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Chapter Five

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It all started with Itachi, I guess. Before I'd met him, I was perfectly content to live my life how Daddy suggested, meeting people through my father's careful influence. I hadn't minded that the typical day consisted of ANBU and maybe a visit to Shika's. Now, I chafed. I wanted to go make friends of normal people—kids and adults I wanted to relate to. I wanted reassurance that somewhere, someone still existed who did not think killing was easier than, say, cooking a meal. It's funny that Itachi brought about this desire.

What was funnier was the way my current ANBU babysitter was ranting about Itachi, as if I had nothing better to do.

"I can't believe it! This goes against everything the Second Hokage stood for. Scratching that, he's too young. They don't let emotionless little bigots into ANBU! Kid probably thinks the world is his personal playground, and doesn't follow orders." Azure eyes narrowed at me. "Don't you ever become a prodigy, Kakashi-brat. It's far too difficult."

I glanced pointedly at the remnants of our throwing lesson: kunai nestled everywhere but the target post.

"Good kid," my babysitter approved. "Hard work is the only thing that'll keep you alive in the field. I hear he's got unprecedented throwing skills. Course he does. Takes most ten, twenty years to be halfway decent, and along comes an upstart with a clan and his paperwork gets shoved up the board. You know who has to test him, Kakashi-brat?"

The fact that he was ranting to me gave me a good guess.

Weevil nodded. "That's right, they want me to, but if I kill him, I've got a feud on my shoulders and the Hokage out for my blood."

Normally, I wouldn't mind Weevil's long-winded infodump, but Daddy had left for another stupid mission early this morning, and we had been given to Sparrow. That was in itself exhausting, but again, not the reason behind my dismay.

I was upset because the moment I'd escaped into the bathroom, Weevil had popped out and kidnapped me—and for once I hadn't been walking in there to attempt a jutsu.

I didn't want to (okay, I did) throw his super-sharpened weapons at a dead tree, nor did I care to listen to more complaining than even Daddy bothered with. Mostly, I was fed up with Sparrow's vocal love of killing, Weevil's inconsiderate rant, and my complete helplessness. I couldn't even find it in me to be interested by the man's garishly pink shirt or the way it managed to clash with his Inuzuka cheek tattoos and brilliant blue eyes.

I could ask Weevil to take me to a bathroom. On thinking about it, though . . . I'd planned to spend my day moping. Was this any worse?

He stopped complaining and grinned at me abruptly, his sky-blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sparrow will have my head when she finds I broke cover to you. I don't know why she's such a stickler for details, but it sure wasn't because she was my student. We broke her in too fast." He patted me on the head. "You don't take after your father. In fact, I bet he takes after you." Weevil stood.

I'm confused, I thought. Seriously, why was I randomly kidnapped, given a throwing lesson, and used to rant at?! Just another day in the life, it seemed. Whyyyyy.

Weevil and Sparrow made quite a pair. Bright minds. Quicker subject changes.

People who just wanted to talk.

"You're too good for them, Kakashi-brat. Next thing I know she'll be resigning." He winked at me. "By the way, I hope you have a good excuse for sneaking out with real weapons."

Weevil disappeared.

I could hear Sparrow shouting my name. With Weevil's incredible sensory skills, she wouldn't be able to track him down. She'd find me, though, like a sitting duck.

"Kanaaa! It's not fair to leave without a legitimate kidnapping!"

She was getting closer.

"Besides, I haven't had any fun all week. You could at least have the decency to find me a sparring partner."

One day, when I was older and had more resources, I'd happily stall Weevil so that he could rant to Sparrow, and she could have a nice little spar. In the meantime, this was giving me great incentive.

Sparrow's voice grew closer and a lot quieter. "I get a nice long mission once Hatake-hunk gets back, full of nice sabotage and great missing-nin. I should take you with me; they have the best snacks." Her lithe body plopped down beside me. "You could work on your bingo book page. Once you stop holding out, of course."

