I first met Sarutobi a few days later. Genma and Hayate had gone before me the day after they'd found me to discuss my training with him. They said it had taken a bit of wheeling and dealing, but what proposition to an old man wouldn't? I only asked once what the favour he had owed them was for, and out of respect to his memory I won't mention what exactly it was. According to the rumours though, it had to do with very powerful yet useless jutsus that were very unbecoming of the head of the village that he'd been caught practicing out in the woods. I imaged that Genma and Hayate had been on their usual walk when they stumbled across them. At least they hadn't dropped from the sky like I had on them; I can only imagine how traumatizing that would have been. It was a wonder anyone went to the woods at all to do things secretly, considering how often they seemed to get caught. A good concealing jutsu around the home would probably do a better job, because those that were interested enough to dispel it would probably follow you to the woods anyway. But I digress.

I must admit when I first walked into the room that served as his office I was a bit intimidated. It reminded me of being called to see the Fuhrer – the way the guards eyed you the entire way, watching for any suspicious activity at all; the way other people in the halls seemed to pity your fate or whisper like grade school kids guessing what you'd done wrong. These premonitions were all dismissed rather quickly once I saw him in person, though. He was indeed quite old, but had an air of benevolence about him; hardly a tyrannical ruler. He'd regained the position after the Fourth had sacrificed himself in a huge battle outside the city several years ago. Some in the village believed that he was past his prime, but it was still true that he was the best ninja they had, and the most experienced as well. Despite his grandson's many supposed assassination attempts throughout the day (I often wished that his impudent tutor Ebisu would exercise some control over him, but he never did), he seemed to be lonely. Most likely though, he just wanted someone to talk to. The ninjas around him had undoubtedly heard his stories many, many times before, or never cared to know them in the first place. I was fresh blood, and given to him expressly for the purpose of listening to him. He seemed to be delighted, though when my concentration waned he never failed to remind me that what he was doing was a favour for Genma and Hayate. I think he was reminding himself rather than me.

In the first day, he managed to keep me busy for nearly twelve hours. Luckily the military had always insisted that we keep ourselves in good shape, or else I doubt I would have survived the first week. Apparently for the first day he'd planned to train me on the basics: endurance, concentration, throwing and things. After a few hours though, he found that I was a bit more well-trained than he expected a random traveller from one of the cities to be. It was clear he was a bit suspicious of my origins, but he never directly questioned it. I never understood why, but I never questioned his silence. It made me a little uncomfortable that he wasn't even curious, though. Sometimes I was afraid that he already knew exactly what the truth was, and that he had somehow seen straight through the secret I shared with Genma and Hayate. I hadn't even told them the entire story, though after a month of living with the two of them I caught myself occasionally dropping hints about my home just to share something about it with other people. Nothing specific, but at least I could believe that they knew that I wasn't from anywhere they were likely to ever see. I think they understood that I wanted to go back, and were sorry that I never could.

When we got to shuriken training, I must say I probably impressed Sarutobi. All those bored months I spent inside doing paperwork while the war raged on around me, only semi-secretly practicing my aim were even more useful than I could have imagined. I never really regretted not being on the front lines myself doing the fighting in person, but at times I thought I did. I'd gouged the walls full of holes in different patterns, telling myself that it would someday come in handy when I actually had to protect myself. And who in the military would never have to protect themselves, especially if they were out gathering sensitive information? There were still those on the streets of Central itself that objected to what the military was doing in Ishbar, and they were not likely to distinguish my uniform from that of the front-line soldiers. It was worse in the case of those that knew the officers still at home were truly to blame. They knew that the people they hated were all in Central anyway, and would usually hide in doorways near the headquarters as the men walked out at the end of the day, hurling stones and insults among other things. Originally the military had tried arresting them, but it had only made the problem worse as they cried out against the injustices they saw. In a way, I appreciated what they were doing even though it was me and my friends that their anger was directed at. I was one of those evil men cooped up in Central making life-and-death decisions while people died on the front lines for a dubious cause. Seeing them lash out against it helped me deal with the guilt I felt at not being able to do anything about it personally.

