Author's Note: I apologise greatly! Greatly! I'm caught up in deadly datelines! But enough of datelines for now! Let's read on! And to those who look for a fast ending, I'm sorry to disappoint you: there won't be any. But, if you are a good reader and a writer, inside and/or out, please do the noble thing we all call REVIEW. Arigato...

CHAPTER THREE


Earlier that night, hours before Sakura's experience

He put aside the book and retired to his bed. As he turned off the lights, Kakashi thought back of what he had seen earlier that day. Asuma, after Kakashi had doubted his words, had told him to go to where Sakura had been retrieved a week earlier. He did, with Asuma tagging along. When they got there, they discovered that a few trees had been cut down. A pile of wet logs lay not far down where they stood.

In checking these, Kakashi found undeniable proof of Asuma's words. Seemingly there had been an attempt to burn these logs, but Nature had intervened; it had rained cats and dogs four days after the retrieval. So it was still clear to see: etched upon these cut-down logs were strange marks, almost like brush-strokes that moved in a circular fashion toward a centre.

The unmistakable signs made by the Rasengan.

Though they had also seemed all too familiar to him somehow…

They had left in silence; Kakashi in deep thought, while Asuma in silent triumph.

Now, as he lay in his bed, unable to sleep, Kakashi reflected: those marks were unmistakably of Naruto's jutsu, irresponsibly taught by Jiraiya-sama. Back then the boy almost killed Sakura and Sasuke with it. And then came Sasuke's kidnapping.

Everything simply went downhill from there.

Kakashi closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. Instead, the logs with the marks came filling his mind. Then he saw Sakura's face when she had been brought into the hospital after the retrieval. He recalled the way Ino stood helplessly at the side of her bed, unable to do anything. Her excitement she displayed to Asuma must have been a ruse to distract everyone from her nervousness watching a friend dying.

Above all, Sakura... He wondered whether she knew.


They sat in the empty cafeteria. It was afternoon, and outside, as always, was tranquil and soothingly silent. Kakashi poured tea reverently while the Fifth watched. When her cup was filled, Kakashi waited as Tsunade drunk hers. A pause, then Kakashi sighed.

Tsunade had asked him to meet her today. Her letter that came a day earlier said it concerned Sakura and her recent performance. Kakashi expected a full-face lecture, but instead here he was, pouring tea for the Hokage. And her discussions were nowhere near Sakura's performance:

"I'm rather puzzled with Iruka's – uh, enthusiasm," Tsunade began. "He has been taking a lot of missions nowadays, and I mean a lot." She consulted a small notepad which she always had in her sleeve. "A month ago, he undertook three missions. Three separate missions in three different villages. And all of them were either B- or A-level missions. Last week, he completed one, with two other missions under his belt." Tsunade flipped it close with a dramatic flair.

Kakashi lifted an inquisitive brow. "He's very driven," he said.

"Driven?" Tsunade put down the notepad gently. "He's not driven; he's a maniac. Do you know what have I been getting? Complaints from his team mates. Complaints! Against Iruka! As long as I've been Hokage, that was almost unheard of! And now –!"

Kakashi's eyelid drooped a bit. He knew. Words got spread very fast in a closely-knit village like this. "Maybe it was all the conserved energy he had been saving after all those years teaching young Leafs," he said, trying to make light of the matter.

As soon as he said that Tsunade slammed her fist on the table, gently. But the sound it made upon the strong teak table was as if someone had delivered a mighty blow upon the surface with a huge hammer. From the other end of the cafeteria the cashier stood up and looked around anxiously.

"You know very well," Tsunade said, lifting her fist – that spot was forever slightly dented inward – and pointed a finger at Kakashi, "that that is not the case."

Kakashi eyed the forefinger warily. Her fingernail could poke out an eye without much blood, or so he had heard. "What case?" he asked, getting confused.

"What really drove Iruka into this – these mindless suicidal stunts." Tsunade relaxed her hands and leant back on her seat with a sigh. "I thought I could run a village properly, but as soon I got here everything became hell!"

Kakashi shook his head. "But we made through it all, thanks to your wisdom."

Tsunade let her head fall behind the chair and closed her eyes. "Wisdom? If I had wisdom, none of these would have happened."

Kakashi looked outside with a faraway look in his eye. "Wouldn't it, now?"

Something in his voice made Tsunade lift back her head and look at him. "Are you trying to say, that you had wished that something like this happened?" Her eyes were tiny slits, angry and suspicious.

