The Forgotten

"I didn't want to start a war without end. I certainly never imagined I'd stand at the center of that cyclone, flanked only by those whose loyalty had never wavered, and be utterly powerless to stop what I unleashed. Through violence, I 'solved' one problem, but sowed the seeds for another. I should have realized that in my moments of weakness.

Weakness pulls at me from across the void, ghostly arms reaching out for love or wrath, their spindly fingers tearing at my skin. But - this is not over. Not yet. But if I should perish, let those who write the history books remember: I meant well. And I am truly sorry."

Chapter 3 - Ghosts

I'd finally arranged to leave the hospital just shy of a week after I'd been brought in. My wounds hadn't recovered fully, but I could live with muscle pains and exhaustion if it meant mobility, and the medical-nin didn't even protest my release. Taji, whom I now knew to be a member of ANBU, probably wanted to get back to something that wasn't civilian guard duty. Still, she gave me a bit of a boost just before I departed - a fraction of a pill that shinobi used to get their energy back.

After days at her mercy, I hardly had a reason to suspect she might poison me, and I think she was surprised that no protest was forthcoming. Whatever it was, that 'medicine' banished the weakness out of my limbs, and the tremors in my hands faded like they'd never been there.

Drugs were a hell of a thing.

Even now, hours after I'd walked on my own power out of those doors, I was still coasting on that energy, taking advantage of what was surely a brief reprieve from exhaustion. Even my wounds didn't really hurt, not as much as they should have.

Still, scars crisscrossed my arms and legs, and went rather deeper than I'd expected - in some spots, It seemed like I'd been run through from front to back. The biggest of all was directly under my left arm, an ugly mess of layered tissue that was tough as leather, and just as inflexible. It was the only place I still wore bandages, since opening it up could be bad while it was still healing.

It was funny, really, that before the attack, I had looked like any pasty-skinned civilian, barely noticeable in a crowd. Now I was as pockmarked as any shinobi, probably more than most. It was like the moment I had set a foot into the shinobi world, a tentative step, it had snatched me up and claimed me as its own. The world had already left its marks. I'd have to get used to wearing long sleeves the whole year round, or half the civilians in my neighborhood would be put on edge. As far as they were concerned, I'd been tainted.

Perhaps it was that uneasy feeling which prevented me from heading back home straight away. It seemed like that place would come with a lot of trouble. So I found myself wandering the shinobi-laden streets of inner Konoha, unsure if the chill on my skin was from lingering weakness, or my own instinctual awareness of frailty. Still, when shinobi did look at me, and met my gaze, most of them turned out to be inquisitive, curious - very few were openly hateful. There was familiar steel there, of course, but...

Something had changed, and it wasn't the shinobi. Following in Sakumo's wake, I'd been indecisive and twitchy in this place - but now I had a mission, and fear wouldn't stand in my way. Just as I had stood up to my attacker, knowing his power and my likely forthcoming death, I kept my eyes straight ahead. Perhaps those too, now held steel.

I heard the sound of slouching feet behind me, and paradoxically, I relaxed a little. Shinobi wouldn't be heard unless they wanted to, certainly not by me, which meant this person was intentionally making me aware of him, probably in an effort not to startle me. White came instantly to mind, a flash of cold metal mercilessly slamming through a man's neck.

"Sakumo-san," I said lightly, a small smile curling around the corners of my mouth before I glanced over my shoulder. "This is payback for my own stalking, isn't it? Won't you join me?"

The silver-haired shinobi appeared next to me in an instant, his hands in his pockets and his eyes downcast, just like last time. "Jiron-san," he said mildly, nodding in recognition. "It's good to see you on your feet. You look - better."

I snorted in derision as he glanced down at my bandages. "We both know I look like crap. There's a good excuse for it, though." I put a finger to my chin, mocking deep thought for a moment. "Let's say - someone mistook me for a training post the other day. It's easy to do that with someone who is so pencil-thin, you know… How's that sound?"

Sakumo smiled for an instant, then sighed. "Your sense of humor still needs work. Guess that's on the mend, too, though."

"I did get hit in the head," I replied dryly, and frowned. "Look at us, huh? Two very nearly dead men, walking another day. The Shinigami remains hungry for a bit longer."

"No. He got his fill already," Sakumo observed.

