right! here we are after almost, uh, two months...again...oops...
but!
12k of words. like, that's some words. a lotta shit happens in this chapter, yet, at the same time, it feels like a filler. does it feel like a filler to you? tell me later pls~
i've officially hit exam season, (3 down, four motherfuckers still to go!) but this has been languishing on my desktop for over a month so i finally churned it out, but the point is, i won't even have the mental faculties to /write/ much less publish anything for at least another three weeks, so the next update might take just as long to come out... oops x2
also!
IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!
in this chapter, this story OFFICIALLY BECOMES AN AU (!)
i've been toying with canon in the last 24 chapters, playing close to it then straying away again, but in this chap, i officially divorce Kishi. my kingdom now.
why? three reasons, and honestly, i am open to Discourse if you disagree, but this is my opinion:
1. THIS AUTHOR THINKS THE KAGUYA ARC WAS A PIECE OF SHIT (like literally, im not even going to be touching that with a ten foot pole. rabbit goddess whomst? i dont know her)
2. THIS AUTHOR THINKS DANZO WAS A PIECE OF SHIT
3. THIS AUTHOR HAS GONE TOO DEEP DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE OF SELF-INDULGENT WORLDBUILDING AND GOTTEN NOSTALGIC FOR THE POTENTIAL THAT NARUTO AS THE STORYLINE HAD AND WILL NOW ATTEMPT TO COMFORT THEMSELVES BY STICKING A BIG FAT MIDDLE FINGER UP AT CANON. (like i said. my. kingdom. now.)
if you - justifiably - have issue with it, thank you for supporting this story thus far 33 u da real MVPs
now onto a slightly less pleasant announcement: i write this story in my spare time. being in full time higher education makes that time rather limited. now, contrary to some people's belief, comments like 'update!' or 'new chapter plzz' or 'when are you going to update?' or 'it's been sooooo loooong since the last update' do not make authors update any faster. in fact, they are rather demotivating as they turn something fun and enjoyable into a pressure situation, which actually slows the production of new content. so if you plan on leaving a two-word 'update plz' in my inbox, kindly spare yourself the time.
on a more positive note, thank you so much to everyone who reviews and tells me what they liked from the chapter or their hypothesis for what's going to happen next or even highlights of their favourite scenes/quotes. y'all are the best and i love you 3
(shoutout to anyone who can guess what the first scene is all about~)
An inkstone, a set of brushes, and a kunai glinted in the late afternoon sun, an odd sense of finality radiating off of them.
"You sure about this, senpai?"
"Yeah, kid. I trust you."
A pause, and a deep, shuddering sigh.
"Kneel in the circle then, please."
"Ah!" a flinch. "Sorry, sorry, the ink is fucking cold though."
A laugh, only a tiny bit hysterical.
"Sorry, senpai. My bad."
Silence; broken only by the soothing sound of brush against skin and the steady drip of ink.
"Done." A breath. "This may hurt."
A snort.
"I'd be worried if it didn't."
A burst of blinding blue light, a surge of energy, and a stifled scream.
"Did-!" gasping, desperate breaths. "Did it w-work?"
A thud of knees against panelled wood and exhausted pants.
"Can you feel it?"
A pause. Prolonged, and ringing with disbelief.
Then, slowly, giddy, euphoric happiness.
"No…" a sob. "No, I can't! Kid, I-!"
Happy tears and rib-crushing hugs and small, grateful smiles.
Itachi held his arm out for Yoko to land on, and listened as the crow gave an account of what was happening in his old Village.
The news that his brother had betrayed the Leaf to join Orochimaru a few years back had shaken him, but it was nothing he couldn't adjust to. The thought of the Snake Sannin's influence corrupting Sasuke even further was vile, but perhaps the man could give Sasuke the power he needed to kill Itachi a little sooner. So while not happy about the situation (SarutobifailedhewasmeanttokeepSasukesafe!) he'd factored it into his plans and moved on.
Finding out that his brother had been captured and brought back to the Village had not been quite as easy to get over.
Sasuke in the Village meant that Sasuke couldn't kill him. And that meant that Itachi's main, failsafe plan for peace and penance had been sabotaged. He could always kill himself – and it had been a thought he'd entertained more than once – but the dishonour and cowardice of the action disgusted him. No, having Sasuke kill him, take his eyes, fulfil his self-proclaimed goal as their Clan's avenger, all the while absolving Itachi of his guilt, of his crime, his betrayal, of the blood of their family on his hands – that was a much more attractive end.
But now, now the Godaime had thrown a wrench in that plan.
And with the report Yoko had just delivered…
Itachi scowled.
With Sasuke incarcerated, sealed, and stripped off his chakra, his Sharingan, and his ninja rank, Itachi's plan of death-by-fratricide was looking ever more unlikely.
But.
Itachi, same as every ninja worth their salt, was nothing if not opportunistic.
And yes, Sasuke's sentence was a blow and more than a mild inconvenience, but Shimura's trial falling into his lap like that? What better chance would he have to get revenge on the man responsible for his predicament and expose ROOT, the corruption within the Village, and warn Sasuke about Madara than this one?
Itachi flexed his chakra and Yoko promptly dismissed herself, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
This would directly violate the terms he'd agreed upon with Jiraiya, but he found that he didn't care. He had the blood of his family on his hands, the traumatisation of his brother on his conscience, and the instability and PTSD that came from playing the role of the ruthless, emotionless murderer for the last decade on his mental state. Positive emotions, affection, rational thought – he hardly remembered what they felt like. He'd been operating on autopilot from the moment his body had begun to deteriorate; all that mattered was the Plan, his grand finale. And now, years of careful planning had been laid to waste. Itachi made an executive decision, and examined his internal reaction to said decision.
There was no guilt to be found.
Mind made up, he shook off his Akatsuki cloak, set it alight with an effortless katon, and turned to the forest.
It was time to pay Konohagakure a visit.
Shikaku put his signature on the last document from his seemingly never-ending pile and finally raised his head to look at his son. Shikamaru was lounging on the sofa, but unlike what Shikaku would've once expected, there was a book spread out before him, and he was frowning.
(He tried not to think too hard about the last time he saw Shikamaru actually resting properly-!)
But Inoichi had told – well, flat out ordered – him to get his head out of his ass and talk to his son, and this was as good an opportunity as he was going to get.
"Shikamaru," he called quietly, getting a hum from his son as a response. With the confirmation that the teen was listening, the next part came louder, "when are we going to talk about what happened last week?"
Such a simple question, yet so loaded at the same time. Still, eyes trained on Shikamaru, Shikaku struggled to note any sort of reaction beyond a slight tightening of his shoulders. (Shikamaru still wasn't looking at him.)
"That depends." The boy said easily, just as seemingly casual as his father. "What happened last week?"
Shikaku felt the first stirrings of irritation.
(He knew Shikamaru knew, so why-?!)
"Don't insult our Clan by playing dumb, son." He chastised, tone sharper than he'd intended, but at least it got a reaction.
Shikamaru sighed and closed his book, then finally sat up to regard Shikaku with a disinterested expression. "I'm not." He said, blunt as can be. "But I can't read your mind, dad. That's Ino's Clan." Before Shikaku could reprimand him for the sass, he continued, "Just say what's on your mind and we can both move on with our lives."
(Fine. If Shikamaru didn't want to approach this diplomatically, then Shikaku wouldn't.)
"You killed a man in a room full of jounin and Clan Heads." He announced in that same Nara blandness his son had used on him.
The effect wasn't the one he had expected. "I did." Shikamaru hummed, stretching until his back popped with an audible crack. "He was going to kill my partner."
(Partner. Not 'friend' or 'teammate' but partner. Still-!)
"And you couldn't have restrained him?" Shikaku asked, trying to get to the bottom of his son's thought process. "He was still a Konoha shinobi. And your little apology may have placated the Sannin, but I know you mastered Kagenui two years ago." Normally, Shikaku wouldn't be quite so blunt, quite so obvious in his probing, but a Nara trying to outmanoeuvre a Nara never ended well and tended to last for far too long.