He shook his head gently. "Tsunade-sama, you and I both had gone through the worst of times before. What did it bring? More bad than good, I agree, but there were still good side of it all. You came back, for example. And Jiraiya-sama is also back. Now we also know that Orochimaru is no longer a great threat to us – to any village, as a matter of fact."

Tsunade let out a short laugh that was demeaning, at least in Kakashi's opinion. "But at what great price. What a great price we paid for all of that."

Both fell silent, their expressions suddenly and almost simultaneously darkened. Slowly, Kakashi recovered his former self and, quite discourteously, poured a cup of tea for himself. Tsunade saw this and did not stop it; both were rather absent-minded at the time. Both were thinking of the same problem, although most probably not on the same vein.

Looking at Kakashi about to drink his tea reminded Tsunade of the true reason she had asked to meet Kakashi. "Sakura created quite a sensation last week, didn't she?"

Kakashi's hand froze in midair, the cup steaming before his face. Finally, he thought. "I'll be frank with you," she continued as Kakashi let the cup down on the table, "I was rather intrigued about this mission of hers. Why did she ask specifically for the mission to hunt Kin down?"

Kakashi ran a finger round the rim. "With all respect, I'm not at freedom to tell you that, Tsunade-sama."

Tsunade's fine brows arched upward. "Well," she said, "this is interesting. I take it she got that mission via your, shall we say, manipulative involvement?"

Kakashi's eye betrayed none of his emotions. "That is a serious accusation, Hokage-sama," he said with an even, cool voice.

"You should realise that we should never mix mission with emotion. That is a dangerous combination."

"What about Iruka? Isn't he obviously doing the opposite of what that rule of thumb states?"

"Don't twist my words, Kakashi."

Somehow those sentences made Kakashi's eye hardened with anger, but only for an instant. He quickly caught himself and apologised.

"Well," Tsunade said with a nervous air she expertly concealed – she had never seen the Copy Ninja gone mad, but what had transpired just now was enough reminder – "we'll leave this problem here for the time being. But remember Kakashi, I have my own intelligence, and once I know why you gave her that mission, I'll make sure you get the proper punishment."

Tsunade rose but Kakashi quickly rose after her and asked, "May I ask one thing?"

"Just one question."

Kakashi nodded. He swallowed audibly, Tsunade wondered whether he was going to tell her the reason Sakura got the mission now. "It was Naruto who killed Kin, right?"

Tsunade lifted her chin defiantly. "I have no idea what are you talking about." She turned away. Kakashi lifted a hand, saying, "Don't lie, Tsunade-sama! I know it was him. Who else could it be?!"

Briefly she closed her eyes, then turned to him. "The Anbu reported nothing as such."

"Don't deny it! Ino was in the retrieval team, Tsunade-sama. Out of nervousness seeing Sakura dying, she told Asuma about it all, and Asuma told me. I visited the site yesterday and saw the proof."

She shook her head. "Proof? Of what?" Again she turned to leave, but Kakashi's voice stopped him again.

"I saw the marks on the trees, Tsunade-sama. I know them. I recognise them. And now, I'll never forget them as long as I live." Kakashi now was standing, one hand hard on the table. "Why are you trying to hide it, Tsunade-sama? What's the real problem here?" Then with a low but feverish whisper he added: "If he saved Sakura, Naruto is back! He is back!"

Tsunade turned to him. "I will tell you this only once. I should have told you about this before Asuma took his own incentive," Tsunade said reflectively. "True, almost all you said was true. And incidentally almost everything that Asuma told you was true. But he missed a point."

"Which was?"

Tsunade moved toward him and whispered something into his ear that made Kakashi froze. Tsunade moved away from him, a satisfied smile lingering on her small, beautiful lips. Yet inside she felt rotten. Was this a smart move?

As she turned and left, he was still standing there, his eye wide open in disbelief. He had totally forgotten about it. Now that was why those marks seemed uncannily familiar.

"Could it be…? It could… but –"

He muttered these all the way home.


It was night when they were summoned to the court of Lord Funaki. Inside they were greeted by discreet women-servant, nodding at them as they passed niche by niche. There were five niches in all on each side. Huge columns flanked the sides, and each column had a bright lamp fixed upon. Before them, about fifteen feet away, sat the lord himself. They had crouched at the second niche; now, at the fourth, they all lowered their heads in respect at the lord.

