Author's notes: This is one of the changes from the original Litter of Misfits. The last chapters of the Alpha Years were MASSIVE - we're talking 10K+ words. I decided to split the chapters in different places, so they were more manageable lengths. (Just as a side note, I feel that 5k+ words is an acceptable chapter length. Personally, I try to for 2k as minimal.)
Jealousy is a normal human emotion and reaction. We are such social creatures that it is normal to crave the feedback of our fellow humans. It's why children strive to please their guardians, why adults desire to receive validation from their peers. Tsume has had to struggle with adults realizing their failure - she's not only on the receiving end of their attempt to protect her, but also being the object of their validation: They are make themselves feel better by helping her, because they feel better if they do something about the situation, not because they actually want to help. In addition to all of that, Tsume has the backlash of her peers that she must suffer. The peers are jealous of the attention that Tsume receives, as they themselves crave this attention, but the peers don't understand why Tsume is the recipient of such attention. Except for Minato, who is like, dude, Tsume needs all the help she can get, I gladly accept the adults helping me in this endeavor. (I have convinced myself that Minato is a Saint. And I Love Him. Although I have had four glasses of wine, so it may just be the alcohol talking.)
Probably not as interesting as the perspective of the abused child is the perspective of the Author, who does, in fact, have synesthesia. The author can feel the color of music, in that music has color, and color has feelings, and therefore, music feels like color. (When people always described music as "colorful", this made perfect sense. Of course music is colorful!) Along that line, Sakumo understands emotions like color. It's not a bloodline limit; it's just synesthesia.
(Synesthesia is FASCINATING. Did you know that there are medical professionals whose synesthesia is such that their sense of touch overlaps with their sense of empathy? There's at least one doctor and one nurse who, once they lay their hands upon their patients, EXPERIENCE THE SAME SYMPTOMS. This is magnificent, and this drunk author could wax at length the wonders of two inter-sectional senses. The brain is SUCH A MAGNIFICENT ORGAN.)
o-o-o
o-o-o-o
o-o-o-o-o
Sakumo gently guided Tsume to the mess tent with his hand on her right shoulder, careful not to press or push to avoid causing any more undue pain. Four ninken, each the size of a small horse, followed after in a sullen silence. Tsume's face was bare again, since she had scrubbed it clean to remove all traces of her blood and tears. "There won't be much of a selection since it's outside the main mealtimes," Sakumo told her, "but there's always something available for passing nin. Kushina should still be there."
"What about Kokoro-chan?" Tsume asked.
Sakumo's shoulders rounded forward as he scratched the back of his neck. "Kokoro-chan… I'll explain over some grub. There's something you and Kushina both need to know before you see her."
"Kokoro-chan's not dying." Tsume was certain of that. "I didn't smell death on her the same way I could smell it on Grandmother two days ago…" She tried very hard not to remember the still, unmoving body and the static scent, and resented how easily the memory flitted through her mind. She wondered with mounting guilt if Grandmother would've lived for a few moments longer, if she hadn't destroyed the cot while Grandmother still laid upon it. "Is she hurt, badly?" Kokoro didn't smell of leaking gastric fluid and infection.
Sakumo sighed as he steered her though the wide open entrance of the mess hall. It smelled of rank foods and stale grease, and Tsume felt her stomach swim towards her throat. The mess hall was mostly empty, with small bunches of ninja and samurai seated in their own groups. In the far corner was Kushina and Jiraiya's team (minus Jiraiya). Kushina noticed Tsume and Sakumo's entrance immediately, and began bouncing up and down with her arms waving wildly. Minato ducked to avoid being clobbered, and Osamu hastily scooted outside the reach of Kushina's swinging arms.
Tsume waved back as Sakumo dropped his hand away from her shoulder and stepped forward, grabbing two bowls from the stack of clean dishes. He held one and balanced the other in the crook of his elbow.
"I can carry my own bowl," Tsume said.
Sakumo fondly ruffled her hair, ignoring the way Grandmother's ninken growled in warning at his casual invasion of her personal space. "Indulge me. Kushina was abducted from my side when I was lying unconscious in a ditch, and you were dead as of, oh, three hours ago. I think that fussing over you is the least I deserve after all the hair on my head that you two have turned white."
Tsume snorted. "How can you tell, sensei?"
"Hey." He tapped his head, just above his ear. "It all just turned white ahead of time on account of karma that had yet to be earned." Sakumo headed to the buffet where pots of cold barbequed pork, half-dry rice, and pickled vegetables sat. After eyeing Tsume's arms and the ninken, he filled both bowls with a generous amount of pork. "You need iron," he said knowingly. Then he added a smidgeon of rice and another generous heap of pickled vegetables. "And growing children should always eat their vegetables."
"Did you just add pickled radishes? You know I hate pickled radishes!"
Sakumo ignored her. He grabbed two pairs of chopsticks, two tin cups, and a spare fire-clay jug of water, and made his way to where Kushina was seated. They walked through the rows of tatami mats, careful not to step on any, and the ninken followed single-file with their great heads hung low. Most of the ninja recognized Sakumo and called out greetings; the samurai watched silently with brows creased unhappily. Samurai from Iron County didn't approve of how young many ninja were, especially when the young ninja looked as battered as Tsume did.
