Sasuke wasn't sure how it had happened, exactly, but he couldn't honestly say that he was surprised.

After their dinner (payed for by a suspiciously compliant Kakashi, especially after the fuss he'd kicked up over ramen just that afternoon) Sakura had announced that since there was still time before the market closed for the night, they should get their grocery shopping done now. It was a valid point; with the amount of training they had scheduled for the foreseeable future, until their bodies got used to it, they weren't going to want to do anything, let alone shop.

Sakura also knew the both of them well enough to know that, without other options on hand, they'd go right back to the bad eating habits they'd originally had at this age. Naruto would settle for eating a dozen instant ramen cups in a sitting with no complaints and Sasuke would start eating technically healthy but small and extremely bland meals.

With the training they had planned, they needed food. Real, healthy food in sizable portions. Otherwise all they'd be doing would be damaging themselves.

So, yes, Sakura had a valid point. Did that make Sasuke any more inclined to agree to a shopping trip? Not particularly.

A glance at his only possible means of support (as Kakashi had fled before she'd even finished the suggestion, the coward) showed a Naruto who was full and content and pretty much willing to go along with anything at this point, having received two big meals in one day, one of which was ramen, for free. Which, going by the smug smile their teammate threw his way, had been Sakura's plan all along.

So, he'd sighed, glared, grumbled a bit, but had ultimately acquiesced. Thankfully, since it was food and not clothes, the trip itself was relatively pain-free when compared to the day before, especially after Naruto donned his henge.

Which led them to now.

Now being his walk through the dark and usually deathly silent Uchiha compound towards his family home with both of his teammates trotting along behind him, their arms just as weighed down with bags as his own. They weren't being disrespectful but they weren't being quiet either. At this age the first time around, it would have driven Sasuke into a complete rage, because how dare they have such a meaningless, trivial conversation here, in this empty place full of the ghosts of his family?

As it was, Sasuke found himself nothing but grateful, though he would admit that it was odd, seeing anyone living besides himself walk these streets. Before he'd left, he'd never invited anyone here, hadn't ever even contemplated it. In his twelve-year-old mind, it was absolutely unthinkable. By the time he'd come back, years later, the compound had been gone, destroyed in Pein's attack and eventually rebuilt as housing for civilians.

He'd mourned the loss of it, vaguely, but hadn't objected to the repurposing of the land. And in a way, he'd actually been a bit relieved. He'd always felt tied to this place, even when the Hokage had offered, multiple times, to house him elsewhere. Despite the nightmares hidden in every crevice and cranny of this place, it had been his home, his family's home, and he'd felt like to give up that last connection might have been just as big of a betrayal as Itachi's. And with it gone, destroyed and replaced, the decision had been taken from him, and he'd found himself weirdly appreciative of that fact.

And then he'd woken up, twelve again, and laying in his old room in the house he'd grown up in, surrounded by a silence so deep it rang in his ears.

He shouldn't be surprised that his teammates had clearly picked up on how uncomfortable he was with this place. He'd already said his goodbyes, had already laid these ghosts to rest, and to be surrounded by them once more was jarring, to say the least. And had resulted in more interrupted sleep than he'd experienced in months.

So, of course Naruto had picked up on how he was feeling, his reluctance to return to this place alone for another night of silence and the faces of the dead invading his dreams. Of course Sakura had noticed his exhaustion, his stress, even if both could be hidden away from literally everybody else. They were his teammates and they knew him, could read him just as well as he could read them, and there was no way they'd step back and just quietly let him cope with it on his own this time.

They were Team 7. None of them had to do anything alone anymore.

Their solution to this, apparently, was to nonchalantly follow him home like puppies. Not asking for permission, not wondering if it was okay, just doing.

Sasuke was so grateful for them at times, he almost couldn't believe it. He'd done so much wrong in his life, what could he have possibly ever done to deserve them? Deserved or not, though, they were there and he wasn't ever going to push them away again.

And so he said nothing as they walked through the empty streets, just listened to their mundane conversation, their vague ideas of how to add their extra training to what was already planned, and basked in the feeling of not being alone in here anymore.

