Hoshika's check-up goes well. She's not showing yet, and she already looks exasperated by Shisui's constant hovering.

"My only reprieve is when he's busy with his gaggle of genin." She confides with a droll, annoyed tone. Even then, there's a smile on her lips.

Toshiro runs a chakra coated hand over her abdomen. At this stage, the fetus is little more than the size of an olive and it doesn't yet have its own chakra system. As it turns out, Shisui and Hoshika weren't entirely trying for a baby. Pregnancy for a kunoichi is more difficult than it is for civilian counterparts, mostly due to lifestyle and exercise routines. Kunoichi, because of the strain they put on their bodies to keep in shape, generally have irregular periods that make it harder to conceive. Because it can be difficult to keep track of, most kunoichi use menstruation blockers — a beautiful combination of medical ninjutsu and fuuinjutsu developed by Senju Tsunade — to just be rid of it entirely. Ovulating on a mission can spell disaster for the kunoichi and her team.

Hoshika, who has been sticking to a chunin desk job for the past few months, had chosen to stop the blockers. Her periods had still been irregular, but the possibility for pregnancy had been there. And boy, did it take.

He pulls his hand away. "Well, it's too early to tell the gender — if you want to know at all — but baby Shi-Hoshi is doing fine. Our biggest concern right now is your body fat percentage."

Shisui gasps from his position of hanging over Toshiro's shoulder like a leech. "Wait, wait, when can we know the gender?"

"Anywhere between fourteen and eighteen weeks." Toshiro replies.

"And there's only one? You double checked? Are you sure it's not twins?"

From her position laying atop the examination table, Hoshika stares very blandly at her soon-to-be husband. "If I have to push out twins on the first go, I'm strangling you myself."

Toshiro chuckles, "No, no, there's only one. Maybe next time."

Shisui looks entirely too hopeful at the prospect of another time, and Hoshika just sighs, torn between fondness and exasperation.

"Let's get through this first one before we start thinking about another." She says. "Now what about this body fat thing? Sounds like a pain."

"I suppose…" he murmurs, picking up his clipboard from where he'd initially dropped in on the counter. "It means you'll have to lower the amount of exercise you do, and make a few changes to your diet."

"An excuse to laze around?" Hoshika mutters, lips pulling into a smirk, "Perfect."

Shisui's chin dips to rest on Toshiro's shoulder, his one eye scanning every note made. His body heat is an oddly familiar, comfortable weight. "What's all this?"

"Supplements and vitamins she needs to take per trimester, along with the recommended calorie intake. You're not at the belly bump stage yet, but your ability to do certain activities will be restricted. Or rather, should be restricted." He eyes her carefully, but isn't very worried overall. Hoshika is a Nara through and through. She's much more reliant on her mind than her body. "You should also keep note of all your pregnancy symptoms, like morning sickness, food aversion and whatever aches and pains may come. If you ever feel like anything doesn't seem right, or if one symptom is particularly bizarre, do not hesitate to come to the hospital."

Hoshika sighs, sitting up. Her shirt slides down to cover her toned, flat stomach. "Note taking. Got it."

"Before we wrap this up, I should ask... did you two want to know the gender? If so, we can schedule the appointment sometime next month." Toshiro pulls the paper he was writing on from the clipboard, handing it to Hoshika. Shisui slips away from his side to hover by her, their elbows brushing when she stands up fully.

"Sure." She replies, glancing at Shisui. "Makes it less bothersome to choose a name."

"Hoshi-chan! Choosing a name is the best part!" Shisui exclaims.

"I thought it was the actual child part."

The dark haired man pauses, "That too."

利朗. Toshiro's name is written with two kanji, meaning advantage and bright, respectively. He never really thought much as to how he got his name. He doesn't think of his parents. Doesn't think he has in years — or at least, not this world's parents. His first family, the family with names in a language no one else speaks, still hold a spot in his heart that can't be replaced. The pain has long since dimmed, so now he looks back on them fondly. Even if their memory grows fainter by the day.

Aikawa Toshiro's father was a man named Towa, the kanji reading as benevolence and wing. It's a pretty name for a pretty man. They're shinobi, so most know not to ask about parents unless it's for clan related conversation — or if it has to do with a legacy. So Toshiro has never thought about it. He's never been asked about it. No one brings it up. So he'd let the idea of having parents in this life fall into the background, like white noise. It seems cruel now, when he looks at how happy Shisui and Hoshika are with the idea of their child.