I replied with the only defence I could think of. "Daddy doesn't want us to eat sweets, honest!"

"You don't like strawberries—I watched. Also." Her voice frowned. "Those kunai have Weevil-senpai's mark. Your twin figured you wouldn't go off on a killing spree by yourself. I suppose this proves it." She sighed and then smiled under her mask. "You'll come with me some day, I promise."

"I'll try to be patient," I replied edgily. "Can we go home now?"

"Mm, I dunno. I've got a shadow clone with your evil twin, which is very talented of me because that jutsu hates me. How about we check Weevil's blades for poison? Good practice for a little kunoichi."

I would have pouted, but Sparrow never noticed such activities. It might have been her susceptibility to emotionless parochialism. She whistled tunelessly, retrieving the kunai with chakra strings. "Actually, hop on my back, little minion."

Flat stare.

"My clone just dispelled itself. We can't let anyone else murder you two, can we?"

I climbed up. We went fast. I tried to forget about her last sentence.

On a scale of civilian to Gai, I'd rate her about a distressed Asuma. Any faster and she would reach angry Yoshino, which was where I would start having flashbacks and ask to be let down. I pressed my forehead into her dull ponytail and felt the world rush by. "What happened to Kato?"

She shrugged. My muscles tightened. "I'm a big, bad ANBU," she called, voice losing its sadistically cheerful ring. "Until you graduate, worrying is my job. I never fail interesting missions." Nothing like reassurance, eh?

We charged in the front door, Sparrow with her tantō drawn. "Hear anyone, Kana?"

I blinked. I'd thought she had been serious before, but this was a whole new level of professional. "The bedroom," I said softly. "Kato's in there. And—" She kicked the door open. "Wait—"

A handful of Weevil's kunai buried themselves in the wall as the man holding Kato ducked the poisonous borrowed blades. I squirmed. "That's an outdated concept, masquerading as the Copy Ninja," Sparrow threatened.

My arms were in a chokehold around her neck. "He's not!" I argued.

"I just said that."

"Then, he is. He's Daddy."

My prison scoffed. "It's a henge, kidlet. Dog, Boar, Ram. Basic disguise."

"He's got Daddy's heartbeat," I snapped, before using practiced adult-escaping skills and reaching my father in, quite literally, a heartbeat. Kato was already in his arms, so I went for the legs and clung to them. Sparrow growled.

Daddy ignored her, tugging my hair out of its windswept ponytail. "Did you miss me, Kana-chan?"

I relaxed into his comforting fingers. Why was my world such a constant heart attack?

"You're bleeding," I complained.

He laughed. Genuine laughter. He must have convinced Sparrow somehow, because she had body-flickered away. "You scared Sparrow-san, too," I continued.

"He made her clone go 'poof'!" Kato broke in, unaware of how disturbing those words were to me. It was high time I befriended someone with real, nonviolent morals.

"All right, you two," Daddy said. "Why don't you race to the Memorial Stone and see if you can find anything?"

Kato ran right out the front door. Daddy raised an eyebrow and began wrapping bandages around his injured left arm. "Did you think choking Sparrow would help anything?"

"You went on a mission the day before our birthday. You promised that you wouldn't."

Daddy's eyes crinkled deceptively. "The village is what keeps you safe, kiddo. I'll still be here tomorrow."

I nodded. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, princess. You should go on, see if you can catch your brother."

Princess. That's . . . a coincidence. Wait, didn't Sparrow mention henging just now? Wait. Wait.

I flashed my father a grin. "See ya!"

I followed Kato's crashing feet.

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I was so stupid. Henges had three hand seals. That made them like Kawarimi: repetitive enough to either minimize down to one hand seal or gain enough practice that speed became instinctive. From the few conversations I'd overheard among ANBU, I'd learned that one-sealed jutsus were nearly impossible to mimic. I kind of wanted the innate mastery a shortened jutsu would give. On the other hand, it would be easier to learn henge with all of its seals.