"What happened?" Kushina demanded loudly as Tsume awkwardly plopped herself on the ground between Minato and Sakumo. "Every time I turn around and leave you alone, you find a new way to hurt yourself!"
Tsume accepted the chopsticks that Sakumo offered. Her left arm was stiff and still numb from the unguent that Shikake had applied. She dropped the chopsticks when she tried to work her fingers. "No, no, I can get this," she told Sakumo as she attempted to pick the chopsticks up. The silence was awkward as they rolled away from her clumsy, pinching grasp. Oh, gosh. Four more attempts later, Tsume held her hand out expectedly. "Just hand me the bowl."
"I can feed you," Kushina offered with a smile.
"No!" Tsume felt her cheeks burn at the thought of being fed like a baby. "I can take care of myself!"
Minato peeked through the shredded remains of her sleeve to look at the bandages that covered Grandmother's lacerations. Acting on reflex (because it was Mooncalf), Tsume elbowed him in the side. She felt something sting in her arm, just a faint release of pressure without sensation, and she instantly regretted it when Sakumo immediately reminded her not to tear any stitches. "Uh…" She hunched her shoulders and tried to ignore the faint smell of blood.
Sakumo handed her a bowl, most likely figuring that she was unlikely to elbow Minato again if she were holding food.
Kushina gasped. "Stitches? That does it – you are never leaving my sight again, believe it!" Kushina raised a triumphant fist in the air as something briefly swirled around her – a vapory outline of red, almost like long tendrils fanning around her body. When Tsume blinked, the vapory outline was gone. Behind her, she felt Grandmother's ninken bristle dangerously. She didn't understand the language they and Grandmother had shared, but she recognized the shift in their scents. Also, Hotaru was eying Kushina oddly.
Tsume whirled around and dumped the contents of the bowl upside down on the ground. "Eat!" she commanded them. They studied her for a moment, their eyes unblinking and heads lowered, half-gathered for a forward lunge. Tsume leaned forward and sustained her own unblinking stare before tension finally melted away from Ichi and San and they began nosing the food. Ni and Shi soon followed suit. Tsume turned back to her companions, blinking rapidly because her eyes now stung from being dry.
"Those are your grandmother's ninken," Hotaru said. Tsume could hear the buzz of Hotaru's kikaichu as Hotaru shifted her weight restlessly on her knees. "Is she…?"
Tsume stole a pickled beet out of Sakumo's bowl and stuffed it in her mouth as her eyes stung in a different way.
"I'm sorry," Minato said, tugging Tsume's shredded sleeve. He patted her upper arm twice in comfort, and his touch was unusually gentle.
Kushina nodded in agreement as she sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Me too. Tsume-chan has lost so much of her family."
Tsume shrugged and swallowed. ("Why does the wrong great-granddaughter live?") "Nothing to be sorry about." Tsume tried to ignore the swelling ache beneath her breast and the looming emptiness watching over her shoulder. "I got to see her before she died." The beet was too sweet for Tsume and set her teeth on edge. She stuffed one of Sakumo's pickled onions into her mouth., and chewed, so she didn't have to mention just how glad she was that Grandmother would get the shallow grave before Tsume did. (Actually, Grandmother would be burned in the funeral pyre tonight, but Tsume planned on shoving some of the ashes into a shallow hole just outside the camp, kicking some dirt over it, and maybe spitting on it for good measure.)
"Still," Sakumo said, pouring water into one of the tin cups. "It's okay to grieve, no matter what was said or done before she died."
Tsume half-choked on the onion, and managed to fend off Minato's thumping hand to her back before Grandmother's ninken could perceive this as a threat.
"What was done?" Kushina asked, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes widened as she looked at Tsume's shredded right arm with new horror. "Your grandmother did that? How could she?"
Tsume rapidly stuffed another pickled onion into her mouth, and felt her arm twinge again. She really hoped, if she needed to get her stitches repaired, that Shikake wasn't on-duty. She didn't know how much more emotional ups and downs she could take in one day.
"Enough," Sakumo said, just as Danzo joined them. Danzo favored his right leg as he sat cross-legged between Sakumo and Hotaru, one small bowl of rice in his hands. His hamstring must be bothered him more than usual if he wasn't going to kneel like everyone else. "Jiraiya told me that you were debriefing with Orochimaru. How did that go?"
Danzo said nothing for a moment as he chewed a mouthful of rice slowly. "Orochimaru's mobilizing all forces to strike against the enemy. Mifune-sama has graciously volunteered to accompany the worst of the wounded Konoha nin and allies to Konoha since our hospital is the best equipped, best-staffed even now, and further away from the fighting than the Capital. You and your team will be accompanying the train of wounded, as will I." His eye scanned Osamu, Hotaru, and Minato, skipping right over Tsume. "The rest of you will go with Jiraiya, and I have no idea where he's been assigned."