Cruel, to think that he hadn't cared in the slightest about his own parents this life. Had they loved him? Anticipated his birth? Were they kind parents? He doesn't know. The process of rebirth had been arduous enough that his mind hadn't patched itself together until he was two years old and they were gone, dead in a war that had just begun.

(A war he would lose himself in. A war he found himself in.)

The shinobi archives keep a pretty accurate record of the shinobi who have served Konoha. The village may have been a work in progress, but it certainly took their fallen shinobi seriously. Even if it had problems trying to stop those very shinobi from needing to fall in the first place. The deceased were immortalized in carefully stored and protected records, their legacies inked into parchment. Aside from that and a name on a stone, that is all that remains of a shinobi once they leave this world. Leaving bodies behind is too risky. For more well-known and powerful shinobi, even leaving ashes behind is asking too much.

In the quiet of a Thursday afternoon, with sunbeams peering warm and fuzzy through window slats, Toshiro pauses over an opened cabinet. The Shinobi Archives is empty of all but him, the only other sound comes from outside — children laughing and the muffled conversation of passersby just barely entering his range of hearing. In one hand is the limply held file of Aikawa Towa, in the other is a glossy, slightly aged photo of a man with sun-kissed freckles and sakura-pink eyes. His hair is rich gold, two shades lighter than Naruto's and close enough to pass for a Yamanaka. Toshiro doesn't have Towa's hair, or the slope of his jaw or even the man's height. But he has Towa's eyes, freckles and smile. Maybe his father's nose, if he looks closely enough.

He slips the photo back into the file and returns it to the cabinet. A seal flashes to life, locking away the secrets of the dead. A few rows over finds him at a new cabinet, riffling through the folders there before finding the one he's looking for.

His mother's name is Yanagi Hanae. Willow and flower, forever and ever. It's a name perfect for a child born in the spring, which she was, as it turns out. Between the three of them, Toshiro is the only one born in the summer, with his father having a winter birthday. Hanae is where Toshiro gets the shape of his eyes, the softness to his jaw and the height. He doesn't exactly have her hair either, as Hanae's hair is wavy and beige — bordering champagne in color. In darker settings, their hair almost matches. The faint hints of gold must come from his father.

Toshiro swirls a loose strand of his pin straight, ashy hair around a finger absently. Unlike Kakashi, who looks so much like his father it's not even funny, or even Naruto, who has one parent's coloring but the other's face, Toshiro is a mix of both of them. He doesn't look like one more than the other. It's...nice. All things considered. Because he's his own person, and while he's thankful for them, he's not sure what he'd feel if he wore one of their faces.

He puts her folder back as well.

The sun slashes across the room and spills in sturdy, geometric shapes over the floor and shelves, blurry at the edges. He steps through a beam of light and his hair lights up like a beacon — flashes with hints of his father's gold. With every step, he leaves those folders and the images within behind, until he's out of the building entirely.

Like he told Kakashi years ago, Toshiro never expected to have children. As a gay man in a world more focused on war than its people, he hadn't even expected to live this long. The Hatake kids are adorable and strong and he loves them with every fiber of his being — but they're like siblings. He's half raising them, but they call him nii-san or some other variation and when he gets to the heart of it all, what he wants is to one day be called tou-chan. Dad. Father. Papa. He doesn't care, he just knows he wants it. Before, it hadn't seemed like a possibility. Now, however, with Project Test Tube Baby?

It's like all his dreams are at his fingertips.

The catch? Kakashi. Toshiro knows the man struggles. Kakashi wasn't entirely fit to be around kids — not when they first met. Too traumatized, too awkward and unwilling. He could barely care for himself, let alone children. Now, he's better. He's good. Toshiro trusts him to care, teach and love every child in their house. But he has to take into account that all the Hatake kids are prodigies, and they came to them as slightly grown children, not babies. Not even toddlers. A baby requires care that children don't — care that Toshiro isn't sure Kakashi knows how to give.

Because when it comes down to it, Toshiro wants kids. He also wants Kakashi. So, in conclusion, he wants kids with Kakashi and he wants Kakashi to want kids too. Breaching that topic of conversation seems more daunting than confessing his feelings had been. If Kakashi says no, then it'll be awkward — but what if he says yes?

No matter the answer, Toshiro has to get it.

Eventually.

Maybe not...now. It would probably be best to wait until Project Test Tube Baby becomes viable. Yeah. That sounds much better.

