Chapter 31: Idabel Blues

Running hard and running fast, trying to get away. Going to the bayou where no one knows my name. Won't you hide me, Pa, before the Red River is my grave?

.

Slender fingers tapped and pressed on keys. Each stroke made a satisfying click, kinetic feedback resounding back through the fingers. Each keystroke created more and more on the page of data, information compiled and organized into nice and neat rows ready for analysis. After some time, Hanako twisted in her chair, feeling the satisfying pops her spine made as she twisted first to the right, and then to the left, tension releasing in a blissful sensation. She did the same with her neck as well, popping it both ways. She shook off the sensation and went back to work.

Honestly, she was considering moving into the actual office instead of staying in the reception area. Too many papers covered the desk now, and she was starting to have trouble keeping it all organized, especially with her newfound output rate. Overnight, Hanako went from taking all day to complete the payroll of all of her clients and the next day to calculate taxes, to being able to do it all in one day and have time left over. Not to mention, her overtime went out the window, and she wasn't having to stay late at the office anymore to meet her self-imposed deadlines. Her ever-present calculator still received lots of work, and her word processor was still no NetSuite, SAP, QuickBooks, or even Excel, but it still got the job done.

Not for the first time, Hanako wondered how her predecessors at her old job had gotten things done back in the day. Some of them had worked for the same company for 30+ years. An inspector in quality that she had gotten to know in passing had already spent 41 years with the company. A remnant of a bygone era of employee-company loyalty. Hanako's generation didn't do that; they held as much loyalty to a company as a company did to them. And that loyalty wasn't much. There was a reason people of her generation spent one or two years at a job before moving on. Not ten to twenty.

Hanako worked for a few more hours, organizing and sorting things to be filed with different offices when a loud, rapacious knock came from the office door and the knob turned and opened not even a second after. In a flounce of red hair, Uzumaki Kushina stormed in. Hanako stopped writing on a ledger and looked up at the preteen.

"Can I – help you?" She asked, uncertain of the reason for the preteen's visit.

Kushina paused at the question, and looked uncertain, like she hadn't really thought of what she was going to say. "I, uh," she hesitated, "um, what was it like for you, moving here?"

Hanako gestured for her to take a seat in front of the desk and the small girl slipped into it immediately.

The accountant rested her chin on one hand. "I did not speak language. So, in word, hard."

Kushina fidgeted with her hands, twiddling her fingers back and forth and interlacing them within one another. "Did people accept you? Like, really accept you?"

Now that Hanako was more practiced and fluent in Fire Dialect, she could slowly recognize the clusters of consonants and pitch of a Whirlpool accent. She thought back to when she was a kid and remembered how hard it was. Hanako had been bullied as a kid, taunted because her family didn't have as much money as others, because of her appearance, and for every other insignificant thing that kids bully each other mercilessly over. Kushina was still in that age bracket. She immediately saw what Kushina was driving at.

Shinobi children were much more mature. Honesty would probably be best. "No," she said simply. "Not at first. After time, some did."

Kushina deflated. "Auntie Mitama said that it's normal. She said I need to try to fit in more."

"She would be right, if talking about adults," Hanako replied. "Kushina-san, sui'ti, kids not being nice. Children not kind, good, er," Hanako tried to think of the correct word, "accepting things. They are mean, cruel, and selfish. They learn to be accepting when grow up, when taught to being. This will be getting better. You will grow up, and so will they, and they will see that not so differences from you."

"But what if they don't?" The redheaded child asked quietly, shoulders hunched over.

Hanako shrugged. "I cannot say they will. But I can say, be confident. Be best you can be, and if is not enough, then is their problem. Not yours."

"But Yamada-san," she protested, "they won't stop. I try, I really do! But they keep calling me a tomato," she cried. "They won't stop making fun of my hair!" The kid was on the verge of tears.

Shit. She wasn't exactly the best with children. She didn't have any nieces or nephews, and she had never even really wanted any of her own. She wouldn't call herself a pro by any measure at comforting an overemotional pre-teen. Especially a ninja kid at that. She thought quickly about herself at that age. A ninja would probably tell Kushina to beat her bullies faces in, Hanako didn't think that was a very good idea from an emotional stability viewpoint though.