Lord Funaki cast them a benevolent gaze as a servant cleared his go table. Apparently he had just finished the game, and by the looks on his face just now before they all lowered their heads, he had won.

"I trust it your journey has been delayed?" Lord Funaki assumed his official position: legs folded behind him, hands on his silk-covered thighs. "What happened? I expected a speedy assistance – three days ago, yet you tarry."

"We're sorry, Lord Funaki. We've been delayed by several other missions."

Anger was not one of Lord Funaki's better companions, and now he was not angry; he was merely curious. "Missions? I was not informed of this! Aren't you ninjas supposed to carry one mission per group? And what special treatment does it fit that MY mission be left out to the very last minute?"

"We had expected them to be brief, but nothing went as planned."

"It's merely an oversight in our part, my lord. We apologise for any damage we had caused in the hours of our delay, if there be any."

Lord Funaki slowly nodded, looking at the three ninjas before him. So, he thought, it finally comes to this; calling for outside help. I have forgotten the last time I asked for these guys. "I will only say this: next time, think out your priorities. And as for damage consequent of your tardiness, there wasn't any." Here his tone changed suddenly. "Yet."

The trio remained very still. Even with the bright lights, they still managed to retain some shadows, as if they would disappear at a moment's notice.

He began:

"Three weeks ago, there was a rumour going around the town. I heard of it myself, and as I did to other rumours I ignored it. Plus there was the annual harvest festival due in about six weeks from then. A week later a group of farmers, whose paddy fields were located a few miles east of the main town gate, stumbled upon a body.

"The body was unrecognisable, but after later examinations it had been confirmed that the unlucky fellow was one of the Kabuki performers who would later join his friends here for the annual harvest festival. Although his loss was lamentable, six more dead bodies turned up all around the city following the first one. All that in a course of three weeks."

"Were they all also Kabuki performers?"

Lord Funaki shook his head. "No. I don't think there was any connection at all. Strange… come to think of it now. The dead ones were in no way connected to each other."

"It's not strange. It's interesting."

Lord Funaki turned his glance to the one who spoke those words. Although the tone of this man who spoke just now was a bit too arrogant to be used in his court – or any daimyo's court for that matter – Lord Funaki was not the kind of man easily offended by trivial matters. He would rather save up his energy on something more entirely important – thinking.

"Really? How interesting do you mean?" Lord Funaki asked him with a slight smile.

"We have seven dead people with nothing to link between them, in additional to the fact that they all died in such tight periods in between… that's a very interesting problem."

Lord Funaki nodded accommodatingly. "Yes, yes, interesting isn't it? But I have to remind you that this interesting problem involves my people who are getting afraid to even go out of their homes."

The last part of the sentence was said with a certain firmness that each ninja, startled, bowed their heads lower quickly, save for the last one who slowly did the same. "Day by day my people are unable to go about their businesses and by the gods I want this – this maniac caught before this goes out of control!"

His words ended with a slam on the floor. The delicate chrysanthemum in its vase at the far side of the slightly elevated platform where the daimyo sat rattled briefly then was still. Lord Funaki's face was flushed with barely restrained anger, and he looked at the three ninjas before them. They all wore the headband that bore the mark of Konoha Village.

"I've heard of your rather recent conflict," Lord Funaki resumed as he coughed a bit to keep his emotions in check, "in your village. I am happy – always have been – that my town is in good terms with your village. As far as I can see – diplomatically – your village has always been a good model of balance: in life, in combat, in peace, in everything. And even though your village is heading towards a certain clash, somehow you managed to escape it.

"My town is nothing compared to your village. We are ordinary people, living day to day, trying to build a worthy and peaceful town. These matters – crimes, murders – we can handle it if we see the hands that pull the strings. But this – I can't even see where the strings are, let alone the puppets (for who knows? Maybe there are more than one perpetrator here) that are wreaking havoc here. Every morning the guards would pray with joy whenever they didn't find a dead body, or that they themselves are still alive."

The last ninja to Lord Funaki's right lifted his head a little, and a glassy gleam appeared in his eyes briefly before he looked down again, as if hiding it from view.

Lord Funaki closed his eyes and did something a daimyo of his rank and eminence should have not done – he bowed his head to them. "As a person – not as an official – I implore you to help us. This is no ordinary crime, and all of us – the town – are at stake here. We shall be eternally indebted to you should you be able to hunt down this maniac before he strikes again."

The three ninjas looked at each other and the last ninja to Lord Funaki's right said, "The mission has been accepted long ago, Lord Funaki. There is no need to ask for something that you have already received. Please, good sir, lift up your head. We are not worthy of your respect."