They didn't hesitate when they reached his home, didn't pause for a second to cross the threshold right behind him and slip off their shoes, to follow him into the kitchen with the bags they were carrying, to put things away without even asking for direction, already relatively familiar with how he organized things, as if they'd been here countless times before instead of this being the first time they'd ever been invited in.

They didn't hesitate to follow him up into his room, to roll out extra futons and blankets onto the floor and to bed down for the night. Didn't hesitate, didn't question, didn't even seem to look at each other to reach an agreement. Just did, like it was nothing, like it was obvious, because Sasuke was alone and uncomfortable in this place and they had the ability to help him not be.

Really, he might never admit to such a thing aloud, even on pain of death, but he truly did love his team. He might not feel like he deserved them now but he sure as hell wouldn't stop trying until he did.

.

.

Umino Iruka loved teaching.

As a child, he'd had dreams of becoming the next Hokage, just like every other kid. He had watched on, far away and crowded on all sides, even perched upon his father's shoulders, as the hat was passed from Sandaime to Yondaime, had felt the elation of the entire village surge like a crashing tidal wave as every single voice rose together in a unified cheer. So many people had been lost to the war but in that one shining moment, all around him, there'd been nothing but joy for the future.

He'd dreamed of that moment, again and again. To him, so far away, the figures of the past and future Hokage had been so small, barely even visible, but the very presence of them had been overwhelming. They were the strongest of the village, their greatest protectors, their last defense. And Iruka had wanted that, more badly than he'd ever wanted anything before in his life.

And then the Kyuubi attacked the village and his entire world crumbled to ash.

He'd been lost, then. Had stumbled around in a mire of anger and resentment and grief so overwhelming it seemed to choke the very life from him, leeching it away slowly, so different from the suddenness of his parents' loss.

The Sandaime had been the one to pull him out of that darkness, in the end. Had shown him how to find the light still inside him, his Will of Fire doused to mere embers but still burning ever on.

It had reignited his vigor, and the loneliness of coming back to an empty home every day only made him all the more determined to stand in the same spot the Yondaime once had, to have the entire village raise their voices in joy around him, for him, with him.

Of course, the years weren't always kind and tended to carry with them a number of hard lessons. Iruka was a good shinobi, with many talents and many prospects, but it didn't take long to realize that he'd likely never be a great one. He just wasn't built for it, really, didn't have the raw power, the large reserves or precise control, the inarguable genius. Oh, he was smart, could ace any written test, could make sound strategies, could infiltrate and interrogate and trap with the best of them, but he'd never match up to a Nara, especially not a motivated one. He wouldn't ever match up to Gai or Kakashi or any number of jounin in terms of strength and skill.

He'd never be the strongest of their village, their greatest protector, their last defense.

It had been a hard truth to swallow and he'd spent months bouncing from department to department, knowing he had the skills necessary to find a place in them but not wanting to because that would mean giving up, would mean accepting that the dream he'd had for so long really was out of his reach, and he didn't want to do that.

And then he'd accepted a mission to help as an aide at the Academy, filling in for a woman who'd taken a few months of maternity leave, and everything had seemed to click into place for him.

It wasn't all great things, of course. The children were rowdy and loud and hard to corral. They acted out, refused to listen, slept through his lectures, fought over stupid and petty things. For the first few weeks, his mind seemed to be made up of nothing but a litany of endless apologies to his own former teachers, for the things he'd done and everything he'd put them through.

(He'd actually sent each and every one of them a personalized basket of goods, and though he'd never actually said the words out loud, he knew they understood by the smug smirks they graced him with every time he saw them.)

At first it had seemed almost thankless, almost worthless, because these kids clearly weren't learning anything from him. He didn't have the ability to get them to sit and listen and actually pay attention, not like other teachers he had seen, and no amount of advice or observation seemed to change that.

And then his class had graduated, and he'd seen the proud smiles of those who'd received their headbands, had seen the disappointment mingled with determination on those that had failed, and had felt a flicker of pride within himself. He may not have contributed much, but he'd still done something, had had a hand in helping to shape these young boys and girls, and that was an achievement.