Taking all my skills into account, the Third quickly decided that it would be well worth the effort to train me fully as a ninja. Once I got the hang of controlling chakra, I'd be well on my way, and near the upper levels of the genin rank. At least, that was what he'd seemed to imply. I wondered what kind of strings he would be pulling to do so. I knew that there was traditionally a whole succession of exams and tests that a shinobi would have to go through. But if anyone could get around them it would be the Hokage. I suddenly appreciated what Genma and Hayate had done for me by putting me in his care. This way I would be able to learn without letting the whole village know that a strange man had suddenly appeared and started training. Sarutobi obviously had his own reasons for training me. While we talked, I had hinted at my experience in the intelligence department, and he mentioned the newer squads of information-gathering Anbu he planned on forming in the future. The village would need it, he said.

Though I had finished his tests early the first day, he claimed it would be unseemly to let me go early. Instead, he decided that I should learn at least a little history of the village. This would be the first of many stories he would tell me during the time I knew him. The history of the village was actually not more than a few generations, as evidenced by the fact that he was only the third Hokage the village had seen (though the Fourth had served for a few years in the middle of his lifetime). What was interesting, though, was how the separate ninja villages had been formed. It seemed to be one of his favourite stories.

Long ago… all his stories invariably started with "Long ago," regardless of whether they actually took place long ago or not. He could have been talking about his morning and it would have started with long ago. It seemed to be a convention he was rather overly-fond of. It was just a small thing, though. Anyway…

Long ago the continent was one whole. Not a solid whole, but one large swath of land where people had settled in small villages here and there. It was not unusual for travellers to go between them, and trade was strong. It wasn't long though, before human nature won out and petty disagreements grew between them. They began to form alliances as the rifts grew bigger, some broke apart, and inevitably among the ever-changing landscape of friendship and enemies between the villages, wars started. Somewhere in the middle of all this sat one man who spent his time thinking not how to fix the actual problem, but how to make things ideal. Oddly enough, after a few years of tiresome fighting and building of power, people started to believe him. He preached that each of the cities should be self-contained and self-sufficient, with its own group of guardians to ensure its safety. They would be sustained entirely by the work of those people of the village, with no need for outside help. Their only job would be the pursuit of perfection of the body and the soul. From the very beginning of their lives, all the children of the village, no matter who they were born to, would be trained to attain the level of these guardians, and having that rank would be the ultimate honour. The idea of this perfect force of people appealed to those in the wars, and the man's ideas were widely adopted, despite the protests of some as to how ridiculous the idea really was. But it worked, at least for a while. However, inevitably this system began to break down, and only the offspring of the guardians were accepted to be trained as guardians.

The guardians were also largely unhappy, because in creating this system no one had taken their actual feelings into account. They were overworked and, because all the cities had turned their attentions inward to make themselves into the ideal, underappreciated. With no wars to fight, their efforts seemed to the people of the city to be frivolous. Though, if anyone had sat down to think the idea through more thoroughly they would have realized that it was because the guardians were there that they had no wars to fight. None of the cities were yet ready to test their strengths against their neighbours, and because they were all self-sufficient, they had no pressing reason to hurry the process. It was only the guardians' job to think, though, so no one among the actual citizens bothered to go farther than their assumption that the entire lot of them were useless and just taking up valuable resources. Slowly the people of the cities began to forget about their guardians, and it was during this time that the great thinkers discovered what could be done by pushing the mind and body to its absolute limit. After many years of clamouring by the citizens below them, the guardians were forced to give up their control of the government. Slowly the citizens took away their support, and they barely noticed when one day the most respected guardian among the ignored and "useless" people suggested a revolutionary idea. The next day they left their camps in the city and moved out in to the forests. There they divided all the work equally, and continued their training not out of habit, but out of a love for the learning they had been able to do. They soon found that without the citizens of the city serving below them though, they had to concentrate too much of their time on menial tasks rather than contemplation and physical training. Because they were used to pushing themselves to the limit though, they were able to maintain their level as it was, without losing their skill and without having to return to the cities for help. They knew that if they could just wait, the cities would eventually degenerate into what they had been before: warring factions, and come back to them for help.