Danzo's face was carefully blank, but Tsume wrinkled her nose at the stench of humiliation and anger that rolled off him in waves. She grabbed a piece of barbequed pork out of Sakumo's bowl, and then froze with it half-way to her mouth when Danzo finally aimed his piercing glare on her.
It's my fault. Tsume felt another rush of guilt. Orochimaru benched Danzo because he grabbed me when he wasn't supposed to. She hunched her shoulders and carefully nibbled on the corner of the pork, since she didn't know any special jutsu that would make the earth open up and swallow her. Between learning of her sister's death and being on the receiving end of Shinzou's last spiteful words, Tsume almost wished that Danzo had left her at the brothel. All the physical pain in the world she had experienced as a prostitute couldn't compare to the emotional pain clenching around her heart.
Sakumo studied Danzo for a moment as he poured water into a tin cup, and then handed it to Tsume. He clicked his tongue. "It doesn't really make sense to me to bench the best when this could be the turning point in the war."
Danzo's glare didn't soften as he continued to study Tsume. His eye slowly dragged from her left arm to her right arm, and she smelled his anger spike as his fingers tightened white-knuckled around his bowl. "What is Konoha," he asked softly, "if we fail to protect our most vulnerable?"
Sakumo tilted his head. "Hmm. You know, I never thought of it like that. Sounds like something the Third would say, and it does make more sense to have our strongest protect our weakest." He sighed. "And the wounded will be very weak and vulnerable. Tsume, Kushina." He set his bowl of food in front of Tsume so she wouldn't have to reach far. "The shockwave from the blast knocked me unconscious. It killed your sister," he nodded to Tsume, "and it created an opening amidst the confusion that allowed the enemy to abduct you." He nodded to Kushina. "Kokoro was also caught in the shockwave. Because she was smaller and lighter than me, Kokoro was thrown further and landed harder." He was quiet for a moment, and then sighed. "Her back was broken. Tsunade-hime might've been able to heal her, but she's only concentrating on those who would die without her assistance… The med nin feel Kokoro is very unlikely to ever be able to walk again."
Tsume dropped her half-eaten pork as her appetite shriveled to nothing.
oOoOoOo
Sakumo let Kushina and Tsume visit one at a time. A brief argument occurred between the girls because Kushina said that Kokoro should see Tsume first, and then Tsume said that Kushina should be seen first because Kokoro's hope and fear for Kushina would be more suspenseful than the ongoing assumption that Tsume was dead. Sakumo solved the problem by sending Kushina in first so Tsume could sit on the ground in the shade of the hospital tent and rest a moment. There was several hospital tents in Orochimaru's camp, all separated from each other to decrease the number of wounded concentrated to any single location. This tent entrance was guarded by two samurai, who stood unmoving despite their heavy armor and the hot sun beating down on them. Tsume tried to offer them her water, but they politely declined.
Tsume sighed and pulled at some lonely-looking tufts of grass as three ninken settled around her without touching, and the fourth – Ichi – rested his head on her lap with a forlorn whine. She scratched him behind the ears as Sakumo folded his arms and waited. He studied Tsume, letting the grateful joy at seeing her alive (but not well, no, not after the battering her tender heart had been through in the last hour, much less last four months) lift his spirits.
Sakumo wouldn't trade having Tsume back for anything in the world – not even to have his dearest Hidarime returned, even though he knew that was a hole in his heart that would likely never be filled. Hidarime had lived a life – however short it had been, especially the time spent with him and their son – in which she knew and felt she was loved, and Tsume was struggling to find validation and love, since it had clearly been withheld from her since her brain injury. He smiled at Tsume. "Kakashi will be so happy to see you again."
Tsume looked up from the ground as her face brightened at the mention of her nephew. Her eyes lit up like two gleaming lights, and for a brief moment she looked hauntingly like her ten year old self. "I'm so glad. Kushina-chan told me that Aunt Natsumi was taking care of him."
"Yes. For being such an odd woman, she does very well with children – even boys."
"Aunt Natsumi's daughters are dead, but I think it's the twin boys that made her crazy." Tsume tugged a burr out of Ichi's neck. As her smile dropped away, Sakumo was struck by how alien she appeared. Darkness circled her eyes and her face had a pinched, feral angle that hadn't been there when he saw her last year at the failed graduation. Whatever had happened to Tsume, it had forged her, like the constant strike of a hammer against white-hot metal.
Tsume shifted her weight, drawing up her right knee without disturbing Ichi. She rested her bandaged left arm in the crook of the ninken's neck. "Aunt Natsumi had twin daughters, but they were killed in the same attack that gave her the big old scar on her face and ruined her nose. It was the only battle she ever lost. Her daughters had been kidnapped by a clan… I can't remember their name, sorry. Anyway, Aunt Natsumi fought for three days without rest to rescue her daughters, and was alone and tired and nearly out of chakra by the time she found them. The enemy used the girls as shields and Aunt Natsumi pulled her attack, so the leader smashed her in the face with his staff. They killed the girls, who were, like, four years old and of no use to that clan. I guess the other men thought that the leader gave Aunt Natsumi a killing blow or something, because they just assumed she was dead. And there she was, probably the first woman they'd seen in months, and her body was still warm, so they used it. That was, gosh… sixty years ago?"