And then, a few months after that brief stint at the Academy had ended, he'd been working the Mission Assignment Desk and had been absolutely floored when not one but two teams of the class he'd worked with had walked in, all of them proudly wearing chunin vests. They weren't just students anymore, weren't just children with dreams of being shinobi, they were shinobi, and he'd helped with that.

The next time a mission came through for a stint at the Academy, he'd snapped it up without hesitation, determinedly ignoring the Hokage's knowing looks. And it had seemed easier than the last time, to get the kids situated, to get them settled in for lessons. There were always the outliers, the troublemakers, the slackers, but where last time he'd had no clue what to do with them, this time around he handled them better, quicker.

Soon enough, he was taking mission after mission at the Academy until he found himself there almost constantly. It wasn't until the Hokage finally made a comment that the realization had dawned on him. He was no longer bouncing between departments, indecisive and desolate with the idea of settling on something. He'd already settled and it had been painless, hadn't hurt him at all, and there was no regret in it, not even when he'd tentatively prodded at his feelings on the matter.

The next year he'd been given his own class, assigned to the Academy permanently and taken off the active missions roster, though he still helped with the Mission Assignment Desk as often as he could get away with, if only to catch glimpses of the kids he'd sent forward into their careers, to see how they grew even outside of his reach. The Hokage seemed to understand and, as long as his primary focus was the children under his direct tutelage, the old man never begrudged him an afternoon or two a week.

Iruka had been all set, excited for his own class, his chance to say that he'd done more than just contributed a bit of help in shaping the future of their forces but that he'd had a direct hand in it. He didn't know how he could've ever thought such a job was thankless.

And then the Kyuubi container had entered his classroom, garbed in dirty and worn clothes, face smudged, shoulders hunched protectively but bright eyes almost defiant when they'd met his own.

Iruka was ashamed to admit that, at first, he'd turned a bit of a blind eye to the mistreatment. It wasn't out of malice or anything, even through his grief he was able to realize that Naruto was a child and, even in his darkest mindset, Iruka very much doubted that he'd ever be able to harm a child. But beyond that, he wasn't quite sure how to act. Because, child or not, he was still housing the Kyuubi, the very monster that still frequented Iruka's worst nightmares, destroying his home and snatching his parents away from him, killing so many including their Hokage and leaving destruction and death and rage in its wake.

So, he'd mostly done his best to ignore the boy. To teach his class as best he could, including Naruto, without ever really focusing on him. And for awhile, it seemed to work. The boy was quiet, unsure, worked not to draw attention to himself if he could help it and seemed utterly content with going ignored.

And then, suddenly, it changed. Suddenly, Naruto was acting out, talking back, distracting the class in any way that he could, playing pranks near constantly, to the point where Iruka was ready to tear his own hair out, completely unsure of how to handle such a situation.

His colleagues had suggested severe punishments and instant expulsion and Iruka had been taken aback because, yes, it was annoying and disrupting but surely such extreme actions were unnecessary? And then they'd laughed and told him how they'd punished the boy themselves, almost seemed to brag about it, and Iruka had felt sick, genuinely sick, with them and with himself. Because he might not have done those things to the boy personally but, by turning a blind eye as he had, he might as well have.

It was no wonder he was acting out the way he was. He might smile constantly but that didn't mean he was happy. And if he was going to be punished harshly, if he was going to be hated by everyone even when he'd done nothing to deserve it, then he should deserve it. He should be hated on his own merits, should be hated for reasons he actually knew and understood.

It had been hard, at first, to ignore his still lingering misgivings about the Kyuubi and focus only on Naruto, but had quickly become easier. He was a rambunctious kid who was seemingly full to the brim with energy, but he was also bright when given the chance, always had a ready smile for anyone who truly needed it, no matter how he was treated. He was a good kid, when you looked past all the mischief, and he deserved his chance at reaching his dreams just as much as any of the other kids in his class.

Iruka tried as hard as he could to level the playing field, to ensure that Naruto spent his days in class rather than running about or sitting in detentions he hadn't even earned. As he grew more and more fond of the boy, he had to work not to show favoritism, because doing so would not only be unfair but would surely cost him control of the other students immediately.

