Yuka walked home in the dark. Konaha didn't have a real nightlife and the city became eerily quiet. That didn't mean she was alone. Shinobi patrolled the major roads, moving silent and unseen. There was something in the air that felt like movement.

People who lived in the Hidden Villages often learned to sense things other civilians couldn't. Mundane exposure. Oh, something feels weird – must be the local shinobi trying to be sneaky. 'Learned' didn't seem like the right word at all. 'Adapted' was more appropriate.

Yuka didn't grow up in Konoha. In her case, it was the War that forced her to adapt.

'If you see shinobi, don't acknowledge them. Don't stare in their direction, keep moving, stay wherever there's people. You have to be careful not to get involved.'

That was the only thing a civilian could do, in those days. Attempt to avoid the crossfire. Comply with demands unless they're trying to kill you. But if they've already decided to kill you…

A silhouette darted across an advertisement for a local publishing company.

Yuka walked faster.

After getting home, she locked her door and checked it at least three times. Then, she collapsed on top of her futon. Big Cat followed her into the bedroom, chirping.

"Come here, kitty," she whispered.

Sure enough, Big Cat sprawled across her chest and purred.

It was time to start handing out essay prompts in class. Essays. Unironically one of her favorite parts of teaching writing.

She needed to sleep. Not waste time thinking about a man she just met in person. Over and over, she reminded herself that she didn't know him. There was no way she could make assumptions about what he had personally done.

Dangerous things punished you for becoming comfortable.

Kindly be quiet, brain.

It was only a latte, and Yuka was not an oblivious thirteen-year-old anymore.

…

Next morning, Yuka walked into her first period class with a little bounce in her step. She hadn't gotten nearly enough sleep, but it was still time to assign one of her favorite prompts. It didn't matter how tired she was. In teaching, enthusiasm is everything!

"Good morning, class! It's your favorite time of day, it's ESSAY time!" Yuka (Ms. Tanaka) pushed her enthusiasm to a point that was intentionally embarrassing, "Can I get a 'huzzah' for ESSAYS?"

Silence. A couple groans.

Excellent.

Miyuki, a shy girl with pig-tails who sat at the front, thought it was funny. She tried to hide the smile though. Smiling at a teacher's antics was totally uncool, after all.

"Huh. Is anyone awake right now?"

Time to get to it! Yuka snatched a piece of chalk and wrote:

'PERSUASIVE ESSAY'

She surveyed the room, observing uncertain faces. "An essay is, at its core, a conversation. You're telling the reader your opinion, and then defending it. Moreover, it's a kind of reconciliation between two points of view."

Hansuke raised his hand and started talking before she could call on him, "And by reconcile, you mean prove that your point is right… right? An essay is about having the right opinion and crushing all the others with evidence."

That boy was particularly perceptive, though he liked to talk before he thought anything through. Reminded Yuka of herself when she was eleven.

"It depends. An effective essay acknowledges the objections of the naysayers –"

"But what if they're wrong?" Kimiko added.

"Even more important to convince them," Yuka smiled, "If you're going to change anyone's mind, you have to understand what they're thinking to begin with. That's where you start, if you're in the business of… crushing wrong opinions. It doesn't mean you conclude that everyone is right, or that the truth is 'in the middle'."

She started drawing on the chalkboard.

"What's that?"

"Is that supposed to be a frog?"

"I wanna draw something, too."

It was a giant monster, thank you very much. The kids were getting a kick out of it. Paying attention, for once. "Here's your prompt. Dinosaur-san wants to stomp around Konoha and eat everyone he sees," she drew glasses on the chalk monster, "He's also an avid reader. Write an essay about why it's wrong for dinosaurs to destroy things and eat people."

Assignments like this were supposed to be fun. The idea of reasoning with a vicious dinosaur was absurd, and thus perfect for introducing students to challenging the points of views of others. Moreover, it gave Yuka an effortless way to check everyone's writing level.

"Dinosaurs are notoriously hard to convince, by the way. So, you should probably write at least five paragraphs."

There it was: the collective sigh.

…

Other than a parent-teacher conference with a mother who was overly concerned about her son 'defending the dinosaur' in his essay, the rest of the week passed without event. Routines took over. One of her colleagues asked if she wanted to eat lunch with her in the Teacher's Lounge. Yuka said she would think about it in the most unintentionally bitchy way possible. So that was nice.

On a chilly Saturday morning, Yuka found some nerve-wracking mail. First, an electric and gas bill. Yay. Second, old pictures from Dad. Literally just photos she asked for herself. That would be an ordeal to look through.

Finally, a letter from Kakashi. He wasn't using the same koi stamp as before. Maybe he ran out.

'Hey, Yuka!

Wanted to go ahead and write something before it got too busy, because it's hell over here right now. It's always hell during exams. Everyone's scrambling to validate paperwork for a bunch of tweens who DO NOT know how to complete official forms. The kids I'm testing seem smart for their age. Two of them got their forms right on the first try.

That's not unimpressive. I've seen adults struggle with that kind of paperwork (It's me, I'm the adult who can't fill out forms).

We're supposed to talk with teachers, parents, etc… beforehand. The parents have to sign off on it. Always. No exceptions. In this case, I ended up with two wards of Konoha, so I was evaluated twice for each kid.

How are YOU doing? You mentioned teaching writing before. Is that going well? Is it stressful? Can I end another sentence with a question mark without it seeming too repetitive? Ha-ha.

This'll have to be short and oversimplified because I don't have enough time.

Education is stagnating because the civilian school system spends too much time rewarding kids for mediocre achievements. I know that's an empty statement written with zero supporting evidence. Please RSVP my Debate Participation Trophy in place of strongly worded letter.