And indeed they did, after only a year. It was then the citizen of the cities that sought out the hidden villages, and it was the only time that the people there made themselves relatively easy to find. Since they had been expecting the need of their services, the men (and women, for the guardian class was one of the few that treated them equally) of the hidden villages, now calling themselves by the name of shinobi, played the citizens' desperation to their advantage. They refused to give up the secrets they had discovered, and refused to go back to the cities themselves and protect them directly. Instead, they asked for a portion of the citizens to come live with them in the villages to serve them, and in turn they would provide protection for the people of the city for a small price each time. They would never go to war as an army against another city, only protect those that paid them. They held complete control over who they would protect and when, effectively stopping the all-out wars between the cities.

---------

"I see where this is going," Roy interrupted. "You tell stories exactly like he did. He must have had a pretty big influence on you."

"He did."

"What happened to him, then?"

"I'll get to that. I've only got a month and a half to cover."

"A month and a half?! As far as I can tell you've only made it through two days so far. At this rate, I'll be listening to you for a month and we'll never get anything done."

"Sorry, I'll try to speed it up, then. Not much happened for the next month, anyway. Except training, and telling you about all the jutsus I had to learn would get tedious after a while."

"Hearing about warring cities isn't?"

"I was just trying to develop Sarutobi's character."

"Spare me, please. I'd like to get to sleep sometime before tomorrow."

"You know what, just for that I'm going to spend even more time telling you things you don't need to know about people."

"I should have seen this coming." Roy shook his head, but the amusement showed on his face and Hughes took the cue to continue.

"You brought it on yourself…"

---------

The next month seemed to pass remarkably quickly. For the most part I preferred to spend time with Genma and Hayate when I could. I understood why Hayate never stayed in his house if he could be at Genma's. Though Genma's apartment was smaller, it was much cosier, and he was a very welcoming host. When we had days off together – and Sarutobi was often kind enough to see that we did – we'd sit and talk for hours. I was homesick, and I needed days like that. At first the conversations were mostly between the two of them, but they didn't seem to mind me sitting there listening. They had invited me, after all. It was from them that I learned almost everything I know about the actual people of the village. I was kept separate for a very long time, simply because Sarutobi was training me personally, and I was an outsider to begin with. It's only been recently that people have started recognizing me on the streets, though the rumours about me started not too long after I came. In fact, I remember the first time Genma and Hayate took me out for ramen. It had come up almost as a joke – that they should introduce me to the public, and I should have my debut at Ichiraku. It would be ideal, because we agreed that it was best not to introduce me to everyone at once since they would surely be too curious to deal with all together. Plus at the time of day they decided to take me, few people were ever at the Ichiraku anyway. At least they could pretend that they'd tried.

When we arrived, we were the only people there aside from the employees. The man smiled and made small-talk as he served us, and we sat and joked about my big debut in the village. After about an hour another ninja joined us inside, but merely sat in the corner eating, barely seeming to pay attention to our conversation. He seemed to have the attention of the female shopkeeper the entire night, which oddly made me slightly jealous. But that's not important. You would think by the way I've been leading up to this that maybe this night involved actually meeting someone, or maybe some big revelation on someone's part. But really I'm just messing with you. Or maybe I'm trying to paint a pastoral picture of our odd little family, so you appreciate the story more later on. Perhaps both.