He watched as Naruto failed his exam, again and again and again, and his heart ached for the boy. He wanted to give him this, to just hand the Hitai-ate over and pat him on the head, but that would likely be the fastest way to get him killed. Iruka never wanted to fail his students but he wanted to send them on unprepared even less.

He'd always known that Naruto could be a good shinobi, though, had seen that potential in him even when he'd been doing his best to ignore him. It would only be a matter of time, would only take a few more teachers besides himself actually giving him a chance, and he'd excel, Iruka was sure of it.

And was proven correct when Naruto had learned an jounin-level jutsu in hours and had then used it to defeat a traitorous chunin single-handed.

Iruka wasn't lying when he'd said that Naruto was Naruto, not the Kyuubi, and that he was one of the best students Iruka had ever had. Tying his Hitai-ate around Naruto's forehead, Iruka had never been more proud of a graduating student, had never been more excited to watch a student's journey through the ranks, to watch their career as they grew into a fine shinobi.

Iruka might have had to settle for being a good shinobi but, without a doubt, Naruto would be a great one.

And so he could admit to being a bit restless as he waited for the last of the recently graduated teams to come in, even as he blatantly ignored the amused glances the Sandaime continued to throw his way. Teams 8 and 10 had already come by to pick up a mission, all of them looking proud in their own ways to have passed their final tests to officially become genin under their jounin sensei. At least, until they were informed just what kind of mission it was they'd be accepting (and really, Iruka went over mission ranks and what they entailed every year, how was it still always such a surprise to these kids?) when they all slumped and began to grumble and drag their feet, which was always amusing to watch.

It was mid-afternoon now, though, and there'd still been no sign of Team 7. Kakashi had officially passed them so it wasn't like he could go back on that without a solid and inarguable reason. Iruka wouldn't be surprised if he refused to take his position as teacher seriously but he still had certain responsibilities he had to bow to, one of which was taking his students on D-rank missions, and he couldn't skip out of those without receiving a reprimand, not unless he had legitimate reasons.

So, where were they? He only had a short while left on his shift and he really was hoping to see all of his kids before he was sent home for the night.

Almost as if summoned by the thought, Team 7 entered the room, which in turn went startlingly and abruptly silent. Not that Iruka could blame anyone, with his own jaw hanging open the way that it was. Because the Team 7 before him now was not the same Team 7 he'd assigned just two days ago.

He wanted to blame it on the outfits, since they'd all changed into something more appropriate than the bright, eye-catching ensembles they'd worn previously (and he wanted to be proud of that, he did, but it was still so strange to see Naruto wearing something that could actually be called subtle, it was almost wrong) but, for some inexplicable reason, he knew that wasn't it. Oh, he could see the others around him take in the physical details and brush it off as nothing more than that, even as they gave approving nods towards Kakashi for seemingly inspiring, or ordering, such a change. But Iruka could tell there was more to it.

Maybe it was in the way they stood, lined up before the Desk, comfortable with their side by side proximity. There were no glares thrown between Naruto and Sasuke, no posturing or fighting. Sakura stood to the far left instead of between them, seemingly confident in their ability to get along without a buffer. And what was more, she stood with Naruto between her and Sasuke and didn't even seem bothered by it, like she couldn't care less that she wasn't standing as close to the Uchiha heir as she could manage.

Maybe it was all of this combined with how scruffy they appeared, all smudged in dust and dirt, clearly tired from a hard training session but standing tall and proud despite that, refusing to waiver.

These three didn't look like Academy kids or even freshly graduated genin. No, they looked like shinobi.

And then the spell was broken as Naruto grinned, wide and exuberant, and shouted out, "Hey, Iruka-sensei! Hey, Jiji! Got any cool missions for us? Something with princesses and a lot of fights!"

Sakura rolled her eyes as Sasuke scoffed, Kakashi sighing in exasperation from behind the pages of his book (and, really, in front of children?), but the Hokage only chuckled, long-used to the boy's lack of respect and quite fond of it, regardless.

Still, long-used to and fond of it or not, Iruka couldn't just let it pass without comment. Naruto was supposed to be professional. What if there'd been a client in the room? "Naruto! Don't talk that way to the Hokage! Address him with respect!"

