A month was all they had to prepare. For Shino and the other winners, in the very least.
Sakura drummed her fingers against her elbow for a few beats before she and Shino moved towards the hallway of the infirmary. Kurenai excused herself mere moments ago to attend the next briefing for the Hokage, but the slight nod and assuring smile she'd parted with meant they'd have a lot to talk about once they were all in the clear.
As they walked, Shino murmured faintly about the snake that hung around the balcony, eyeing the fights—picking out his next meal and conversing inaudibly with some black-haired lackey that wore a white shirt under his flak jacket and a faded yellow bandana looped around his neck. Looked a bit like an emperor penguin in that get up, he supposed, but whoever it was paid far too much attention to her fight as opposed to the rest.
Sakura narrowed her eyes. A snake and a penguin with nothing better to do; she shouldn't be surprised. Orochimaru and all those like him never settled. Were never satisfied. Insatiable.
"They'd left as soon as Hayate-san called the end of the last match," Shino confirmed softly. "Why? To avoid speculation is the most likely reason. My insects can no longer trace them."
They turned a corner. A handful of genin scattered this wing of the tower, all of them with a teammate or two set up in the five new rooms that had been converted to extra infirmary rooms. Weaving easily through the string of bodies in the hall, they slipped into the fourth exam room and approached the cot closest to the door.
Akamaru immediately lifted his head and swished his tail in greeting. It was the happiest they'd seen him in days, and he butted against both Sakura's and Shino's sides until they graced him with solid head pats.
Kiba grinned despite the bruise that was starting to form on his cheek, and Sakura flicked his nose for the trouble. "Please refrain from moving your face like that. Has a medic already taken a look at your injuries?"
"A buncha' bruises, hairline fracture in my right arm, nasal irritation from the pepper bomb," he listed with a pout. Shino's hand glowed faintly as he held it against his friend's face. "Nothin' too bad. I'll be good in like an hour or somethin'. What'd we miss?"
"Just Hayate-san's closing words and that the final line-up will be announced in the coming week," she replied. Beside her, Shino bent to take a closer look at the bandaged arm. Akamaru carefully padded up the sheets to watch. "Snake's gone since there's no more rats to feed on. Penguin went with him."
"Penguin?"
"Don't know what kind, though I've been told it's close enough to a reptile."
Kiba settled against his pillow, a thoughtful look crossing his face. As Sakura folded her arms and leaned against the wall behind her, she couldn't help the discomforting feeling that came with the end of the second part of the exams. Eight competitors were left: three from the same Suna team, four rookies from Konoha, and one Konoha genin that actually held a year of experience under his belt. One of Maito Gai's.
She expected more of a diverse group of finalists, but with the attendance of two jinchuuriki and several new generation clan children, she understood the general turn out. An Uchiha, a Hyuuga, a Nara—
She pushed herself off the wall and peered at the door. It meets her stare blankly, and does so for a spare handful of moments before she answers the questioning looks from her team.
"I'll be right back," she said. Just as she passed through the open door, she caught sight of Shino's mild shrug and Kiba throwing his hands up in exasperation.
Sakura appraised both ends of the hallway before deciding on left, then making another left, then a right until she was back at the entrance of the arena. Most of everyone had gone by now, even the Hokage and his subordinates, but there was a lone silhouette inside staring up at the ram steal statue with his hands in his pockets and a puppet hanging from his back.
"Your teammate's pretty decent. That Aburame? Never thought arms could blow themselves off like that," he mused. "I wonder if I'll get to fight him in the finals."
"If you're his opponent, I'm sure he'll be thrilled," she answered. His head tilted to the side before he rounds toward her, an accusing flare running through his eyes.
"Your fight, though? Gotta say was kinda lacking."
"You're probably not the only one to think that."
"And yet you found me here when I left a trace for you to sense, something none of the other genin picked up on. Strange how you weren't able to beat Yamanaka in the first thirty seconds, right?"
The corner of Sakura's lips lifted as she strode forward until they were about a foot apart. "Kankuro," she started. Her tone was calm and even, but worked opposite of reassuring as his slight teasing smirk dropped off. "Why am I here?"
Nervousness swelled as an oncoming tide and he looked down like his sandals suddenly needed all of his attention. His forehead creased and his teeth ground together minutely, and when he looked up again, a sliver of determination wound through his gaze.
"In a month, don't die, alright?" he warned. She raised a brow.
"What?"
"You gone deaf? Don't. Die," he repeated. Kankuro glanced over her shoulder, pressed his lips into a grim line, then refocused on Sakura. He expected her to be worried, even just a bit, but faint amusement made her mouth curl upwards even more as she tipped her head.
"I won't," she promised. Quietly, he exhaled through his nose and took a step back to start to catch up with his siblings before they could grow too suspicious of his whereabouts. But, a hand latched onto his arm quicker than he could anticipate and he was facing her again.