Senju Tsunade is not entirely what Toshiro expected. She's youthful in appearance, her hair tied back into two hanging pigtails — slightly childish, and it adds to her young look. She smells a bit like a distillery, but shows no signs of a hangover. Behind her is a woman with dark hair and eyes, clad in a plain kimono. There's a pig in her arms. A pig wearing a vest. It's ridiculously adorable and the small size only adds to that fact.

Tsunade stands in the Council Room with her arms crossed, an expression on her face that clearly states she wishes she were anywhere but here. Jiraiya is beside her, a thump on his head and a lecherous flush to his cheeks.

"I'm glad you could make it." Itachi says, voice carefully void of emotion.

Tsunade scoffs, "Sure. Let's get this over with, shall we? The sooner I can leave, the better."

It's not as if Toshiro doesn't understand her reasoning. In a world ravaged by war, many lose their way after suffering casualty after casualty. The difference between shinobi like Tsunade, and shinobi like Itachi, is that one is willing to shoulder that pain to pave a better future. The other settles on running away. Tsunade is powerful and brilliant, her strength legendary and her medical contributions invaluable. Therefore, Toshiro is not looking to show her disrespect — because she does have his respect, or some measure of it. He's just not willing to let her take over the hospital again. Even if she is smarter than him.

The Hokage's hat dips as Itachi nods, "I am not Sandaime-sama. Konoha is well on its way to become an unrecognizable village. This is the path we have chosen for the future: A Konoha that truly encompasses the desires of our forefathers, rather than settling on empty promises." His dark eyes meet Tsunade's, "We've made great progress. I will not allow our stride to break because of a mess that should have been handled before my birth. You've been called here so I may notify you of the current agenda. Orochimaru is an enemy of Konoha whom we have allowed far too many freedoms."

"I've been tracking him for ages, Godaime-sama." Jiraiya murmurs, looking particularly downcast and uncomfortable at the topic. "He's notorious for...slipping away."

"Whatever Orochimaru does is his business," Tsunade grumbles, "and Konoha's. I've long since given up on that man."

"That's not good enough."

The air sharpens at Itachi's words, the faintest string of accusation hidden in his low voice. Toshiro feels sweat beading at his temple. It's not quite killing intent, but there's a pressure that wasn't there before.

Tsunade's amber eyes narrow dangerously, "Just what do you expect from me, Uchiha?"

"You don't have to come back to Konoha. I will not force you back into our ranks. But you were not formally relieved of your duties," Itachi informs, "You were allowed to roam without reprimand thanks to, and only thanks to, your relationship with Sandaime-sama. I am not nearly as lax or willing to pardon such actions when they affect the village as a whole. But I am also aware that force does not breed loyal shinobi. As such, I've developed a compromise."

The sound of Tsunade's teeth grinding is almost audible. Somehow, she refrains from smashing the table in front of her, even though Toshiro almost expects her to, with all the talk of her temper he's heard. Instead, her hands just creak into fists. No one dares interrupt. It's not their place.

"A compromise?" She snorts, "Very well, let's hear it then."

"If you see Orochimaru in your travels, you will inform us. If you stumble upon a base of his, you will inform us. If you think you can kill him, you will do so." The Uchiha teen does not flinch from whatever ire he sees in Tsunade's eyes, nor does he balk at the discomfort visible in Jiraiya's face. "This goes for both of you. I don't know your feelings on or for Orochimaru, and I can't afford to take them into consideration. Orochimaru is a danger to others, and a danger to the future of Konoha. He will be stopped, be it by your hands or one of ours."

Jiraiya exhales, looking his age. His shoulders slump and something complicated passes over his expression. "I understand."

Itachi's eyes slide to Tsunade. "Tsunade-sama?"

She purses her lips, visibly frustrated but also looking incredibly weary — like maybe she knows this was a long time coming. Toshiro wonders if she can do it, if she can really kill the man she considered a teammate. That depends, of course, on the state of their relationship to begin with. It might be easy. He bets she's thought about it a lot over the years, because what else does one do when they run from their problems, aside from stew in their regrets?

"I understand." She finally grits, turning away from Itachi's piercing gaze. She doesn't look upon the others in the room, instead choosing to peer unseeingly into the distance. He tries to imagine himself in her place — and can't. She's so far away from his path, from the future he chose to strive for.

What made you go? He thinks to himself, What is the difference between you and I?

Two healers. Two blonds. Two headstrong, intelligent, driven individuals.