I shrugged at that, thinking about my attacker with a frown. "Eh, I doubt he likes the taste of traitors. Anyway, don't want to make things all gloomy by talking about that guy…"

Neither of us said anything for a while after that, not until we reached the center of town. The silence wasn't tense, however, and the presence of a familiar face allowed me some calm even among so many strangers. As I stopped glancing around out of paranoia, fewer and fewer people seemed to pay any attention to me at all. Blending in wasn't that hard.

It was only a few moments later that I realized this was weird, since Sakumo of all people was walking next to me. When the hell had people forgotten about him, or his issues?

"Eh…?" I blurted intelligently as my gaze switched between my companion and the street.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a Genjutsu," the Hatake said pensively. "It's an illusion that I placed on myself a few blocks back. Given what happened due to our last meeting, I'd rather avoid further… trouble." He ran a hand through his hair. "That, and the Hokage insisted on it."

"I guess most people are willfully ignoring you," I mused after a moment. "The Genjutsu can't be strong enough to affect everyone, unless you got an Uchiha to cast it. Hell, I can see through it… But - it gives the people who don't really hate you a way out, doesn't it?"

"That is quite a cynical way of looking at things," Sakumo said after a moment. He smiled sheepishly. "And yet - it's also true."

I nodded, frowning. "There's something - we need to address. This particular meeting, for one." I raised an eyebrow. "You didn't come to me of your own free will, did you? I gathered as much from the Hokage's words when he visited me."

"...He told you that?" Sakumo asked after a moment, scratching his chin awkwardly. "My, he must like you."

"Well, I did memorize his speeches, you know," I reminded him with a small grin. "He told me he'd make sure you visited after my release from the hospital, and here you are. Of course, having nothing to do in the hospital but wait until my wounds healed up, I got to thinking. Why would the Hokage assume he'd need to step in and convince you?"

The Hatake's shoulders slumped. "Ah."

"Yes. It was possible, of course, that you were afraid to lure in even more insane people who might want to hurt me," I noted dryly. "I doubt someone of your caliber would have trouble sneaking into the shop, though. Another possibility - and the likelier - is that you thought I wouldn't want to see you. That you imagined I'd hold you responsible."

"I am hardly blameless," the Jōnin replied blandly. "The assassin went after you specifically because of our little conversation - one that I allowed out of foolish curiosity. Had I simply escaped from you the moment I noticed your interest, none of this would have happened."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't patronize me, please. There was more than curiosity at work, there. You suspected me from the beginning, I'm sure." The Hokage's words had revealed that much, and though Sakumo's expression didn't change, I hardly needed the confirmation. "I can see why you'd doubt my motives. Civilians make for pretty good spies, as you shinobi tend to underestimate us, and here I was, approaching one of the village's legends..."

Sakumo shook his head. "I retracted that suspicion very swiftly. It was - short-sighted of me to be so paranoid. Given my disgrace, I assumed you might have been an agent sent to explore my potential for betraying Konoha." He frowned darkly. "You would not have been the first."

"Right." I nodded, wondering how many other people had set foot inside the Hatake household, only to be struck down the instant that their treachery became clear. "I guess I was the first that came at you from the other angle, huh?"

"...Yes."

"Lucky me," I muttered, gesturing at my scars. "These are the signs of my own short-sightedness, then. I went to your door of my own volition, and didn't think enough about the consequences. Blaming you would be as silly as blaming Han because he let me sleep in the house where the attack happened. Don't worry about it."

Sakumo shrugged. "An admirable perspective. Guilt and blame are so much easier than forgiveness." He stared ahead, smiling thinly. "I can understand why you sought me out, if that is really how you look at things. Suffocating guilt and self-loathing must be like a poisonous miasma to you - a reaction was inevitable."

"Nah, I didn't think about it that deeply," I admitted ruefully. "Seemed like I could help someone out, and that was all."

"Perhaps that is even better," Sakumo murmured. "Who is more righteous? He who does good for the sake of his well-considered ideals, or he who does good simply because it is in their nature? Regardless of your motives, in approaching me or forgiving me, thank you."

"And I ought to thank you," I answered dryly. "You did save my life. You know, on these days I curse the fact that reading a lot of books isn't particularly helpful in improving observational skills. Even if I did look straight through you." I rubbed my shoulder, smirking. "My dodging could use some work, at least."

"It seems we are even," Sakumo mused with a crooked grin.

I stared at him for a long moment. "I never considered it a debt, you know." I paused as a thought came to me. "...How did you find me in time? Who tipped you off?"