Sakura held her shoulders back as her spine straightened like those jackals he'd sometimes see around his village—eyes sharp, cold. Observing. In the smaller villages north of Suna, civilian populated, he remembered hearing of a god they worshiped; head of a jackal, body of a man; the protector of cemeteries, the dead; a judge before the afterlife.
Here as she stood, he thought she'd have no trouble taking the role.
Why the hell didn't she bring that Yamanaka to her knees?
"I don't like snakes," she said, and she knew. "Do you?"
Kankuro thought of his village. His father, his sister, his brother, his duty. How he would risk everything for them all, but he was risking the same for one person he'd met only weeks ago.
An enemy? A stranger?
A friend, a small part of him whispered.
And the last of his resolve crumbled. "No. I don't."
She let go of his arm and stepped back, that small smile resurfacing. "Then I'll see you around, Kankuro the Sightseer."
She disappeared.
"... Geez," he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his head. "Seriously, how did she not win that fight?"
::
Kurenai's fingers didn't stop tapping against her kitchen table until she sensed her kids at the door. In a second her hand was on the handle and the door was pulled back; Kiba's fist was up midway through a knock, Akamaru was nestled comfortably in Shino's hood as the latter had his hands tucked in his coat pockets, and Sakura leaned against the railing. Whole, almost physically unscathed.
She quickly ushered them into her kitchen. The oven timer ticked down softly as most of them shuffled into seats. While Kiba set up his seals (they were new ones, Kurenai noticed, and they look far more complicated than the last), no one spoke. Shino didn't lift his head from the salt shaker on the table and Sakura's eyes burned into his side.
When Kiba finally took his seat, the silence continued to persist. Kurenai tapped her fingers against her leg, wondering why she hadn't prepared tea for them to sip or or started on those brownies earlier so they would've been ready when they got here—
One of Shino's hands move, shaking as they plucked off his glasses and set it down on the table. At first she didn't see what the problem was, but the realization rushed her as soon as she could comprehend that empty socket where tens of his kikaichu had taken residency in. Then there was a hand on either side of his face, tilting him closer to the light.
A pair of red irises stilled, wide and rattled.
"Who..." The words died on her tongue. It took her a few seconds to try and revive them. "... Who did this to you?"
...
"Orochimaru."
The name was like the crack of a whip on her fear.
Ever so gently her arms fell back to her sides as she turned to who'd said it. Sakura, as calm and confident as she'd always been, had spoken with the coldness she could always embody so well.
The old Kurenai would have recoiled in shock and demanded a recounting of the event before immediately reporting to the Hokage.
But now she sunk back down into her seat, troubled.
"Why did he go after you?" she questioned, and it was an honest one. The answer could be anything when it came from the raving madman she'd heard tale upon tale about, and there was another stretch of silence before she received her answer.
"We don't know," Kiba said. He looked at his sensei, but not at her, and she knew it was a lie. But the hard line of Sakura's shoulders softened and Shino's hands stopped shaking, so she stayed quiet. It was one more question in a book that never seemed to end, and it was another mystery she wasn't sure she wanted to find the answer to.
Kurenai breathed in. Breathed out.
Then pushed forward with what she could help with rather than dawdling on something she couldn't.
She stood again. "When there are too many things to do and consider, it's always best to make a list. It keeps you organized, focused, and helps you prioritize." The junk drawer by the fridge held a few things she didn't already have a place for, but it had a pen she lost the cap to and a notepad whittled down to its last pages. She picked them up and turned. "It won't be much, but it's a start. What's the first thing we should write down?"
Relief flushed her veins when the air in the kitchen lightens into something more manageable as the smell of baking brownies slowly wafted in.
Kiba's arm shot up before one of his fingers pointed to his friend across the table. "We talked about gettin' him a new eye. Like, one of those glass ones. I know everyone can't tell what he looks like under his glasses, but there's still some that do." Akamaru barked, and he nodded vigorously. "Yeah! And it'd be hella cool ta' pop it out and scare someone!"
"An ocular prosthesis isn't a toy," Shino sighed, but he can't help but start to smile. "There are a few specialized clinics by the hospital and select individuals who work there that are quite adept at confidentiality. I'll set up an appointment later today."
"That you're totally gonna forget about."
Another sigh. "Shut up, Kiba."
Kurenai jotted it down.
1. Glass
"Next?"
"Find out more about Yakushi Kabuto." Sakura pressed her fingers to her lips as she stared her teacher, deep in consideration.
"The boy who quit?" Kurenai questioned. "Why does he need to be looked into?"
"Just a feeling," she shrugged. But her green eyes were so cold they were nearly frozen, so Kurenai tapped against the notepad twice before writing it down.
2. Mole?
"And training. For some of us," Kiba said, once more pointing at Shino. "'Cause if he doesn't kick the shit outta whoever then I'm gonna flip—"
"Apologies, am I the one who allowed myself to be pepper-bombed in the face?"