"No." Shikamaru corrected sharply. "Sakura is a Konoha shinobi. That man came at her with the intent to kill, acting on the orders of a traitor. I don't see why I should've shown any more mercy or consideration than a quick death."
And there lay the problem. The easy, blunt admission to a complete lack of remorse, and Shikaku felt uneasy.
"Did you think you were the only one watching her?" he probed, needing to understand his son's reasoning, regardless how bleak and clear it was already looking. Then, he found a nerve and tested it. "Or did you not trust your fellow shinobi, most of whom outranked you, to protect your friend?
The last question drew a reaction. Shikamaru's jaw tightened, and his eyes grew cold.
"With the whispers flying around?" he asked bitterly, "With the Uzumaki bitching about what she did to the Uchiha for all and sundry? The bullshit comparison to Orochimaru Jiraiya's throwing around? Did I trust the people in the courtroom – people, of whom only about a third had worked with her and knew the rumours to be worth absolute jackshit – while the rest was composed of our old classmates or stuck up Clan Heads and Elders, shinobi who were all old enough to trust Jiraiya and his judgement and who fear Orochimaru, and, by extension, anybody associated with him – did I trust them to have my partner's back? You're damn right I didn't." Shikamaru snapped, pausing to get his breath back. "But you're still stalling, dad. Just ask."
And–
"What happened to you?"
Shikaku wanted to take the words back as soon as they escaped, but it was too late.
Instead, he tried to ignore the non-expression on Shikamaru's face and explain himself.
"You were never interested in being heir." He said, uncharacteristically stumbling over his words, even if it was only slightly. The point was that they both knew what he was saying to be true. "I knew you thought it was all a drag, I knew you would've rather your cousin took over the Clan than you. But then, you threw our Clan name around in the case over the stolen Byakugan. I was glad – you'd started to show an interest in history and in politics a little before that, and I thought finally, you'd actively recognised your place and power as heir." Shikaku paused, trying to gauge the effect his words were having, but Shikamaru's face was as expressive as stone.
"But then, you started taking out high-rank documents from the archives, disappearing for days at a time, taking missions where reports say you chose to engage and eliminate targets rather than retreat, even when the mission was already over. Then Asuma–" a reaction, at last, a flinch and a flicker of Killing Intent. Good. "I know how much that man meant to you, Shikamaru." He reassured, "I know you probably trusted him more than you do me. But I had to find out from Chouji that he'd been KIA, because you disappeared. And then you came back a week later, not a hint of grief around you, and threw yourself into training, and next I hear, you've singlehandedly killed an S-Rank shinobi who'd gotten into Akatsuki for being impossible to kill."
Shikamaru's face had smoothed over once again, but the dangerous roiling of his chakra didn't subside. "What are you getting at?" he asked quietly, his voice deceptively even and controlled even when his chakra screamed otherwise.
Shikaku sighed, all the fight suddenly gone out of him.
"I just want to know how it's possible for me to live under the same roof as my son but not know who he is." He said at last, and waited.
Then, Shikamaru snorted.
The snort turned into chuckles, and the chuckles into laughter, but it wasn't– it wasn't comforting. Shikamaru's laughter was snide, cutting, mocking, and Shikaku could do little but wait for him to finish.
"Man, I can't believe I finally understand what Sakura means when she talks about Hatake." He sighed, and Shikaku carefully didn't stiffen. Because now, Shikamaru wasn't hiding his expression anymore, and the look in his eyes was amused, patronising and…heartbroken.
"You don't know who I am because, since I graduated, you've never taken the time to get to know me." Shikamaru said, and Shikaku's heart throbbed. "You saw me after the failed retrieval mission, and I know what you thought. For all that you say I didn't want to be heir, you never believed I could be heir. So you saw me in the hospital, crying because my best friend was dying, and for you, it was a confirmation that you were right. Do you know how much happened since then?" the question was clearly rhetorical, because as soon as Shikaku opened his mouth, Shikamaru barrelled on. "I'm easily jounin level now. We both know that. Been eligible for the promotion since that first ambassadorial mission to Suna." Suddenly, the setting sun illuminated the living room and Shikaku realised that the front wall of the house, directly behind Shikamaru, wasn't just shadowed. It was far too dark; what he was looking at was a writhing mass of shadows, like sentient ivy, the darkness slithering as if alive. This was the result of his son's restless chakra, Shikaku realised; only he hadn't even noticed the boy make any handseals. This was just…an instinctive response.
He knew Shikamaru had been expanding their family's techniques, forgoing the old ways and the typical Nara laziness in favour of developing something that was his own, but he hadn't realised that what had been mere ability to control shadows had turned into a mastery.
But Shikamaru wasn't done.
"Everyone sees what they want to see. You still see me the same as you saw me in that hospital waiting room. The majority of the Village saw me how they see our whole clan – lazy, unmotivated, my intelligence my only saving grace. And yeah, maybe fresh out of the Academy it was true, and at that point, I was okay with that. But then, after the Invasion, after Kiri, I wasn't. So I worked. I worked with the treaties, with the foreign ambassadors, with restructuring the Academy programme, with the immigrant population, with the civilians, 'cause for God's sake, we may be the 'nice' Village to the other shinobi nations, but we still treat our civilians like shit. Do you know what the greatest compliment I received from a civilian was? 'You're not like the rest of your family'." Shikaku barely reigned in the flinch. "I realised what I could do after Ao's trial, and as much as a pain in the ass as that was at the time, I'm still grateful. Because I made something of myself that's separate from our name, from our Clan. Did you know the civilians call me 'Shikamaru-san'? Not 'Nara-san' – they said they don't feel like that's fair on me, since none of the rest of our Clan gives a flying fuck about them despite the fact that we've got the best knowledge and source of homeopathic medicine in the entire Land of Fire! So yeah, you don't recognise me. That's fair. It's been almost four years since you last really looked at me, so I'm not surprised. Instead, let me introduce myself."
Shikaku paused, thrown by the last sentence, but his son wasn't joking. Shikamaru inclined his head, the bow more mocking than respectful – and Shikaku had a feeling that that had been the intention from the start – before quirking a sardonic smile.
"I'm Shikamaru." No surname-! "I'm seventeen. I'm a tokubetsu jounin." when did that happen-?! He was the Jounin Commander for god's sake, how did he not-!? "I'm an ambassador to Kiri and Suna and the Head of the Education Committee in charge of restructuring the Academy curriculum." What? "I'm also a consultant for the Konohagakure Intelligence Division. I enjoy cloud watching and spending time with my friends. I dislike having to get up before dawn and people refusing to look past my family name when judging my capability. My dream is to protect my friends and provide a safe future for the Kings of Konohagakure." The sardonic smile grew. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
The dread and disbelief that had been coiling in Shikaku's gut slowly turned into red-hot fury. "Well," he replied at length, his voice carefully measured and deceptively kind, "if our family name displeases you so, then perhaps you don't deserve it, hm?"
At Shikamaru's shocked expression, Shikaku realised he finally had the upper hand in this exchange. There was confusion writ in every line of his son's face, a fair bit of hurt too, but Shikaku refused to feel guilty, to take back his words. Then, Shikamaru's face twisted into a scowl, but his eyes were glistening with tears he refused to shed.
"Great idea, dad." He snapped, voice cracking on the last word, before he shrugged off his vest and almost ripped off the Nara Clan jacket that he had under it, throwing it at Shikaku's feet. He quickly put his flak jacket back on and reached for his ears, yanking out the silver studs that marked him as a Nara chunin, throwing the delicate metal on the floor too. "Best thing you've said since this whole bullshit situation started. Clearly you deserve that genius status everybody throws at you."