While Tsume ticked off her fingers and appeared to be counting up the years, Sakumo sadly reflected how battlefield rapes hadn't grown any less common or any less brutal for kunoichi in the last fifty years.
"I know it happened a little after Konoha's birth. It's one of the reasons why Grandmother decided to finally join, because Aunt Natsumi was her younger sister, see, and I guess roaming out in the open was making it harder and harder to keep the Pack safe." Tsume looked lost for a moment, shrinking back into herself as she talked about Shinzou.
Sakumo knew that Tsume had spoken to Shinzou before she died, today. Based upon his last experience with Shinzou yesterday – he had crossed paths with her because she had been in the same tent as Kokoro, which prompted the med nin in moving Kokoro to a different tent so that another humiliating public row wouldn't take place – Sakumo figured that Shinzou's last words had been every bit as cruel with Tsume as they had been with Sakumo.
Sakumo spared a brief iota of grief for a woman who had seen and lived the history of Konoha's founding, truly one of the last of the generation of shinobi who had grown up in a world where Hidden Villages didn't exist. As cruel and as daunting as Inuzuka Shinzou was, she had been an admirable kunoichi who faced down greater shinobi without loss of pride or ability, especially in a world that was unfavorable to kunoichi, or women in general. Only two other kunoichi in her days matched her in skill and talent, and one of them had been the jinchuuriki for the greatest of the tailed demons, and the other had the legendary Uzumaki regeneration and an army of summons.
Inzuka Shinzou had been unbelievably skilled to have survived, still strong and fighting, for nearly a century. Konoha was less than sixty years old; Shinzou had survived the first three decades of her life outside of its walls. Sakumo would consider himself in very good shape if he could maintain his current health and skills by the time he was sixty, if he managed to live that long.
"Aunt Natsumi got pregnant from the rape, and she had twin boys. She wanted to keep the boys because the clan was safe at Konoha, but Grandmother told her no, the clan would never claim any sons. Grandmother stole the twins away at night when Aunt Natsumi was recovering from the birth, and left them deep in the woods to die from exposure, although Aunt Bashira said the twins were stillborn, and Aunt Natsumi couldn't accept it – she thought they were sleeping, even though they didn't draw any breath.
"Anyway, Aunt Natsumi couldn't track them down, because that blow to her face ruined her sense of smell. See, Aunt Natsumi also has a brain injury, except it's not the same as mine. She can't smell anything, and she can't see in colors anymore, and she's got no sense of direction. Can't tell the difference between right and left, that sort of thing. Probably wouldn't tell the difference between up and down if it weren't for gravity. She got really, really lost when she went after Grandmother. Aunt Natsumi told me that the boys were reincarnations of her daughters, because they were conceived the same day the girls were killed, see."
Aaaaaaand there went any and all bits of grief and admiration he had for the ruthless, heartless woman who had abused Tsume for years, flying away like ashes strewn in the wind.
"Also, I don't know why people think Grandmother had sex with the Second Hokage. Grandmother figured that men were only useful for, uh, donating sperm, I think she said. I only remember Grandmother's lovers being women. Aunt Natsumi though, she really adored the Second Hokage. She was always talking about him, and it wouldn't surprise me if they had sex." Tsume frowned for a moment, lost in thought. Sakumo had heard Danzo complain often enough about how inappropriate the Second Hokage and Aunt Natsumi had been in front of Team Tobirama. "In fact, I'm pretty sure they did. Aunt Natsumi always said that Tobirama had the best stamina and the most talented hands, and he really, really loved her piercings. I still don't get how nipple piercings would be fun to play with, but now I get why he liked her lower piercing."
Okay. Well. There were some details of the esteemed Second Hokage that Sakumo could've lived his entire life without ever learning. And damn his mind for imagining his darling Tsume-chan sporting some very inappropriately-placed jewelry. It easily explained why Danzo seemed unusually traumatized from his experience with Team Tobirama. "Your clan has a very fascinating history," Sakumo said carefully, trying to think Appropriate Thoughts. "Not always very pretty, but truly fascinating." And to think how shocked he had been when Hidarime got her belly button pierced after having Kakashi!
He also briefly considered just how nipple piercings would be fun to play with, and then decided to keep that information far from Tsume.
Tsume dropped her knee down and crossed her ankles. She removed another burr from Ichi's neck. Sakumo couldn't smell emotions like Tsume or Hidarime, but he didn't need to. He could see the colors of emotions – heard the whispers of the heart, he once tried to explain to Danzo, because his ability to feel, see, and hear emotions wasn't a Bloodline Limit as he understood Bloodline Limits to be. ("Most people would say that hearing whispers is an unhealthy sign, you overemotional fool.")
Months in captivity had changed Tsume's little blue heart. It was still the same color of the skies in the height of a summer day, and still bravely bore all its wounds and scars. His tenacious grasp on her emotions felt off-center though, with her trying to slide away from him to protect him from the trauma she had suffered.