Naruto grinned, cheeky, as mischief lit up his eyes, and Iruka had to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. He'd just made it worse, hadn't he? "You're absolutely right, Iruka-sensei! Got any cool missions for us, Jiji-sama?"

Sighs rang out throughout the room, some annoyed but most reluctantly amused, and Iruka gave it up for a loss. For now. Naruto was pretty solidly set in his ways and, really, dubbing the Hokage with such an affectionate nickname was his way of showing respect. Pushing the issue now would only result in the boy digging in his heels and fighting back. To most, that would probably result in pranks. For Iruka, it would most likely result in headaches he didn't need.

"I'm afraid we're fresh out of princess rescue missions," the Hokage announced gravely, eyes bright with humor when Naruto made a disappointed sound, "but we do have a rescue mission, in a manner of speaking."

Iruka wasn't sure if he'd call it that. If anything, freeing the thing would probably count more as rescuing it than returning it to its owner. But then again, for the amount they were being regularly paid, and for a D-rank at that? Without the cat being physically abused, it was worth it.

"It appears that Madam Shijimi's cat has escaped and gotten lost in the village. She's understandably very worried and would like her dear pet returned to her as quickly as possible." The Sandaime extracted a scroll from the pile before him, checking the contents quickly before passing it over to a patiently waiting Sakura. "Do you think the three of you are up for it?"

Iruka had to hold in a snort when all three cast the Hokage bland looks, because three genin against a cat? Of course they were up for it.

He could admit to feeling a bit bad. That cat was the devil, not that he could blame it for wanting to desperately hold on to its freedom, and it was extremely unlikely that they'd be able to catch it any time soon or without injury. The thing might be pampered, but it was also smart, and quick, and vicious.

Kakashi hummed as the mission scroll was passed back to him, tucking it into his pocket without even sparing it a cursory glance, and Iruka had to resist the urge to throttle the man. "I'm surprised this mission wasn't already picked up. Surely it would be a perfect fit for Team 8?"

"Ah, Kurenai decided to start them off a bit easier, it seems. I'm afraid most of the ideal missions go to those who show up in time to receive them." The last was said with a pointed glance at first the jounin and then the clock on the wall, announcing that it was just after two in the afternoon. Kakashi just shrugged back, unrepentant, and Iruka may highly respect him but he was fairly sure he'd never actually like him.

"Maa, it's fine. This mission is perfect. Isn't it, kids?"

The three genin looked supremely unimpressed, with both the mission and their teacher, but surprisingly said nothing in complaint. Iruka would've expecting a few grumbles at least, especially with Naruto in the room, and yet they all looked perfectly willing to submit and carry out the mission, even if they didn't exactly look happy about it.

"Are you sure?" Iruka couldn't help but ask, his caretaking nature overpowering his professionalism for a moment. Because, really, he wasn't lying when he said they looked like they'd just had a hard training session. "This isn't the easiest mission and all three of you look like you've already had a long day."

His words had the opposite affect he'd intended. Instead of taking notice of their own states or admitting that they may be tired, they all straightened up impossibly taller, looking almost insulted at the very idea of throwing in the towel before they'd even started.

"No way!" Naruto objected, scowling. "We've got this mission in the bag, no question about it, dattebayo!"

"Hn."

"Really, Iruka-sensei, there's no need to worry," Sakura smiled, though it looked a little strained around the edges. "We can handle it."

For a moment, he almost pushed the issue, because genin or not they were still kids, had been his students only a short few days ago. But then he stopped and took in their determined expressions and just couldn't bring himself to doubt them. They were working hard, harder than any other team so far, to achieve their dreams, to grow stronger, and he just couldn't stand in the way of that, not now.

So instead, he took a deep breath and graced them with an approving smile. "If you're sure."

They nodded back to him as one (And wasn't that so strange? What could have possibly happened in such a short amount of time that could've turned the veritable ticking time bomb that was Team 7 into this?), then to the Hokage, and then turned to be led out by their sensei without another word beyond Naruto's shouted farewell.