"The Chūnin that assaulted you was - sloppy," Sakumo said slowly, running a hand through his silver mane. "He attacked under cover of night, true, but he still broke a window to enter, and used a considerable amount of chakra. That negated much of his advantage. There was a Genin in the area who was working late as punishment, and he contacted the military police when he spotted the broken window. I was in their barracks at the time of the incident."

"So there's more night-owls than just me," I noted wryly. "You were with the Uchiha?"

"Yeah. Because of something - related to my son," Sakumo agreed. "The military police have several sensor-type ninja among their ranks, and one of them pinpointed the location of the Genin in question for me. Needless to say, the address was familiar." He grimaced. "I am a lot faster than most of the police members, so I was the first to arrive."

"Right. And you killed the bastard before anyone else managed to catch up," I observed. "I saw that part, before I blacked out. Guess that's why you ended up in jail?"

Sakumo nodded wearily. "It was only a few days and Kakashi can take care of himself, so it wasn't that big of a deal. The Uchiha kept me well-fed, and it was not like my reputation could sink much lower. It didn't really bother me."

"What a sunny personality you have," I muttered wryly. "So, that Genin and the police were involved in my rescue too - I ought to go by and thank them at some point. I owe them my life, too."

Sakumo looked at me with an odd expression. "You really are a strange one," he noted. "Before all this, I'm sure you were terrified of shinobi. I saw that on the evening you came to me. Now you walk around these streets by yourself, even while you're wounded, and you plan to visit shinobi voluntarily. How on earth did getting tortured by a shinobi make you less wary?"

"Oh, I promise you I'm no less wary than before," I answered after a moment. "But maybe I understand you people a little better."

"Ah. One fears what one doesn't understand," Sakumo murmured. "I see what you were referring to."

"Yeah. This little disaster taught me a lesson or two - personal lessons. Painful ones." I rubbed the scars on my arms distractedly, frowning. "I guess after seeing how bad you shinobi can really get, I want to see the good side too. Like it or not, you people got under my skin. And I'm a civilian of Konoha now, so there's no easy way of getting rid of me, either. Aside from the way that just failed."

"Heh." Sakumo raised an eyebrow. "Well, at least things will be interesting with a crazy civilian around. Half the shinobi are a bit mad anyway, you'll fit right in. And you know who you can ask for the occasional favor, of course."

I let that thought simmer for a moment, then smirked devilishly as an idea came to me. I'd never imagined I'd meet legendary shinobi, much less run into the White Fang and the Third Hokage, so maybe I could arrange one more? I wasn't going to get an easy shot at it again, and right now Sakumo might still consider giving into my stranger whims. It was manipulative - but shinobi were known for that sort of stuff, anyway.

Sakumo looked at me warily. "...What's that look about? Should I be worried?"

"I was just thinking… You are a pretty famous shinobi, right?" I said at last. "You must have some clout with the higher-ups even now, since you can just send message to the Hokage without even a second thought." I smiled knowingly. "Could you arrange a meeting for me? There's a shinobi I'd like to meet. One of the legendary Sannin."

"You want me to get one of them to meet with a civilian?" The White Fang mused. "That would… take some doing..."

"I'd owe you one, though," I said. "Or you can consider that as compensation for whatever tiny sliver of culpability you might've had in all this." I gestured to my scarred hands. "You really don't need any more guilt on your shoulders, so…"

Sakumo's shoulders sagged, but he smiled nevertheless. "You drive a hard bargain. Very well. Which one are you after?"

"Sometimes, I wonder if that hit on your head knocked something loose in there." Han shook his head mournfully as he looked at my hands, and the scars that ran across them. "What are you thinking, reading those books after what happened? Didn't you get enough of a taste of that awful life?"

I leaned back tiredly, dropping my book onto my desk - the same one that I'd been sitting at a few weeks earlier, when the attack happened. My old room still felt eerie, and I sometimes felt like someone might crash through the window again at any moment. Still, the man was dead - and there was doubtlessly an ANBU on the lookout, now that the Third had personally apologized for the previous incident. My room was still my own, and I wouldn't let some clueless assassin ruin it.

Of course, Han though I was completely insane for even stepping back into that room, much less sleeping in my own bed, spattered as it had been with my blood. Beyond the general idea that it was probably bad luck to tempt fate, he seemed convinced that I was developing some weird death wish. It didn't help that I was still reading books about shinobi - perhaps even more so than before the incident. Every day, he seemed a little bit more bothered by that, his glowering expression turning ever darker.