"Ignore them," she finally settled on. "They're saying mean things because they want react," Hanako said, not really knowing if she was giving the best advice in the world, but here goes. "Having react, being mad or sad, it only shows them it works. Things will be better, but these kids, they are not being good. Not now they are not."

Kushina nodded her head in understanding and sniffled a little.

"Would you like hug?" Hanako asked hesitantly.

Kushina's answer was to jump up from her chair and run around the desk and wrap her arms around Hanako's shoulders. This, Hanako thought, she could do. She wrapped the kid up tightly in her arms and with one hand, stroked the girl's hair, knowing from personal experience how soothing it could be. "It will be alright," she said quietly. "None of this being your fault." Hanako let Kushina break the embrace first

"Can I stay here for a bit?" Kushina asked timidly.

Hanako narrowed her eyes. "And why would that be?"

The preteen averted her gaze and scuffed her feet. "Auntie Mitama's mad at me right now," she muttered. "I might have messed up some of her stuff."

"Well," Hanako sighed, "you can stay here until I finish work. Should be in few hours. Do you want water?" Uzumaki Mitama was one of the last people that Hanako wanted to enrage, even if it was by offering refuge to her fugitive niece. A few hours wouldn't hurt though.

"Yes, please."

.

.

Hanako twirled and tapped a pencil against her cheek. She had a problem. The problem was related to all of the shinobi that were constantly in and out of her home. And that was that the place was too small. A single guest bedroom that was almost always occupied, plus the couch, plus the two cots, and then whatever bedrolls were also inevitably pulled out from somewhere for use after a gathering. Hanako was deciding that she'd really like a place that she could have some privacy. With maybe more than a few rooms to the whole place so that she could have more space to herself instead of her cramped in impromptu roommates. It was because of this that she had a spread of real estate available for sale in front of her. Of course, with there being no internet, it wasn't like she could look at any pictures online.

She had sketched out a basic map of Hidden Leaves and marked out the locations of a few of the estates. She didn't have many options in the first place. Hidden Leaves was still a growing city, but homes inside of the walls were at somewhat of a premium, especially the further inside the city she looked. The outskirts had more options, but unfortunately, that meant that she would have to walk a long distance to work every day. But they were more spread out, with larger homes. Some even with some land attached.

She liked the area she was in. She really did. The river was very pretty, had a few walking parks near it, and honestly just had more nature around it. But there wasn't much land to buy, especially since most of it was already owned by shinobi clans, and if Hanako couldn't put up with an HOA then she definitely couldn't put up with having a clan for neighbors. Probably be all up in her business day in and day out. Shinobi were, at best, gossipy, nosy shits. With that in mind, she circled two more properties that were located close to where the Naka River fed into Hidden Leaves, closer to the walls, and northeast of the Nara lands.

The Nara were – well, chill was the only word she could think of to describe them. Mostly dark haired and dark eyed, the Nara Clan kept to themselves for the most part. Most of them moved in the characteristic way of someone who worked a night shift but was forced to be up in the daytime. Nara Emi, who had been one of Hanako's guards on her trip to Ashiya, embodied this. Hanako had noticed that the later it got into the evening, the more the woman came alive. By the time Hanako was yawning and ready to go to bed after a late night, Emi was just hitting her metaphorical stride.

Night owls, the lot of them.

But from what she understood, the Nara kept to themselves for the most part, respected boundaries in general, and didn't bother others who didn't bother them first. They wouldn't be bad neighbors. And, don't get her wrong, the Inuzuka were fine neighbors, she could just do without having to always hear dogs barking from across the river.

A few more properties circled in other parts of Hidden Leaves that Hanako felt she should look at, and she was ready for a daytrip. It looked like she was in for a good weekend.

.

.

The door frame sagged slightly. A few telltale signs here and there, a bowed wall, windows that didn't open and close properly. The foundation on the house was bad. A shame, too, because it was picture perfect. Traditional, right on the banks of the river, for goodness sakes, it even was accessible via a bridge across the river. There was a massive garden in the back that contained a beautiful water-pond, surrounded by large trees. The house itself was two stories with some six or seven rooms that could be converted into bedrooms, offices, or anything the new owner desired.

