The past ten years had been a life of glorified vagrancy.
Rin had been a leaf on the wind, rarely noticed and easily forgotten. Outside Konoha's walls, it hadn't mattered who she was or what she had been. If she was clan or some poor farmer laboring over someone else's dirt. She could make herself or unmake herself at a bat of an eye, a beggar one moment and a fishmonger in another.
She would never be one of the greats. She could never carry the title of Sannin or Toad Sage or even an epithet—'Copy Ninja'. She had to be what they could not. She was an unknown, a shadow beneath a shadow, the thing teachers reminded their students to be wary of.
Jiraiya liked to toss salt at her heels. But under the tepid, yellow lights of a place she used to call home, she was Rin. She stared at her mother who looked like her save for the eyes or rather, whom she looked like save for the eyes, and felt trapped. There was no body flicker or a tricked out shuriken to deliver her to safety. And she had walked into it willingly all by herself.
"Rin?"
Her mother's mouth fell open in a moue of surprise.
Belatedly, it occurred to her that she didn't know what her parents thought of her long absence. Their only child gone as soon as she turned fifteen. A girl, an adult in the eyes of the law, a woman of a marriageable age, gone and back. No news, no letters, no hawks, no messages, or at least none that could be read, just money, jars of rare spices, poisons preserved in spirits, furs and scented oils.
Money was not an indicator of life. For all they knew, she could have died on a top secret mission for the Hokage.
She wondered if they mourned for her, mourned the life she could have had if she had put her blades down and perished the thought. She couldn't imagine a world she had never gone to the Academy, never met Obito or the rest of Team Seven, Kushina, Homura, Jiraiya.
She cleared her throat.
"Yeah, it's me."
"But you're—"
Her great-grandmother was getting on her years, ninety if a day, a survivor of three shinobi wars that saw her family dead and drove her from the rivers of her childhood, slow-moving waters that brought corpses before bobbing fish, hair white like when the sun hit the peaks of Kumo.
She came barreling out of the house and threw a basin of dirty water over her head and would have thrown the basin as well if her mother hadn't caught her.
"Grandmother!" Her mother admonished, appalled.
A bean sprout dangled over Rin's left eye. She flicked it away. She watched as the old woman wailed and beat a fist on her bird-frail chest.
"Be gone demon!"
"Grandmother, it's Rin!"
"Ten years! Ten years and she decides to come back now!"
Rin began to laugh. Her great-grandmother was right. It was foolish. There was no guarantee that she was herself. Her great-grandmother thought she was a ghost, a ma, a demon that lurked in a bend which held water, waiting, watching.
It was a disquieting feeling.
Maybe Rin did not want to step back into this part of her life after all.
"What in the First's name is going on here?"
Her father too was older. Light bounced off the top of his head which was smooth and bare like a boiled egg.
And as Rin backed away, her mother grabbed her hands.
"Never you mind!" Ruko snapped and turned back to her, squeezing her fingers tight like she was afraid Rin might disappear if she let go. "Rin! Oh Rin. It's so good to see you—and you're so tall!" Her lips trembled. "The Hokage told us that you would be gone but he didn't tell us for how long!"
"Your teacher." Her great-grandmother croaked scornfully. "Lies like a child."
She owed Minato apologies.
"I brought gifts." Rin said.
"Oh you shouldn't have Rin, really, the money you sent was enough."
She shrugged it off. Money was useless when she had nowhere to spend. Money was hard to spend when she was pretending to be a pauper or when she was being hunted down like a dog.
Her great-grandmother stared at her. Rin stared back. She knew what she looked like. She was no longer the fair thirteen-year-old who aspired to be Tsunade's second coming. Her nose was burnt. Her hands were rough. Her heels were cracked. Her nails had come back in crooked. She looked more like a farmer than a shinobi. She would never be the seductress featured in Jiraiya's more risqué entries. She knew that. Somehow, she wanted her great-grandmother to understand that.
She chatted with her parents for a brief moment. Sat down like she belonged, as though she had intended to be there.
Her parents were semi-retired. They no longer worked entire days at their stall. They were planning on selling it to Tamae, their long-time helper.
"We were about to go on a vacation to Yugakure."
The closest thing Rin had to vacation was when she had to spend a week cramped in the swamps of Water, picking leeches off her legs. Until Rin, no one had been stupid enough to hide in the swamps.
"A woman your age." Her great-grandmother clucked.
Ignoring her, her mother asked, "Will you come by the market for lunch tomorrow?"
The question caught her unawares. The parents she knew worked from dawn to dusk, would have worked her from dawn to dusk had she not gone to the Academy. Her memories of her parents were of stooped backs and tired faces. She didn't remember if she had ever sat down with her parents for dinner.
"Alright." She said. "I will come."