Lord Funaki lifted up his head with tears in his eyes. "Thank you," he said shakily.


Although it was already late at night, one room in the daimyo's castle was still lit. From outside the sound of pages being turned now and then could be heard. Silence sometimes passed briefly before soft footfalls moved about inside and the pages were turned again.

A shadow of a hand appeared on the screen door. It moved as if to open it, but halted midway when a voice came from inside:

"Please come in, Lord Funaki. You won't disturb me at all."

The screen door opened and there stood the daimyo. "I heard you from the other end of the corridor. You're rather restless."

"I apologise if it woke you up, my lord. Shall I stop so you can go to sleep now?"

Lord Funaki stopped his hands from gathering the papers. "No, it's fine. You're not the reason I can't sleep. I'm always having difficulties sleeping nowadays, anyway."

"I suggest some tea might help you, sir."

"I'm way past believing tea, though it helps sometimes." He glanced at the papers upon the table and the floor, and the rough notes he must have made. There were furious and almost angry, the katakana he had written on them. An empty ink grinding stone stood a safe distance away from it all. "You've ran out of ink. Would you like some more?"

"My lord, I'm fine. I've done writing, anyway."

An awkward silence passed as the daimyo stood between him and the light. Then the daimyo said:

"You've changed, Iruka." Lord Funaki sat down across him and looked at him with deep concern. "You've changed a lot. I almost didn't recognise you when you first came in with your friends."

"They're not my friends," Iruka quickly replied – perhaps too quickly. "And I know it's been ten years since the last time you saw me. I can't help it. I age. Some people I know don't, though. But I'm not one of them."

Lord Funaki felt a bit offended. True, his advanced bloodline, though not readily apparent and not connected with combat abilities at all, gave him the advantage of looking like a youth in his twenties, even though he had celebrated his forty-ninth birthday last winter. "That is not a reason to be angry," Lord Funaki said.

"Then leave me please," Iruka said, the corners of his lips drawn down, and his eyes narrowed as he stared at Lord Funaki, "if you don't like unreasonable people. You know how unreasonable I am."

Lord Funaki merely smiled. Iruka hated that smile. He turned his face away and busied himself with another pile of reports.

"Stop punishing yourself," Lord Funaki said, looking at a closed window. "You have got to move on. This is useless unless you start forgiving yourself."

"What do you know about punishment?" Iruka asked bitterly.

"I know that it has got to stop somewhere along the line," Lord Funaki said as he picked up a new bottle of ink. "I know that punishment is not forever, and that punishment can sometimes be good for the soul. It's like a cleansing agent, flushing out the previous sins and readying the soul for a newer, more divine experience."

Iruka stopped busying himself with the report when he realised it was from a year ago. He turned to Lord Funaki. "You always philosophise whenever you're at a loss of words to combat back my truth. Don't think that although I've changed I don't remember you anymore."

Lord Funaki began grinding the ink in its recess. The ink was already fine the way it was, but he liked doing it. It encouraged thinking. "You're right. I don't have rebuttals for your words. True," he said, taking out a paper, "I never knew the harsher facts of life when I was younger. Now that I do, I was glad my parents had the wisdom which they passed down to me. It always helps this town and me to get over tougher times."

Iruka thought of his own parents and briefly closed his eyes. Everything came back in a rush with that memory, the memory he wanted to discard from his mind but failed, and now it rode upon him like some unseen burden.

"You have no right talking about tough times," Iruka snarled at Funaki whose fingers ceased grinding the ink. "You never knew – never tasted it, experienced it firsthand. You can't even start to imagine the pains someone feel when they see the one they love died in their arms, or before their eyes.

"You never smelt blood, never saw it stain your hands and face and eyes, never tasted it. All you ever did was strategising, moving your pawns around the board and never at once give it so much as a glance it definitely was more than worth of receiving."

By now Iruka stared at Lord Funaki who was seated across him with burning eyes. His eyes were on Iruka, but his fingers were moving on the paper, writing furiously away. Those eyes stared at him with sadness and yet at the same time, empathy. The last character written, Lord Funaki's eyes became firm for an instant – as if his gaze suddenly became ice – before it passed.

Slowly Lord Funaki relinquished the brush aside and stood up. Without a word he left the room, leaving Iruka somewhat relieved, but not triumphant.

Almost like a stalemate.