And then, with a final, tearful glare, Shikamaru disappeared in a swirl of leaves, but not before Shikaku heard the shattered sob that escaped him.
Tsunade had called Naruto into her office. She'd been putting it off, charmed by the smiles and the sunshine and the resemblance to Nawaki, but Jiraiya's account of what happened, the comparison he'd drawn, and the angry mutters among some of her shinobi and whispers of favoritism had swayed her hand.
However she wanted to look at it, the fact of the matter remained that Naruto had attacked a Konohagakure jounin with the intent to kill.
She could explain the Kiri-nin – the goddamn Terror wasn't supposed to even be there, but the fact that the blond had not only allowed the fox chakra to manifest, but would've also seriously injured one of her best assassins if not for the girl's canniness and enviable control of her own body, that, well. If he'd been any higher than genin, that would've seen him demoted.
The door to her office suddenly swung open, barely saved from hitting the wall by the blond's reflexes. At her side, she heard Jiraiya sigh.
"Baa-chan!" Naruto grinned with all the composure of an overenthusiastic puppy. Then, finally reading the seriousness of the room, his smile dimmed. "Baa-chan? Is something wrong?"
Tsunade stifled a sigh of her own. "Sit down, Naruto."
There was tension in his frame now, unease, and she wondered whether Sarutobi had ever bothered to explain to the kid that actions had consequences.
She doubted it.
"I received reports that you assaulted a jounin of our Village, and an allied foreign-nin. Do you have anything to say to that?" she asked at last, and watched Naruto splutter.
"It wasn't assault! I didn't even hit her once!" he exclaimed, waving his arms to somehow hammer the point home, but Tsunade's patience was fraying - the cluelessness was verging further and further into 'irritating' instead of 'endearing'.
"And how much of that," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm, even, no matter how much she wanted to yell and shake the boy until he understood, "was due to your restraint, and how much was thanks to Haruno's jounin reflexes?"
"Question is," Jiraiya took over when Naruto floundered, and Tsunade took a deep breath to steady herself, "would you have hit her if she hadn't been able to dodge?"
"No!" Naruto snapped, thoughtless and automatic and wow Tsunade could feel her eyebrow soar, apparently high enough that the blond paused. "I mean, then, in that field, probably yes. But I was just so angry, Baa-chan, and she was laughing and acting as if she hadn't just sentenced Sasuke to death-!"
"Sakura is a jounin who was acting on the orders of her Kage. Me. Do you know who has the power to sentence people to death? Also me. Did I sentence the Uchiha to death? No. Try again, and think this time, or I'm going to lose my temper."
She saw Naruto gulp, eyes flitting over to Jiraiya, but for all his general idiocy and idealism, her old teammate had a fearsome poker face when he bothered to use it.
"It's... since I got back, she's been...distant. To me, to Kakashi-sensei, even the rest of the Rookie Nine! Then she beat Kakashi-sensei, said we'd set her back... and then she was just there at Gaara's retrieval, took down that blond guy, Gaara hugged her, Baa-chan! And then with Sasuke, she just-! I didn't see the whole battle cause creepy snake dude was there, but I couldn't land a single hit on Sasuke but Sakura just broke him. And then she disappeared and I found out on the way back to the Village what she did to him, and nobody here seemed alarmed or anything, and then, when I asked her why she did what she did, she said that Sasuke was a traitor and that she was following orders! It's just... that wasn't the Sakura I know. And I was angry because... because I was meant to bring Sasuke back and because... because I miss them."
Tsunade was seized by two conflicting urges: to hug, and to throttle.
"Uchiha Sasuke is a traitor." she pronounced solemnly, her mind whirring. "And she was following orders. And if you still want to be Hokage someday, you need to stop running around and being so actively supportive of traitors and scornful of loyal shinobi, because if you keep at it, your people will not be able to trust whether you'll be able to put the Village's needs and interests above your own. You don't become known and respected by becoming Hokage. You become Hokage because you're known and respected. At the moment, you are neither. What you have going for you is sheer power, but sheer power isn't even considered as a quality a good leader should have unless the Village is at war."
Naruto gaped, and Tsunade sighed. "What you need to understand is that your genin days are a thing of the past, Naruto. The Uchiha is a traitor to the Village and most likely won't be reinstated as a shinobi for at least a decade, even with the Elders twisting my arms. Hatake has been fielding A and S-Rank missions for the last three years – he's one of my best shinobi and he can't be spared so you can have a trip down memory lane. And Haruno is simply out of your league, not just skill-wise, but developmentally. She's a reliable jounin, has the political experience of a wartime diplomat, and her mission count is firmly in the triple digits, while I could count her failed missions on the fingers of one hand. The point is, Naruto, that even if I could spare her from the field – which I can't, because her and Shiranui are almost as notorious for coming back from suicide-missions as your sensei, and Konoha needs those – I wouldn't. She's the most self-made out of your generation, maybe bar the kunoichi on Gai's team, and I would never try to take her accomplishments away from her. And the truth of the matter is, you would slow her down."
She could see Naruto's wide eyes go glassy, but she was past caring – the boy needed a reality-check or he would kill himself chasing an unattainable dream and take others with him while he was at it.
"You want to work with your old teammates? You want to be Hokage? Then make yourself useful, find a team for the next Chunin Exams, get your promotion, increase your mission count, find people to vouch for you and recommend you and grow up, before you get yourself, or, god forbid, someone else, killed." She looked into those blue, blue eyes, took in the tears that were flowing freely now, the wobbly lip and the runny nose. "And if I hear anything about you attacking your fellow ninja outside of friendly spars, the next time you're summoned here, I'll be asking for your hitai-ate." She watched as the seriousness of the threat sunk in, and turned back to her paperwork. "Dismissed."
She pretended not to hear the door slam.
Shikamaru knocked softly on a familiar door, mindful of the late hour but also aware that he couldn't really hope to not wake anyone with the sound in a shinobi household, and waited. The red oak swung open, revealing the familiar face of his best friend, in a familiar pair of dango pyjamas and a familiar bag of potato chips in his hands, the entire picture bringing a hint of a smile on the Nara's face for the first time in hours.
"Shikamaru!" Chouji greeted, surprised but clearly pleased as he stepped aside to let him in, for once actually swallowing before speaking. "Feel like I haven't seen you in forever, come on up!" and he turned, leading the way to his bedroom even though Shikamaru reckoned he could find his way to the room drugged and blindfolded, he'd been there so many times.
It wasn't until he was sitting on a beanbag that had become his beanbag almost a decade ago, Chouji perched cheerfully on his bed, that the weight of what happened a few hours previous fully sunk in.
"So, what's up? Last I heard you were busy revolutionising the Academy via guerrilla tactics against the Elders." And normally, Shikamaru would've snorted, both for the description and the fact that despite not having properly seen each other for weeks, Chouji could still be relied upon to make a point to remain informed about his friends' whereabouts. His lack of response was apparently more damning than anything he could've said, because Chouji immediately grew serious, his bag of snacks suddenly gone as if it was never there in the first place. "Shikamaru?" he asked worriedly, leaning forward from where he sat opposite the Nara on the bed. "Everything alright?"
And Shikamaru sighed, and if the exhale shuddered a little more than usual, he wasn't to blame. "I had a fight." He said at last, and Chouji's eyes widened slightly, before he flashed a small smile.
"Well, then I can only hope the other guy looks twice as bad as you." He joked, and Shikamaru snorted, though it was humourless.
"I wish." He mumbled, but Chouji still heard him and the smile vanished.
"Shikamaru," he said, and waited until the Nara looked at him, "who did you fight with?"
And Shikamaru, because he was weak when it came to his best friend, crumbled. "My dad." He admitted, and this time, even he couldn't deny the way his voice broke.
Suddenly, he was being yanked forward, off the beanbag and onto the bed, and crushed under 190 pounds of warm teenager. "Oof, Chouji, what-?!"
