She finishes losing her match against Kakashi, which is galling. She knows the one hundred poems; both as they used to be and as they are now—subtly changed to fit this world better. This was Kakashi's first time playing. Does he have to be a prodigy at everything he does?
She sighs. Whether she won or lost, she now understands that she has her work cut out for her. It's not just that things look different up close; it's that her brain is doing some wonky stuff to compensate for the blank image it's getting from her blind eye.
For instance, if she doesn't pay attention, her vision centers itself despite not actually being centered. Thus, she bangs into things or reaches for something, only to find it centimeters to the other side.
Meanwhile, if she concentrates on her vision too much, the gaping darkness becomes more obvious and distracting. Sometimes she'll look at something that her right eye can see, but is located where her left and right visual fields formerly overlapped, and the darkness from her left eye will obscure it.
It's very frustrating. Her right eye is tired, her brain is tired, and her left eye is just dead reception.
Sensei has been watching her with his usual loaded curiosity. She approaches, crossing her hands behind her back. She doesn't trust herself not to reach out for his sleeve.
"Quite the welcoming party you have thrown yourself."
She makes a face. It's not a bad face. She's just not a party person.
"Rin organized it. Asuma funded it. Kakashi recruited Minato-san and now it's noisy."
Her sensei's dimples appear for a split second and are gone again. He wanted to laugh—laugh in a way that wasn't mean, was just laughter—but aborted the behavior on reflex. It's a little sad. Honōka thinks her sensei's laugh is nice.
He considers something—many things at once. He wants to say something to her but changes his mind. She gives him her best unimpressed not-glare.
Then he rests a cool hand on the top of head, and she's not sure if he's even aware he's doing it. He must be, though. Orochimaru is intense and swings between emotions so fast that she sometimes wonders if it's a sign of genius or one of mental instability, or maybe even both. He's also very deliberate in every action and scrutinizing of every reaction he elicits in those around him.
She determines he's allowing her the physical connection. Or possibly distracting her from puzzling out his exact thoughts. He snorts when she turns the not-glare on him again.
"Now is not the time, Honōka-kun."
She shrugs. She tried. He'll probably tell her later. He also might not. She settles for dragging him to the Koi-Koi tables.
"Honōka-kun, it is unwise to gamble with real money."
"It's okay—I always win."
Exasperated dread.
While Tsunade did clear her for discharge, she hasn't been cleared for missions or training. Something about recently ruptured eyes being easier to rupture again. She'll take her word for it.
Academy classes haven't let out for summer break yet, so her friends are unavailable for most of the day, and Sensei is busy with something—he won't say what. Kakashi and Minato left on a B-rank mission and that kind of irks her.
She knows Kakashi has been on B-ranks before, but whenever she tags along, Minato is determined to avoid them at all costs. He doesn't think she's ready, even though she and Kakashi are more or less equals with different skill sets. (Part of her wants to say they 'were' equals.)
She sits in on one of Tsunade's medical ninjutsu seminars. The other attendees give her skeptical looks, but she's sitting quietly with a notebook and pen ready, and Tsunade's seminars are free to attend. And there's also no such thing as parental guidance required in this world—not for genin, at least.
Tsunade acknowledges her with a there-then-gone nod and begins.
The lecture is dense in terminology that she's not familiar with. She expected that, though. Tomoe learned some biology in middle school, but evidently not enough to follow along. Honōka writes down every word and phrase she doesn't understand. She can ask Tsunade or her sensei for more detailed explanations later.
She absorbs what she can, and then the seminar is over. The attendees clear out and she organizes her notes. A calloused hand reaches across her paper, a pale finger stopping on an underlined word.
She doesn't jump. It's the washed-out-colors man sitting on her left. His presence is quiet and unassuming, but not silent. She didn't forget he was there. His feelings are just—they're just kind of fuzzy. They fade into the background.
"This refers to the mitochondria, and this refers to cellular division accelerated by stimulating the process with chakra." His voice is low, tempered. He speaks like he feels; faded.