"HEY! You know damn well I lost 'cause I picked 'lose' outta the hat an—mmph!"
Sakura barely blinked as she reached to the side to grab Kiba's hood and yanked it over his face. She gestured for her teacher to continue, and Kurenai accepted it gracefully.
"I know I've built a stressing training regime over the five or so months I've been teaching, especially after learning some... less than fortunate... details about circumstances and such. The upside is that I've passed down much of my expertise down onto you all. The downside, however, is that there are very little techniques I can teach in the short span of a month," she admitted. "I'll do my best, but I'm no miracle worker. Shino, I'd like for you to find a balance between training with me, keeping up with your medical sessions, and start a sort of mentorship with another jounin in the village. I have a few in mind, but unless there are any proposals...?"
At the other end of the table, Kiba had an iron grip around Sakura's waist in attempt to suplex her while she held his neck hostage in an arm lock. Shino scratched Akamaru behind the ears.
"Tenzo-san, perhaps?" he asked. The suggestion sent a surprised jolt through her, but nonetheless thought it was a fantastic idea. When she'd last met with Tenzo he'd still been reluctant to meet her kids, always citing something along the lines of being too caught up in his duties to spend time with them, or saying they wouldn't want to get to know someone as boring as him.
(She assured him that he could never be boring. If he was, how could he explain all the times he'd made her smile?)
But now they'd already met and wanted to learn from him? That's more than she could have ever hoped for!
Though, when did they get the chance to meet?
"Tenzo-san is an exceptionally skilled shinobi. I'm sure he wouldn't mind teaching you, and eventually all of you once the exams are over," she said. There was a screech of wood and thud and Kiba was on the floor with his hands behind his back and a foot pinning down his shoulder.
"I would also consider Yamashiro Aoba," commented Sakura. "I met him when I first came to Konoha," she added in response to Kurenai's curious expression, "and he works in the Intelligence Division. I was planning on visiting him tomorrow."
"That's good. Very good, actually. I'll be sure to talk with him if he agrees." Sakura's resourcefulness never ceased to amaze, and she pondered the depth of how much she didn't know about her students. "And just because you two didn't pass doesn't mean I want you to stop your training for the month." Kiba snatched the edge of the table and hefted himself up with a pout. "Sakura, about finding someone to help you in kenjutsu—"
"I have someone in mind. I'll let you know if it goes well," she interrupted politely.
"—then that's fine. Kiba, it turns out your old sensei, Umino Iruka, is actually quite skilled in fuuinjutsu. Would it be too much trouble to reconnect with him?"
Something odd passed over his face. Maybe it was warmth or familiarity, and he didn't frown or scrunch up his nose like he just passed a broken sewage pipe. He simply shook his head no, and Akamaru did too.
3. Build
Kurenai hovered over the next line of the paper. Number 4, she wanted to write, Orochimaru. What are we going to do about him? What are we going to do to keep protecting you? Will he come back? What's he doing here? Why do you all have to be involved? Her fingers tightened around the pen. Why can't I keep you all safe?
But she wrote nothing. Said nothing about it.
Instead, she moved a pile of folders from her living room to the kitchen table. Her team stopped their shoving to pour all their interest into the huge stack.
"I'd also like you all to engage in some mental practice and acquaint yourself with some of Konoha's politics."
"You want us to... review Konoha's past grievances?" Shino asked as he took the top folder and opened it to a catalog. The Founding of Konoha, the Election of Four Noble Houses, the Shinobi Wars, the Creation of the Council, the Hyuuga Affair, the Uchiha Massacre...
Kurenai nodded. "I want the three of you to analyze each of these events and list different outcomes or what you might think would have been the best outcome, if you don't agree with the decisions made thus far," she explained. "This expands your political awareness and your reasoning abilities: personal right versus public right. Inspect each one, come up with scenarios, and let me know if you think the decisions made have accurately reflected the best outcome."
Moral and metaphorical situations always charged the brain to think in ways it hasn't before. She was sure they'd been victim to one such situation, so the exercise had been tailored to put them on the opposite end for once.
It was a risk having them doing this here. Now. Research had always gotten them in trouble they couldn't claw themselves out of, but it would be research that could save them in the future. They needed to know the ins and outs of Konoha politics because if they didn't, they'd become an even bigger victim in the name of the "greater good". And maybe they already were, but that was an even greater reason for them to know.
"We'll come back together whenever you feel like you've done all you can and I'll see what you've found," she continued. "But for tonight, take a break. Sleep in." Her eyes drooped. "Please, please rest up. I know how tired—"
The oven timer rang and she swallowed her words.
She forced a smile onto her face, what she'd been saying all but forgotten. "Brownies, anyone?"