"You've been an honorary Akimichi since I first brought you home, though you'll definitely gain more weight if you move in. Wave goodbye to that tiny waist that makes even Ino jealous and say hello to some good fuckin' food!" his friend bellowed right into Shikamaru's ear, and the Nara was torn between laughter and exasperation.
"I'm not- moving in-" he wheezed, coughing and spitting when he got Chouji's wild mane in his mouth for his efforts, "just got kicked out, I'll find a place, get a mission-!"
"If you think," Chouji cut him off, shifting so he pressed down harder on Shikamaru's solar plexus and grinning when his friend wheezed, "that I'm letting you out of this bed without us both getting a good night's sleep, then you're an idiot. And if you think that my mom will let you leave after she finds out what happened, then I'm rescinding your 'best friend' status, because you clearly don't know my family at all." He told Shikamaru cheerfully, somehow flipping the Nara over and ridding him off his flak jacket, then helping him kick off his sandals. "There. Now, I don't know how it was at yours, but in this house, when it's 1am we sleep. So shut up, and do what you're best at, Shikamaru."
Grumbling, Shikamaru shuffled and settled, letting the warmth comfort instead of smother.
A few seconds passed, then –
"I need to piss." He said frankly, half because it was true and half just to see what Chouji would do.
"Then piss. See if I care. That's your side of the bed." Chouji replied, flashing Shikamaru and unholy grin. "And, Ino would never let you live it down."
Shikamaru struggled for a few seconds, fighting laughter and indignation at once, then choked out, "You're a menace, Akimichi Chouji."
"Mmhm, you're welcome."
Sighing, the Nara settled, a smile on his face. Then–
"Thanks, Chouji. I know I don't say it enough, but thank you, genuinely."
"You're welcome, Shikamaru, now seriously shut up and sleep or I'm going to gag you."
Shikamaru snorted, then quietened, waiting until Chouji's scowl smoothed out and he looked on the brink of sleep before–
"Consent is sexy, Chouji."
"For fuck's sake, Shikamaru, I swear to god-!"
The rest of the sentence was swallowed by curses and breathless laughter.
Sakura smiled as she walked through the door, humming happily as the sunlight hit her face. She spread her arms and gratefully soaked up the surprisingly warm late September afternoon after a long day in the T&I office – the downside of building an ironclad case against Shimura was spending hours down in the lowest levels, and if she was any more vain, she would have started whining about her skin becoming sallow and translucent after the first two days.
As it was, with less than three days till the trial, all that was left were the finishing touches that Ibiki had agreed she didn't need to be present for, and they would have Shimura once and for all.
(Sakura didn't think she'd ever seen Ibiki happier. The man looked like he was about to break out into song as she was leaving, which was…disturbing to say the least.)
Unbuttoning the top of her grey T&I overalls, she shrugged out of the sleeves and let the fabric drape around her waist, leaving her in the overalls trousers and her ANBU vest, all with the intention of soaking up as much warmth and sunlight as she could. She headed home, deciding to forgo the front door as she neared, and instead walked round to the back, hopping the fence and falling onto one of the deckchairs she'd badgered Genma into buying on one of their shopping trips, sighing as she felt her back crack in three places.
With the trial of a known traitor and a once-renowned Village Elder, all non-essential missions were postponed and higher-ranking shinobi kept within the Village to attend the trials, which meant that, if she ignored the work she was doing with T&I, Sakura had essentially been granted over two weeks of vacation.
"Long day?" Genma asked as he fell onto the deckchair besides hers, a glass with a fruity concoction of some sort in one hand and a sudoku in the other.
"The longest." Sakura agreed, nodding mock-solemnly and drawing a snort from the brunet. "But we've got a pretty solid case against the old coot, and Ibiki-senpai is positively glowing with schadenfreude, so there's a light at the end of the tunnel." She divulged, leaning over to steal a sip of Genma's mystery drink and making a face at the sugar that assaulted her taste buds. "God, Gen, how much alcohol is in that?"
Genma shot her a wicked grin over the rim of the ridiculous pink umbrella and offered his trademark, carelessly graceful half-shrug. "A fair bit. Aoba demanded we have a 'party' before this, quote unquote, 'all inevitably goes to shit', and with most of our friends Village-bound, now is probably the best time to actually listen to the idiot."
Sakura laughed then kicked off her boots and wiggled out of the rest of her overalls till she was just in her ANBU vest and undershorts, slumping even lower on the deckchair, finally content. "Mmhm, nice, just please make sure Aoba doesn't set any furniture on fire cause he sneezed while channelling chakra again." She mumbled, delighting in Genma's bark of startled laughter.
"Please tell him that to his face and let me be there to see his reaction." He chortled, plucking the little pink umbrella out and tucking it behind his ear. "He needs regular reminders that nobody has forgotten that yet and is unlikely to forget any time soon. If his ego gets any bigger, I might actually have to smother him."
"I'll help." Sakura offered drowsily, inwardly debating shucking her top in favour of turning it into a makeshift pillow. She cracked one eye open to give Genma's loose, long-sleeved cotton top and all the extra swathes of fabric a once-over and grinned. "I'll help… if you let me borrow your shirt." At the brunet's raised eyebrow, she mustered the effort to reach out a hand and wriggle her fingers in the universal gesture of 'gimme'. "I wanna nap but the panel is digging into my skull." She whined, making sure to look extra pitiful. "Besides, your stuff always smells better anyway."
Genma shot her a severely unimpressed look. "We literally use the same detergent." He deadpanned. When all Sakura did was exaggerate her pout, he sighed. "I like this shirt. I will know if it ends up in your drawer. This is a loan. A come-back-to-me shirt. Understood?" but, despite all his grumbling, he obligingly pulled the shirt over his head, somehow not disturbing the little umbrella, and handed it over, smiling fondly when Sakura immediately bundled it up and shoved it under her head, nuzzling the material only slightly. "You are so strange."
"Takes one to know one." She mumbled in response, already drifting off into a pleasant doze.
Then Genma shoved the ice cubes that remained of his drink down her collar and she screamed.
This meant war.
That same evening, lying in bed on the brink of sleep, warm with the little alcohol she'd been offered and sated from good food, Sakura drifted off, happy and carefree.
Over the course of the years, Genma's friends had become her friends as well, so she had enjoyed sitting in the living room with Aoba and Iwashi and Raido and Eri and a woman called Yugao who she had a niggling suspicion was actually ANBU agent Fox. She'd left to go to bed once Aoba passed out and Genma got that ridiculously fond look on his face whenever he glanced at the man, but stayed awake until the noise dwindled down to silence and Genma's own chakra calmed down with sleep and contentment.
It had been a good day, all in all, and she fell asleep more relaxed than she'd been in weeks.
Then, in the middle of the night, she was startled awake by the sound of shattering glass and a searing pain in her shoulder, and from there, everything devolved into chaos.
Armed, masked figures, at least five of them, swarmed into her room through the – now broken – window that made up most of her wall (the only part of the house that isn't sealed against intruders-!) and in the complete darkness of her room, Sakura was operating on adrenaline and instinct alone.
She drove her bare foot into one of the figures' solar plexus, channelling enough chakra in the hit to send him crashing back into one of her bookcases, then she ducked under a glint of metal and dodged a strike that would've easily cut off her arm if she hadn't moved. There were no weapons around, no time to get her sealing scrolls, no space for jutsu-! Sakura bit back a cry of pain as a brutal punch dislocated her jaw and set her ears ringing, then she dropped to the ground and rolled, grabbing a kunai from under her bed and shoving it through one of her assailant's ankle. He crumpled to the ground, off-balance, and Sakura kicked him in the temple hard enough that his skull caved in, shards of bone scratching her heel. Then she scrambled to her feet and lunged for the window, for space and freedom of movement and the light of a streetlamp-!