Do I dare? I asked the playful breeze. Could I honestly stand a year of no results for a goal that might not even be possible?

I knew my answer, of course. I could. I would, even.

But at this time, this place . . . I didn't care to risk it. I would start at the Academy next year (unless Daddy listened to ANBU Boar and put us right in—heavens forbid he let Sparrow take me on as her apprentice). For a child, I knew the value of time pretty well. My time, especially, was precious. Kakashi had become a chūnin at age six; I didn't have hope for more than another year of tolerable pressures.

(Could I have done it, too, if he had pushed and trained and tutored? Ha. I bet he had gotten by on weapons genius and sheer chakra luck. Just like the Uchiha clan, if Weevil were anyone to go on. I could be a genin by six. I could start training seriously and ask Daddy for help. But not in this life.)

This was my life. This was a life where I could either trot behind Kato, or . . . I could happen to find Kurenai window shopping near our house and ask her to satisfy my childish machinations by carrying me to the woods.

She thinks I'm cute. I think I'm manipulative.

Three bento boxes were waiting by the Memorial Stone, each decorated with a Konoha leaf pattern. They were cold to the touch. I thanked Kurenai, called her pretty, and climbed into a low-lying branch.

Kato arrived next, panting. His hair was adorned with a multitude of leaves and was going every impossible direction at once. He must have exhausted himself, because he peeled off his mask and collapsed, grinning.

"I won!" he crowed, after he had caught his breath.

I cheeeated. But I sat there, silent, until Daddy showed his (not entirely) ugly face. In fact, he very kindly peeled me away from the branch and into the clearing by my leg.

"Would you like an early birthday present, kiddos?"

We did. So we ate patiently, and very patiently practiced our swordplay for a while. Daddy eventually caved. "Okay. I'm going to show you your first jutsu."

We gawked. We watched like hungry vultures. He chuckled and shook his head. "It's nothing fancy—just a little fire starter. You'll have to unlock your chakra before that, and then probably work on control for a few weeks. But here you go."

He ran through four hand seals and snapped his fingers, producing a spark. Kato's eyes went wide with fascination. "You'll teach us how to do that, Daddy?"

"That's what I said."

I stuck out my tongue. "The Hare seal is hard."

"Mm, you're right. Now why don't you show me just how well you memorized the progression?"

"Because I don't have incentive."

Kato glanced between the two of us and quietly formed the correct seals. My brother hated conflict almost as much as Daddy and I liked to experiment with it. "Good memory, Kato-kun."

Kato beamed at the praise. I knew Daddy would not let me off so easily, but he began explaining the basics of chakra to us. This was actually the fifth or sixth time I had heard "the talk" from an adult. It wasn't exactly improved.

On the other hand, I was focusing on the jutsu instead of listening. Hare's complexity had made it my second favorite hand seal (Boar was still ahead, thanks to Kawarimi). It wasn't perfected yet, though, which was why Daddy sometimes called out random sequences of hand seals. Or so I'd assumed. In retrospect, both Kawarimi and this spark jutsu cropped up pretty often in his drills. Perhaps they were part of common sequences?

Daddy cleared his throat. "If you want incentive, I'll let you eat dessert every night this week."

I flashed through them forwards, then backwards for good measure.

He smiled. "Cheeky brat." He didn't mention that my technique was sloppy enough to endanger the jutsu—a problem I would love to have been faked. He let the mistakes slide, possibly because I'd been known to cry on occasion. Kato was turning into a sugar-phobic like Daddy, but if I didn't get my reward, I'd get my twin to help wreak some serious misery.

We ate our meal, which happened to be our favorite flavors. We practiced our repetitive tantō stances. We jogged home.

As I was sitting in the neglected garden, watching the sun set, Kato yelled across the house for me. Shika was at the door with two birthday presents crammed awkwardly in a wicker basket. It was the same wrapping paper as last year, although this time messy tape and clumsy folds pointed to my friend's actual involvement.