Yours sincerely – K'

Yuka frowned. Of course those kids couldn't fill out their own paperwork. They're kids. Too young to be learning how to carve out the Land of Fire's interests through covert operations. Oddly enough, it still sounded half-way relatable. Like running auditions for a time-consuming club or getting hired by a new school.

Images of the town's young shinobi running around with kunai and shuriken flashed through her mind. Did they purchase weapons themselves? Did their Sensei provide it? Their parents?! Perhaps they had a mixed system. Students of means providing for themselves, disadvantaged students on lists for discounted or free equipment. Weapons needed to be distributed to the children equitably.

Absurd.

Yuka brought the letter into her kitchen, scratching her brain for diplomatic language to describe her objections. He didn't ask for her opinion on the matter. Hell, he might've failed to realize there was a 'matter' to have an opinion about in the first place. Konoha was built to train shinobi.

Ultimately, she didn't have a blank sheet of paper out yet. Let alone a plan to respond.

Big Cat weaved through her legs under the table.

"Oh, you're hungry, kitty?"

"Maow," Big Cat replied, as though to say: 'It's breakfast time and you need to feed me now.'

Yuka was hungry, too. Though she was always careful to have cat food, she easily forgot about human groceries. And… eating in general. Even then, she couldn't quite remember whether she ate an evening meal last night. Maybe something like packaged ramen?

There was nothing in the pantry to eat. Well. She could attempt to consume the contents of one of the Happy Kitty cans, but Big Cat wouldn't like it.

There was no other option but to go outside.

Step one: Feed Big Cat.

Step two: Stop ruminating long enough to get dressed. Be sure to take grocery bag.

Step three: Go outside. Get food.

…

'New style' grocery stores simply couldn't compete with Konoha's open-air market. Vendors were packed up and down the street, selling everything from produce to suspicious cuts of fish. A miasma of fruit, perfumes, meat and sweat drifted down the cobblestones. Children ran from vendor to vendor just to look at things they couldn't buy. Out-of-towners browsed among the locals.

The market was the edgiest part of straightlaced Konoha.

Yuka preferred it that way. Everything was real, alive, and vibrant. Lost in the crowd, it seemed no one could recognize her. Anonymity comforted her.

That comfort was short-lived.

A tuft of white hair and the creepiest fucking black mask Yuka had ever seen was browsing a produce stall. Three-fourths of Kakashi's face was obscured. Why did he cover his face?! It looked like he was going to rob someone and leave them for dead on the side of the road. He wore a full uniform. Was he… working?

Kakashi was analyzing the ripeness of a tomato.

Shit. How long had she been she staring? Did he see her? Perhaps, if she moved fast, she could avoid talking -

"Oh. It's Yuka."

Kakashi's one visible eye and half-a-cheekbone looked a little stunned.

"You're grocery shopping?" Yuka asked blandly.

"I am."

Maybe he smiled? It was hard to tell.

Don't say anything about the mask. Don't say anything about the mask. Don't say anything about the mask.

"That's a mask."

Wonderful work, Yuka. Why not ask him about his eye, too? There are so many ways to make conversation unspeakably awkward, it'd be a shame not to explore them all.

He laughed. Did he think it was funny? Or was he just uncomfortable?

"Nice. Can you identify the other objects? What's this?" he pointed to his plated headband.

Yuka blushed. She could physically feel the heat rising to her face. The horrible reality is that she took on the same shade as one of the tomatoes. Every time she was embarrassed. Every. Single. Time. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting to run into you."

"Don't worry about it."

A moment of awkward quiet. Yuka hated those.

"You look nice today," he added.

Compliments? Right. They agreed to call their last meeting a date.

"Says the good-looking guy," Yuka smiled, "I know what that face looks like. Can't help but wonder why you're covering it up to buy food."

"What a cute thing to say," Kakashi tilted his head. That was a smile – and he wanted her to know. With a covered his face he compensated with exaggerated movements.

The produce merchant waved her hand in front of their faces, "Sorry, but speaking of buying food…"

Other customers waited for them to move aside. Such was the way of the open-air market. Ruthless.

Kakashi bought tomatoes and added it to a half-full bag.

Yuka bought leeks. She added it to her empty bag. It was unknown just what she was planning to do with a leek. There was a lot more unorganized shopping to do.

They walked together. Grouping up without even realizing what they were doing.

"Anything interesting happen at school?" Kakashi asked.

Yuka checked the weight of each bag of rice. She wasn't made of food money. "A boy handed in an essay about how dinosaurs should be allowed to eat people. Some kids write stuff like that if they're bored. It's not the sort of thing that worries me."

"And I don't suppose there's anything that does make you worry? As a teacher?"

She paused. "In writing or in general?"

"In general."

"Talking about getting revenge. Hurting other students. Uh. Unexplained scars and bruises… that might be a tricky one, if you're teaching shinobi. You have to be careful not to jump to conclusions. That doesn't mean 'don't look into it'. Those kids are depending on you!" Yuka huffed and paid for her rice, "I have four books you can borrow, to start. That's… that's why you were asking, right? For advice?"

"Don't tell anyone, but I think these kids might pass their field test. And… I've only ever trained older teenagers," Kakashi stared ahead, pensive, "Of course, you can't coddle them, but…"

"What do you consider 'coddling', Kakashi?" Yuka asked, sharply.

Before he could answer, a morning bell rang loud and clear.

"Oops. I'm nearly late for something. You're going to have to hold onto that question - don't let me forget it!"

In between blinks, Kakashi disappeared.

She hated when shinobi did that.