A hand grabbed at her hair, ripping a few strands free with the force of her momentum, and Sakura whirled, thankful for the length of her hair and the fact that her attacker didn't have enough time to fist the hair by her skull, reducing the pain and giving her the time to face him, get in his space, rip off his mask, smash the heel of her palm into his nose then dig her thumbs into his eyes until they popped under her nails and he dropped to the ground.
She rolled under a naginata (and really? That was her weapon, damn it!) and darted out of the way of a fireball, then her attention was drawn by the sound of crumbling stone and a shout of pain coming from inside the house.
Genma.
Her distraction cost her and she earned a searing lash of pain from what looked like a Cat-O'-Nine-Tails (where the fuck were they getting these weapons from?!) across her back, so Sakura quickly flashed through the signs for the shunshin, getting distance and an idea of positioning, then threw up an Earth Clone and jumped back towards her three remaining attackers. She waited until her clone's genjutsu snagged at least one of the shinobi, and when the one closest to her left fumbled his landing, she flash-stepped into his space and plucked a kunai from his holster, stabbing it into his thigh and forcing the knife down and across until it cut the femoral artery. Then she punched him in the solar plexus and didn't have time to do much else as a barrage of kunai came sailing at her, and she didn't have time to dodge them all.
Sakura twisted, dodging the majority but still scoring some hits, then she leaped through the fray and at the attacker furthest from her, noting the handsigns for a powerful fuuton. She used the stolen kunai to block the instinctive swipe of a tanto, then dropped the kunai to duck under the block and drive her knee into her opponent's groin, grabbing the tanto from his loosened grip in one hand and his hair in the other, then quickly and decisively cutting his throat.
Then she screamed as a wall of fire soared past her, burning her already injured back and making every movement painful. Sakura saw the ninja she'd kicked into a bookshelf emerging from her broken window, disoriented and probably concussed, and she didn't think, just coiled her arm back and sent her tanto spinning, chakra making the already well-honed blade deadly sharp. Sharp enough to cut the man clean in two when the spinning blade met his abdomen, stopping only at the barrier of his spinal column.
The last kunoichi was on her before Sakura could so much as gather her bearings, a vicious barrage of taijutsu that Sakura could have never hoped to match, much less unarmed and injured as she was. She felt a fist connect with her gut, fought the urge to vomit, and missed the next kick that sent her tumbling to the ground, scraping uncovered skin on the gravelly road and setting her back aflame with agony.
But the distance bought her time.
Sakura rolled to her knees and flashed through familiar seals, and the kunoichi, distracted for a split-second by her clone's genjutsu, was a moment too slow to move away as the dirt road rose up to around her thighs, solidified and squeezed. The crunch of bones was clearly audible, and Sakura got to her feet and picked up the kunai she'd dropped earlier, ducking under the kunoichi's weak attempt at a punch and angling the kunai downwards, then stabbing down, aiming for the space not covered by the chest armour, the vulnerable but oh-so-profitable inch of space between the second and third rib.
She drove her kunai through flesh and into the delicate, pulsing muscle that was the kunoichi's heart, then let go of her knife and left it there. If the shock of the broken legs didn't knock her out, then the blood loss would, and if that failed, then the trauma from the dislodged or any way moved kunai would do its job.
Exhausted, injured, most likely concussed and shaking from pain and adrenaline, Sakura staggered and blinked black spots out of her vision. Then, she saw a silhouette on the roof of her house, unmasked but decidedly not friendly and not-Genma, and her brain kicked in gear just in time for her to recognise the jutsu a second before the shinobi opened his mouth.
No-!
If Katon: Karyū Endan hit their house, it would be little more than kindling, and Genma was still inside-!
Not thinking much beyond a heartbroken nonononononNO! Sakura reached for the technique she never used in battle because of the time and sheer volume of chakra it took, but she knew instinctively that in this case, it was the only jutsu in her repertoire capable of matching and overpowering the katon.
But she didn't have the time for all 44 seals-!
She had time for four.
But Sakura knew what the jutsu felt like as the chakra built in her coils, knew what the last stage of the build-up felt like, knew the last four seals by heart and found her fingers already running through them. Her chakra, normally so obedient, roiled and tried to rebel, for once not liking being manhandled into enacting her will, and Sakura knew she was bullying her chakra, which was so used to scalpel-like precision when moulding, into cooperation with all the finesse of a sledgehammer, but this was important!
She felt a searing pain along her pathways just as a fire dragon rose up over the shinobi on the roof of her house, but Sakura's subconscious had had the presence of mind to send her clone to dismantle a fire hydrant a few houses down, and her chakra sought the water source out instinctively, all but singing as it made contact.
And Sakura's bastardised version of the Water Dragon, her graceless, careless decision to forgo 90% of the necessary handsigns, was still enough.
Even as her chakra coils protested viciously, even as fatigue and agony alike made the noise in her head rise to an ear-shattering crescendo, even as black spots took over more than half her vision, water was still her element, and Sakura still saw a magnificent water dragon rear up behind her, drawing power from her determination, from the water in the hydrant, from the pipes below her, from the very air around her, and from the all the chakra in her coils until there was nothing left.
Her dragon easily dwarfed that of her opponent.
And as they squared up, Sakura didn't have to look to know whose technique had been stronger, had come out on top. She felt the sudden steam build-up in the air around her, felt the shower of lukewarm water that rained over her as the last of the fire dragon was extinguished. Felt Genma's chakra, rundown and exhausted but decidedly alive.
Then, she passed out.
She came to to the feeling of being rocked, and as she pried her eyes open, she realised she was being carried bridal style, her cheek resting against a rumpled, bloodied sleepshirt. She craned her neck and glanced up, surprised to find that it was Ibiki who was her unlikely saviour. Sans his usual leather trench coat and bandana, in the darkness of the night, the man looked almost approachable, if not for the fearsome scowl on his face.
"Ibiki-senpai?" she croaked, coughing. She felt the man stiffen minutely, but when he glanced down at her, there was a hint of warmth where before there was only cold fury. "What's going on?"
"The last stand of a desperate traitor." Ibiki replied, his scowl coming back full force. "I'd prefer to take you to the hospital, but I don't trust its security."
It was then that Sakura noted that Ibiki's cheek was bleeding freely and as much as he tried to hide it to minimise the rocking and any movements that could potentially aggravate her injuries, he was limping.
"Senpai? Were you attacked too?" she asked, balking at the idea of anyone having the sheer balls to attack Ibiki in his own home. When she received a nod, she hummed, then paused. "Why don't I hurt?"
She recalled having her jaw dislocated, and despite his efforts, simply being carried should've set her back screaming in agony. Instead, she was just comfortably warm and numb.
To her surprise, Ibiki smirked wryly. "Because I'm not taking you to the hospital until I can trust it, and I can't have you dying of neurogenic shock before that." When all she did was blink confusedly, the smirk became a touch more real. "Morphine, brat."
"Mm, cool." She mumbled, turning her head so her cheek wasn't touching a bloodstain, and closed her eyes. "Where are we going?"
Ibiki snorted. "Shouldn't that have been your first question?" he asked sarcastically, a shade of the same caring condensation in his voice that Sakura was used to, before he answered. "My house."
Sakura took a moment to humour the ridiculous thought of 'yay, sleepover!', before she let herself pass out once again.
A dozen of her best jounin stood before her, all varying degrees of battered and bruised, and Tsunade could do little more than run a hand through her hair and sigh tiredly.
The night had seen one of the worst internal attacks since the Uchiha Massacre, and she needed to get to the bottom of it before she could give out orders to deal with the fallout.
And so, the affected had all been called in to her office as soon as the imminent threat had been dealt with, and here she was, at four in the morning, faced with shinobi who hadn't had time to clean up or change out of their pyjamas, waiting to report.