But the truth is that almost nothing of note happened for the next month. Hayate's sickness got worse for a few weeks, then his strength slowly began to return. It seemed to hit a plateau near the end of the first month. He was still pale and he occasionally couldn't sleep at night because of his coughing, but he dealt with it remarkably well. Though I was supposed to be using the space in Hayate's apartment for myself, I often found myself spending a larger part of my time with the two of them at Genma's. It seemed to be Hayate that understood me best. He too had lost something, and though it wasn't quite the same as losing the family you'd planned to spend the rest of your life taking care of, he was still without something he'd been used to having for a very long time. There were a few weeks when he had to cut back on his training, and during those weeks when I could I stayed in the apartment with him, just talking. He was the one I came closest to telling the truth to. I'm not sure, but sometimes I doubt if he even would have believed me. At least, he wouldn't have argued. Genma was the sceptical one, always questioning things sarcastically. He seemed lazy outwardly, but his mind was always working. Kind of like someone else I know…

Normally I wouldn't mention this, but I think under the circumstances it's fine if I do. Over the few weeks we'd known each other, we grew remarkably close. It was bond I don't imagine many men have ever shared. I could lay in bed for hours in the morning with them just talking. It wasn't even strange that we all shared the same bed. The first time I was over late, I was talking to Hayate as usual as Genma sat on the kitchen counter and listened, occasionally adding in his own little sarcastic comments. I didn't realize how tired I was until I fell asleep on the table during one of Genma's rare long ramblings. The next morning I woke up in their bed between the two of them, and it just felt right.

-------

"So after that night I let all my inhibitions around them go. And it wasn't the only night I spent in bed with them. I wonder what the neighbours thought…." He paused, hoping that by now Roy would have at least reacted to something he said. It was hopeless, he was lost somewhere else entirely. Well, if making up stories wasn't getting his attention... "And I know you're not paying attention at all Roy."

Hughes leaned over across the couch to where his friend was simply staring off into space, tapping a pencil against the notebook on the table. There was only way to retrieve him when he zoned out like this. He whispered a few words into Roy's ear… nothing. He grinned evilly and, contrary to his usual backup plan (yelling "Oh my god look it's the Fuhrer!"), he licked his ear. This got the reaction he was looking for.

Roy practically jumped out of his skin.

"Oh my god! What the… What on Earth are you trying to do?"

"You weren't paying any attention." Hughes said, trying his best to look innocent and slightly offended.

"Oh…" he hesitated long enough to glare at Hughes. "So you lick me? What have these people here taught you?"

"It got your attention." Hughes' grin bordered on maniacal as Roy scrubbed at his ear furiously with his hand. "What were you thinking of that was so much more interesting than my story?" He did his best to look hurt, but he was used to Roy tuning him out. It was a shame he hadn't thought of the licking thing sooner. It seemed to be twice as effective as any other way to get his attention. Roy grinned back at him, but kept his hand protectively over his ear.

"I think I've got this chakra thing figured out."

"Oh?"

"If I just use the forces themselves, rather than try to rearrange things, I think it would work. Here," he moved the notebook to the centre of the coffee table in front of Hughes. "I think I can 'henge' this."

"You can what?"

"Isn't henge the word for it?"

"Well, yes. But it's not really a verb… or, at least, you can't stick it in the middle of sentences like that. It sounds strange. Just say transform or something, ok?"

"Ok…" Roy gave Hughes a sceptical look – he wasn't normally someone to nitpick about language. He imagined there was some sort of story behind it, but the thought of adding yet another story to the list Hughes had in mind to tell him was enough to stop the question long before it reached his lips. "Anyway, I think I can transform this notebook now."

Hughes didn't question why Roy was hesitant to suggest trying to transform himself physically again. He simply nodded, and watched as Roy formed the hand-seal, properly this time. The notebook disappeared with a poof and was replaced with a small glass of milk. Roy looked down at it.

"It's really rather impressive, isn't it, to think that you can use chakra to turn an object into something else that has almost nothing to do with what it was originally? Even if it is technically an illusion." Roy stared at it. "I wonder what happens if I try to drink it…" He picked up the glass and held it to his lips. Hughes reached over and grabbed it back.

"Please don't drink my notebook, there might be something important in there. It's getting late. Do you want to go to sleep now, or should I finish my story?"

"Do you promise it'll be over before daybreak?"

"Yes, I've got errands to run tomorrow, and I'll need you to come with me."

"Ok, then. Let's get this over with."

"I'm sorry; I'll get back to the real story now."