.
The sun is always above the horizon
if one knows where to look.
I lay my palm flat against the window and peered at the expansive metropolis that was Konoha.
The village was massive.
The population had to be somewhere nearing half a million people. There were dozens upon dozens of districts and neighbourhoods, all of which were connected through a labyrinth of streets that bustled with life and activity, a flurry of people ready to greet you each time you turned the corner. There was some amount of culture shock, I supposed, that could have been inflating my perception, stemming from how different Konoha was from anything I had ever experienced, but I also knew that I was gazing upon the largest single collection of people on the continent.
There was a reason so many people flocked from all corners of the world to visit the place, aside from the fact that, of all the ninja villages open to civilians, you were the least likely to get stabbed in Konoha.
I couldn't help but think that mama and papa would have liked it. Mama had always complained that Kiso was too plain and boring for her tastes—in good nature, I knew, but that didn't change the fact that I agreed with her. Though in my case, both of those things contributed to the innate serenity which I loved Kiso for.
A bitter taste tainted my mouth.
I let my hand fall down to my side, blinking, taking in one last look at the view before I wandered back down the hall.
.
.
"Lord Hokage," Maen said as he entered the office, giving the man behind the desk a low bow.
Hiruzen let out a sigh and shuffled around a few papers. "Maen—you're back early. I take it the mission did not go well?"
"The mission didn't actually occur as my clients were dead before I could get to them," Maen replied.
"Oh?"
"I believe they were killed by enemy ninja."
Hiruzen's expression hardened and his gaze dropped down to one of the papers on his desk. "I see. Would you happen to know anything about the intruder we have had on the perimeters of the village, then?"
Maen took the report offered to him. He scanned the sheet, his eyebrows receding into his hairline as he went. "Ah. There were two of them," he said. Hiruzen raised an eyebrow, expression not softening. "One of the perpetrators attacked while I was on my way back to the village. I killed him and buried the body if you want to send somebody to collect it at a later date."
Hiruzen nodded. "Be sure to include the rough location in your mission report, then." He reached over to the papers on his desk and tossed it in Maen's direction. "I received that report from Cat and Wolf about three minutes before you entered my office," Hiruzen said, motioning to it with his pipe. Maen took the hint and grabbed at it. He skimmed the pages, half listening and half reading. "It seems that their appearance scared the enemy ninja off, though they are uncertain whether or not the enemy remains in the forest. They claim he simply disappeared into thin air."
"It's the technique," Maen murmured, his eyes still on the page. "I thought it might be a genjutsu. I couldn't hear him or smell him, could barely see him or sense him—would have missed him entirely if I wasn't paying attention. I've never seen anything like it. I had a brief engagement with him before I… ah… became otherwise indisposed."
"Did your injury worsen?"
Maen scratched the back of his neck. "A little, but there was something else."
"Ah—so you are referring to the stray that you brought home, then?" Hiruzen asked.
Maen felt a rush of relief when he noted there was amusement in Hiruzen's eyes rather than annoyance. He didn't bother to question how Hiruzen knew about the girl—he had the best connections within the ninja rumour network, as one would expect from their hokage. He claimed it was to keep tabs on his soldiers, but Maen thought it was because Hiruzen was a sucker for good gossip.
"Yeah."
"Who is she?"
"The daughter of the clients. She's… traumatized. She didn't have much information on what happened to her parents, and when I told her I was bringing her back to Konoha she didn't try and stop me—I'm not sure she has any other family out there. Even if she does, though, I thought it safer for both of us to figure it out inside of the village walls, rather than out in the field while there were still enemy ninja on her trail."
The older man gave a slight shake of his head. "As I see the line of thought, and there is no actual procedure regarding a situation like this, I don't feel I can fully fault you for your actions," he said. "However, I hope you are prepared to take responsibility for your choice on this mission."
Maen bit back a sigh, having mentally prepared himself for whatever punishment was about to be doled out. "I am."
"Good." Hiruzen waved a hand behind him, and an ANBU operative materialized just behind him. Maen gave a nod to the man who returned the gesture. "Would you get Shikaku Nara for me, please? There is something I must discuss with him, tell him it is urgent. He should be in his office."
"Right away, Lord Hokage," the man in the gecko mask said.
There was a puff of smoke and the ninja was gone.
"You think this is urgent?" Maen asked.
"No," Hiruzen said, "but I would rather not wait ten minutes for him to get here in his own time."
.
.
I looked up from my hands when I heard slow, shuffling footsteps.
There was a man coming down the hallway. Something about him looked familiar, but I couldn't place it.