::
It wasn't until the sky started to ripple a creeping blackness over the village does a man with the visage of a kind, burly fisherman named Kenta stepped out the front doors of a mildly popular inn. With a pack slung across his back and a water bottle dangling from his hip, he took his time lumbering towards the eastern gates. Hours ago he'd bumped into Inuzuka Tsume (unintentionally or not, he hadn't decided yet), thanked her for her and Kuromaru's company, and promised to keep a look out for them the next time work brought him back to the Leaf. And hours before that he'd taken one last look at his pup—her small smile, her bright hair, her green eyes that echoed with an unmistakable chill—and whispered one more goodbye.
He wouldn't be back for the finals. The precious time he spent here was reaching Leader's allowance point and he'd done all he could. Or, he'd done what he thought was best.
He sighed and grit his teeth. But what was best for who? Pup and her team almost died on his watch while Itachi's younger brother was saved from bearing a twisted seal.
"Leaving so soon?" a slick voice crooned. "I wouldn't think you'd go leaving little Pup-chan so... vulnerable."
Kisame could already feel a headache coming on. "Leader-sama giving me a month to do my business s'more than considerate. For him," he said. "And obviously somethin' fishy's goin' on here for her and the Inuzuka ta' throw their fights like that." A crinkle formed between his brow. "I don't like it, and of course I woulda stayed for them, but..." He turned and narrowed his eyes at the sannin leaning leisurely on a bench. No one was out and night had fully swamped the village. Konoha needed a desperate security upgrade, he thought, if two of the most notorious missing-nins could stand on the street in henge while the rest of the world spared no second thought. "You know somethin'. You always do. Pup's strong enough to fend for herself—"
"Ah, ah, ah," Orochimaru tutted as he waggled a finger in front of him. "The little darling might be far stronger than those other brats, but not stronger than everything. Everyone. Where would she be now if I didn't get her out of that sticky situation?"
Kisame bristled. "Why—"
He stilled that waggling finger and pressed it to his lips. "You don't want to wake up the whole street, now do you?" A mocking smile slithered onto his lips when the other takes a deep, angry breath and stood down. Fathers. What could you do with them? "Don't be like that, Ki-kun. I haven't been so thoroughly intrigued in a very, very long time. It wouldn't be very kind of me to rid of them the moment you're no longer here."
"What do you want?" the 'fisherman' asked bluntly. Orochimaru crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward.
"The Uchiha boy. Unfortunate, isn't it?" he hissed. But it quickly turned into something more smug. "Fortunately, Pup-chan's making this a little more worthwhile." He splayed his fingers over his knee, all spindly and well-manicured. "She asked something of me."
"She wouldn't," Kisame replied instantly, ever the champion of his little girl.
"Ah yes, and you would know her so well from all the time you've spent raising her, correct?" Orochimaru hummed. The flinch he received sent a wave of satisfaction through his bones, putting him a little more at ease, a little more in control. "Well, they looked so utterly hopeless, all disheveled and bruised like little mice and I poked some fun at them. No harm done, not really. But after what Pup-can said to me..." He mimed a small explosion with his hands and mouthed a small boom. "She positively shocked my expectations out the water. What sort of a kind soul would I be if I didn't listen?"
Kisame's retort rolled toward the peaks of his teeth—what sort of soul would you be if you really did turn out kind?—but he held his tongue. He knew Orochimaru, so he knew his unhealthy interest in Team Eight would keep them alive. He never killed the impressive ones.
He sighed. "If you do anythin' to them, I'll fuckin' kill you," he promised softly. Orochimaru laughed and stood in one fluid motion.
"Me? Harm those little mice?" His tongue flickered out to graze against his upturned lips. "Never."
It was the best he'd ever get from that man, so Kisame started his walk back to the eastern gates without another word. A last glance behind him granted him the view of an empty bench and an even emptier street.
But as he neared the edge of Konoha's walls—Sakura's new life—he thought about the next time he'd get to see her. Months? Ideally. Years? Realistically. What would she look like grown up? How strong would she be? Would she pick up kenjutsu one day?
Would... she ever know he was always proud of her?
As the moon glistened overhead and the wood of the gates finally grew clear, the burn at the back of his eyes pushed harder.
Fathers.
He wondered what it would be like to have been a good one.
::
Aoba was in the middle of slipping on his blue uniform shirt when he heard three decisive knocks on his door. He recognized the pattern almost instantly (over the years he'd heard it, he'd be disappointed if he didn't) and tugged down the hem as he approached the door and pulled it open.
"Good morning, Sakura!" he greeted, stepping aside to let the girl in and nodding at her returned Morning, Aoba-san. "I haven't seen you since I congratulated you for your Academy graduation."
"Sorry I couldn't stop by sooner."
"That's alright, I remember how busy training and missions kept me as a genin," he grinned. He glanced at the clock above the doorway to his kitchen. "Ah, you caught me just in time. Last time you walked me to work was what, a year ago?"
Sakura smiled a bit and leaned against the wall, not a single hair falling out of place in her tight bun. "Then your coworkers laughed because it was like a parent dropping off their kid at the Academy."