She waved her hand at the gathered shinobi, looked around, took in Inoichi, Ibiki, Chouza, Shikaku, Genma, Kakashi, and Anko all looking worse for wear, and Gai, Kurenai, Hiashi, Shibi and Tsume looking concerned but nowhere near even half as bad as the former, and sighed.
"Report." She ordered tiredly.
To her relief, Ibiki stepped up. Seeing the man in a sleepshirt and sweatpants had thrown her at first, because for all she knew her shinobi had lives outside of missions and their occupations, it was still a little surreal to see a man who she knew could rip another human to sherds from within in pyjamas.
"It appears that anybody involved with Shimura's trial, whether it be through offering direct testimony or organising the case, was targeted." He began, and Tsunade frowned at having her theory confirmed. Then he glanced meaningfully at the five jounin and Clan Heads who stood a little away from the other group, then back at Tsunade.
The blonde sighed, and addressed the small group; "What will be discussed here is an S-Rank secret pertaining to the trial of Shimura Danzo. What is said here is not to leave this room until the day of the trial, understood?"
She saw Gai snap to attention, even as Kurenai's eyes grew wide and her hand fell to her belly almost instinctively, and Tsunade felt a twinge of sympathy when she caught the woman's gaze. But the kunoichi nodded nonetheless and straightened along with the other four, so Tsunade motioned for Ibiki to continue.
"Myself, Yamanaka and Mitarashi are directly involved in the case. Nara and Shiranui are here because their kids were involved in one of Shimura's plots, and Haruno has been helping with building the case for the last week." Tsunade didn't miss how Kakashi tensed. "I don't know why Hatake or Akimichi are here, however."
"Shikamaru has been staying with my family for the last couple of days." Chouza explained easily, shooting a not particularly subtle glare at Shikaku, who very obviously was refusing to meet his eyes. "I assume someone got wind of it, hence why my house was made a target too."
Ibiki nodded, even as a few of the shinobi gathered shot curious glances at the two-thirds of the Ino-Shika-Chou threesome – a conflict between someone as easy-going as Chouza and Shikaku was unprecedented.
Then, all eyes turned to Kakashi.
For once without his flak jacket and navy uniform, dressed in simple grey sweats and a black turtleneck – the collar of which was unrolled to cover the bottom half of his face – without his signature slanted hitai-ate and with his hair floppy from sleep and even more dishevelled than usual from the fight, the the Copy-nin looked almost endearingly young, even with the bone-deep weariness that seemed to cling to every line of his body.
Then, he opened his mouth.
"HQ took a hit." He announced at length, and Tsunade saw the ninja gathered tense.
With the official dissolution of his genin team and with one of his students AWOL, one a traitor, and one quickly becoming one of the best assassins the Village had ever seen, Tsunade decided the man needed a project lest he go insane. So she'd dropped ANBU in his lap, made him work elbow-to-elbow with Bear to oversee the restructuration of the system, aware that the inner workings of the shadow ranks had barely changed since she herself had been a teenager. She was not surprised when, with Kakashi's keen, genius mind put to something other than killing for the first time in over two and a half decades, the system had seen a massive and unprecedented improvement. And since Bear would sooner be found dead than in the presence of normal jounin without his mask, it fell to Kakashi to represent ANBU in Council meetings or impromptu gatherings like the one currently before her.
But that also meant that, with the new information, the tension in his frame could just as easily be grief, and Tsunade ached.
"We've got a dozen confirmed casualties, at the moment." He reported, and Tsunade rued the flat, detached voice he'd taken on, even as the shinobi gathered around him winced in sympathy. "They hit us fast and hard; about twenty stormed HQ while half dozen went for the Records Office. They wanted agent files and mission records, and I-" Kakashi broke off, then tried again. "Bear-sama didn't–" there was a slight movement, and Tsunade saw Shiranui rest a hand on Kakashi's shoulder, and saw how the Copy-nin shuddered at the touch. "Bear-sama didn't make it." He said at last, and Tsunade noted a flicker of grief flash through Genma's eyes too. Bear had been a legend in ANBU, rumoured to have started as ANBU General at the same time as the Sakumo started to be known as the White Fang and not Hatake Sakumo – the man was basically immortal, as far as shinobi life expectancy went. And for all that they never saw his face, he must've been the one to recruit Genma and Kakashi into the shadow ranks all those years ago. She could understand their grief, yet all it did was strengthen her desire to see Danzo's head roll.
"Thank you." She said, acknowledging Kakashi's pain, and added, more than a little regretfully, "I'll need you, later, for identification, so their families can be notified." Kakashi nodded stiffly, and Tsunade watched as Genma bent down and murmured something in his ear, getting another jerky nod from the Copy-nin. Tsunade turned to the others. "Any other ca- injuries?"
"Yoshino's in the hospital with a broken arm." Shikaku offered, his voice oddly tight.
"Chouji's got mild chakra exhaustion and Shikamaru-kun twisted his ankle, but other than that, no." Chouza added, adamantly refusing to look at his friend.
"Ino's a little shaken, but she went to stay with your female student, Gai." Inoichi said, flashing the taijutsu master a small smile and getting a thumbs-up in return.
"Haruno's pretty beaten up and will need medical attention, but I've got her doped up till we can be sure the hospital is secure. She's also got a case of chakra depletion." Ibiki said gruffly, drawing alarmed looks from Genma and Anko.
Tsunade, however, was aghast. "Depletion?" she demanded, pinning the interrogator in place with a glare that said 'explain. now.'
Ibiki frowned. "That water dragon was hers." He said bluntly, causing some eyes to widen.
"I thought that was yours, Kakashi." Kurenai admitted, sending the Copy-nin a considering look. "No one else knows it or has the chakra…"
But Kakashi was frowning, his earlier grief replaced by confusion. "That jutsu requires forty-four hand signs." He said at last, and Ibiki scowled freely.
"The kid used four."
At that, Genma groaned and nudged Kakashi until the man shuffled over, and collapsed on the sofa beside him, an arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. "I'm gonna get a heart attack before I'm thirty five." He grumbled, and Hatake snorted, something in his posture easing.
"If she indeed skipped ninety percent of the seals required," Hiashi began, speaking for the first time since he entered the room, "then it is likely she seared or burned through her chakra pathways. Nobody has the control necessary to pull a stunt like that and avoid damage."
"Control is not what you should be worried about." Genma said frankly, sitting up. "The kid has that it spades. What she lacks is volume. She's probably scraped her reserves raw." Then, he looked at Tsunade, and inclined his head. "Tsunade-sama, permission to take Hiashi-san and check on my partner?" he asked cordially, despite looking ragged and rocking a set of fantastically broken fingers and an amalgamation of bruises.
"Granted. Get out of here." Tsunade shooed, then turned to the rest of the group. "Anybody not directly involved in Shimura's trial, dismissed. Thank you for your service tonight."
And she watched as half the group filtered out, leaving only Inoichi, Ibiki, Anko, Shikaku and Kakashi.
"This is a customary warning I thought might be important to give you. We received intelligence that Akatsuki and Orochimaru are planning two separate attacks on the Village. In return for the intel, I granted the informant permission to testify during the trial." Tsunade watched the alarm turn into confusion and in some parts wariness. Then, she flared her chakra.
"Gentelmen, Mitarashi," she began, as a shadow appeared on her window sill, and gracefully slipped inside, shutting the window beside himself, "do not be alarmed."
The genjutsu dropped, and Itachi Uchiha stood in her office.
The world was ending.
It had turned completely on its head, and all that Jiraiya was sure of was that he was no longer sure of anything.
A traitor to the Village had been found, brought back, tried and sentenced accordingly.
Shimura Danzo, a man so smarmy even Jiraiya with his ear always to the ground had had trouble pinning down anything conclusive, now stood to spend the rest of his days in a cell or face imminent execution.
The Academy curriculum was changing, not to produce child-soldiers, or to enforce the indoctrination, but to teach about other nations, about the history of their land rather than just of their Village. Age-old prejudices were being gradually exterminated like stubborn weeds, and Jiraiya could do little more than gape.