I didn't really know what to do about that, though; I was just trying to continue my life, and letting go of things that couldn't change anyway. The attack happened, and the man who'd been behind it was no longer a problem. The chapter was closed. My room was clean again, the scent of blood long gone, and my scars punctuated the lessons I'd so forcefully learned from the whole affair. Why should I give in to self-pity, when it wouldn't help even a bit?

The underlying problem that had to be solved wasn't my denial over what happened, since I acknowledged that fully, nor was it my intent to keep learning new things. I doubted it had anything to do with me at all, in fact. Han knew I held ideals that were odd to him, and he'd always acknowledged that his new housemate was a little weird, so he shouldn't be this upset.

Really, it had gone on long enough.

"Stop with the staring. You've been doing it for weeks now," I said finally, shoving aside my books and papers and turning to Han with a little more force than necessary. The man startled briefly, then his eyes narrowed the slightest bit, the hint of a grimace appearing. "Out with it, then. What's bothering you?"

"What do you think? Don't you see?" Han asked sharply, shaking his head. "Don't you see the risks that you're taking with all this? There's more where that person came from, and you're putting up bait for them." His eyes flickered to the window, and there was a hint of what could be tears in his eyes. "The next time someone comes by here, you might not be so lucky!"

"I hardly think the problem was where I lived," I said after a long moment. "Where I sleep wouldn't make a difference. You know that. If someone really want me dead, then they'd come and murder me in my sleep. Shinobi, civilians, whoever. And - if I threw my whole life around just on the off chance that someone might try that, what would it prove? Only that fear ruled my life."

"Not all fear is bad," Han hissed. "Getting killed isn't worth it!"

I nodded. "I know that. But you know that this stuff can't change how I think. Call it unhealthy, perhaps - but if I can't just turn my personality around and still call myself the same person." I shook my head. "Despite the pain, and the danger, I'm convinced that I'm on the right track. Maybe that will turn out to be wrong, but I'll find that out myself. The path was bound to be rocky, I knew that ahead of time."

"You speak like a priest, but you act like an imbecile!" Han snapped. "What kind of path is it, that you keep hitting dead ends? And by dead ends, I mean death."

"My path - it's just a flowery way of saying that I want to mean something to the world - and that can't be done inside a room, afraid to interact with people. Am I scared? Yes. But I think you'll find that it's not so different from what shinobi say when you ask them the same thing. I'm convinced the Hokage would understand, for one."

"The Hokage…" Han nodded hesitated for a long moment, before he walked to the corner of my room. He carefully shoved my desk aside the tiniest bit, exposing a little empty space behind it. "He is the worst of them all, you know."

"What…?"

"This room was someone else's, before it was yours." Han explained as he rose from the floor, holding a blue cloth with a familiar metal plate attached to it in hand. "This room once belonged to someone very important to me. My son." He looked to me, his expression weary, as he ran his hand over the hitai-ate, tracing the edges of Konoha's leaf inscribed upon it. "...He died when he was twenty-two. Some bastard from Kumo-" The old man paused, taking a shuddering breath.

I tried to say something, but I didn't know what wouldn't sound horrible at that moment. Han's eyes were sharp as knives as he suddenly threw the forehead protector at me, and it bounced off my arm, clattering to the floor.

"He is dead!" the old man declared with a quivering voice. "Heand his 'path' killed him. He thought that being a hired killer was his goal in life, and look where that got him! Buried in some distant land, his name carved into a piece of rock. His life - wasted."

I looked away, suddenly starkly aware of how little I really knew about the man who had taken me in, who had dragged me from the rain without question. He'd doubtlessly realized I was a civilian at the time - uncomplicated, safe. My interaction with Sakumo and shinobi in general had to be a stab in the heart, if he'd lost his son to shinobi. The attack had to have been harrowing for him, too, even more so than it had been for me. A horrible reminder of the past.

"What was his name?" I asked at last.

