. "This lug is pretty strong. I'll be teaching them shadow techniques no matter what, though. Even if they carry the genes for it, our kids might not activate a sharingan. Not to shit on the Uchiha, but I'd almost rather they wouldn't, even if they could."
"I get'cha, Hoshi-chan! 'Cause unlocking them isn't very fun." Shisui laughs, but it sounds a bit strained. "Inter-Clan relationships are so messy! Wish they'd just let it be."
Toshiro flickers his gaze between his two friends, fingers wet with condensation from the cool glass in his hand. "So, it sounds to me like you're planning on more than one kid."
Shisui smacks the table, eye bright, "I want at least five!"
Hoshika snorts. "We'll see about two. Three if you're good."
The scent of cooked meat fills his nose. Toshiro turns his head to the side and barely avoids getting poked in the cheek with a stick of yakitori. Kakashi smiles with his eye, waving the stick back and forth.
"You haven't eaten yet."
Toshiro takes the offered food, grease smearing across his fingers. "Neither have you."
The silver-haired man glances over the array of food before them, one shoulder rising in a shrug. "Not really my thing."
"Your taste in food is so bland," Toshiro teases, taking a bite of the yakitori. "It's just a little grease and flavor."
Kakashi hums, "You're supposed to be the medic here, and you're telling me to indulge in junk food?"
"Don't be a smartass." Toshiro mutters around the chicken in his mouth.
"Impossible." It's Raidou who says this, slouched across the table. "That's just his personality."
This sets off another round of laughter, once again at Kakashi's expense. A drink is forced into the Copy Nin's hands and more than one person smacks him on the back. Gai very boisterously yells his deepest congratulations once again, and nearly knocks Kakashi out of his seat. Toshiro bursts out laughing as Kakashi flails, Gai's sturdy arms wrapped around his chest. His knee smacks the table and sends a drink flying. Shisui howls with laughter, rice smeared over his face.
Kakashi looks begrudging and annoyed, but anyone with eyes can see how he doesn't move to shove Gai away, nor does he get mad at the teasing. A push-over. A man made of gunmetal, with a caramel soft heart.
When they get home, they don't do anything more than tumble into bed and sleep.
Itachi's first year as Hokage goes well.
There's entirely new systems in place for almost every department and Itachi is targeting the influx of paperwork next. The teen rarely ever complains, choosing to keep in whatever irritates him and push through until the issue is resolved. He's doing well health-wise, though, which Toshiro is happiest about. Itachi still goes to him rather than his father, and Toshiro isn't sure what to think about that. Their relationship has always seemed a little strained — but Fugaku had been incredibly happy about Itachi's promotion to Hokage.
Then again, most fathers would be pretty happy about their child becoming leader of the entire village. Fugaku isn't a bad man, but even Toshiro knows the guy has calmed down significantly from when they'd first talked years ago. Not that there hadn't been good reason for the man's grumpy behavior. Shikaku had a lot to say about it after looking through the documented abuse of the system. The Uchiha had been, quite literally, almost choked out of Konoha. Trading, resource sharing, intelligence, fear-mongering — there was no mistaking the paperwork, dubious as most of it was. The village had been pulling away. Leaving the Clan on the outskirts. Forcing them to — to some end. What end, Toshiro didn't know. Didn't want to know. Because that's over now, and the Uchiha have steadily been repairing those burned bridges.
Plus, he didn't have all the facts. The clearance for it was beyond him, or at least had been at the time. Now that he's a Council Member, there's a lot more of Konoha's dirty laundry and backwards politics that he's privy to. Dirty laundry that Itachi is attacking with intense fervor, airing it out into the open air to be cleansed. He's doing good work. There's a lot of rot in Konoha, more than Toshiro ever considered. He'd been wrapped up in the children and the hospital — he'd almost forgotten how war was a lifestyle. For everyone. Mentalities had to be changed before anything they built could be permanent, could last to affect the next generations.
Orochimaru's work is the dirtiest laundry Toshiro has ever seen. It's vulgar, abhorrent work — work with results built on murder, lies and torture. It's unfortunate that a lot of those results are useful. Obviously, Toshiro has no intention of warping someone's DNA like what happened with ANBU-san. The collaboration of DNA, however, and the notes describing how to achieve it, are still helpful for another goal entirely.
Baby-making.
Not in the traditional sense, but in the 'test tube baby' sense. Splicing DNA to create viable children for people who struggled to conceive — or creating children for same sex couples. It was godlike, having the ability to control chromosomes. The only problem would be that a female couple, both with XX chromosomes, wouldn't be able to create a male child, who needed XY chromosomes. Inversely, two men could create a male or female child.
Everything he needs to turn DNA into his puppet, right at his fingertips.
It's terrifying.
He has no idea why Itachi trusts him with this kind of information. Maybe it's because the very idea of performing an experiment on another person makes him want to vomit. To be honest, looking at all of this has him this close to throwing the files into the air and lighting them up with a katon jutsu — but he won't. Because this information can be used for good, even it makes him feel gross and guilty.
It would be a waste.
And that's what infuriates him.
He presses his face into his hands, the files open and sprawled before him. Pages spread and organized by dates across the desk. It's ugly to look at.
"If this gets too hard for you—"
He holds up a hand to stop Itachi. The Godaime sits back, fingers steepled on his desk. Toshiro rubs the bridge of his nose.
"It's fine. I just hate that we can only do these things because of that man." It's seriously annoying, almost as much as it is disgusting. "Puts a bad taste in my mouth, having a guy as smart as that still out in the world doing Sage knows what."
"I'm working on it." Itachi murmurs. "He's Konoha's problem, and it's high time we took care of it. That being said, I've ordered Jiraiya to seek out Senju Tsunade."
Something uncomfortable lodges in Toshiro's chest. He's never met her. He knows what she did as a medic-nin revolutionized medical ninjutsu — but it wasn't enough. She left Konoha high and dry, taking her skills and drive with her. The plan to implement one medic-nin per team never came to fruition. The hospital fell apart, understaffed and ignored by Council funding. Toshiro is the one who picked up the pieces.
He doesn't know her. He doesn't even know her reason for leaving.
Yet…
"I'm not planning on replacing you." Itachi's voice cuts through his thoughts. "I intend to personally inform her of Orochimaru's intentions, and that if she wishes to remain in Konoha's good graces, she will do whatever she can to aid us in his capture. Whether that be by giving us information, notifying us if she locates him on her travels, or delivering his corpse to us herself — that is up to her. Sandaime-sama was too lax with her release from duty. She is a war hero, but she is also a kunoichi of Konoha." The teen sits back in the Hokage seat, his dark eyes gleaming in the low evening light. "And there is no paperwork to be found that relieves her of her duties."