The Nidaime's, and later Minato's Hiraishin had been revived, brought back into use by a man so unextraordinary Jiraiya had done a doubletake when Tsunade told him because what?
And Hatake, who had been living and breathing war and death and loss before his face had lost the last vestiges of baby fat; Hatake, for whom his sensei's, his mentor's, Jiraiya's most prized student's death had been his undoing, the final injustice to push him over the edge – that same man had been saddled with an administrative job. And from what Tsunade had told him, he was flourishing, bringing down the mortality rate in the shadow ranks to under 20%, half of what it had ever been at its lowest.
And now, the icing on the cake, the cherry on top, Itachi Uchiha had come to Tsunade's office, calm as may be. The man who had sacrificed everything for his Village – his best friend, his family, his reputation, his brother's mental health – now stood in front of Jiraiya, his handler of the last decade, and the last of the Senju, saying that the Village had failed him, failed his brother, that the Sandaime had not managed to keep the one promise Itachi had asked of him. And Jiraiya couldn't disagree.
The news that his old teammate was planning an attack on the Village in retribution for taking the Uchiha was almost enough to blindside Jiraiya, but not quite as much that the knowledge that at least part of his insanity, of his bloodthirstiness, could be attributed to the supposed existence of Shimura's seal on him.
The news that shinobi who Jiraiya had once helped raise, whom he had taught everything he'd known about their world and how to survive in it, had gone on to form the most notorious criminal organisations in the history of the shinobi nations burned.
"What are you going to do, hime?" he asked at last, keeping half an eye on Itachi even as he moved to comfort the clearly weary blonde.
Tsunade sighed, and even the glamour she hid behind couldn't fully mask how tired she was. "We need help. Konoha needs its allies." She turned to the Uchiha, and her glare was still sharp, but not quite as deadly as when he had first appeared in her office over five hours ago.
Hearing what his loyalty had done to him had touched even Tsunade's shuttered heart.
"Hide, Uchiha." And then, she dropped the wards and flared her chakra, one of her chunin aides materialising in front of her desk not a second later.
"Godaime-sama?"
"Fetch me Haruno and Shikamaru Nara." Tsunade ordered, and the man nodded and disappeared in a burst of smoke and leaves. "Will that genjutsu of yours hold, Uchiha?" she addressed the space where Itachi had once stood, curious.
"Yes." Came a disembodied voice from nearby the window. "It is aided by my doujutsu and virtually undetectable. My presence will not be known."
Tsunade bared her teeth in a smile, but it was not friendly. "Let's hope."
Jiraiya watched the two diplomats walk into Tsunade's office, his keen gaze cataloguing the differences between them. The girl was tired, that much was clear; the kind of bone-deep weariness that was a step away from permanent exhaustion and apathy, and with the stunt Tsunade had told him she'd pulled, he was half surprised she was even walking. The Nara, however, looked wary. His expression was guarded instead of just hidden behind the usual lazy façade of the Nara, and his sharp eyes were flickering between the two Sannin, wondering what could've called for such a spontaneous summon.
Tsunade began without preamble. "We received intel that Orochimaru is gathering forces to strike at Konoha once again. The Akatsuki is also preparing to launch an offensive." She stated flatly, and Jiraiya watched the teens before him, expectant. Haruno's placid expression didn't change save for a small, downward quirk of her lip, and while the Nara snapped to attention, there was still not as much alarm in his eyes as the announcement deserved.
The duo exchanged a meaningful look, one that seemed to hold an entire conversation, before the rosette arched an eyebrow and the Nara frowned, turning to the Godaime.
"ETA?" he asked, short and to the point, and Jiraiya felt something in him go cold.
Curiously, Tsunade answered, "Two weeks. Maybe three."
The frown on Haruno's face deepened. "That's earlier than we expected." She murmured, and Jiraiya's mind stalled. What?
The teen beside her sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are your genin teammates such pests?" he asked rhetorically, and this time, Jiraiya's mouth ran ahead of his mind, and-!
"What?"
Haruno's gaze flickered to him and he noticed for the first time that there was more than just fatigue in her eyes – there was distance, a chilling emptiness.
"We assumed Orochimaru is coming for the Uchiha, and the Akatsuki for Uzumaki." She explained, her gaze still trained on him. "Both were once my teammates."
"You assumed correctly." Tsunade said simply, "Which is why you and Nara are being sent to gather reinforcements. One of the terms of the three-way alliance was aid in times of need. This is Konoha in need, requesting aid. I will not simply hand over Naruto, nor the Uchiha, despite how much of a thorn in my side he has been."
You'd risk the devastation of this Village instead. Nara's expression seemed to say, his eyes accusatory, but it was Haruno who spoke, some of the emptiness abating, replaced instead by sharp calculation.
"Mei will assist with the Akatsuki, but her daimyō signed a non-aggression pact with Orochimaru when he was first establishing Sound." The girl said, and Jiraiya had a feeling she was only just starting, "Well," she corrected, shrugging, "theoretically, Sound's daimyō signed it, but the man is basically Orochimaru's puppet, so…" she left the statement hanging.
The Nara picked up, "Suna will be more receptive. Akatsuki almost killed their Kazekage, after all. And Orochimaru is the reason they went into this alliance in the first place." He reasoned, but the rosette's frown didn't fade.
"Maybe. Maybe not." Haruno replied cryptically, and when the Nara raised an eyebrow, she sighed. "The Akatsuki is responsible for the deaths of three of Suna's Kazekage, not one." She said, and at this point Jiraiya would really like to know where she got her information from. "Akasuna no Sasori – the puppetmaster – killed the Sandaime and turned him into one of his puppets after he defected. The Yondaime was killed by Orochimaru sometime before the Chunin Exams. Orochimaru was once a member of Akatsuki himself, remember? And Gaara was dead. Chiyo brought him back but he was dead, Shika. When the most powerful ninja in your Village are killed not once but thrice by the same organisation, you're unlikely to go seeking conflict with them."
There was a moment of silence as everyone parsed through what the girl had said.
"Well," The Nara allowed with a small smirk. "I could always insult Temari again. That should do it."
His partner snorted and shook her head in exasperation, but didn't refute the suggestion.
When Jiraiya glanced at Tsunade, there was clear fatigue writ into the line of her shoulders and the wrinkle in her brow, but there was also pride and a hint of satisfaction. She knew, he realised, she knew they'd know. She expected it.
"Then you know what you'll be up against." Tsunade said at last. "I don't think I need to remind you that the stakes are high. But your Village needs you to at least try."
"Hai, Hokage-sama." They chorused, and Tsunade offered them a small smile.
"Then you leave tomorrow morning. Haruno, I'll send Shiranui after you once he finishes the chakra seals. Dismissed."
With a short bow, the two turned on their heels and walked out of the office.
Itachi waited until he could no longer sense the duo's chakra before he dropped the illusion, a tiny frown marring his brow.
Did she know?
The girl had looked at the exact place he was standing. Twice. He'd seen the minute twitch of her fingers, even with her hands at her sides as they were, the seal for 'kai' was distinctive. He didn't feel the shift of chakra that signified a broken genjutsu, but just the notion that the girl had known there was something hidden from her senses was enough to cause mild unease; his illusions were Sharingan-cast; nothing but another Sharingan should be able to notice them.
When he turned to the two Sannin, Tsunade seemed distinctly aware of his discomfort, if the smirk on her face was any indication. "Now, what do you want as payment for the warning?" the Godaime asked, forever blunt, as if deals with universally-acknowledged missing-nin were an every-day occurrence.
Such an open-ended offer, too. Itachi could demand many things and have them be within the tenuous terms the Hokage had set.
But when he thought about it, he knew what he wanted.
"I want three files." He said quietly. "One on my brother's trial, one on the shinobi that brought my brother to the Village, and one on the kunoichi that just left."