"...Kaworu." Han's eyes dimmed, then. "He was a wonderful boy. He looked like his mother, with the same unbeatable enthusiasm, the same spirit. But - he wasn't happy with the civilian life. He saw all those people out on the roofs and in the streets, and of course we couldn't deny him anything…"

"Shinobi…"

Han sat himself down on one of my chairs, sighing deeply. "A few years later - he began to work directly for the Hokage, and we barely heard anything about how he was doing. He hardly visited home at all, and he was always so distant…"

"For the Hokage?" I wondered, frowning. "That sounds like…"

"Then the war came," Han continued inexorably. "We never saw him at all - just the very occasional letter. But we heard about fighting on the frontlines in places we didn't even know, and we knew he was out there somewhere, risking his life. My wife - she passed away, and he didn't even come to her funeral, because there was some battle and he couldn't be missed…" He sighed. "When it seemed like there would finally come an end to all the killing, that perhaps it was over -"

I could fill in the rest. The second shinobi world war - almost as bloody as the first, and every bit as terrible. Thousands had died over the six years of that conflict, ruining the lives of thousands more. Even my own country hadn't been untouched, though my village had been spared an invasion - too insignificant to matter.

"I am… sorry for your loss," I murmured at last. "Kaworu-san must have loved you very much, that he would step onto the battlefield to protect you." I gestured to the headband. "He was in ANBU, wasn't he? The Hokage's personal guard. Joining that group is voluntary, and a sign of great respect from the Hokage himself. It is the first line of defense when danger threatens. Such an appointment means that he had both great skill and great loyalty."

Han nodded sadly. "Yes - he did..." He righted himself, then. "But what does that matter, if it ended with his death?" he continued sharply, melancholy suddenly making way for anger. "My son died in a war that should never have happened, that would not have been possible without shinobi in the first place! There was no reason for it!"

I took a breath. "I can't say if his death was meaningful," I answered after a long silence. "I would rather nobody fight at all. But - Kaworu had important things to protect in Konoha, and I can understand why he took up the mask. There are few more honorable deeds that to give up your life for the people you love." I grimaced. "Even if people have to be reminded of that, sometimes."

"What use is honor when you're gone?" Han snapped. "Must you twist this around on me?"

I looked away tiredly. "I'm not doing any twisting. I don't care about war, but understand why it happens. I don't care about the shinobi system, but know why it exists. And I am convinced that there are many people of honor in their ranks, just as there are many among civilians. Your son, certainly, would be among them."

"The way you're going, you'll meet him sooner rather than later. Good riddance," Han scoffed irritably.

"You don't mean that." I picked the hitai-ate from the ground, weighing it in my hand. "I can't claim to know enough about Kaworu-san to defend his way of life, but I can defend my own. I am not a shinobi, but agree with them on some things. Among those is the importance of loyalty. Honor too, in the right things. I can't not act on such things."

"You are set on this path, then?" Han asked at last, weary. He stared at me for a long time, at last taking the hitai-ate in shaking hands. He returned it to its nook in the wall reverently, and a long silence overtook the room.

"To try and find peace in a world that bleeds over, to protect the spirit of the village when its people stray - it's a dangerous path. One that will inevitably endanger my life, as it has done already," I said after a while. "But it's not a bad path."

Han sniffed. "Are you sure about that?"

"I have to be," I acknowledged. "Because it is the same path that the Hokage walks, and Sakumo, and others. It's the same one that my mother foresaw, though I don't know if she ever found it. And, unless I'm very much mistaken, it's the path that Kaworu-san chose as well. I have to believe one of us, someday, will make it to the end."

Weeks had passed since the attack on my life, and I had still heard nothing from Sakumo about the meeting he'd arrange for me. That didn't deter me from travelling back into the bustling inner streets of Konoha, however. I tried my hardest not to let my anxiety show on my face, but even after weeks of regular exposure, I was still constantly startled by the sudden arrival and departure of unsettlingly casual shinobi. It didn't help that many of them looked less than content, glaring at nothing even as they passed me by without a blink.

Getting food was a rather more tentative step than I'd intended, admittedly, but over the last weeks I had gotten into the habit of buying a good meal or two from one of the smaller bars that dotted the heart of the village, dining besides Genin and Chūnin who were off hours. It was a fantastic way to hear the latest rumors and news as it was delivered by squads that had missions beyond the walls, though I didn't see any familiar faces - but at least most people had stopped staring at me like I was utterly out of place.

As I'd expected, I spent most of my time in the civilian quarter wearing long clothes just to cover up my many new scars. It was a small blessing that I hadn't been hit directly in the face. While running the till, Han didn't want me showing even the slightest edge of a scar.

But out here, among people who could do far worse to me than those civilians, I couldn't help but ditch those coverings, as they were superfluous. My arms were still pale and the red scars stood out sharply even after being healed by both Medical-Nin and time, but they didn't bother me much. Lots of people had scars among the shinobi - it was practically a rite of passage. Hardly anyone even looked at me funny, here.