Sakumo had known, upon hearing her alive, that Tsume would bear new scars of brutality. He hadn't expected this many scars, or that they ran so deep, nor did he imagine that she would ever be tainted with an ugly black blot. The little blue heart limped instead of fluttering and floating. Gone was the buzz of contentment. Her heart couldn't silence the whispers of despair or loneliness.
At the core of her heart there still existed a lonely child constantly seeking a place to call her own, but never quite finding a welcoming mat. She was a daughter who he had instantly loved every bit as ferociously and as deeply as his son. These new walls built around her heart were haphazard and brittle. It was as if Tsume didn't know why she was trying to protect herself, only that she had to, and she would gladly bust them down if a friendly hand stretched toward her from the other side.
As long as he had known her, Tsume had always been a misfit in society, whether polite or otherwise. She had probably been no less a misfit in her captivity. She moved like she was a stranger to the world, as if she was a plain, white go stone that accidentally wandered onto a shougi game, but wasn't going to let being the wrong game piece be a barrier to claiming her own little niche on the board. To be fair, Sakumo certainly felt like the world had rearranged itself into different shapes since Hidarime's death, because he didn't feel like fitting, either.
Like being a crescent-shaped peg trying to fit into a triangular hole – or a go stone amidst the shougi lances and knights.
Sakumo settled on the ground beside Tsume on the grass. Ni and San growled at him as he intruded into their very large, very invisible bubbles, but were silenced when Tsume waved them quiet with a single harsh chop of her hand and an unblinking glare. Undeterred, Ichi thumped his tail and raised his head to give Sakumo a hopeful look.
Sakumo chuckled and scratched Ichi behind his hears. "Minus the whole history about the children," Sakumo said as Tsume drew her knees up and rested her chin on them, "you just can't find fault with a clan that is as loved by dogs as yours. It's like hating a puppy, even when it chews on your slipper. It just can't be done." When Tsume's melancholic air still hovered like a grumpy cloud, he added, "Kuromaru misses you."
Another little smile brightening her face again. "I'm never leaving him behind, ever again," she promised. "Life is really lonely when you don't have a friend at your side, and once you've got a friend, you realize you never want to go back to having none."
Friends were more important to Tsume than family, because family had failed Tsume in so many ways. Friends, however – they have proven their loyalty, and loyalty was such an important characteristic of an alpha. Sakumo moved his hand from Ichi's ears to the top of Tsume's hair and ruffled it. "Whether or not we're presently at your side, we will always be friends."
The smile dropped away from her face, her eyes wide. Her hair, pressed flat by his hand, framed her face in a way that emphasized her resemblance to a younger Shinzou. Sakumo didn't move his hand and refused to let his emotions shift, because Tsume would instantly sense the distance. "Really?" she asked in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "No matter what… what happened?"
He slid his hand from her hair to her shoulders and pulled her into a hug. He was grateful beyond words that she didn't find his physical contact repulsive. "No matter what happened to you or what you did, it will never change how I feel about you." Especially not when he considered Tsume like a daughter who entered his life the same time that Kakashi had – it was really a great two-for-one deal, Sakumo had said when he successfully talked Danzo into moving a sleeping Tsume from beneath his hospital bed onto the mattress beside him.
("That's just the IV morphine talking, you bubblebrain. You can't really expect a deal when she's just a brain-injured brat with an uncanny good fortune and slightly exceptional nose. I'll grant you that she's at least housebroken though, which is more than I can say for your leaky offspring."
"How was I supposed to know that Kakashi projectile-burps? Besides, you're an ANBU captain and a jounin who was trained by the Second Hokage. What would Tobirama-sensei say if he knew that his protégée couldn't duck a spitting baby?"
"He'd be too busy forcing you through much-needed remedial training to say anything to me. Or experimenting on your son. My team and I were usually busy making sure that the Second was kept far, far away from the young and impressionable for a very good reason, otherwise we'd have a lot more sadistic, violent, alcoholic gamblers running around."
"Huh. Never thought about that. Well, I don't know anything about brain injuries, but I know the language of the heart. And this child's heart is the sweetest I've ever heard.")
And Danzo, who kept his own brittle heart barricaded behind a veritable maze of barbed wire and exploding tags, hidden in a fortress of granite, shrugged and told Sakumo every remarkable thing that this delightful ten year old had done, from receiving Kakashi from Shinzou, to tracking Sakumo down, and everything in between.
("A butthead! Hahahahahahaha!"
"You do realize the only reason I'm not smothering you with your own pillow is because the Slug Princess would attempt to kill me for ruining all the hard work and energy she poured into saving your worthless life and limb."
"She called you – phhhhht! – a butthead! Hahahahahaha! Oh man, I wish I could've seen the look on your face!"
"Further proof that her brain injury destroyed her capacity to produce and feel fear.")
And further proof that Tsume clearly needed someone like Sakumo in her life, guarding and guiding her in the ways that her clan should've but didn't, that her sire could've but wouldn't. Everyone else always made up excuses for why Tsume couldn't get the guidance and teaching she needed, but Sakumo knew that the excuses had to stop somewhere, and someone needed to step forward. He figured that someone ought to be him, and not just peripherally because she had attached herself to Kakashi like a stubborn, possessive little hedgehog.