After a long while debating inside his head, Iruka finally decided to look at what Lord Funaki wrote just now. This was written in masculine katakana:

Pawns of the game --
Even players strike them
with deep regret.

"Stalemate," Iruka said without humour. "Definitely a stalemate."


Hinata was on a house errand when she ran into Sakura at the market. "Good morning, Sakura-san," she said, still with that nervous voice of hers. "Shopping for vegetables?"

Sakura nodded, although she did not seem interested in conversing with her. Hinata bit her fingers and turned away with a hasty 'goodbye' and went on shopping for vegetables. Recently, under TenTen's influence, Neji had taken a great interest in Zen Buddhism, which amounted to him eating only vegetables. The house used to always lacking in meat; now it needed more greens than a goat's farm.

She liked going around, shopping for Neji. It was not self-slavery, not at all. She liked doing stuff for him, but she knew where the line would be, and Neji respected her for it. Respect. Such a foreign word to her. It used to be far from her reach. Now, even the fishmonger greeted her. Even the lady at the back who handed change to another customer smiled and said 'good morning to her'.

And the cause of all these things was not even considered a hero anymore.

How can human be so divergent in their thinking? And yet, these divergences of thoughts differ not much from the root of the real reason: fear. They had feared for Naruto before because of the Kyuubi he contained; now they feared him because Naruto did the right thing.

Hinata realised her basket was getting full. Petite even for someone aged 25, the basket was too heavy for her. And now her chest had started hurting. She needed to find someplace to sit down and let it subside somewhat.

There was a bench, but as she neared it the worse her chest pain became. Slowly her vision went to black…

…and Heaven was Sakura. (WHAT? she thought. I thought it would be Naruto-kun)

"…the smelling salts should do enough…"

"Sakura-san, is that you?" Hinata asked dazedly.

"You fainted," Sakura said, as her voice became clearer to her senses.

Obviously she had not yet died. Hinata sat up. She saw she was laid upon the bench she had wanted to sit upon. Then her mind went to her shopping. "Oh no, my vegetables!"

"It's all safe," said another voice behind her. She turned. Aburame Shino held up her basket. "I made a sort of supporter with my bugs to catch it before it was too late."

She smiled at him. She liked the way he looked now. He looked better than he was before. The circle shades was gone, replaced by a streamlined one that seemed more like a mask than a functional sunglasses. He had also ditched the upswept hairdo, sporting a shorter haircut and a small moustache, partially hidden by the round high collar.

"Thank you, Shino-san."

Shino could have smiled, but the collar hid his lips from view. Only the visible moustache moved up in suggestion. "It's okay. Oh, shoot, I have to meet Kiba now. Later, Hinata."

She nodded at her as Shino left. Then she touched her chest and felt a slight pain there, but not that much. "Whew! I was lucky you were close by, Sakura-san. Thanks for this."

"I wasn't," Sakura bluntly said as she gathered her medical stuff lying on the ground about her. "Shino here saw you swaying and like he said, he caught your basket."

"Oh," she said. "Then he called you, I suppose?"

Here Sakura smiled a bit. Her short hair hid her eyes from Hinata, but Hinata deduced that her eyes must have been sad when she said:

"Not before he caught you with his bugs before you fell on the ground." She turned to Hinata, and immediately Hinata blushed. "I never actually knew the Aburame bugs could help like that, but it seemed he did it without affecting your chakra flow at all."

"What are you trying to tell me, Sakura-san?" she asked.

Sakura smiled. "Some things are worth talking later. I see that you keep pressing your hand on that spot," she said, changing the subject. "Was it the one where Neji – well, you know."

Hinata nodded. The hit from Neji's palm ten years ago was still hurting now and then, the only thing which Neji never completely forgave himself. Although it rarely occurred, Neji would be on her side when it began hurting.

They began walking away from the market, the crowd had since long dissipated after Hinata recovered. They began talking trivial things, and Hinata tried to ask Sakura about her recent mission, but she remained tight-lipped about it. Hinata gave up on the subject.

As they came to a junction – Hinata's home to the right, Sakura's to the left – there came a reluctant pause.

"Well," Hinata said as she shrugged her shoulders, "I should be going. Thank you a lot for your help just now, Sakura."

"It's – it's nothing," Sakura replied. "I – well, goodbye now -"

Hinata nodded and began walking away. Just then –

"Hinata!"

She turned. "Yes?"

Sakura seemed to be divided in her thoughts. Finally she said haltingly:

"Naruto came here yesterday."