I still needed a few good drinks before I could stop shivering under their sharp gazes, though.

"Hm. Just get the usual for me -" a man behind me said in a rather bored tone, and I turned slightly to glance over my shoulder. He seemed surprisingly youthful despite his low voice, with short black hair and a green vest that had seen better days. The man sank onto the recently vacated chair directly next to me with a relieved sigh. "Give the neighbor something too, would you? Looks like he could use it."

I blinked at the sudden gift, barely even noticing the moment it was put in front of me - perhaps I'd been drinking a little bit too much. Then again, the bartender was himself undoubtedly a shinobi, so it might've just been his uncomfortable speed. I stared at the drink in front of me for a long time, frowning.

"...Aren't you going to drink that?"

"I'm considering it," I responded slowly. "I'm weighing the risk of a hangover with the fact that it tastes really good. You ninja have the best stuff, you know."

My neighbor snorted. "Heh. If you think that's good stuff, you've had far too much of it already."

I glanced up then, smirking despite myself. "Well, that's how it works, isn't it?" I finally gave in and swallowed the drink in one go, enjoying the slight burning sensation as it made its way down. It was true, despite my neighbor's words, that it was the best I'd tasted - miles ahead of anything the civilian sector sold. Without the rather comfortable buzz, I was pretty sure I'd have clammed up the instant one of the shinobi actually started a conversation. Liquid courage was a shitty thing to rely on, but it worked.

"So, you're not a shinobi?"

I stared back at the new arrival with narrowed eyes, wondering where that question had come from, before I realized what I'd unwittingly revealed with my loose tongue. Not many of the ninja in the bar were wearing their hitai-ate, so spotting the odd man out usually took more than a few minutes - but I'd just shown his hand.

"...You aren't going to make a problem out of it, are you? There's not actually a ban on civvies…"

He sighed lightly. "True enough. But it's an unspoken rule that this place is for shinobi only. The last time I saw a civilian in here was - actually, you're the first one. Congratulations." The shinobi picked up his glass, toasting mockingly. "Here's to brave souls, then."

"Brave souls!" I agreed mockingly. I wasn't nearly drunk enough yet, and gestured for another refill. "I think the next one should be for lucky ones. Guess I deserve that one…"

My neighbor smirked. "Lucky, eh?"

"Yeah - it was a mess," I muttered distractedly, thinking of a flash of blinding white, of the moment I'd very nearly died. "Before you ask -" I said, pausing and wondering what I'd been about to say. "Why do you get to ask all the questions, anyway?"

"You have questions?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're a shinobi?"

The man sighed, vaguely gesturing to the hitai-ate that he wore around his arm. "Obviously."

"That's not very informative, actually. Everyone's a shinobi here," I drawled dully. "What's your rank?"

"...Why do you want to know that?"

I pondered that for a long moment. "Dunno. Curiosity…? Fine, not that then. How about a name?"

The man chuckled dryly at that. "My, who gets to ask all the questions now?"

The guy had a good point. I frowned for a moment, smirking slightly. "So, have I asked you for your rank yet?"

My neighbor let out a tortured sigh at that, drinking his refilled glass quickly before dropping it onto the counter with barely a glance. "...What a drag." He glanced sideways across the bar, shaking his head. "You know, I figured it would be easy to get you talking with some alcohol, but you're one of those unflappable drunks that just gets annoying…"

I smiled weakly, studying the man in turn as he slumped down over the counter. I was tipsy - perhaps even properly drunk - but I wasn't stupid. "So, was it Sakumo-san or Hokage-sama?"

The man jerked up as if a bee had stung him. "What?"

"The one who sent you to check up on me," I elaborated, taking a long moment to compose a reasonably intelligible sentence, even as the words refused to quite fall in line neatly. Intoxication had its downsides. "That's why you're here, right? See if I'm planning anything dastardly."

"...You're remarkably cogent for a drunk."

"Hm. And you're a little boring." I took my next glass happily, wondering when it had been refilled. "Well, what with the top-knot thing, and the posture - I'm going to guess you're the kid Sakumo's told me about. The shōgi guy?"

"Hm. Probably." The man shrugged, then slumped a little. "Alright, this is just getting tiresome. The name's Nara Shikaku. Jōnin. It's on public record, anyway. Can't be bothered to keep useless secrets."