It makes him worry, to think that there might be a breaking point for him. That one day he could possibly end up like her. What would it take? What would be the last straw? Even if he lost everyone, why would he leave Konoha? The phantom ache? The inability to look at the places they once walked?

Maybe.

It's hard to say. He doesn't want to end up like her. That's why he's here, sitting in this council seat. The clanless chunin who looked around and said no, this isn't all we can have. He dug his way into the root of Konoha because he could, and that meant he should.

The future will be bright.

It has to be.

She doesn't leave right away. It would be a strain to leave the very same day, when the sun is already close to setting and the nearest town outside of Konoha was half a day's travel. Tsunade no longer has a place to stay, having sold her home and the last of the Senju property without much thought or care on the matter. As she is a guest of Konoha, and one of the legendary sannin, Toshiro is sure Itachi set up something for her. He doesn't stress about it. What she does isn't his business.

She's going to leave the next day. Probably.

Jiraiya, however, is someone who regretfully sinks into Toshiro's thoughts and brings a slight frown to his lips. They've barely spoken, but his opinion on the man remains the same. Rather than take it all, no matter how heavy, Jiraiya is a man who picks and chooses his responsibilities. Maybe it was Toshiro's bias — and hypocrisy, as he knows the pressures of duty versus life — but one of those dropped responsibilities was Naruto. Arguably, the boy was more important than the regular child on account of both his status as jinchuuriki and as the son of the Yondaime, and as one of the last remaining Uzumaki. The poor kid deserved more than what Jiraiya gave him, which was nothing. It irked Toshiro before, and it irks him now. Naruto is a good kid, a genuine kid. The kind of kid that should be allowed life and love and access to his heritage.

Ah, I miss him. Thinking about the little spitfire reminds Toshiro that Team 7 is still currently on a mission. To the Land of Waves, of all places. He misses all of them. Sakura, Shikamaru, Naruto… Kakashi. The two week mark is rapidly approaching. It's not unusual for the time span to be a little above or below that estimate, as moving at a civilian rate of speed is cause for a lot of variables. He really hopes it's on the shorter end.

Toshiro absently braids his hair, the long strands reaching almost down to his waist by now. The sun is steadily lowering into the horizon and the shadows are long and dark. Street lights turn on, lanterns glowing with fuzzy, orange hues and the chirp of cicadas fills the air. The meeting had taken the better part of three hours after Tsunade stormed out, Jiraiya and that dark-haired woman with the pig hot on her heels.

Shibi updated them on the orphanage situation, and brought forth an anti-kidnapping measure. Aburame bugs could communicate with their hosts through chakra, therefore, they made the best security cameras. Innocuous, able to hide in small spaces or plain sight — the bugs could notify a host if a child was under threat of kidnapping. There was the issue of privacy — and it relied on the trust that the Aburame in charge of the guard rotation would use the bugs for the appropriate surveillance and only for that.

It wasn't strictly put into words, but it hung in the air regardless: We don't want to create an opportunity for pedophiles. Again, not put into words, because then it would sound like they were accusing the Aburame of having pedophiles in their midst. All the same, it was a good idea. Having a rotating clock of Aburame who would attach a bug to each child in their district, then only respond if one bug implied distress through chakra. Essentially, a tagging system for orphans, marginally the most at-risk group of people in Konoha.

Exactly what they needed, if history said anything. Unfortunately, too many creepy old men were interested in taking advantage of poor supervision to whisk away children. Whether it be for Orochimaru's experiments or Danzo's ROOT, Konoha had proven unsafe for their very own children.

It was time to change that.

About time.

An arm slings itself over his shoulder, and the scent of woodpine and ginger fills his nose. Shikaku's grin is slick, the dark of his eyes glimmering amber in the lamplight. "Serious thoughts?"

"Dunno." He answers honestly, "Probably."

Shikaku raises his eyebrows, the expression pulling on his facial scars. "Well, that's not very convincing."

"Shikaku, Toshiro." Inoichi exits the Hokage's building, his high ponytail swinging behind him. "Busy night?"

Toshiro shares a glance with Shikaku, "No," he replies and the older man echoes the sentiment with a shake of his head.

"Good," Inoichi says, the grim set to his mouth not matching the glimmer of humor in his pupil-less gaze. "The wife is making dinner for a crowd. Interested?"

Shikaku hums, leaning his weight onto Toshiro a little more solidly, "Sure."