The shock on the Sannin's face was clear – it seemed they too had been expecting something outlandish. For the first time since the discussion began, there was hesitation in Tsunade's expression.
But a deal was a deal, and he watched as she reached into the drawer of her desk and pulled out two manila files, one considerably thicker than the other. Itachi waited for her to produce the third one, but when the woman merely raised an eyebrow and waved the files at him, he stepped forward and cautiously took the ones offered.
Itachi slipped his brother's case file into the inner pocket of a jacket he'd stolen, then looked down at the remaining file in his hands, eyes immediately drawn to the photograph in the top left corner.
That was the same-!
His eyes slid from the paper to the Godaime, but she was keeping her expression carefully blank. To think, that he'd had the very person he wanted information on not two metres from him right in front of his face… (He briefly wondered whether the ability to blindside Uchiha was genetic.)
Moving on from the fact that he had the very girl in the room with him not five minutes ago, he focused on the file itself.
Haruno Shiranui Sakura
Clan: N/A (Civilian) Parents deceased; Shiranui (guardianship)
Birthday: 28th March
Age: 16
Rank: Jounin
Partner: Shiranui Genma
Academy Graduation: 12
Chunin Promotion: 12
Tokubetsu Jounin Promotion: 14
Jounin Promotion: 15
Notable skills: Genjutsu, Bukijutsu, Ninjutsu: Elemental Manipulation (Earth & Water); Medical Ninjutsu, Fuinjutsu
Affiliation: Konohakagure, Team 7 (disbanded), Twenty Platoons, Kirigakure (citizenship), Sunagakure (citizenship)
Other: Ambassador to Kirigakure no Sato, Ambassador to Sunagakure no Sato, Torture and Interrogation Operative: Senior Interrogator: Level IV, Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai Operator: (Jackal), Credited with the elimination of Deidara of the Akatsuki
Confirmed Completed Mission Count: 251: 80 D-Rank, 72 C-Rank, 61 B-Rank, 37 A-Rank, 1 S-Rank
Confirmed Kill Count: 600+
That was a high number of missions.
Itachi's old record, on the night of his defection, had boasted 340 completed missions, after almost eight years of service. For the girl to have done well over 70% of that number, in half the time was… just the numerical evidence was starting to show him how his brother had been beaten so easily.
He flicked through the mission summaries, reports, Bingo Book entries – only her rank, age, and position as Ambassador, no mention of her kill count, mission count, methods, even notable skills, despite multiple mission reports of high importance kills, confirmed sabotage, mass assassinations; just like a ghost, no visible trail or link-! – and skill assessments for the Jounin, then moved on to the ANBU section.
There was a clear dichotomy; Jounin Haruno operated best in a two-man squad with a man Itachi remembered from his own ANBU days, tag-teaming targets and utilising their individual skills to their best, showing a mix of genjutsu and elemental manipulation on missions, and never, ever, letting a target escape. ANBU Jackal was a throwback to the tales of Bloody Mist, with a preference for masterfully-executed Silent Kill and bukijutsu, always operating under the cover of genjutsu or Hidden Mist techniques she had no real right to know, ruthless and efficient and leaving no trail.
It was not the file of a child raised in times of peace.
He read through the notes on her loyalty and personality, read the Yamanaka's patient file, saw the mention of her friendship with one of the Seven, with the Kazekage and his Honoured Sister, saw the report of friendly acquaintance with the Mizukage and a partnership with the Nara heir, read the frequent accounts of prolonged stays in one of the allied countries.
Then, Itachi paused. Took a deep, discrete breath, and assembled together the basic facts.
Civilian. Put on a team with a legend, a monster, and a self-proclaimed avenger turned traitor. Ordinary. Weak. Unlikely to make chunin. Then, chunin. T&I Interrogator. Ambassador. Tokujo. ANBU. Jounin. Well-rounded, well-connected, loyal, even when her teammates weren't. Self-made in every sense of the word.
Then, he looked at what he could read between the lines.
Ambitious. Ruthless. Resourceful. Resilient. Intelligent. Prodigious. Cunning. Charismatic.
Itachi had been a prodigy, but he had been the heir of a noble Clan. It had been expected of him. He'd had tutors and trainers and people watching him 24/7, making sure he never faltered, never fell since he was three years old. Then he had to be the best to survive, to live till his brother was strong enough to take him and win, and that meant outsmarting Kage and hunter-nin and bounty-hunters alike, till he could lay down and let his own blood kill him, giving him his final closure, his repentance, his rest.
Hatake Kakashi had been a prodigy, but he'd had a father who had a legend of his own, the White Fang, a man who could've stood for Hokage had he lived. Then had the Yondaime as his teacher, and received a gift that raised him even above the legend of his father in a way that no amount of training could've done, but he'd been broken; jagged and bleeding and self-destructive and unpredictable, to the point of being forcibly pulled from ANBU in fear of another Itachi.
There was one comparison Itachi's mind could draw, only one that really fit, but he didn't want to give voice to his thoughts. Self-made, only one of three to remain loyal, genius, genjutsu-specialising, morally-ambiguous, ruthless and resilient and determined and charismatic and willing to sacrifice the many for the wellbeing of the few-!
He slowly closed the file, falling back into himself, into the role, the mask, the apathy. He knew his expression hadn't changed once, even as he slowly moved towards Tsunade's desk and gently placed the file on the pile of paperwork.
He stepped back, raising his eyes to meet the curious gaze of the Godaime. "Thoughts?" she asked him absently.
Itachi mulled over his answer, keeping his expression carefully blank. Then, he decided that he wasn't there to humour the Godaime, so he offered a small shrug and a 'hn', noting how the blonde scowled.
What he could have asked, was well within reason to ask, was 'Is she interested in blood limits?' but the truth was that he genuinely didn't care.
True, his brother's generation was born in peace-time. They were granted childhoods, years of softness and indulgence. There should've been no way for him to draw parallels between any one of them and a shinobi who had lived and breathed conflict since they could hold a kunai, who had been war-born and death-forged.
And yet, he had.
But that didn't make it his business, so he reigned himself back and waited until they got back to planning Shimura's takedown. This, this he could do.
The next morning, she walked to the gates alongside Shikamaru, both with packs slung across their backs and dressed for the weather of the country they were heading to. She'd caught up with her friend once they'd been dismissed from Tsunade's office, and her heart had ached when Shikamaru caught her up on what had happened while she'd been working out how to pin down a man whose mere reputation could quash her like a fly with its little finger.
She'd pulled him into a hug, too choked up to speak, and just waited until the burn of tears went away. When she pulled away, she decided to forgo empty platitudes and offered a wobbly smile instead. "I'm sure Genma wouldn't mind another stray. You already have your own drawer, we could as well make it official."
And Shikamaru had laughed and seemed surprised, as if she'd startled it out of him. "You're the second person who's offered to adopt me."
And that had been that; at least out loud. Inwardly, Sakura added Shikaku to her personal shitlist.
They walked to the gates in companionable silence and travelled the first ten miles away from the Village together, then split with a last parting hug and murmured wishes of good luck. Both knew that the next time they saw each other, their Village could be under attack.
Sakura travelled in silence, the normally relaxing journey oddly discomfiting, not only because she missed having a presence at her side, but also because she couldn't use her chakra to sense her surroundings. Her channels had been overloaded and had dilated as a result, according to Tsunade – she would struggle with more complex jutsu and chakra sensing until they shrunk back to the original size. Then the Godaime had laughed and said that Sakura would get a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see what people with subpar chakra control dealt with every day.
Sakura already hated it.
"Wow, pinky-chan, did someone get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or what?"
Sakura jumped and let out an ungainly shriek, whirling and unsheathing her daito and brandishing it at the disembodied voice in one smooth movement, her heart hammering a hundred miles a minute.
Then, her eyes lit up and she beamed.
"Yuki-san!"