Aoba blushed. Yeah, that happened too, didn't it?
"Let me just put on the rest of my uniform and we can head out," he said. "Feel free to take whatever you'd like out of the fridge or pantry or—you know the drill. I won't be a minute."
He headed back to his room to put on his flak jacket and wrapped bandages around his shins.
If Yamashiro Aoba could describe his relationship with Sakura in one word, it would be... simple.
Ever since he helped her get enrolled into the Academy five years ago, they'd acquired something like a casual friendship. At first it started out with Hokage-sama's suggestions to check up on her and see how well she was acclimatizing to her new life, so sometimes he'd stop by the Academy after class, walk with her to get some snack or something, then walk her back to the orphanage or the library or the park where she'd sit all by herself and read.
After a while Hokage-sama's suggestions stopped, but they still kept up an occasional meeting. Every few weeks or month or so he'd drop by to see how Sakura was doing, if she was holding up well. And over that time he'd learned quite a few things about her.
Like when Kiba got her anmitsu for her eighth birthday, she liked it so much that it became her favorite dessert. Or that when she was ten she'd gotten detention for skipping out on class, but not for the cracked chalkboard she and Kiba may or may not have accidentally thrown a chair into and that the teachers had blamed it on bad maintenance. Or, there was that time when she was eleven when she gave him a horribly familiar orange book and told him to give it back to its owner after she'd unintentionally picked it off some stranger.
"How did you unintentionally pickpocket someone?!"
"Happens, I guess."
Eventually she stopped waiting to see him and started visiting on her own time. If he hadn't shown up at the Academy in a while, she'd drop by on an off day and walk him to work or they'd pass by each other on the street and ultimately get lunch.
As the years passed, he watched her change. She grew more confident, more calculating, more guarded, more cold.
But in the end, she was still the little girl he found huddled in an abandoned warehouse.
So maybe Sakura was a strange kid. Unconventional at best, off-putting at worst, but they were still sort-of-friends that kept up with the news and talked about nothing in particular.
When Aoba emerged with his flak jacket fastened and red-rimmed glasses fit securely on his face, Sakura had an orange in one hand and the other on the door knob.
"You good?"
"Yup. Let me put on my sandals and then we can head out."
Out on the street as they made their way towards the Intelligence building, Sakura carefully began to peel the skin of her orange. "Aoba-san, how involved are you with the Chuunin Exams?"
He quirked a brow. "How involved?" he repeated.
"As in, are you currently in any position that bars you from interacting with participants outside the exams, such as a proctor or an organizer?" she clarified.
"No," Aoba answered slowly. There was a strict rule in place that any chuunin or jounin directly involved in running the exams couldn't train or give detail of their work to any genin participant as a precaution to cheating. "I thought you didn't make it past the preliminaries? Wh-Which I'm sorry about, by the way. I'm positive you did your best."
She waved a hand. "Thanks. I might not have passed, but Aburame Shino did. My teammate."
His mind whirred around the surname as he went over the first things that came to mind. Noble clan, insect colony hosts, leader Shibi, heir Shino.
"And you'd like me to—"
"Train him, if you could. You have an interesting skill set that I think compliments him well," she said, still wholly focused on her orange. "Just to help him along for the month before finals. It's fine if you can't."
"It's not that I'm busy—it's—I—why me?"
"Why not?"
They stopped a few steps from the door to their destination. Sakura finally looked up from the fruit in her hands, the orange not appearing quite peeled in the slightest, and stared blankly at his worried face.
"You don't have to make your decision now. Here." She handed him the orange. "My team and I are going to be at the Aquatic Center most of Friday. I'll hear your answer then?"
Aoba took the orange, looked at it, then at her, and smiled at those green eyes he, in all these years, still never learned how to read. "I'll be there. Take care of yourself, Sakura."
"Always," she said, almost offended he implied otherwise. But her lips twitched as she waved and found a way to disappear between the few people that milled about their business.
Aoba sighed almost fondly and turned the orange around in his hands. The thing really is mostly unpeeled, but both his brows shoot up at the intricate shape made from the rind she did pluck off.
Hoshi. A star.
Really, what an odd kid.
::
Iruka stopped trying to juggle the heap of textbooks in his arms when he'd, by pure chance, turned his head a smidge to the right in the midst of his flailing and spied a small figure at a table among their own swamp of books. He saw the red triangles, then the gray jacket, and then the little white dog in the seat beside him.
"Inuzuka-san?"
All the textbooks crashed onto the floor, and he bit back a string of curses.
As he crouched to pick them all back up and maybe balance it like a decent shinobi, there was a nudge at his knee. The dog was there, a bit bigger than when he last saw him but not by too much, with one of the smaller texts in his jaw and his tail swishing side to side behind him. Iruka chuckled and took the book.
"Thank you, Akamaru-kun."