+++++13+++++
It didn't take Rin long to find Jiraiya. Flush with cash, he was at the red-light district among the mid-tier courtesans, resplendent in silk cut short to flash their knees. It wouldn't be too long before the book proceeds ran out. Jiraiya would hit up every establishment, tumbling lower and lower until he had to squat behind a bathhouse for a peep show. Rin would have let him be but she was tired and cranky and wanted sleep.
The proprietor, a madam who couldn't have been more than a handful of years older than her, simpered in welcome, diamantine eyes cutting the bouncers to bone. The men shuffled awkwardly towards her, hands held up.
"Bring me Jiro." Rin demanded with as much sneer as she could pile on her expression. "I know that cheating whoreson is here."
"I beg your pardon?" The mandam fluttered her eyelashes. "I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name."
One of the bouncers grabbed her by the waist. She kicked and flailed and swiftly knocked the wind out of him, spurning his touch to march deeper into the building.
"Jiro!" Rin bellowed as she threw open the first door.
A man, a bit of extra weight and age around the belly, shrieked in surprise.
She moved onto the next room. "Jiro!"
The third door was surprisingly silent. Not empty for she could see candlelight filter through the flowery rice paper. She ripped the doors off their hinges and paused for effect. Jiraiya, even in his drunken stupor, collected wits about him enough to blanch to the color of his hair.
"R-r-r-r-an..." He stammered. "What are you doing here?"
"Where would I be but at my husband's side?" Rin replied, sickly sweet. "And where would I find my husband but in the arms of whores."
The said whores cleared out immediately.
As she threw Jiraiya's weight around her shoulders, the madam cleared her throat.
"There is of course, the matter of payment."
She gestured to the tables and the empty bottles stacked in the shape of Hokage's tower.
Rin smiled and put her foot through. Glass crackled satisfyingly under her heels.
"I think we're done here."
+++++13+++++
"Rin," Jiraiya whined, like a child because he was one. "I liked that place. Now I can never go back!"
"I saved your wallet." She snapped. "You still have tabs open from Iwa to Kumo."
"Lies and slander!" Jiraiya gasped, clutching his chest.
"Where are your keys?" And she stuck a hand in the little pocket he had around his waist, to the horror of spectators around them.
"Rin, no!" Jiraiya pleaded. "What will people say when they see me get a room with you?"
"That we are cheapskates." Rin said firmly. "Keys, now."
+++++13+++++
The next day, Rin woke up early. Early enough that she heard birdsong through the vestiges of sleep. She was disturbed. She quickly closed a hand around the talisman between her breasts, a small pouch that was supposed to guard her from evil spirits.
Nothing.
Not a single damned thing that could have woken her up.
She squinted out the window and estimated that it was almost six. She got up, yawned and stretched and kicked Jiraiya awake in the same smooth movement. Jiraiya started with a whimper, moaning that his liver was no longer what it used to be and she rolled her eyes, handing him a bottle anti-hangover tonic which he pried open with gusto.
"You're the best Rin." Jiraiya burped.
Satisfied that her mentor wouldn't expire from alcohol poisoning, Rin went to lunch with her parents.
+++++13+++++
Her parents were hardly working when she arrived.
"Rin!" Her mother looked up from organizing jars. "You're early!"
"The sun's up." Rin commented. "Hardly early for lunch."
"Rin," Her father said gently, looking up from where he had the morning's papers spread on his lap. "We haven't needed to eat lunch early for two years now."
Ruko wrung her hands.
"Oh we were planning on treating you to Shojin Ryori. You know, the new restaurant specializing in Iwa cuisine."
Rin bit back a wince. Iwa still raked up all sorts of ugly memories in her.
"What for?"
"Why, because you're back!" Ruko looked strained. "It is a blessing when children come home."
In the end, her father went next door to the grocer's and got bento boxes for all three of them.
Rin swiftly fileted her portion of mackerel. She had never thought of children before. War was no place for children and love was a fleeting thing. As far as she knew, children simply happened. People like her parents provided steady cannon fodder for the battles ahead. The real soldiers, saboteurs and heroes came from clans, the great clans that fought among themselves to establish dominance, slinking back when struck too hard, gloating when they drew blood. A pack of mercenaries gentled by blood and the daimyo's patronage.
She ate. The food was good. Food could be scarce on the front lines. It was always good to eat when she could. An extra inch of fat meant the difference between survival and death. She could always hide in the dunes of Suna, licking suiton off of her palms.
Rin scarcely noticed when her parents emptied their portions onto her tray.
"It is a blessing when a child comes home." Ruko repeated as though it was a thing she heard mentioned often. "We are proud of you Rin. Very proud."
Rin could not think of a single thing she had done that could have made her parents proud. She could have smiled easily and waved the comment off. But back in Konoha, after being away for ten years, the question burned a hole through her stomach.
"Why?"
Her parents looked at each other.
"You are a..." Ruko hesitated and said, "You are an accomplished ninja. You have made something of yourself."