"Hm. I'm Jiron. My rank is bupkis," I returned cheerily. "We should play sometime - Shōgi, I mean. Sakumo's an odd guy about that stuff. Says he's crap at the game, but I think he knows it better than most… Can't beat me, though. Still, he's only the second person I've actually challenged, so who knows?"

"You're going to be really annoying, I can tell that already," Shikaku complained. "Fine, fine. Come by the compound on Tuesday or Wednesday - I'll be around unless some disaster comes up. Probably on the roof. Try not to arrive liquored up, my old man would pitch a fit."

"Heh. I know that feeling too well." I drowned another glass, and purposefully put it far away from me - hopefully, I'd be spared the worst of hangovers. I thought back on my conversation with Han, and a shiver ran down my spine. Evidently, the expression did not escape my newfound drinking buddy.

"You know the feeling? You are referring to the assassination attempt, I assume?"

I shrugged lightly. "Yeah. And no. Truth is - the person who took me in, he's not really my father, but I think he might as well be…" I wondered why I'd started talking about this, but couldn't stop. "He's an old guy who is worried about everything you do, and wants to see you reach some incredibly old age, probably. Sounds about right for a dad." I shook my head. "He's got a history with shinobi, and he's not too happy about my… well, you know."

"Brave soul?" Shikaku snorted. "Figures. Civilians."

"Hey, don't badmouth us, would you? There's nothing wrong with living in peace," I muttered, forcing myself not to pick up the refilled cup that had been placed right in front of me in the instant I'd looked away. Damn those ninja bartenders!

"Peace, huh? Ah, but who makes that peace possible?" Shikaku smiled thinly. "You know your history, I'm told. Before there were shinobi villages - things weren't any better than they are now, especially for those who couldn't defend themselves. Most of the time, they were worse."

"I know that," I argued with a scowl. "The First Hokage knew it, too - that's why he started this place. I'm just kind of sad to see what you folks did to it."

Shikaku stared for a moment, then frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Hm. You should be." I glared ahead of me at nothing in particular, thinking of the Konoha I'd imagined, and the one that was actually here. I couldn't manage much more than general displeasure, however. "Bunch o' traitors…"

Shikaku cleared his throat, glancing around us nervously. "What did you mean by that?" he inquired carefully, a worried crease appearing on his forehead. "This - is not the right place for that sort of talk. It is a little busy in here, and if anyone's… twitchy..."

"Yeah. Good luck getting shinobi here to agree with idealistic nonsense," I agreed after a moment. "I won't bore you with the details." I got up from my seat gingerly. Another glass had been shoved in front of my face, but I forcefully ignored it. "...And that's enough for me, anyway. The room's wobbling."

"Leaving already?" Shikaku inquired mildly.

"Nah. Too stuffy in here, though." I turned, and waved him along. The Nara reluctantly followed, a beer in his hand.

I turned the corner just outside the pub's front door and sat myself down against the wall, taking in deep breaths from the cold air of the early night. It wouldn't do much to combat my drunkenness, really, but it might just help out a little with the aftermath.

"Might not want to do that again," Shikaku said at last after he glanced around for eavesdroppers - evidently there weren't any. "A civilian in shinobi country's got it bad enough - one that criticizes the village in a room full of killers is just asking for a bad time. And it looks to me like it wouldn't be the first time you put your foot in your mouth…"

I blinked, realizing that I'd been heading for black-out drunk at a staggering pace. "...Yeah. I blame the booze. Pretty sure I'll be mad about it later." I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. "Reckless endangerment of my own life? This is becoming a habit. Heh."

The Nara rolled his eyes. "I noticed that. Any reason you're indulging in this - vice?" he wondered, joining me against the wall with one hand in his pocket, waving his glass with the other. "Shinobi like to wind down from tough missions here, usually after anything that involves killing, or worse. It's not really a casual place, even if it looks that way from the outside. Nobody's half as drunk as they pretend to be."

"...Almost nobody," I contended, swaying a little.

"Hm. Well, obviously you've got no missions, and I doubt you really came for the taste of the beer." He shook his head. "So, what? Trying to drown your sorrows away?"

"Nah. Just my fears," I murmured, and frowned at how straightforward that had come out. "It's not about the drinks... though the bartender here is - insistent. It's about you people." I chuckled and ran a hand through my hair, feeling very foolish all of a sudden. "Call me stupid, but I thought I'd see what you folks do when you're not out doing unspeakable things. Too easy to paint you all as inhuman, otherwise."