His hair was jet-black, pulled up into a ponytail, the tips of it sticking straight up in a fan of spikes at the back of his head. His lackadaisical posture mirrored the way Maen carried himself—slouched forward with his hands buried in his pockets. The resemblance was clear, leaving no question in my mind that the two of them were related.
That conclusion didn't scratch the mental itch, though. There was more to it than that.
As he moved past he gave me a sideways glance, something of a smirk sending his lips twitching upwards. His mouth drooped back down when I gave no outward reaction to him except a stare.
He paused for a second as if to say something but thought better of it and kept going. When he reached it he didn't bother to lift his hands out of his pockets to open the office door, instead pushing it open with his shoulder and stepping inside.
It was just me and an empty hallway once again.
.
.
The door swung open, followed by the distinctive footsteps that Maen recognized as his cousin's.
"Lord Hokage." Out of the corner of his eye, Maen saw as Shikaku bowed to Hiruzen.
"Shikaku," Hiruzen greeted, steepling his fingers together on his desk in front of him.
"Is there something I can do for you?"
"Perhaps."
At the vague answer, Shikaku tilted his head. "Does it have anything to do with the little kid in the hallway?"
"Indeed it does."
Shikaku let out a sigh. "Maen, what did you do?"
"Both of her parents died," Maen answered. "I couldn't just leave her."
"Of course you could have, you just didn't want to."
"You would have done the same."
"Probably."
Hiruzen cleared his throat and both men turned back to look at him. "Regardless," he said, giving them both an unimpressed look, "something must be done with the girl."
"Is there any reason she can't go to the orphanage?" Shikaku asked.
"There are currently unknown ninja forces who may be waiting to make a move towards her," Hiruzen said. "It would endanger every other child at the orphanage if we put her there before the threat has been cleared."
Shikaku spared his cousin another glance, one which promised there would be a lengthy discussion between them in the near future. "Why not post an ANBU watch on her?" he asked. "I doubt one ninja can get past the village walls and a competent ANBU guard."
"I intend to," Hiruzen said, his lips quirking into a smile. "Though not quite in the way you are imagining, I think."
At that, Maen slotted together the pieces. "You want me to watch her?"
"You brought her back," Hiruzen pointed out. "I believe it is only fair that you are the one to ensure that she is safe while a proper housing situation is worked out for her."
"Lord Hokage, with all due respect… that's not a very good idea."
"Why?" Shikaku asked. "You do just fine with Shikamaru."
"Who will sleep for the entire day if nobody bothers him for anything. Anybody could do just fine with Shikamaru."
Shikaku let out a snort. "I wouldn't let Yoshino hear you say that."
"You are also the only person in the village with whom she is familiar with," Hiruzen added. "As you said, she is traumatized. Having a face that she knows will make the adjustment less of a blow to her mental state."
"I'm still not sure—"
"I think it'll be good for you," Shikaku murmured, cutting him off.
Maen stiffened, lips turning down. Shikaku answered the look with a raised eyebrow and a one-shouldered shrug.
"So you have no opposition to her being in the clan compound for the next two weeks, Shikaku?" Hiruzen asked
"I suppose not," Shikaku said. He scratched his chin. "I mean, even if one of them does manage to get into the village, they'll hop the wall—then they'd have to make it through the compound's forest alive. Even then, it seems highly unlikely they'll do much aside from getting rid of the kid and then getting out again."
"Good." Hiruzen grabbed a sheet of paper and scribbled something on it, setting it aside near the corner of his desk when he finished. "I doubt that they will be stupid enough to try and harm the girl, as she is technically under the protection of the village for as long as she is within our walls. It is impossible to completely rule out the possibility, though, so this will be a B-rank mission for you Maen."
By that point, Maen was resigned to the fact that this was an order, not a request.
He expected to be pulled from the roster for a week or given a couple more C-ranks as punishment, perhaps even given a strike on his record. The idea of getting babysitting duty hadn't even occurred to him.
He supposed being paid for it was something of a consolation, not that he needed the extra money.
Maen sighed but didn't bother to raise another argument, and instead answered, "Understood, Lord Hokage."
"Give it two weeks," Hiruzen said. "By then, appropriate living arrangements will have been made, and the enemy ninja would have long departed. However, should one of them make an attempt, I would like for the ninja to be left alive and in a state which is suited to interrogation."
"Understood, Lord Hokage."
Hiruzen gave Maen a faint smile. "I expect a full written report from you in a few days, despite the fact that the mission was not technically completed—ensure that your encounter with the enemy ninja is as detailed as possible," he said. He tipped his head, the fabric of the hokage hat pooling over his shoulders. "And check in at the hospital before returning home. You will have two weeks added to your recovery period to account for this mission, do make use of it to heal properly this time around."
.
.
"It's not much, but it's only for a couple of weeks."