"I suppose Gin and Sasuke will already be there," Toshiro huffs, nothing but fondness in his heart, "I'm sure the other kids won't have a problem with it. It's a bit close to the picnic though, isn't it?"

Inoichi shrugs, "I don't claim to know what goes on in her head, and I'm a Yamanaka."

Shikaku barks out something like a laugh, and the three of them traverse down the summer-washed street.

Toshiro pulls his hands from the guts of an ANBU with a mask that looks like some aquatic creature. His palms are slick with hot blood. The scent of iron is heavy in the air. Sweat gathers in the square of his back and slips, bead by bead, down his spine. Swallowing against the dryness in his throat, Toshiro watches as the man is wheeled out to an operating room, now stabilized enough to survive the next few minutes.

"Sensei," calls an orderly, "We need you at entrance two."

He washes up quickly, sterilizing his hands with practiced efficiency. At the back of his head lingers the faintest worry — yesterday was two weeks. The second entrance for shinobi is two halls down, and he gets there within the next thirty seconds. Brown hair, bleary green eyes. The jounin, judging by the vest, isn't one Toshiro knows intimately. He brushes her bangs away from her eyes and watches her pupils shift.

Clicking his tongue, he calls over another med-nin with a wave of his hand. "She has a concussion. If she looks like she's going to vomit, catch it."

The poor boy is probably sixteen and getting in his internship hours, but he nods with only the slightest look of nerves on his paling face. Toshiro flashes a grim smile and gets back to work. There's a few bloody lacerations to heal, one deep enough to leave a scar.

"Not bad." He mutters, sealing the worst of it with the mystical palm technique. A scar is nothing to a shinobi. A badge, if you wish to look at it in a positive light. A regret, if you're pessimistic. (Or truthful.) "Can I get someone running a poison screen?"

There's three more shinobi he has to tend to before he gets a break. In his office, surrounded by his many plants and the scent of heavy mint and soil, he changes from the sweaty scrubs into a new pair. Detangling his hair is another matter. His scalp feels sore from how tightly he'd tied his bun this morning, and now he just feels greasy and gross. The heat has steadily been climbing and the constant opening of doors and windows doesn't help in keeping the temperature low. At least his office is marginally cooler than the halls, and he feels himself relaxing as he re-ties his long, pale hair into a loose, high ponytail.

Just as he settles with a heavy sigh at his desk, there's a knock on his door. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Toshiro calls for whoever it is to enter.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not disturbing you…" A dark haired woman makes her way in, the same one who'd accompanied Tsunade the other day.

"You're still here?" He finds himself saying, then flushes at his own audacity. "Sorry, that was rude."

She laughs, only a little awkward, "No, it's...understandable. Tsunade-sama is...reacquainting herself with certain parts of Konoha."

Toshiro thinks that's a very subtle way of saying bar-hopping. He offers the woman a slight smile. "I see. What can I do for you, then?"

"I've been learning medical ninjutsu under Tsunade-sama for some time now. While I'm here, I thought I might offer my services." The woman's face softens into contemplation, "You're...far better staffed than I anticipated."

"Things have changed." He replies, then stands from his desk. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name before...?"

"Oh!" She flushes, waving her hands, "Where are my manners! I'm Shizune."

He makes his way across the room, gesturing to the hall. She gets the message and steps back, so they both stand outside his office. Closing the door tightly, he swipes his thumb by the wall and a quick jolt of chakra locks the room down.

At Shizune's wide eyes, he merely offers another, slightly more mischievous smile. "I'm Aikawa Toshiro. I don't know how long you've been away from Konoha, if you're from here—"

"I am."

He nods, "But the hospital has changed quite a bit. Tsutomu-sensei is in charge of shinobi trauma response, so I'll bring you to her."

They make their way down the hall, dodging out of the way when both staff and visitors pass.

"It certainly seems…bigger." Shizune comments after a moment. He glances back to see her eyes wandering over the halls. "It really is different. The use of seals, the amount of staff...it's incredible."

Pride blooms in his chest. It took hell to get here, and it never gets old to hear that quiet awe in someone's voice. He still hears it in his own. "The hospital has been able to make it this far because of the collaboration of Konoha's clans, most notably the Yamanaka, Nara, Akimichi and Uchiha. We've opened up medical ninjutsu classes to urge shinobi and kunoichi to get involved. What you see is the result of Konoha's favorite motto," he smirks, throwing her a wink, "Teamwork."