Iruka wasn't sure how he felt about it, really. Most progressed slowly, maturing and growing in such a way that he could follow along even from the sidelines. Team 7, though, seemed to have jumped ahead in terms of maturity. In Naruto's case, maybe that could be explained away by what had happened with Mizuki, but the other two?

Iruka couldn't deny being confused and, if he was honest with himself, a little suspicious.

But he was also more proud of his students then he could express with words. He knew, without a doubt, that they truly would someday be great.

.

.

Catching Tora was beyond easy, even with how tired Sakura and Sasuke obviously were.

Naruto's healing and stamina had taken care of the majority of his soreness, leaving him almost completely refreshed and ready to go. Sakura had used her healing techniques on herself and Sasuke but they didn't have a bijuu in their gut to replenish their energy. Still, they hadn't complained or slowed down once, just as determined to finish the mission as they were to train themselves back up to a respectable level.

Honestly, the morning session truly had been hell, Kakashi-sensei hadn't been exaggerating. Naruto was a stamina freak, always had been, and even he had had to fight to keep going. He had no idea how Bushy Brows did it every day, with such enthusiasm, but he definitely had Naruto's respect for it.

Iruka-sensei's comment had been a bit of a letdown, as Naruto remembered once more that, here, they were nothing more than recently graduated genin, not heroes of the Fourth War who'd gone toe to toe with an actual god. It had been a long time indeed that Iruka had looked at Naruto, or any of them, like that. Like he wasn't sure if they could do it, like he felt the need to step in and protect them, like they were children.

Naruto didn't blame him for it and was actually kind of grateful, because back in this time he'd had so few people who would actually go out of their way to look out for him like that, but it was disheartening all the same. Because they weren't children and they could do it. Would do it, no matter what it took. They were shinobi now, adults by law, and even if they hadn't had their eighteen-year-old minds, they still wouldn't have needed to be coddled like civilian kids.

Iruka didn't mean it like that in any way, wanted only to make sure that the ones he cared about were safe, that the students he watched grow could really handle what they were given, but it felt like they were being coddled. Felt like they were being doubted. And they hated it.

Only one way to change it, though, and that was to prove every one of those assumptions wrong. Which meant acing their missions, training until they dropped, getting strong enough that nobody could question whether or not they could handle something and then getting even stronger than that. It would take a very long time to build up not only the power but also the respect that they'd had before they were sent back but they wouldn't ever stop working towards it.

And that meant catching a cat and returning her to her borderline-abusive owner. Which, as demonic as the thing could act, still left a bit of a bad taste in Naruto's mouth.

Finding Tora was easy. All Naruto had to do was close his eyes and concentrate for an unmoving moment. Any other animal and it wouldn't have been nearly as simple, since most in the village, barring ninken, had a chakra signature so small that it was easily dwarfed by the amount of shinobi around. But Naruto knew Tora, had dealt with this mission more times than he cared to recount, and that made finding her less of a chore than it otherwise might have been.

After, all it took was a sound strategy, chakra control and patience. Really, compared to how difficult this had been the first time around, it was almost insulting how quickly they had her captured and docile in Naruto's grasp.

Which was another thing that was fairly odd. Naruto was pretty sure Tora had hated him before, had kicked up an unholy racket when he'd briefly been in charge of carrying her back to Hokage Tower, had scratched him so deeply that he would've likely scarred if not for Kurama. This time, though, she seemed to give up as soon as she was in his arms and actually began to purr when he tentatively began to stroke her back.

He shared a incredulous and, frankly, alarmed look with his teammates before the three of them began making their way back, each keeping an eye on the cat just in case this good behavior turned out to be a trick. She might be just a normal cat, but Tora was smart, scarily so, and none of them would put it past her.

But, no. She stayed calm and content the entire way back, right up until they were standing before the Hokage and on the receiving end of a room full of disbelieving looks once more. It wasn't until Madam Shijimi lunged forward with a squeal, hands grasping insistingly, that Tora seemed to blink back to reality. And while she didn't try to escape again, she dug her claws into Naruto's jacket and shot him a look of such clearly panicked begging that he couldn't do anything but step away from the woman, turning in a bid to keep her separated from her pet.