But it had fallen into some disrepair. The bridge was in need of repairs, and not just a fresh coat of paint. Some of the supporting struts had started to warp and rot, and it wouldn't be cheap to get them replaced, as well as the entire structure needed to be repaired with new sealer and paint. Not to even get into the structural repairs that the house itself needed. The house was also in need of an update of new electrical ran throughout as well as plumbing. It was beautiful, gorgeous. But a money-trap. She just didn't have the funds for such an extensive renovation.

Heavy hearted, Hanako crossed it off her list. This was the third place she had looked at. On to the next.

The next house that she looked at was smaller, but more expensive. The grounds were larger though. The place was a single-story house, spread out in the shape of a U with a courtyard in the center, and an entrance via a large wooden gate. The layout was very traditional, but the house was built from a mixture of stone and wood, with more modern architectural touches here and there. Hanako's favorite part of the place had to be the courtyard, which had several trees that were carefully trimmed growing inside it, providing ample shade, an area laid out to entertain guests, as well as a small pond in the middle. Hanako was noticing that water gardens were very popular in Hidden Leaves. Behind the house, the grounds expanded as well, with gardens out back as well, and even a shed for tool storage. The property grounds were bordered by high stone walls, dividing the land from the neighboring plots which were of similar size and layout, from what Hanako could tell by walking through the neighborhood.

It was a wonder to Hanako that it hadn't yet sold, but the realtor explained that it had only gone on the market that week, as the previous owner was a merchant who couldn't afford it anymore due to some money troubles. Looking at the place, she could tell why. The house was newer, and obviously many of the features, especially in the courtyard, were custom. The stone features appeared to be where there were renovations, and instead of using wood, stone was used instead, giving it a more modern appeal.

She barely had to tour the inside of the house, which had two studies, four guest bedrooms, two full bathrooms, and a master suite to decide to take it.

It was a pretty penny, she would admit, but Hanako was high on a confidence that she could expand her business enough to easily afford the additional cost now that she had more resources in the form of the word processor, and the rate that she was completing her work now. She could even take on additional clients now if she wanted to.

Looking over the financial documents, she decided she would have to. Hanako couldn't help but let out a girlish squeak of glee at the thought of owning her own place. Truly owning her own home, not a place that was provided, but somewhere she truly could call her own.

There were still items in the house that belonged to the previous owner – beds, chairs, desks, tables, and a few pieces of décor – but they had until the end of the month to move their belongings out, and after that whatever was left would become Hanako's. They had mostly been left for staging the house for potential buyers anyways.

With a flourish, Hanako signed the documents, finally acquiring a house for the first time in her life.

.

.

He shifted in the bed, rough fabric making a light rasping noise as he moved. The blanket was threadbare, the curtains were motheaten, and the carpet in the room was worn bald in places. But it was all clean. Barely a speck of dust was in the room.

He groaned and grabbed at his waist, as if that would make a difference. But the motion was comforting. He put his feet on the floor and forced himself to stand.

In the kitchen, an old woman stood hunched over the cookfire. She was too poor to afford an iron stove, so she worked instead at an open brick fireplace. She looked up when he made a scuffling noise from limping across the floor.

"Seryozha," she chastised in Frost dialect, quickly moving across the room to help him, "you shouldn't be out of bed." He tried to wave her off but in his weakened state even the old civilian woman was able to overpower him. Not that he really cared to overpower her. Dima was likely trudging around somewhere outside in his heavy boots, probably feeding their livestock.

Seryozha felt a little bad. He towered over the old couple. A difference in nutrition growing up had ensured that. They had taken him in, called the village doctor, fed, and even clothed him with their own clothes. All with no ulterior motives. Just that they found someone who needed help, and they helped him. He felt even worse when he saw how little food they ate compared to him. He ate as much as they both did put together, even in his weakened state. They were farmers, and while successful ones, but that didn't mean that they had the resources to spend on what it took to feed a recovering jounin.