A good half of his books were picked up before he could reach for them. Iruka raised his head and Kiba was flashing one of his signature cheeky grins as he held the pile of texts like a trophy.
"You're kinda clumsy, huh, sensei?"
Iruka smiled and stood. "I have my moments. Hello again, Inuzuka-san." Kiba wrinkled his nose at being addressed as such, but said nothing. "What brings you to the library so early in the morning?"
"Akamaru an' I were just studyin'," he said. There was an open honesty in his wide eyes but, guiltily, Iruka found it hard to believe. Because Kiba studying? Those two words don't generally go in the same sentence unless the word 'isn't' stood between them. He frowned. Alright, maybe the assessment was a little harsh, but he had Kiba in his class for an entire six years and never once saw him willingly read through a book without Sakura having to shove his face in it.
So curiosity had the best of him.
"What kind of studying?" he asked. The boy brightened and jerked his head toward the table.
"Oh yeah! Kurenai-sensei said you were good at stuff like this. Can I ask you a question 'bout it?"
Iruka followed him, thoroughly intrigued. Once he was close enough to read the titles, he almost gaped at the advanced sealing guides and the biographies of both old and upcoming fuuinjutsu masters that laid in heaps around a long sheet of white butcher paper.
And on it were some of the most ridiculous seals he'd ever seen.
Not ridiculous as in done in a joking manner or completely wrong, but ridiculous in the fact that this seal work is so complicated and—and well done that Iruka found himself eagerly tracing each mark of every locking sequence and marveling at the carefully planted trap doors and switches in every brush stroke.
"So when I was layering the 53-67-59 on top of the 29-17-23, I was wondering if I could place a different odd numbered seal on those two layers to line them up with an additional lock," Kiba said, pointing to the cluster near the edge of the paper. "I know all prime seals are odd seals and not all odds are primes, but I think if I can join them together at the best angle margins and if I spiral them out just right, I'll have an even numbered ratio that doesn't directly apply itself to the odd numbered seals so it doesn't lead to a collapsing effect, leaving me with a cool new seal that'll have everyone else take weeks tryna figure out how I even managed to fold the layers."
Iruka almost dropped his books again as his jaw unhinged. Kiba didn't notice. Or if he did, he pretended otherwise.
"Like, I know Hamamoto Daisuke couldn't figure out the power distinction between illustrious and numbered seals seventy years ago, but why find out the difference when you can put 'em together, right?" He looked over his shoulder, eyes gleaming with excitement. "So whaddya think, sensei? Do you think the addition stage can work?"
Iruka could barely make his own mouth work after seeing such a beautifully entwined seal. He stared for a few, long moments as he digested everything his old student just told him. Well, if they were going to talk pre-Okabe era theory...
He set his pile of books down with a quiet thud. "Have you looked over the different facets for the 53-67-59 and the 29-17-23? If your original layout doesn't fit, you should make spares with the different facet pairings. Otherwise, I think you should finish inking, link the sequences, and try it out." Black eyes roved over the clean lines once more. "Um, what is this seal for? Exactly? It kinda looks like an inducement..."
"Yup. It's supposed ta' force a chakra point lock down. Shino helped me outline a typical human body's chakra points within the line distinctions so it actually activates when in contact with foreign chakra."
"Incredible," the chuunin whispered. "This—This is amazing, Inuzuka-san. It's some of the most brilliant seal work I've ever seen." Iruka finally managed to tear his eyes away to meet Kiba's suddenly bashful smile.
The guilt shot through him like multiple stabs to the chest.
Mere minutes ago he'd been downplaying Kiba's intelligence with the horrible misjudgement of the past five years. Because honestly, no one should have been able to come up with such a sophisticated array while being fresh out the Academy. Here, the boy had proved his critical thinking skills, comprehension, and overall intelligence to astounding levels.
And what did he think before all of this came to light? That this boy had been nothing but a troublemaker?
His gut clenched. For six whole years, Kiba had been put through detention after detention for poor course work and unverified absences. He'd thought of him nothing more than a slacker; a problem student. He even had such dismal grades that—
No, the grades shouldn't have mattered. His treatment of his students should have never fallen onto how well they were doing in his class.
He should've helped him when he was falling behind.
But he didn't.
"Uh, sensei?"
Iruka snapped himself out of his trance at the sudden nervous tone and forced a smile onto his face. "Yes, Inuzuka-san?"
"Uh, I don't wanna be weird or anything, but, uh…" Kiba scratched the back of his head as Akamaru rammed into his shin. "Ow! Okay, okay, damn, uh… sensei." The elder nodded encouragingly. "Can you train me?
Iruka's brain stuttered to a screeching halt. "Tr-Train you?"
"Kurenai-sensei said you were really good at seals and I still got a lot to learn." Iruka's disbelieving gaze flickered to the masterpiece on the table to Kiba's downcast eyes. "I mean, I know you're really busy being an Academy teacher and stuff, so don't sweat it if you can't. Like for real." He suddenly shook his head and turns back to his seal. "Uh—forget what I said, sensei."