Pressed against his side in the tight hug, Tsume hunched down like she was trying to minimize herself as a viable target. "I got Danzo benched." She sounded so utterly miserable and so very close to crying. "It's my fault that he's in trouble with Orochimaru."
"Tsume, you can't take the weight of the world upon your shoulders. The captain is a big boy fully capable of taking care of himself. It's not like you planned this entire time to be held captive until he just happened along with his own mission that coincided with yours, and then you seduced him into taking you along."
The silence was far more awkward than his gentle sarcasm should've warranted. Sakumo lifted his arm. Tsume peered at him over her kneecaps with bruised-looking eyes, her expression pinched and haunted. The whispers of brutality that he heard took on a whole new pitch and tone as the limping heart wilted in shame, sinking low. "Oh, Tsume." Suddenly, all the different little things that Sakumo had filed under bizarre and suspicious when he learned of Tsume's death – they were now starting to coagulate into a single nightmare, like the shadows of dead bodies melting together into one horrendous monster.
Tsume pressed her face against her kneecaps and sniffled. "I'm sorry. I fucked… up Danzo."
Sakumo felt her keening pain. His mind darted lightning-chakra fast through different implications and scenarios. He callously felt grateful that Hidarime was beyond the realm of knowing what had been done to Tsume – what had been happening, because Hidarime never would've forgiven herself for not tearing the world apart in her haste to rescue her baby sister.
The night before Hidarime died, when she had rested in his arms after making love for the last time, tangled in their combined bedrolls, Hidarime had made Sakumo swear a solemn oath on everything he held dear – including Kakashi – to always look out for Tsume. ("I failed her, and she needs someone who hasn't failed her. You're the only person who's ever looked out for Tsume-chan without failing.")
"The captain is a responsible adult who's quite capable of looking out for himself, Tsume." Sakumo was proud of himself for having the right mix of cheer and sympathy in his voice. "And trust me when I say that whatever decision the captain made was done with full awareness and regard to the consequences." And if it had been anyone but Danzo, Sakumo would meet them in a dark, isolated forest with his chakra saber drawn and fully charged.
Sakumo doubted that he would survive an encounter with Danzo if he went after the man with killing intent, and he had sworn to Hidarime that he would always look out for Tsume. It would be very difficult to keep his oath if he got himself killed, although he was quite sure that he would be able to take Danzo down with him.
Something had to be done.
Tsume hunched lower. Ichi whined and nudged her knee, pressing his bulky head beneath the crook of her left elbow. She mumbled something about her responsibility. Sakumo didn't respond, because he knew that the Inuzuka gnawed and worried on their guilt the same way a dog gnawed on their favorite bone. He also knew that he just couldn't take that burden away with well-meaning words – distraction was the best cure for such ails.
Sakumo's distraction arrived via Kushina exiting the tent. There was a forceful bounce in her step, like she wore a bright and happy face for the sake of another. Not unexpected – Kushina also wore her heart on a labeled banner hoisted high for all to see, and her disguises were inadequate. Of his three girls, only Kokoro guarded her heart and controlled her emotions, and she had become quite skilled at both in the last two weeks as the shame of her inadequacies and resentment toward her disability covered her heart like a death shroud.
"It's your turn!" Kushina declared brightly as she bounced to a halt before them. "I didn't let Kokoro-chan know that you're alive and want to see her, too. I thought that the surprise would be really nice since she seems so down." Her eyes were dewy and red-rimmed. "So I'll just wait out here with Sakumo-sensei."
Tsume hunched down lower for a moment, before finally standing. She moved slowly, as if weighed down by a large object. The four ninken stood with her and followed after as she headed for the entrance. San shook her coat so a cloud of dust and loose hair went flying.
"Tsume?"
She halted at Sakumo's voice, and then looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were wide and… not fearful, but sad and reluctant.
Sakumo smiled at her. "It'll go much better than it did with your grandmother."
Tsume unexpectedly grinned at that. "That's really not hard to do, Sakumo-sensei. Even facing Orochimaru would go better."
"Well, I'm sure it'll go better than with Orochimaru-sensei, too. It's okay to hope for the better."
"Shinobi Rule #7 – Kakashi's shampoo – always expect and prepare for the worst, especially before it's too late."
Hmmm. Fair enough, he supposed. But it was time for Tsume to learn more than just the Shinobi Rules that defined the core of the Academy's teachings. "Sakumo's Rule #3: hope for the best, and never fear reaching for the unattainable."
She scrunched her nose up in horror. "Oh no! I don't have to memorize all your rules, too, do I?"
Kushina sighed and rolled her eyes as she flopped down on the ground beside Sakumo. "Good luck learning them," she told Tsume knowingly. Then she added, in a whisper loud enough for the entire camp to hear, "Just don't tell sensei this, but I think he makes it up as he goes. The last rule #3 he told me was about always make sure I packed spare clean underwear."
Tsume glanced between Kushina and Sakumo. "That's our secret?"
"Sure. Like I said, don't tell sensei. He thinks he's doing a pretty good job, and he really is, but I don't want him to get a big head out of it." Kushina winked as she patted Sakumo's elbow condescendingly.