She jots down his helpful parallels. He points to her next underlined word and explains that one too. Soon, they're the only two people left in the lecture hall—and they're only halfway through her notes.
Tsunade returns. She feels a bit… giddy.
"Ah, Tsunade-san, you're always thinking one step ahead of me."
Tsunade giggles, and Honōka wants to leave the room. But Tsunade is carrying a book. A thick leather tome, actually, but still a book. She can put up with a little of… whatever this is.
Then Tsunade abruptly snaps out of it, brows furling.
"Dan, don't be so rude. You're sitting in her blind spot."
Dan, the washed-out-colors man, feels chagrined and gets up to take the seat on her other side. He awkwardly pushes his bluish silver hair behind his ears.
"My apologies. I didn't realize."
"…" she's confused. "It's fine? You didn't know and I didn't say."
"Still, Dan should have realized he was making you uncomfortable."
She tilts her head at Tsunade.
"He wasn't though?"
Tsunade and Dan share a look. Is there some shinobi etiquette she's unaware of? Something she's being… blind to? Her lip spasms as she holds in her laughter.
"Alright, tell me if I'm being presumptuous, kid. Your left field of vision is operating at zero percent. You see nothing on that side at all. And, you're not getting all twitchy when someone hunkers down in your blind spot?"
She frowns. "Why would I be twitchy? It's the same if someone were sitting behind me?"
Tsunade palms her temple.
"Kid, most shinobi don't like that either. Especially if they've been through half the shit you've been through."
She shrugs. "Most shinobi don't experience things the way I do. Dan-san feels safe."
Dan rumbles out a short laugh and Tsunade blushes.
"Orochimaru said you're constantly using you sensor ability… you never take a break? Turn it off for a bit?"
"No."
"Have you tried?"
"Nope."
"Don't you think you should?"
"…"
"Honōka?"
"Maybe?"
Dan clears his throat, just a touch awkward. He suddenly wants to leave for something that feels important to him. It pierces through the fuzzy-ness with surprising clarity.
"Honōka-kun, was it?" Dan asks.
"Tsunemori Honōka-desu." She says. "Thank you for helping me with my notes, Dan-san."
He laughs, quietly. "It's Katō Dan, and it was no trouble, Honōka-kun. I must be off now… good seeing you, Tsunade-san."
He exits, and Tsunade stares after him for a long moment with near tangible longing.
"Tsunade-san, do you like Dan-san?"
She sputters.
"Why w-would you ask such a-a thing?!"
She gives Tsunade the look.
"Right… Was I that obvious?"
"Eh, Dan-san seems kind of… fuzzy. Like, he's here, but not? And the moment it turned three o'clock he suddenly had to go somewhere, super urgently."
Tsunade feels a pang of genuine sadness for Dan.
"His sister died last year. He looks after his niece now, and supports her all by himself."
"…" she considers the complicated feelings coming from Tsunade. "So, you like him, and you're sympathetic to the hardship he's going through. You know what he's going through, better than most, and you want to be there for him."
Tsunade opens and closes her mouth—oscillating between wanting to be indignant at Honōka for prying into her personal feelings and just being surprised that she got it in one.
"What's stopping you?" Honōka asks.
Tsunade collapses into a chair.
"I think I need a drink…" she mutters.
Honōka waits. Tsunade wants to talk to her—it's just she looks like a seven-year-old girl. Is a seven-year-old girl. Not exactly top notch confidant material.
"I'm five years older than Dan."
She snorts. The sound, the noise, almost startles Honōka herself.
"So what? My grandfather was ten years younger than my grandmother. He didn't love her any less for it."
Shocked surprise from Tsunade. She wasn't expecting Honōka to challenge her with a bit of personal history.
"You don't think it's weird… or that I'm robbing the cradle?"
"How old is Dan-san?"
"…twenty-six."
"So he's a grown adult who can make his own choices. Big deal… wait. You're thirty-one? Is Sensei your age? You guys are older than I thought—"
Tsunade-san bonks her on the head, gently.
"I am not old! I'm thirty until August second, you hear me, brat?!"