Shizune flushes a deep rouge, "I-It's impressive. I can't believe the Council actually decided to do something about this place."

He stops at the entrance to the Trauma Hall, spotting Tsutomu-sensei conversing with another staff member. At Shizune's words, he blinks incredulous sakura-pink eyes and lets out a short laugh. "The Council? If only! It would have been so much easier if they'd given a crap when this all started."

Shizune frowns, "Then how—"

"Aikawa-sensei." Tsutomu-sensei greets, wandering over after catching Toshiro's eye. "What can I do for you?"

He gestures to Shizune, "This is Shizune, she's a student of Tsunade-sama. She's offered her services for the duration of her stay."

Shizune bows, "I'll be in your care."

Tsutomu-sensei eyes the young woman with a careful stare, before flicking her gaze over to Toshiro. At his easy expression, she nods. "Alright, glad to have you. We've got a few patients and we're a bit short today. Follow me — and if you have any questions, feel free to ask. This hospital is not like any other, I promise."

"I'll take my leave." Toshiro says politely, giving both women a tired smile.

Shizune responds awkwardly, her hand coming up in a wave.

"Oh, deary," He hears Tsutomu-sensei murmur as he walks away, "That man is taken with a capital T."

Luckily, neither of them can see the amused smile that blooms across his mouth.

It is four days past the time that was estimated for Team 7's return. That's not incredibly worrying, as they were escorting a civilian, one who walks far slower than they do — and an older man at that. That doesn't soothe the worry. Nothing will, no matter how many missions any of his loved ones take, or however strong they get. He will always worry until their return.

Asuhi has taken to sleeping in Sai's bed, because Naruto has been gone too long and her other siblings are barely in the house. Takehiko crowds the other side, so Sai generally wakes up boxed in by his two younger siblings.

He's yet to tell them to stop. Toshiro doesn't think it's even crossed the boy's mind. The house is quieter for more than one reason — another is that the dogs have unsummoned themselves. Whatever bond they'd needed to be established is set, to Toshiro's knowledge. Now, there's things that only other dog summons can teach a dog summons. (According to Kakashi.)

It feels a bit lonely without the barking, howling and tapping of dog nails on hardwood. There's also significantly less dog hair all over the couch. The kids were mopey, but understood the need for their dogs to have their own specialized training. A summons was also not a pet, it was a partner, and it's better that they learned that now. Not that most didn't already think that — Gin and Tomoe were constantly working on tag-team moves, for one.

Just yesterday, Chiasa spoke about reverse-summoning herself to the Dog Realm. She thinks she's prepared to pick out the next member of her pack. Toshiro isn't well-versed in that kind of thing, not having his own summons, so he'd told her to wait until Kakashi's return.

(If he returns.)

No pessimistic thoughts.

"Okushika, can you run it through the third sequence again."

The labs are carefully monitored, air conditioned and sealed. There is no in or out unless you're on an approved list. He spends half his shifts here, working with his other three chosen heads on Project Test Tube Baby.

"Yeah." She grunts, focused on the sealing array in front her. Her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth as she concentrates. Toshiro can see her relation to Hoshika and Shikaku in the untamed black of her hair, the amber-hued irises and the slope of her nose.

Uchiha Tetsuya sits across from her, twenty years or so younger — not yet eighteen and already churning out results a seasoned adult spends years working for. He has the signature Uchiha pale skin, pretty features and dark eyes. His hair looks brown rather than black, however, and his nose is a bit wider than Itachi's; it's more on par with Shisui's. He's boyish and looks younger than he is, though he acts far older.

It's Kanna's day off, and the vibrant greenette is far, far away from the hospital and hopefully spending her day catching up on some well deserved rest.

"Sensei, I think there's an issue with this phase." Tetsuya notes, gesturing to the microscope. Toshiro leans slightly into the boy's space and peers through the lens.

He clicks his tongue at what he sees. The cells are decaying too fast, splicing back apart into separate strands. "Try the second method. We need to find the right algorithm that provides a successful bonding agent."

Tetsuya frowns at having to turn back to Orochimaru's notes, but doesn't comment.

Toshiro brushes a strand of loose, ashy hair behind his ears and sighs quietly. He hopes Kakashi and the kids come home soon. He's been thinking about it for a while now, and maybe he should ask before it's done. Just to get it out of the way. How hard can it be?

Kakashi, I want to have kids with you. He mentally shakes his head. As if that'll go over well! We haven't even been dating a full year.