"Sensei," Sakumo said, his voice dry as Tsume entered the tent, "has very capable ears. And packing clean underwear is always a sign that you're hoping for the best, so they're like Rule #3a and Rule #3b."
Kushina wrinkled her nose at him. "Oh yeah? And what about your first Rule #3: always try to succeed the first time, since the paperwork has to be done in triplicate?"
oOoOoOo
Kokoro was sitting upright on her cot, her long dark purple hair pulled back in a sloppy bun at the crown of her head. A grey wool blanket covered her from toes to waist, and she wore a simple green cotton blouse that was well-worn and faded. Her lap was filled with multiple surgical tools. She frowned in concentration as she whet a scalpel against the sharpening stone. Kokoro was bound and determined to be useful, if only with her hands, no matter how small her role and assistance might be.
Tsume silently studied her friend for a few moments, ignoring the other bed-bound occupants that surrounded her. Grandmother's four ninken crowded close, equally silent. Tsume had imagined the worst – poor Kokoro suspended from a sea of bandages and casts, small and fragile and just a shadow of herself like Grandmother had been. Instead, Kokoro looked mostly like the last time Tsume had seen her, minus some fading yellow and green bruises on the left side of her face. Kokoro's dark eyes were still sharp, and her hands were steady, quick, and sure in their movements. Tsume breathed in deep and slow, decreasing her olfaction because of the surrounding stench of pain, infection, incontinence, and depression.
The scent of Kokoro's contentment and relief, tinged with a hint of bitterness, mingled with the scent of Kushina's happiness.
Tsume started to approach silently, and then realized that sneaking up on Kokoro when she's supposed to be dead and Kokoro was armed to the teeth probably wasn't a good thing. Tsume was sick and tired of getting crushed, broken, raped, and sliced; she really didn't want to be skewered on top of everything else.
She pushed on San's flanks with her left hand. "Go to Kokoro," she whispered firmly. "Go to her." She felt a lot better with a solid wall of ninken between her and Kokoro's sharp pointy objects. Well aware that she was the sacrificial lamb, San gave Tsume a dirty look, but obeyed. Tsume waited until Kokoro was looking up from her sharpening stone, eyed widening in surprise, before hurrying after with a laugh.
"Kokoro-chan!" Tsume yelled. She ignored the harsh whispered "Hush!" from med nin and support staff alike, and the cries from those whose rest had been disturbed. Kokoro froze with her mouth open as Tsume skidded to a halt beside the cot as the scalpel's edge turned towards her. San and Shi growled in warning. "Aaaaaw," Tsume groaned as the point poked her in the ribs, but didn't draw blood. "I was hoping to avoid that."
"Are you a genjutsu?" Kokoro demanded as her eyebrows dipped dangerously low. The pressure from the scalpel increased uncomfortably, and Tsume retreated two steps. Kokoro smelled of surprise and anger. "No doubt a cruel trick that Inuzuka Shinzou has decided to pull!" Two spots of color appeared high in Kokoro's cheeks. She leaned forward and yelled, "Why don't you just die and leave me alone, you bitter old bat! There's a circle in hell that needs its mistress!"
"Here, here!" declared the Jomae nin who was stuck in a bed opposite from Kokoro, raising his fist in solidarity as Tsume glanced behind herself at him.
Gosh, this was awkward. Tsume didn't know what to do with her arms, because she couldn't cross them in front of her, put them behind herself, or hug Kokoro. Not that she would hug Kokoro right now even if her arms were okay, because Kokoro looked like she wanted to stab someone, and Tsume was an easy target. "Um, Grandmother is dead," Tsume said finally. "She died right after I got back and spoke with her. I haven't been in the camp very long. I… I was with Kushina-chan's rescue party, so we came back together."
"The gods are kind to us!" declared the Jomae nin.
Kokoro studied Tsume suspiciously as she flicked her thumb over the edge of the scalpel. Blood dribbled onto the grey blanket. Kokoro glanced from her thumb to Tsume, and then to the four ninken. "Oh." She pointed the scalpel at Tsume, who quickly settled the ninken as they growled again in warning. Kokoro still didn't smell happy. "What happened to you? Where've you been this entire time?"
"Well, Grandmother took me on a mission, just like I wrote in my letter, but we were attacked by Iwa nin. We got separated – I guess Grandmother thought… or hoped… I was killed. I wasn't. They were trying to get me to join their side because they figured an Inuzuka nose was a great thing to have, and then Danzo found and rescued me, and then we found and rescued Kushina, and now we're both back." Tsume tried to give Kokoro a brave smile, but she couldn't hide her nervousness. Of all the people she would have to tell this story to, Kokoro was the one most likely to detect lies.
"Bullshit."
…Yup, there was Kokoro, detecting the lie immediately. How come no one ever thought of the implications of telling a lie to a Mitarashi? It was like the entire clan had a sixth sense for untruths. Kokoro placed the scalpel into the pile of completed sharpening, and selected a pair of surgical scissors next. She didn't bother looking at Tsume.
"What really happened?" Her eyebrows, the same shade of dark purple as her hair, swooped low in a frown.