"Oh." She said because she never. She never suspected that her parents could be proud of what she was. She didn't have a single yen to her name. Her wartime pension had been sent to her parents. Her parents were not fabulously wealthy. They traded goods. Goods did not keep. They were merchants. During the war, they turned a tidy profit. What she assumed was a fortune was the debt of protection.
She didn't tell them that if they had simply held on, in the cold days, in the quiet days, the days she had to make off with just the clothes on her back, before, when her team was alive, before Kakashi strayed and before Obito died, she might have stayed. Sometimes, she wished that they kept her. She wished that she had a place to call home. But she was now hardened. Home was a vague concept in her mind.
It was normal. She told herself. It was as though nothing had changed. As though she never left. But something had changed. She was older. Her parents were older. They looked frail. They ate late; they were talking about how they might close their stall for a week for a well-deserved vacation to the hot springs. She set her chopsticks down. She couldn't explain the pressure building in her chest. A stubborn whirlpool that bounced between her ribs and tugged at her heartstrings. She wanted to scale the Hokage Monument and scream.
Her parents were proud of her work—what a strange idea! They didn't even know what she did.
When she was finished, her mother quietly collected the trays.
Her father asked, "Will you come again?"
"Yes," Rin said. "I think I will."
+++++13+++++
After lunch, she dropped by her old haunts. The Academy where she saw students being let out for recess. The training grounds surrounded by trees with kunai marks up the trunk. The memorial stone with Obito's name etched in the middle.
No one by the name of Homura worked at the hospital anymore. And as she turned away from the reception desk, her fist went out towards the man who laid a hand on her shoulder. The man deflected her strike easily. Hit, parry, hit, parry, which meant a lack of imagination even for an Academy-trained peer. She brought up her other hand, a kunai between her fingers when the man blurted out,
"Nohara-san?"
She blinked.
"Do you recognize me?" The man asked, spreading his palms in a gesture of peace. "It's me, Oban."
"Oban?" The man was tall with a mop of coarse, dark hair. Rin was no shrinking violet herself. Soldiers always got fed first in wars. She had always been tall. She would always be taller than Obito but rumor had it that Hatake Kakashi was ten feet tall with fangs the size of steak knives. "I didn't recognize you. Look at you! You're so tall!"
"Haha, yeah!" The man released her and spun around. "I hit a growth spurt after seventeen."
A grin cut through her teeth. She tugged at his lab coat.
"And you're a doctor now!"
Oban threw his head back and laughed.
"I know right? My mom, she was really happy. Really happy. My team was really happy for me."
"Ahem." A nurse cleared her throat and Oban blushed, stepping aside as she pushed a patient forward in a wheelchair.
"Oh, sorry."
"I should let you get back to work, shouldn't I?"
Oban shook his head.
"I'm off the clock. Can I buy you lunch?"
+++++13+++++
Rin had already had lunch but she happily followed Oban to the cafeteria where they were serving wartime menu from ten years ago. Living on her own had unfortunately refined her tastes and she watched in fascination as Oban dug into a mountain of gruel.
She pushed her tray towards Oban.
They chatted for a bit and caught up on what each other had been up to for the past ten years.
"You know," Oban said suddenly. "You could come work at the hospital again."
"Don't you need Dr. Homura's permission first?"
Oban's smile dimmed.
Oh.
"What happened?" She demanded. "She's not..."
"No, no," Oban said quickly. "She uh, she got married."
"Come again?"
"Dr. Homura got married." Oban repeated. "To the Daimyo's favorite cousin I believe."
Rin frowned.
"Not a good news then."
"She had a lover in Suna." Oban signed and leaned back, giving up on the last spoonful. "The marriage with the Daimyo's cousin was arranged."
"Oh."
Rin remembered that it was like that sometimes with nobles and clans.
"She has a daughter now." Oban continued. "She's really cute." Almost apologetically, he added, "I think the Daimyo was hoping for a son."
"The Daimyo has a son." Rin said slowly.
"He does." Oban agreed. "And his younger brother has been out of favor for a while."
"Nature abhors vacuums."
Oban hummed.
"Perhaps it's better this way. A busy Daimyo is less likely to start... fights."
Rin made a face.
Oban smiled back at her. "Come visit again won't you?"
Her parents asked her the same. It was as though they expected her to stay. But denying Oban anything was kind of like kicking a puppy while it was down.
She nodded.
"I will."
+++++13+++++
"Ramen girl." Anko disparaged when they ran into each other at Ichiraku.
"I'm not the one with three bowls of Ramen." Rin observed.
Anko scowled.
"Rin."
Dust settled as Genma unfolded himself from a crouch.
"Rin, Rin, Rin," Anko muttered to herself. "Wait, Rin, Nohara Rin?"
Genma ignored Anko.
"The Hokage wants to see you."