He thought he was done for when he was gutted by the white chakra saber of the White Fang of the Leaf. The Leaf ANBU might have been wearing masks, but there was no mistaking that glowing white tanto, a signature of one of the most terrifying Leaf operators out there. He had been left for dead, bleeding out and dying and had barely had enough strength to pull his insides back from outside his body where they had spilled out and perform what little healing jutsu he could on his stomach so that he wouldn't die right then and there. He had been left to die a slow and painful death by the Leaf shinobi who had come to retrieve the businesswoman Totoro and his team had abducted. He was the only survivor of the massacre. Totoro had gathered up whatever supplies he could from the bodies of his former comrades and walked west as far as he could until collapsing from his wounds.

Dima had happened upon him on the road, bringing his wares home from the market. He had loaded up the shinobi onto his cart and turned right around, headed for the nearest doctor. Totoro had saved himself from his worst injuries, but the ensuing infection would have killed him outright.

There had been a moment where Totoro had hesitated. He had thought about making for the nearest outpost. He thought about raising the alarm, identifying the attackers, about being an honorable, loyal soldier. But looking at the burned-out wreckage of the outpost, the bodies lying around, so many of them gutted, bisected, and mutilated, he realized that he didn't have to go back. Totoro could leave. He didn't have to go back to the politics, to the standing on the knife's edge of weighing his every word to avoid being branded a traitor. He didn't have to worry every day about being put on a list of undesirables, of being the next to disappear and everyone would be too afraid of even mentioning his name for fear of being the next to go. He could go missing-nin.

Really, it was the perfect opportunity.

As a commanding officer, it would be likely that he was taken prisoner for interrogation by whomever had attacked. Or that his was one of the burned bodies in the wreckage. Not all of his team made it to the outpost, and their note that they sent didn't mention who didn't make it.

Hidden Snow didn't have the resources to launch a full investigation, and by the time any Hidden Cloud shinobi arrived to investigate, animals and nature would render much of the evidence contaminated. Assuming Hidden Snow even tried to preserve the scene, by the time they arrived, nature would have washed away any tracks.

Totoro could run to Iron Country, get his feet under himself. Maybe figure out what he wanted to do with his life for the first time, instead of what his commanding officer wanted him to do. As long as he kept his head down, he could find a forger who could create a new identity for him. Maybe even settle down.

Okay, so that last part was unlikely. But the idea still stood.

First, he had to recover, and then get as far the fuck away from the Frost – Lightning border as possible.

Totoro – Seryozha for now – settled down at the kitchen table, letting Vera fuss over him. It felt nice to be cared for by someone who didn't have an ulterior motive and a desire to put a knife in his kidneys. He drank tea and ate steamed buns filled with farmer's cheese while she prepared more bread.

Chickens clucked and pecked around outside, and a cat slept lazily in the sunlight on the windowsill of the kitchen. Vera made a half-hearted show of shooing it away, which the cat ignored, putting a paw up to block her hand as if she were only trying to pet it. From further away, Seryozha could hear the sounds of animals, goats and a few pigs if he trusted his ears, and the occasional snort and whinny of a horse. Drying herbs hung from the ceiling in clusters, a bunch here and there in various stages of preparation.

After a while Dima trudged in with a few freshly skinned rabbits that Vera immediately began chopping up to put in a stew.

Now that Seryozha was feeling better and more up to it, Dima began questioning him, asking who he was and what he was doing, how he was attacked.

Seryozha easily began spinning a tale of how he was a guard for a merchant caravan that had been attacked on its way from Land of Lightning to Hot Water Country when it had been attacked by bandits on the road. He spun a tale of how he was terrified for his life because it was his first job as a guard, and when he was wounded, he waited until the last of the bandits left before trying to get help. It was almost too easy, and Seryozha felt kind of bad for the deception with how easily the old couple believed him. It didn't take much talking for the shinobi to convince Dima that as soon as he was recovered, he needed to go back to his employer to let them know what had happened.

There was a pocket on the inside of his shirt that contained what remained of the mission allowance funds as well as what he had gathered from the corpses of his former comrades. Seryozha immediately decided that he would leave a good portion of it with the couple when he left. It wasn't much to him, but it would be at least a year's worth of income for them.

He wasn't a bad guy, he tried to convince himself. He just had to do some things he didn't want to sometimes.

Besides, he couldn't think of anyone who would be more deserving of the money. It certainly wasn't himself.

.

A/N: I was gonna let him die, but honestly I really liked Totoro's character and I couldn't just do him dirty like that. So he gets to live.