"Inuzu—"
"Nah, it's cool. I shouldn't've asked."
"Inu—"
"And like, I seri—"
"Kiba."
Kiba quickly shut his mouth and blinked up. "Yeah?"
"Starting next week, I'll be up in my office after 4 o'clock every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. Tuesdays and Fridays are a little harder since they're my grading days, but if I can find an opening I can let you know," Iruka said. He looked at the books still in Kiba's hands, then the ones he just set on the table. "Ah… but even though it's Tuesday, d-do you think you could help me bring these up?"
The boy absolutely lit up. "Yeah!"
A sharp SHH! rang through the library and he quickly ducked into his shoulders as his grin turned sheepish. With one hand under his teacher's books, the other rolled his scratch paper into a neat coil. Akamaru bounded onto the table to stretch a rubber hand over it before nosing the rest of the books shut and pulling them together in a straight line.
Iruka watched, amazed, as Kiba pulled out a small scroll, unraveled it upside down over all his things, and curled his fingers in a single handed dog seal. The books disappeared as well as the stray brush and the stoppered inkwells, and Iruka glimpses a fresh set of lines when Akamaru re-rolls the scrolls and holds it between his teeth like a bone.
"Ready, sensei!" he exclaimed, albeit at a level far lower than he knows the genin was capable of.
They left the library in a flurry of Inuzuka's chatter and Akamaru's enthusiastic tail wags, but all Iruka could do was smile and think of one thing.
How could I have gone as far as to let down Kiba too?
::
Kotetsu had to give himself credit. He didn't even scream.
Izumo, on the other hand, had been leaning his chair back on two legs when it happened, shrieked, and fell over in what must've been the funniest puddle of chuunin he'd seen all day.
But he didn't laugh. Because his heart was still pounding a mile a minute and he had to focus on not ripping the papers in his hands.
Plus it would've been super uncool.
No-surname Sakura from Unlucky Eight appeared out of nowhere with her hands planted on their desk and a blank face Kotetsu was slowly starting to become familiar with since her team had caught his interest during the exams. Well, maybe his curiosity first came from their bizarre track record of bottom-of-the-barrel missions that he reviewed and stamped for clearance, but seriously, how could he not notice? When he signed them back into the village after those, they'd be caked in blood, sweat, and dirt and had expressions bleak and like it was carved in stone.
On about their fifth D-rank he read that they'd been assigned to dig graves for an incident that happened about a two hours journey southwest. Nine hours they'd spent with shovels in their hands until thirty-three neat, identical holes had been dug up for thirty-three neat, identical caskets.
A virulent strain that attacked weak immune systems ravaged a cluster of civilian towns before a team of Konoha medics had come to end it.
Thirty-three children had died because of that.
Why did a team of genin have to bury them?
Kotetsu had expressed his disdain of their missions once to Izumo, about how karma must've hated them to the point that they were getting miserable mission after miserable mission, but he'd gotten waved off with a comment that he was paranoid and that everything was just a freakish coincidence, 'cause things like that tend to happen to shinobi.
And it did. So he tried to forget about it.
Until that ambush. Then the written exams. Then the Forest of Death.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pry off the discomfort that settled in his sternum after he burned away all their evidence of them being anything other than a typical genin team.
He worried and wondered and wallowed in his musings.
And he didn't tell Izumo.
"Good morning Hagane-san, Kamizuki-san," she greeted. "I hope I'm not bothering you."
He shrugged and offered up a wide smile. "Not even a bit, Sakura-san." At his side, Izumo righted his chair and dropped himself back down into it. "Guarding posts at the gate are mostly nothin' but nothin'." His partner snorted. "What brings you all the way out here? Need to get stamped to leave the village? Taking a walk just to listen to the birds?"
"I was looking for you, Hagane-san," she said. He blinked in surprise, and so did Izumo, but she ignored both their reactions. "Is there a time we could talk? I'll take ten minutes at most."
Kotetsu tilted his head as he looked at her, as in, really looked at her. Her back wasn't straight enough to be tense or uptight, but her top half was pulled back enough to command a sort of quiet, grounded presence. It helped that her hair was so bright and that she was taller than most of her yearmates, but if she was so noticeable—
He paused. He hadn't noticed her or her team during his and Izumo's trick before the exams started, nor had he seen them in the crowds before they approached him for their seat numbers.
Huh.
He quickly swiveled to the side with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could muster. He didn't say anything, mostly because he didn't have to and he knew Izumo could only resist for about three seconds before he caved. Which he did.
"Fine," Izumo groaned. "Fine!" He pointed to his partner. "Six minutes. That's all you get." Then he pointed to Sakura who stared as his finger in faint amusement. "He can leave his post for six minutes. Any more than that I and will kick his ass. Got it?"