My gaze drifted around the room.
It was minimalistic; the bed was tucked into the corner of the room with plain white sheets stretched across the mattress and a single pillow fluffed up against the headboard, a nightstand beside it. Behind all of them was a window that stretched out along the wall, a couple of potted plants littered around its sill. The rest of the room—which was the vast majority of it—was barren of any furniture or personal touches.
I nodded, not bothered. "Yeah. Thanks."
"I can take you into the village tomorrow and get you some actual clothes, but it's starting to get late, so you'll have to make do with a shirt of mine for tonight."
"Okay."
"Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours," Maen said, moving back towards the door. "Bathroom's down the hall. I'll be in the living room dealing with mission stuff."
"Okay."
His eyes lingered on me and he paused in the doorway.
I didn't spare him another glance.
I wanted him to leave. I needed him to leave.
I shuffled over to the bed and sat down on it, turning my back to him to stare out the window instead. His gaze burned against the nape of my neck. I heard him mutter something indistinguishable and the door was opened, the soft click of the door falling shut behind him marking his departure.
Ears perked, I listened as his footsteps padded down the hall and away from the room. Once I was sure that he wasn't within earshot I collapsed in on myself, curling into a ball on top of the bedspread and letting the tears fall from my eyes. All of the stress, grief, and fear from the previous four days crashed down on me at once, tightening in my chest and clogging my throat, settling in my body with enough weight to smother me.
Sobs racked my body—vicious, angry sobs, that made my hands quiver and my breathing laboured. The tears seemed endless. Every time it felt like they were beginning to ebb away, images of mama and papa and Kiso would pop up in my mind and the anguish would wash back over me, pulling me in like a tide rolling out to sea.
These emotions had to be dealt with. The longer I let them fester, the larger the darkness would grow.
The situation I had been thrust into, the world I was being forced to inhabit, required me to have clear thoughts and that wasn't possible if I was consumed by my heartache. I lost my home, my family, and my future. They were gone and there was nothing I could do to get them back, there was no getting around that fact. The sooner I dealt with that reality the sooner I could work towards building something else for myself.
The universe knocked me down, but I would be damned if I let it keep me there.
.
.
Maen could hear her.
The walls of his apartment were thin, he always preferred it that way, but as a result, the sound of her crying seeped from his guest room and engulfed the otherwise silent living room.
His first instinct was to flip on the radio and drown it out. Some would call it apathetic to ignore her like that, but he thought pragmatic was a better word for it.
He felt for Kasumi, he did. He wanted to help, but there wasn't anything he could do except give her a couple of awkward pats on the head and a few useless words of pity, nothing that he thought Kasumi would appreciate.
It wasn't as if he hadn't already helped her. He saved her life and brought her back to Konoha; she was crying in his guest room, wearing one of his shirts. Hell, he was going to take her shopping tomorrow on his own dime.
With each minute that ticked by, though, the knot in his stomach grew tighter, coiling around his gut.
After half an hour Maen couldn't take it. He stood up and discarded the pages of his in-progress mission report, made his way into the kitchen, and flicked on the kettle.
.
.
The sound of somebody knocking at the bedroom door sent a jolt through my system.
I sat up, startled, and my hands clenched around the bed sheets. Any cries in my throat stayed there and died.
There was a sigh. A light clatter sounded in front of the door, followed by footsteps moving down the hallway.
As much as my body protested the movement, stiff from having spent so long in the same position, my curiosity got the better of me and I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I made my way to the door to pull it open and my eyes fell to the floor, where a steaming cup of tea sat abandoned.
I poked my head around the corner. I could see Maen sitting on his couch, cross-legged on the cushion with his eyes downcast.
The earthen scent of green tea, which carried a honeyed edge, wafted upwards.
The barest hints of a smile pulled at my lips. I bent down and picked up the cup, the warmth of the liquid seeping through the ceramic and sending tingles of comfort racing through me.
I looked down at the tea, over to the bed, and back down the hallway.
Maen's eyes shifted up to watch me as I entered the living room.
I settled down on his other couch, taking care to avoid stepping on any of the sheets of paper that were scattered around the floor. A single brow went up. I met his gaze for a moment, uncertain, and dropped it to stare at the green liquid.
"Thanks," I murmured.
He blinked. His chin dipped in a nod and he went back to his work.
.
.
He watched her out of the corner of his eye.
Her eyes were puffy, her cheeks were flushed a vibrant red, and when she had spoken her voice had been hoarse from crying, but some of the weight seemed to have lifted from her shoulders and her eyes had a spark of life in them.
The knot in his stomach eased, replaced by something lighter and comfortable.
He supposed there was a chance that he was more capable of helping Kasumi than he had thought.