Shikaku blinked slowly. "Right."

"Sakumo understands, I'm sure," I agreed after a moment. "If I hadn't taken a risk there, I'd never have dared approach him at all. And the Hokage understands it, too. I spoke to him in the hospital, you know - nice guy! Can write a mean speech."

"Heh." The Nara straightened. "A personal visit, huh? He does have an appreciation for courage..."

I nodded vaguely. "Same. Honestly - I'm still scared of all of you, and I'm pretty sure that's healthy. It's a prey's natural reaction in front of predators, you know? If you really wanted to, you could probably have your shadow strangle me or something. You Nara do that sort of thing, right?"

"Don't tempt me."

I stuck out my tongue. "Sarcastic one, huh? Nice…" I shook my head slowly. "Anyway, I'm scared, but I'm still here. Guess it's like a personal challenge or something - if I want to do anything that involves shinobi, I'd better stop flinching every time I meet one. The bar's just for the drinks."

Shikaku smiled lazily. "So, what are you planning to do, that you're immersing yourself in our little pseudo-culture? Running into us shinobi all the time, hanging out in our bars, reading our books…"

"Ah, nothing much. I'm just out to change the world, if I'm lucky," I said lazily. "We never did toast on luck, did we?"

"Change the world?" Shikaku raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with the one we have?"

I shrugged. "Oh, lots of things. Mostly the short-sightedness of people." I looked up to the full moon that loomed overhead; its pale radiance was the only clear light in the darkness. "I've read that your clan houses a lot of geniuses… You've probably seen the same thing. The peace and quiet that we enjoy… It's not going to last very long anymore."

Shikaku grimaced suddenly . "And how does a civilian figure that?"

Though I couldn't see the future, my personal aversion of war hardly meant that I refused to see it coming. I knew there weren't many ways forward for the world - not if it wished to be any better than now. Honestly, I hadn't even needed the nervous rumors spreading among shinobi and civilians alike; I could see it in the weary faces of the returning teams from beyond the walls, sent out to fight on the borders in a desperate attempt to stave off what everyone knew was inevitable. Hell, I'd seen it on the street that very day - shinobi with worried frowns, staring off wistfully across the walls. Nobody would admit to it, of course - but the message was clear.

Whatever I'd intended to change - it wouldn't be in time. War was already coming.

"It's not that hard to predict the future, when you know your history," I said at last, meeting Shikaku's eyes with a steady gaze. "You don't need to be a Medical-nin or doctor to see a disease's symptoms, either. I don't know if I can do anything when this peace breaks, but there aren't many ways anyone could hope to avert it, either. Hope I'll figure it out before the end is here…"

The Jōnin straightened. "The end?"

I sighed. "Yes. If not in this conflict, then probably in the next one." I grimaced. "Konoha, Shikaku-san. That which teeters on the edge has to fall, inevitable, and this village isn't stable. We both know that, I'm sure." I turned away from Shikaku to meet the chilly evening air. "We can discuss all of it over tea. Tuesday or Wednesday, as you said. If we aren't already at war by then."

"R-right."

"See you later, Shikaku-san."

I didn't look back as I walked off towards home, but could feel that man's stare follow me until I turned the corner. That wasn't what chilled my bones. It was the fact that such a genius of the Nara clan, well-known part of the Ino-Shika-Chō trio, hadn't contradicted me even once.

"A pacifist in warrior's heaven…" I murmured. "Fuck."

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Author's Note: This particular chapter was originally meant for Christmas but got delayed - there's some inspiration from a rather famous Christmas story in this, though it's not particularly blatant. Next chapter, in any case, would move the plot along both in terms of the village and the protagonists, and at least part of it would be from different perspectives than Jiron's - notably Sakumo and Shikaku.

Next chapter also contains the first appearances in this particular tale of Namikaze Minato, the would-be Fourth, as well as his no-good teacher Jiraiya and fellow Sannin Orochimaru. While matters progress in the runup to the Third Shinobi World War, matters will have to be dealt with in the civilian sector, too.

As usual, there's no real prognosis on when that chapter will be here; it depends purely on how much inspiration I have for it. Though admittedly lately even my 'regular' stories have devolved into maybe-at-some-point update schedules. My apologies for being a busy bee with entirely too much stuff on his plate.

And a belated Happy New Year, everyone. :)