Silence fell in the room, this time much more oppressive than this morning. Because this wasn't just a client, this was the Fire Daimyo's wife, and one wrong move could result in a very harsh backlash, reduced funding, reduced missions. Konoha was, arguably, the strongest Hidden Village in the Elemental Nations and, with one misstep, Naruto could plunge them into poverty, even if it was unlikely to last long. Their Daimyo wasn't like the Wind's Daimyo, after all.

If Naruto really had been twelve, that would have been a problem. When he'd truly been this age, he'd had no concept of respect or diplomacy, had done most of his fighting with fists and impassioned yelling, and neither of those things would get him very far at all in this instance, unless it was directly into trouble. But he wasn't that twelve-year-old kid anymore, not mentally. It was hard, at times, to grasp what that really meant beyond just having a large repertoire of jutsu, insight to future events and a weak, under-trained body.

Naruto may not be able to match most in a fight right now, but that didn't mean he was powerless. He still had months of training under Tsunade and various other department heads.

He could help someone, even if it was just a cat, and he'd never been the type that could turn away from such a thing. Now, how to do it without everyone thinking he'd been replaced by a body-snatcher?

Man, was he glad that Iruka-sensei had seemingly already been sent home.

"Madam Shijimi, you need to calm down," he ordered, arms tightening comfortingly around the feline in his grasp. Tora, obligingly, began to purr once more, loudly enough to clearly be heard throughout the room. The Daimyo's wife looked more gobsmacked than any of the shinobi around her, even those whose control of their expressions had lapsed, and Naruto wasn't sure if it was because of the way he'd spoken to her or because she'd never actually heard her cat purr before.

Either was equally as likely, really.

"Tora doesn't like it when you get too excited with her and handle her roughly. That's why she keeps running away from you. Cats aren't like dogs, they don't respond to stuff like that in a good way. You have to give her space and be gentle with her and she'll come to you."

More silence, and Naruto was beginning to wonder if this had been a really bad spur of the moment decision. A quick glance to the side showed that his teammates were entirely unsurprised by his actions, though exasperated, and Kakashi looked moments away from bashing his head against a wall, but none of them looked disapproving.

In fact, the Hokage didn't, either. Surprised, yes, and just as exasperated as Naruto's teammates, but more than anything he seemed amused by this turn of events and maybe, possibly, just a little bit satisfied, like he'd wanted to do the same for a long while but hadn't been able to.

Which was dumb. He was the Hokage, and yeah, that meant he had more responsibilities and had to be more careful with his words and actions than anyone else, but it also meant he could be less careful. There was a stark difference between a genin and the leader of the village addressing the Daimyo's wife with such concerns, after all.

But what was done was done and Naruto could only hope that Madam Shijimi took it in the way it was meant, not as an insult (well, a little as an insult, but mostly because the way she choked the life out of her cat on a regular basis was horrifying) but as advice given in goodwill. And that others didn't question this action too much and start looking more closely at Team 7's other decisions. Because that would definitely be a bad thing.

Thankfully, instead of exploding at Naruto in rage, like he'd half expected, the woman instead seemed to gather herself, drawing tall and patting at her robes to be sure everything was in order.

"Oh, my," she simpered, delight on her face, "my little fuzzykins sure has taken a liking to you, hasn't she? I haven't seen her that content in ages!"

Or ever, Naruto thought, but had the self-control not to say.

"What a precious thing! What's your name, dear?"

"Uzumaki Naruto," he introduced, glancing once more at the Hokage before turning his attention solidly at the woman before him. "If you want Tora to stop running away then you can't smother her like that. She really doesn't like it."

"I see, I see, she does seem quite happy with the way you're holding her, don't you, baby? Do you want Mommy to hold you like that, too? Will that keep you from being such a naughty little thing?" She quickly devolved into baby-talk, cooing over the cat even as Naruto gently, hesitantly, handed her over. Surprisingly, Tora remained docile for the most part, though she had tensed in preparation to lunge for escape if her owner decided to strangle her with affection as was usual.

Instead Madam Shijimi maintained a loose grasp, only tight enough to keep the feline in her arms, and seemed overjoyed when Tora remained there without a fight.