Tsume hunched her shoulders. "That is what happened," she mumbled, feeling miserable as she edged further back from Kokoro. At least everything after the part where Danzo rescued her was the absolute truth. She wanted to look at the floor, at the ninken, at anywhere else but the flashing steel in Kokoro's quick hands, but she had learned her lesson the last time she turned her gaze away from someone who didn't seem pleased with her safe return – Tsume was running out of working limbs.
"Sounds less of a can't and more like a won't, to me."
Tsume curled her left arm around her right. Shikake's numbing agent was beginning to wear off, and she could feel a dull throb in her entire left arm. "I'm sorry, Kokoro-chan. I… please don't be mad at me."
Kokoro's hands stilled. "I'm not mad," Kokoro whispered as she opened and closed the scissors. "I'm… I don't know what I am."
"Well, you're not happy to see me." Tsume had believed that everyone – except Grandmother, definitely – would be happy to see Tsume back. Granted, it was an unexpected bonus that her sire and Oyubi had both been overjoyed to see her return, but it stung that Kokoro didn't share in the joy. In the end, Kokoro mattered more to Tsume than Shikake, because Kokoro had been there more for Tsume than what she ever remembered of Shikake.
"I bet you had a lot of fun," Kokoro said with a bitter voice, her odor suddenly flaring with guilt and shame, staring down at the weapons in her lap, "gallivanting around the continent, off on your own adventures and not caring about the rest of us back at home. We were nearly sick to death with worry!"
Tsume hunched her shoulders more, her chin brushing her chest.
"And then you waltz back in like nothing ever happened, and expect me to be all happy for you. It must be nice to come walking in, and give me a bald-faced lie. And wow, you even got to rescue Kushina, while I was stuck here in a cot and wondering if I'd ever see her again, if I'd ever be useful to anyone. I bet everyone's just glad that you're back, lining up around the block to see how you're doing. And I suppose you expect me to be the same. You Inuzuka always have to be the center of attention."
"Kokoro—"
"Go away!" Kokoro flung the scissors. Tsume ducked just in time to avoid an impromptu haircut.
"Hey!" declared the Jomae nin indignantly as he caught the scissors in mid-air. "No spontaneous-thrown pointy objects! You're giving me unhealthy flashbacks to yesterday!"
Kokoro flung her pillow at Tsume. Shi snatched it and shook it ferociously. "I don't want you back!" The pillow burst into a cloud of feathers around Shi's maw. A shouting med nin approached the adolescents as Ichi crouched and growled in warning.
Tsume snagged the back of Ichi's scruff with her left hand, chakra tightening her muscles as she planted her feet against the ground to prevent him from lunging at Kokoro. "OUT! NOW!" She manhandled Ichi alongside her, stitches tearing as the other ninken followed. Oh man, Danzo was going to have her head for not controlling Grandmother's ninken in an infirmary tent. Tsume fled as her eyes stung. She nearly tore the entrance flaps off as she ripped through them, batting at the material with her cast, numb to the physical pain as her emotional pain from Kokoro's rejection crushed her from the inside out, and her other arm throbbing with using chakra-infused strength to control Ichi.
Sakumo was there, his arms around Tsume to draw her into the shadows beside the tent. The two samurai watched Tsume with sympathetic expressions.
"What did I do wrong?" Tsume asked Sakumo as she released Ichi and surrendered herself at Sakumo, her stitched arm leaving a smear of fresh blood against his sleeve. Her eyes still stung, but she wasn't going to cry. She just wasn't. Because Kokoro didn't smell of hate (bitterness, anger – so much like Grandmother – and guilt, but not hate), so Tsume just surprised Kokoro – that had to be it. It wasn't every day that your friend came back from the dead, right, especially surrounded by Grandmother's ninken. "I'll just give her some space," she mumbled as Sakumo forced her to sit beside Kushina. The adrenaline of intervening with battle-hardened, mature ninken was starting to wear off, and she felt her hands shaking. The physical pain was making itself known, now. "That's what she needs right now. It's space."
"I'll talk to her," Sakumo said as he gently pulled her sleeve back to inspect the torn stitches. He clicked his tongue and rolled back the sleeve, revealing the gaping lacerations. "We'll have to go back to your dad, here."
Tsume shook her head as the four nin surrounded her. San pressed in between Kushina and Tsume, Ichi flopped at her feet, Shi sat at her back, and Ni stood on the side opposite of Kushina. "No, don't talk to Kokoro. You'll only make her feel worse, and she already smelled of guilt and shame."
Sakumo sighed and ran one hand through his hand as he pressed Oyubi's sleeve against the bleeding. "What did she say?" Kushina wove her arm around San and wrapped a comforting hand around Tsume's cast.
"She's just mad," Tsume said again, drawing her knees up to her chest. "But I'm sure she'll come around. Really. She… she probably just feels like she's being left behind, because she was mad at me walking in, she was mad that I was able to help rescue Kushina. She's mad that she can't do what I'm able to do." Her simple belief in her friends was all that she had to cling to in the brothel; she was going to cling to it in the broad daylight of Orochimaru's camp.