He handed me the basket. "Keep it out of sunlight."

"I don't think sunlight is going to affect the basket," I said thoughtfully. "Are you sure?"

He rolled his eyes. "Happy birthday, Kana. Don't get sick from the cake."

"What, I don't get a hint at my present?"

"It's unpredictable," said Shika in his utterly readable way.

"So . . . a goldfish?"

He sighed dejectedly. "You're troublesome."

"That's nonsense, silly. I have no idea what you got for Kato-kun."

"You know that it's not a fish."

Fair's fair. I smiled. "Thank you for the presents, Shika. Don't have too much fun on your camping trip with Chōji-kun. Think of me while you're running from possessed wildlife."

"The only possessed and wild life here is you," he moaned, but he nodded a goodbye and left me standing on the front step.

I really thought it was a shame Chōza had invited Shika on their weekend gambol, because I had considered asking Daddy for a sleepover. Shika had been fine with my idea until his original trip was delayed via emergency missions. Now a sleepover was out of the question.

Was I losing my best friend?

No. He was just branching out for strategic purposes, just like I had when I'd met him. I'd always done it, befriending a person under a hunch and then discovering that they were worth their weight in gold. It wasn't based on calculations, or even really sentiment at first. It was actually pretty close to what I remembered of the eventual Kakashi's personality.

My Kakashi had panicked during way too many diaper changes to get any sort of illogical respect. He used to memorize childcare books with his Sharingan, a hack that might kill all the Uchihas without an excessive massacre (overkill, I say with my horrible sense of humor).

I'd almost psyched myself into asking Shika for secondhand help with henges.

Yeah, right. If he knows I'm curious about that, that's the last secret I'll ever keep from him. He's too perceptive. He's not even seven yet, and he's got me beaten.

"I'm getting old," I moaned to Daddy, depositing the basket on the floor seconds before Kato dashed away with it. "See? He's still young."

Daddy looked amused. "Your brother is about half an hour younger than you. I don't think your argument holds."

I stuck out my tongue. "I'm older than you because Grandfather says old people get shorter."

"So, Kato is older than you?"

This sudden interest meant that he'd talk to me until I collapsed of fatigue, or Kato injured one of the nin-dogs. The world was conspiring against that henge, wasn't it?

No. That wasn't how I wanted to view my life. I wanted to hurry, yes. I wanted to grow and keep my family here safe. It didn't need to happen right away.

It didn't need to happen at this exact moment.

This exact moment, in fact, was going to involve my father and me and some endearing family banter.

You know what? I'm going to settle back and enjoy life. I have a family. I have a childhood. I can be grateful.

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~So, I lied about the update speed. Surprise. That's okay—no one's sad. But the next chapter will not be until May (unless I'm inspired again), when I'm home again. It's funny. Last chapter I was terrified that people would flame the last few paragraphs, but it turns out that most of you wonderful reviewers liked it. Which is wonderful (and if you didn't like it, you're essentially on the same page as my inner criticism and more than welcome to say so. I have, shall we say, a personal attachment to critics). You even spurred the impossible and I wrote a chapter before coming home. Congratulations, and thank you, and feel free to do so again. Even if there was no illogical, humorous scene this time.

Now, I realize I have said "no chapter until X time" before, but I've also said "I wanted to put more in." I've decided they go hand-in-hand. The problem with my writing is that when I plan to skip six months forward to advance the plot, millions of little scenes decide that it is their time to "conveniently" appear. I like their three-dimensional appeal, but that doesn't excuse why the original Chapter Four isn't finished. I may be making things longer, shortly. Once I find the inclination. (That was not a joke—that was perfectly serious. No one cares. I get it.)

Chocolate, or coffee? Vanilla, or strawberry? Until next time, wonderful people!

Edit: Updated 2/15/21 for general clarity.