Kotetsu sputtered and she crossed her arms. "Six minutes, Kamizuki-san," she agreed. "After you, Hagane-san."
He leapt over the desk without hesitation, much to Izumo's dismay, and sent a cheeky smile over his shoulder as he lead the genin over to a nearby vending machine. She followed with silent steps and only started to speak once Izumo was completely out of ear shot.
"I heard you're adept at fighting with weapons," she said. "Things like bo staffs, maces."
"Sure, I've got my specialties," he replied. Kotetsu flipped open one of the pockets of his flak jacket and dug around for a few coins. "What kind are you interested in, kid?"
"Kusari-fundo and swords of the o-wakizashi and katana variation—maybe the odachi too, if it isn't too much trouble. The former is a recent pursuit, the latter I've been wanting to get past the basics."
He nodded along as he counted the jumble in his hands. "That's fair. So you need me to look for a sensei for you? I know a couple good jounin that'll be willing to help you out." A few ryo short, that sucked, but the waters were cheaper than the coffees, so maybe he could do those instead. But his face must've said enough when a couple more coins are dropped into his hands. "Huh. Thanks."
"Hm," Sakura replied. "But I'm not looking for another jounin sensei. I approached you, so I'm asking you."
"Right," he said. Kotetsu started to push each coin into the machine slot, and the third one misses its mark completely once he digested her words. A smaller hand caught the fallen coin between two fingers and placed it back in his palm. "You want me to teach you? A chuunin? Uh, hate to break it to you, kid, but I'm pretty sure you got way better options out there."
"I did look at the other options. I chose you."
Pretending to be more focused on pressing the rest of the ryo into the machine, he let his mind wander. She wanted him as a teacher? No way. He was good at exactly three things: making people laugh, being with Izumo, and doing what he was told—nothing in that list mentioned teaching a genin that was definitely more intimidating than she let on and was absolutely going to be taller than him in a few months.
"Three minutes and thirty seven seconds until Kamizuki-san wants you back at your post," she said.
"You're counting?"
"If you're not, I suppose you're lucky that I am."
He almost shook his head as three drinks plopped down to the bottom of the vending machine. The canned coffees were warm to the touch and he tosses one to Sakura, who caught it without looking away from him.
He frowned. "You sure I'm your best bet?"
"I wouldn't be asking otherwise, Hagane-san."
When he looked at her, he saw the grave-digging mission. The dirt that smeared her hair brown. The blood she spat out on a particularly rough mission where she took the hit for a civilian too rooted in fear to move out the way. The limp the Inuzuka got after chasing a drug-dealer sixty-five kilometers across the country. The broken collarbone the Aburame suffered from a gang leader with a crowbar.
Maybe he hadn't seen all of those times, but he read about them. He'd read every single one of Unlucky Eight's mission reports.
And he didn't want to be one those people that saw something wrong and ignored it.
"... Okay," he agreed. "I'll teach you." He jabbed a finger her way. "But if I do a shitty job, you totally asked for it."
He was almost sure she wanted to laugh at that, but she spared a passing glance at the finger before meeting his eyes.
"Don't worry too much about it," Sakura said. Her lips finally quirked up, but the reason sent him flying back towards his post. "Thirty-six seconds. Is Kamizuki-san scary when he's mad?"
::
Sakura was walking towards one of Konoha's outer training grounds by the time the sun sat low in the sky. A few of Shino's kikaichu nestled themselves in the collar of her shirt (as a precaution, he said, because the best time for anyone to strike was during one of their questionable errands) and there was no point in arguing that. He and Kiba were back at her apartment making dinner and would probably stay another night before heading back to their homes in the morning. Shino wanted more time to adjust to his prosthetic and Kiba wanted to sleep one more night without his mom breathing down his neck and having to ignore his sister's worried glances.
She didn't mind.
A swarm of birds cried overhead and she stopped in her tracks.
Hostility slammed into every square inch of her skin, thickening the air until it curdled and wrapping around her throat tighter and tighter with every breath.
Eyes wild, she rushed up into the treeline and towards the source.
What was that?
All she wanted to do was follow up on the tip that another one of the sannin had come back to the village—Jiraiya, the Toad Sage. Having two of the three sannin in the same village at the same time can't be another coincidence, she knows, because they'd all split off years ago more than likely prompted by Orochimaru's defection. But if he'd known about Orochimaru returning, how did he come about the information?
Sakura stopped on a branch overlooking the clearing where she'd felt the strongest negative pull.
Jiraiya was there.
Both his hands were up in a placating manner as he tried to calm down the mass of orange chakra that oozed malevolence in front of him. The more she stared, the more she could make out the blue sandals, the red swirl, the blonde hair spiked longer with thrumming chakra.
So, is this what the jinchuuriki can be capable of?
Before she could turn back towards the village, before she could move a hair's width to the side, before she could even think of the direction to move her body—
Two red eyes were centimeters away.
And her shirt dampened with blood.