"Oh, how lovely! You do love Mommy, yes you do, yes you do! Thank you so much for retrieving my baby!" The Madam left without a backwards glance, all of her attention focused solidly at heaping gentle affection on the creature in her arms, and Naruto let out a silent sigh of relief.

He was really glad that had gone over as well as it had. He was pretty sure that if Madam Shijimi had been any less vapid than she was, it definitely wouldn't have.

"Very well done," the Hokage remarked as soon as the Daimyo's wife exited the room. Slowly, the surrounding shinobi got back to work, clearly sensing that the spectacle was now over. "As first missions go, you've done an outstanding job."

"Thank you, Hokage-sama," Sakura demurred as she handed over their mission scroll to be stamped for completion.

"Of course! We're the best team, after all! That mission wasn't hard at all!" Which was true, the mission really had been beyond simple. The last five minutes had been more stressful than any part of the mission had been.

"I see," the Sandaime chuckled good-naturedly, "I hope you'll continue doing such good work in the future, then."

"You bet, Jiji!"

"If that's all, Hokage-sama," Kakashi-sensei cut in, eye curved up in a very obviously fixed smile, "it seems my cute little students need a bit more training if that's how they decide to address royalty."

Oops. Naruto let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. He wasn't ashamed, though, and he didn't regret it. Besides, more training couldn't possibly be a bad thing, right now, and by the way Sakura and Sasuke slumped but made no objections, didn't even send Naruto a blaming look, they clearly agreed.

"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow. Do try to arrive at a more respectable time, Kakashi." The order was given absently, more by rote than any expectation that it would be followed, and Kakashi-sensei simply threw out a lazy salute before herding them out of the building, working to keep their pace sedate when he wanted nothing more than to whisk them away from any listening ears.

He managed to hold out until they'd made it back to their training grounds and he'd erected a rudimentary privacy seal. And then he'd kind of just stood there, looking for all the world despairing, before letting out a very long, very tired sigh.

"Really?" He finally asked, hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose in a way Naruto decided not to mention made him look exactly like Tsunade-baa-chan. "We're supposed to be fitting in, not drawing attention. That was the opposite of not drawing attention."

"I don't see what the problem is," Sasuke shrugged when Kakashi-sensei threw a glare his way. "That's exactly something the Dobe would've done, if that hell cat had behaved even half as well before."

He wasn't lying. Though Naruto would've been a lot less respectful about it.

"Besides, this is a good thing!" Sakura added cheerfully. "The Sandaime was clearly happy about it and it ended well, with no hard feelings. In fact, Madam Shijimi even seemed pleased! What's there to complain about?"

Kakashi-sensei was quiet for another moment before his shoulders suddenly slumped. "I give up," he announced. "You three are ridiculous and impossible and I give up."

All three of them traded grins because, really, Kakashi-sensei had known them for how long now and had actually thought they could still be controlled? Before they could say anything about it, though, their teacher looked up again to meet their eyes, one by one, and they each had to repress a shiver at the barely concealed sadistic joy lighting his eye from the inside out.

That look was pretty reminiscent of Tsunade-baa-chan, too.

"So, if you won't watch your behavior to avoid situations like that, I'll just have to make sure you're too tired to even think of acting out. Simple solution, right?"

Eager for training they may be, but this might just be a bit more than they could handle.

Still, there was no way they were backing down from a challenge like that. As one, Team 7 stepped forward to meet it, instead.

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A/N: Damn, Iruka kinda took over a bit. Hope I was able to do him justice!

I didn't really have a plan for this chapter beyond the first part. I knew I wanted to write a section from Iruka's POV but that was about it. Everything else just kind of... happened.

In other news, I got the job! And after spending the last two and a half years as a nanny, more or less, working retail is a big difference. I am constantly exhausted lmao still, I wanted to try and get something out to you while I had a day off to work on it, so here it is. Don't know when the next update will be but hopefully it won't be too long before I post again. Still, thanks for all the support and well-wishes!

Thank you for reading, and for all of you who have left a review! I read each and every one of them and appreciate them more than I could ever say. You guys are the best!